Antes & Depois

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Um dia tu vais ver, como eu vejo agora, e vais entender. E vais te dilacerar pelas coisas que deixaram de ser e pelas coisas que deveriam ter sido. E vais te dar conta que planos servem apenas para preencher algum espaço.

Rachael estava certa: ficar certamente é uma escolha. E tem que entender que deve ser por bons motivos.
Pensei em um rio como um grande corpo colado, apaixonado pela terra. Ou um rio seria um choro incontido de olhos que, escondidos em algum lugar, clamam por algo desconhecido?
Dois cafés mais tarde e ainda estou pensando. E tentando entender esse dia catártico. Em que passo por uma espécie de colapso Hiroshima, Mon Amour. Sem interlocutores.

Uma parte de mim queria ser extraordinária em pelo menos uma das coisas que faço bem. Estou cansada de ser medíocre.

A minha voz de blogueira está se exaurindo, aos poucos.

Trágica? Pode ser. Eu dizia para a mãe que sem uma pitada de drama fica mais difícil escrever. Ela ficava apreensiva, mas aceitava.
Aqui me tens: duas de mim. Te oferto uma em completo caos, liberta por um vento uivante. E a outra: singela, suave, simples. Que tem candura e uma certa dor pelo muito que passou.
Os melhores dramas devem ser os alheios.

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