- quinta-feira, março 31, 2005 -

You


I'm sorry I possibly made you cry
I thought you were just someone new
I was blind, I don't know why
But all I could think about was you

For a chance you asked
But it was still too much for me
I got a love to forget, a love from the past
I was blind and you were too distant for me to see...

Sitting at the window at night
Illuminated by the stars light
With all my feelings I couldn't stop to fight
I didn't knew the difference between wrong and right

Was it wrong to disappear?
Was it right to suffer?
You've fought away all of my fear
But you were still a stranger

One night, by full moon
When I was thinking about a dream
About a world of doom
I just wanted to scream

Then your words calmed me down
You saved me once again from all the pain
My life turned upside down
You can't imagine how I felt ashamed

I was free to love who I wanted to
I've wiped my tears away
And inside myself I saw you
Just like I see you today

Until that day I was wrong
When I lay in the Darkness just to hide
After all, it made me strong
And I feel better 'cause I'm by your side

Deaths a release... Not a punishment.


The nurse's steps echoed in my head, my nightmare again! My blood pressure went high as I saw the shot laughing at me, almost teasing my fortune...
She entered the dark room, and I pretended to be asleep, trying to avoid that huge syringe, with its yellow liquid inside. My blood had tasted it before, a strange feeling all over my body for the next few hours after taking the shot. As the liquid ran inside me, it used to make me feel bad sensations. In one second, it was feeling like if I was a freezing iceberg, in another, like boiling lava. Shot after shot, the pain was getting stronger. Each time, I felt even weaker. Only weakness, I couldn't even dream about fighting the power that that syringe contained. My forehead burning, eyes swelling, bones seemed to break. When that happened, trying to move was a total waste of time and strength.
She stopped in front of my bed and looked up at the file fixed at its bottom. I felt like that syringe was addressed to me, although she passed by and bent down over the bed next to mine. The boy shuddered as the needle touched his skin. I thought about how horrible it was to wake up with a needle digging the flesh, leaving the poison inside us. I turned myself quietly, to watch what that nurse was doing, as if I was moving while dreaming. I could barely open my eyes, still affected of the sleeping pill of yesterday. She was administering some sort of drug to the boy next to me.
Suddenly, the nurse turned around, approaching her face to mine. She was so close; I could feel her trimmed breath. She stared at me for at least two minutes, when I was trying to seem as quiet and calm as I could: breathing in, breathing out, always the same rhythm. She looked to the thin strings that were tying me to bed, probably checking if they were well tied up.
Strangely, I felt my legs being set free, as she removed the strings. She opened my mouth and let a tablet inside; maybe she was thinking I would swallow it. But I haven't done as she wanted to. Instead of leaving me alone, she pressed my nose and covered my mouth with her other hand. I quickly understood that she wouldn't take them off unless I had swollen then pill. And so I did. I closed my eyes and tried to hold on, without a clue of what could happen next. A furious pain ravaged my head and I began to feel sleepy.
When I opened my eyes, I only saw light. My eyes had a hard time when adapting themselves to the lights. I was stuck on a chair, my arms tied up with handcuffs. I saw that nurse again - her eyes immersed in a lake of tears -, and a middle-aged man. I dissimulated the fact that I was awake, the blonde nurse was walking nervously around me.
- She was awake... She saw everything. The syringe, the drugs. She wanted to spill the tablet, sir. - She said.
- I told you to be careful, didn't I? - informed the middle-aged man.
- Yes, sir, but...
- There are no buts. You will pay the consequences. But now... We have to neutralize this little accident, or else we'll have to deal with this young lady in a few hours. There are many chances that she knows everything about the deadly virus we have implanted on her - and on everyone else. Can you imagine what could happen if people outside heard about this? No one can know we use those silly kids to serve us as lab rats. Do you understand? If somebody knows about this, our plan will be ruined and this hospital will be no use, then. Not even to cure a headache, or that old lady's backache in the second floor! We will lose all our credibility. The virus must work until the end of the winter. It's a shame we have to kill this lady, but we cannot take another risk.
I stopped to pretend that I was asleep.
- You're crazy! - I shouted, struggling hard with that chair, hoping it would break or open my handcuffs, but it was useless. The metal was hurting my wrists. The chair swung, however it didn't broke into at least two pieces, as I wanted. - You're totally insane!
- I am a skilful scientist, - he said, spiting his words - that's why I offer you a scientific death.
I felt something piercing my body; they were injecting some painful shot. Quick death was waiting for me. Running through my veins, the poison was doing its job. What was it like, to die? Pain, pain, pain! Couldn't I know any other kind of feeling? The virus was eating me inside, the same sensations as the nurse's shots used to bring me. It was angry, it wanted its revenge, and it wanted me to pay for all the time that I've resisted its attacks... I was so weak, my head hanging from my neck; I had lost all my strengths. My body was throbbing, the virus consuming me, it wanted me to die. I was dying, all my body wasn't responding to my orders, I was almost shouting at it to move, to ignore the poison, the pain, everything.
I went almost open-mouthed when I realized the pain had disappeared. Wasn't I dead? They were laughing around me. Yes, I was dead. Or at least, my body was; I moved my hands, they were free from the handcuffs; I could get up and reach the door, run away! But... What was that? I was leaving the room, but I was still tied up to the chair. There was two of me!
He was there, too. The man at the other side of the room. He was wearing black clothes, which were making him standing out in the middle of the doctors, because they were all in white. He was the only one that was watching the real me. Not to the dead body, as the rest of them were doing, but to the living spirit near the door. He walked in my direction and when e arrived, he sat on the ground. I did likewise. We stayed there, watching the others. They were running all over the place, erasing all the evidences that could proof my murder.
- You see... - the man said - They're always in a hurry. They cannot understand that death is a release, not a punishment.
(I ought to say that this is a very old (about one year old, meh!) text... some sort of crappy composition we had to work on and then read it for the class. But still, I haven't read it (coz the teacher forgot to ask us to read... what kind of teacher forgets THIS? Who on earth forgets ART? Okay, okay. This is not Art. It's just a silly X-Files style old text.), so... if there are mistakes unleashed out there... blame HER!)

- terça-feira, março 29, 2005 -

Medo de um futuro incerto...


Medo desse corredor escuro que parece não ter fim... Do caminho em labirinto, medo de percorrer o desconhecido...
Apenas uma luz ténue me permite ver o que me rodeia. Apenas saber dez passos em frente. O futuro continua no escuro... As portas que aparecem, como que mostrando-me outro caminho senão o que leva à escuridão, também delas sinto receio. Tenho medo de abrí-las e entrar, medo de saber o que encerram... Medo das barras de ferro que impedem a saída, medo da porta se fechar atrás de mim.
Sinto-me aterrorizada pelo sangue na parede, o sangue no chão... Não posso seguir sem passar por ele. Penso em avançar, fugir da porta que me ameaça. Mas o medo persiste, não sei se abrir a porta e enfrentar a escuridão para encontrar outro caminho, se continuar em frente e provar a dor na cor viva do sangue, ouvir os gritos de ajuda silenciados por esse mesmo sangue ainda fresco, o perigo sempre presente... O perigo de enfrentar o desconhecido...
Mais à frente, uma luz ainda mais fraca. Que me dá alguma esperança e confiança, consigo distinguir dois vultos, outras duas saídas possíveis... Uma luz... a cinquenta passos na escuridão.
Não posso voltar atrás, o passado está encerrado... O presente divide-se entre uma porta ameaçadora e um corredor do qual não sei o fim...
E o futuro, apenas a ideia de uma possível saída.

- quinta-feira, março 17, 2005 -

Muralhas de bruma que te corroem o pensamento


Enterras a cabeça na areia, escondes-te por detrás de uma coisa que sabes que não te vai proteger... Sabes muito bem que ela também é cobarde. Sabes que, mais cedo ou mais tarde, ela vai fugir, desaparecer, deixando-te sozinho, indefeso face aos teus medos. E aí, o que te resta? Resta-te a tua própria força.
Mas não a tens. Recusas-te a usá-la. Pelo contrário, decides esconder-te por detrás de outro círculo vicioso. Esconder-te da primeira barreira de areia que construiste para te defenderes. Barreira essa, logo destruida com a primeira onda da manhã. E assim por diante, constrois barreiras... ao contrário. Constrois-las no sentido oposto. Em vez de te afastares, cada barreira construida está mais próxima do mar, varrida com mais facilidade...
Como se tentasses construir um castelo de cartas em plena tempestade. Essas muralhas de bruma negra que te corroem o pensamento...
Só te cabe a ti decidir...
Continuar a construir barreiras de areia ou enfrentar esse mar de receios.

- quarta-feira, março 09, 2005 -

Confusa

Alguma vez já se sentiram assim, confusos?
A confusão que não vos deixa dar um passo, não vos deixa pensar, não vos deixa escolher o caminho a seguir? E agora é a confusão entre soltar os sentimentos ou não... Guardá-los dentro da caixinha que sou eu própria, deixando que eles me matem um pouco mais; ou deixá-los à solta, aliviar um pouco mais da dor, com a consequência de que alguns poderão não gostar?
Não sei... Digam-me vocês.
O que será a liberdade de expressão se não podemos usufruir dela, nem mesmo para deixar no vento algumas palavras sobre os sentimentos? Serão os sentimentos algo a guardar para nós, para esconder de todos...? Algo do qual devemos fugir, esconder-nos, evitar, de modo a que sejamos sempre “aquela com um lindo sorriso nos lábios”...? Não é tão mais lindo um sorriso sentido?
Já não sei... Digam-me vocês.
...
Confusa.

- segunda-feira, março 07, 2005 -

Desaparece...

Pedi-te que não voltasses nunca mais. Aceitaste o meu pedido, com a maior naturalidade que era tão própria de ti... A tua sinceridade, a espontaneidade... Essas qualidades que te pertenciam e que julgava conhecer tão bem...
A parte que desconhecia, era essa tua crueldade súbtil. Essa crueldade dissimulada quando voltaste atrás nas tuas palavras e decidiste voltar. Não “voltar” para mim, também não era esse o meu desejo. Não era e nunca será. Mas voltaste. Apareceste e ficaste ali, gozando a tua crueldade, quase adivinhando os meus pensamentos, a minha vontade de fugir... Dizes que não tenho coração... Mas não serás tu que tens falta de um? Quem, senão um ser sem alma e sem coração, ficaria de bom grado a observar os outros sofrer...? Quebraria com a maior das facilidades uma promessa tão simples...?

Desaparece.

Este texto foi alvo de TANTA crítica... critica destruitiva, como é óbvio! Pessoas que se sentem afectadas e não percebem o verdadeiro sentido de um blog, como já foi explicado nos comments... Acho que a garrafita de ódio ainda permanece, se bem que mais dissimulada agora. E... apesar de me terem chamado de mil e uma coisas (entre elas, de ser... "mimada"?), o texto voltou. O que podem dizer acerca de mim já não me aquece nem me arrefece... essas opiniões são-me totalmente indiferentes. O que eu queria mesmo dizer com isto tudo, é que... bem, já me estou a repetir. Não vale a pena dizer. Mas podem classificar o texto como estando arquivado. Se quiserem, leiam. Se não gostarem... paciencia. Sejam felizes. E à unica pessoa que tenho receio de magoar com a "re-publicação" deste texto, peço IMENSAS desculpas, mas teve que voltar para aqui. Mais um post e desaparece da página principal... De qualquer forma... adoro-vos. E por "vos", quero dizer, as pessoas que me apoiam incondicionalmente... Afinal, como dizia o outro: de que nos serve a liberdade se não temos liberdade para errar?