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i wrote this to my book; i translated from portuguese to english... i hope everyone can understand ^^
"A bitter, painful, sad literary. Repetitive, tiring, almost plagiarism, almost a washed out imitation of the most melodramatic stories.
Am I sad? Am I depressed? Am I bored? Am I looking for attention? What do I have? Do I even have anything?
It's a little creepy just having questions and no answers. It's pretty desperate to keep looking for something so abstract you can barely identify.
What are your curves like? Are you slender or do you have the dark clouds around your body? What is your appearance like? Is it welcoming as a mother or empty as a father? Is it frightening? Are you subtle or are you disappointment? Do you speak? If so, which languages? Do you dance? If so, which waltz do you like best?
It's mysterious as the moon. Distant as the burning sun. It's as empty as the sky. As dark as the rain. Quick as lightning. It's secret as the end.
Do I like the taste? Is it bitter or is it sweet? Is it sharp as a knife or delicate as a spoon? Does it have thorns like a rose or does it scandalize your scent with its beautiful petals?
Like a lady, it came subtle, it shook all my coziness.
Will I cry if I go with you? Will you make me honey or give me stings? Will I be free as a bird or arrested as a murderer? Will you treat me lightly or will you drive me with hostility? Will your hands touch me with sensitivity? Will your voice bring me a corner? Will your hugs welcome me with love? At the end of the day, will you smile with tenderness and say that things will soon be good? Will you trust me as sheep trust their shepherd, or will you doubt my love as the wicked distrust the good?
The night comes, I dream of your touches, I rehearse my oaths and bore my heart with the pain of waiting for you.
Will you come soon? Or shall I have to come to you?
My impatience makes me unsustainable. I possess a war in my mind, for what is politically correct after all? What attitude makes my acts ethical or immoral? Am I feeding my selfishness or anticipating a certain destiny?
I am in the cold, watching the ice stakes slowly through my core, causing me such acute pain that I am close to the technician. There are people here. All of them smiling, stretching out their hands and throwing me thick, warm coats. Meanwhile, I can't get dressed, I can't hold their hands, leting loneliness feel welcome.
A connection ended at the very moment I fell in love with you.
And to fall in love with you is like playing in a desert without sun; there is no hope. The only storm is dust, it makes me thirsty. Not even the stars light me, who will say the moon. Falling in love with you is like building a muraria that takes me away from everything and everyone. To fall in love with you is to turn me off, to stop being light, to become a friend of pain, to abuse sarcasm and to squander solitude.
But... At the same time, loving you makes as much sense as my pains and doubts. Loving you brings me a corner, because I know that at some point, you will come to end my impenetrable suffering.
To love you.
Maybe that love is, ironically, what keeps me alive."
everything always goes ^^