Insisto em não esquecer o teu sorriso enorme, espelho da minha própria felicidade, e os teus olhos claros, esculpidos com o mesmo desejo que me movia até ti. Trocámos um 'Olá', tímido, envergonhado; a muitos pareceria arrependimento precoce. No entanto, em essência era apenas uma declarada cumplicidade de pecadores, um nervosismo miudinho de quem está consciente do futuro próximo e das consequências deste. (Sabíamos.)

Foram segundos de tempo congelado, curtos e mudos, que tão cedo deram lugar ao mais apaixonado cenário. Não ousámos demonstrar desde logo o quanto ansiávmos estar assim, íntimos - começaste por tocar-me, rápido e fugaz, como testando as águas, enviando um arrepio ternurento pelo meu corpo. Repeti o teu gesto. Permitimo-nos esses testes (tínhamos tempo), sentindo centímetro a centímetro, com medo, respirando pesadamente, sempre tentando assegurar-nos da realidade do momento.

E logo, no que pareceu um pestanejar de asas, os toques fugidios perderam a velocidade de auto-estrada, ganharam a ternura de um barco pequeno atravessando um rio, explorando tudo que se situava entre as margens. Ganhámos consistência, misturámos os nossos perfumes etéreos. Parecia mais certo do que errado.

Demorámo-nos, alongámos as linhas curvas da mais bela arte abstracta, e a cor não nos fugia aos olhos. Nada havia para além da tua pele, tão macia nas minhas mãos (embora mais tarde lhes descubrisse a aspereza). Provava-te, alimentava o torpe formigueiro que me atacava de dentro, comendo o meu coração com aquele fogo que incendiavas em mim. E aquela agitação sabia-me a moleza, confortável, quente, minha; deixe-me cair na intensidade do nosso pecado ternurento e bestial, puxei-te para mais perto de mim (temia que não estivesses mesmo ali, temia que não sentisses também.).

Ganhaste tom de animal, impulsivo, instinctivo, sensualmente doce como uma fera que persegue a presa. (Profundo. Belo.)

As tuas carícias percorriam-me por inteiro, afagavam-me esta alma que sempre achara indomável. Sempre sem escusadas demoras. (Tínhamos tempo.) E no nosso pequeno segredo, de imunda perfeição, com um sabor salgado tão doce como o mar, de dois mundos sem pontes, era o pecado que nos unia e desinibia. (O mais forte elo entre nós.) O proíbido tornava-se obtido. Apaixonávamo-nos ali, por entre cobertores de uma doçura sôfrega e gananciosa.

Tínhamos tempo, tinhamos uma vida, mas era como se o tempo descontasse os segundos para o nosso fim. Como se soubéssemos não haver outra oportunidade para libertarmos este nosso amor desenfreado, acorrentados a outras prisões.

Éramos inconscientes: não adivinhávamos o futuro? Inconsequentes, irresponsáveis, na altura o pensamento não morava ali (éramos movidos por outro combustível). É que hoje és um sonho, inalcançável esfinge e preciso-te mais do que nesse passado. E melancolicamente embebida em nostalgia, insisto em não esquecer(-te).

Maybe I should let the dust settle, let things calm down, cool off. Let the burns heal, let the wounds become scars that shall never disappear.
Wait. It has sunk in already. The ship's stopped. I'm as aimless as ever, the biggest wanderer the Earth has ever come to know. No destiny for me, no big heartbeats. My heart is comfortable, never leaving its place.
Too comfortable. It's getting too hot, too itchy.
Where's the buzz (the real buzz) in the ears? Or the cold shiver dancing in my neck, the bright colors hipnotizing my eyes, the taste of freedom forever melting in my tongue? When you're used to living fast like a highway, you stop liking second-way routes.
(Yet, I know I should stop. They deem me rebel, but a rebel I am not.)

And I miss us. Each step I take towards the end of the race brings me more of our adventures waltzing in front of my eyes. (Secretly, I still hope. And make up magical stories, because deep down I know that hoping is wrong and reality overwhelms me too much for me to live in it.) Am I moving forward or never leaving the same hurtful spot?

Your lips move, but I can't hear what you're saying
When I was a child
I caught a fleeting glimpse
Out of the corner of my eye
I turned to look but it was gone
I cannot put my finger on it now
The child is grown
The dream is gone 
"Comfortably Numb", Pink Floyd

I'm finally starting to worry about my mistakes. There's too much pressure, too much weight on my shoulders. I've realised you can't make your destiny; some things happen because others get in your way and there's hardly anything you can do about it. At least for now. I can't bear the thought of going against someone else, someone else's ideals or feelings. And I just can't handle the thought of disappointing and/or hurting someone.

I'm in need of some action. It's too hard standing here with a happy smile on my face when my dreams seem to be sinking. And the more they sink, the more I hold them dear.

I want to rebel... but the truth is, I'm too much of a coward to do so. 

Everything i can't be
Is everything you should be
And that's why i need you here
(...)
Come home
Come home
Cause I've been waiting for you
For so long
For so long
And right now there's a war between the vanities
But all i see is you and me
"Come Home", OneRepublic


I'm feeling like such a whore. The truth is, I don't even know if I like you at all. Somedays I see you as my little playground; I keep joking around with you and you take it in, and I know that if I want it, I can have you. I'm the leader; and it's not a romance, it's just a game. But then I realise you have this one happiness outside of me, you have someone so special that's not me; and not only do I feel jealous, I feel guilty too. You can be happy on your own, if I just let you be... but I can't seem to find a way to let go of something so dear to me.

And somedays I feel like telling you I love you; somedays I feel like kissing you in front of everyone and have to face everyone's judgement; somedays I miss your touch; somedays i feel like I just talk to you because you make me feel valuable; somedays I think you're as neutral for me as everyone I don't know; somedays I feel like hating you; somedays I feel like making you suffer.

Maybe it's the desire for control, maybe it's some greater force I cannot understand... But I just need to break away from you. I can't keep feeling remorse or confusion anymore. Can't we both live our separate lives?

(...)
The room started to sway, to shiver and creak.
His horrid insanity had reached its peak.
(...)
Every horror in his life that had crept through his dreams,
Swept his mad laugh to terrified screams.
To escape the madness, he reached for the door,
But fell limp and lifeless down on the floor.
(...)

"Vincent" (1982), Tim Burton

I can't help wanting to kill myself.
I feel so bad, psychologically and physically.
Exhausted, nervous. Life's not good, not good at all.
Sometimes I wish I didn't feel anything at all.