terça-feira, 24 de maio de 2011

And when it doesn't get good, it gets worse.

I still don't know how does this shitty life works, when you're supposed to get the "sweet tastes" it gets bitter, and when it gets bitter, it reaches the most sour taste you could imagine...it's a metaphor if you haven't noticed.

Anyways, when will get my chance at making it big? People i know have hopes on me, and i hope too, but the chances are the worst, i already tried pursuing them, even thought they're just as useless as the others, and i still think God is an evil guy who finds it fun to put me on the spotlight and shake me from side to side, just to laugh at my face.

People simply can't comprehend that i am lazy, that i am demotivated, that i am depressed, and that this way, i won't have strenght to keep going, and it's not even like i'm not trying, the last experiences made made me very pessimist person, and there's nothing i can do about it, so here's a message for those trying to change me:

- Thanks for the support, and effort, BUT I DON'T FUCKING WANT TO CHANGE!

...'cause sometimes you just need to be that obvious.

And so, another week starts, and it's not starting to well, so i suppose by my knowledge, that if it's starting this way, it might probably just get absurdly ironic and unfortunate.

So i leave a poem, for people who just happen to be on to the same situation as me:

The Boat to Eternity.

I've watched the trees growing,
and the farmers with high hopes,
for richer times to come.
The mothers carrying their childs,
anxiously, for about nine months,
inside their wombs.

Both grow, with high expectations,
and life itself offers no chance of prospection.
Like every living being, they're destined to die,
it's a fact that haunts each and every meaning of life.

I've seen the last autumn leaf fall from the old tree,
nobody pays attention, but the leaves falling mean so much more to me.
Falling leaves are meant to show humankind,
that nothing more than a certain end awaits it,
so don't mind it.

As the natural course of things is bound to change,
the old will depart, and the young will remain,
following their fathers steps,
while their sons follow them again.

They've seen the skies change,
i have seen the time fly.
They've been to places all around,
and i have always watched them from affar.

Death is this arduous journey,
long, and filled with many memories.
Death is always going to be a nostalgic journey.


Let's just hope my week doesn't get too bad to tolerate without losing a nerve.

sábado, 14 de maio de 2011

Last week's probation

This week has been a tough one, it got worse everyday little by little, like always, i don't even know how to i find strenght to go through and move on, it seemed like a probation and this time it felt like one, and i ask myself if this is the odd process of becoming a better person.

Anyways, it got even colder here, this weather is somewhat nice, but it makes me wish for someone to hold tight and have by my side, i know i have myself but it doesn't seem enough to cover the need i have for a person that understands me and talks about life in a way that makes me feel confortable, i guess it will keep going this way for some more years.

Somehow, i already got to understand that life is nothing but a test, and one day it get's over, and you're set free, or placed back on the system, or whatever. I personally hope, that after i die i get to rest in a warm place under a tree, seeing the wind blow the leaves, whistling a song slowly with the moon and sun sharing the same morning light sky.

I really get like this sometimes, and the music i'm listening doesn't help at all, at least it sounds damn good and tranquil, almost divine, but well, it's Nujabes so if you know who the artist was or ever listened to one of his songs, you know the feeling of peace that comes from his music,
if not, then by all means, check it out, it's just great if you want to relax, or just chill your mind out.

Well, i'm trying everyday to keep going, since i can't give up easily, it will take a lot more time for me to fall down.

sábado, 7 de maio de 2011

Life is certainly the equivalent of Fiction

"Life is certainly the equivalent of Fiction"
Once said the man who resided inside the book.

Have you ever felt like the world is a little too much to take? I can sympathise with you all who came to the conclusion i sometimes forget.
A person i knew died, and i kind felt sorry for him, i kept saying to myself that i shouldn't be an hypocrite and go around crying, since i didn't even considered him a close friend of mine when he was living, however, he was by my side with my friends when i used to live "there" with most of them.

They don't really know how he died, they say it was an accident and the gun shot him in the head while he was taking it out of his bag, others say he killed himself, either way, it must be tough to leave this world so young.

Today i got myself denying his death, remembering the times he was there, being trouble, running around, making me worried about him, just like to any other friend of mine, it's not so sad for me to see them leaving, but it is an annoying game to not forget his memory, yet, to not feel disapointed for his depart.

Of the things i think now, one of them is that life is pretty long, until the day it turns out short at death's fault, i should have called him a friend while i could, treated him like one, and i had the chance all along to try it by myself, irony? No, fate perhaps, life teaches us in the most unusual ways to be better individuals, and we deny it most of the time, at least i hope he's better up there, than he were in here, after all, this life is nothing but a learning process, and in the end, everything that comes from the ground is taken back to ground.

I don't want to sound changed, since changes take time to happen, but i'll be taking note that i should value more the people that show up around me, their ways, and every little memory with them, to not see them leaving, without saying goodbye.

I finish this post, with a poem i made.

A Poor Man's Fairy Tale.

Welcome to the world we live in,
sadly this is the rotten reality,
thought i personaly preffer to dream.

This is the poor man's fairy tale,
the dance of decay,
another step towards the abyss.
Picking rotten apples,
who fell long ago from their trees.

Little do they know,
that the apples are just the same as them,
bitter things,
all worthless, wormy, and putrid with shame.


segunda-feira, 2 de maio de 2011

It NEVER lets me rest...

As i grow old, i've come to realize that friendship is a little too rare to be found or made, the old friends i had, all strayed far from me, and i keep walking alone, like a diseased animal, left out of the group for being weak.

Just when i thought i could count on somebody, i got stabbed in the back again, i should start listening to myself, and stop trusting people, or else it will get worse...if you could only know how much my heart screams for vengeance, i wish i could only get a gun and rampage killing everyone in my sight, yet, once again, if i stood alive somehow i'd end up sick with an overwhelming guilt haunting my life to the last days of it.

Of one thing i'm sure, this world isn't my place, i don't belong here, but i must acomplish something and i still don't know what, but makes sense if you get the idea of a personal purpose, and makes even more sense if you think of it as the only bound that keeps me living, an unknown chain that locks me on the ground of my own defeat.

Sadly i haven't found out how to get over it, as if it weren't obvious from the begining, love once again disapointed me, is there love in this world after all?
...perhaps it might be my purpose to find real love, i could even consider it loving someone, but i already do, and it doesn't take much to be my friend especially if you (pretend) are someone with ideals, and some (fake) loyalty, i'm a loyal friend, and i promised myself to never leave none of my friends in need until their last minutes, however, i wish i could meet someone like this to be my friend.

I do remember the time i used to talk to myself through my diary it felt like walking side by side with a younger me, and now it makes me smile faintly, perhaps i'm just another note on that book, and an older me is by my side at the moment, trying to make me feel better, that's the kind of connection, that i can't get anywhere else, and no one else can comprehend.
I don't know if it's love, but i do feel like i'm the only one who can understand me,
breaking the barrier of time and space to confort myself in another reality, another time, it's quite strange, but it's easy to understand once you're used to it.

Take care, young man, i'll be watching you, take care of me too.
[DB] to [DB]