ofalterspace

[ofalterspace]

balance

they say going through bad things

makes you a better person

but how much better do I have to be

to deserve good things?

[ofalterspace]

fragments

When your heart has been broken as many times as mine has, I think that you don't even feel it anymore. Not like before. It hurts, sure, but it is more of a pinch than a punch.

Part of the reason why is that I don't even let it get to that point anymore. My heart was never whole to begin with, so it's easier to notice when the fragments are slowly drifting away.

It is fine. I will pull myself together. Buy new Band-Aids. Maybe some tequila. And then we are ready to fall again. And break again. Until there isn't a single part of me that isn't cracked.

[ofalterspace]

love is everywhere

People have really funny and different ways of showing how much you mean to them. If you really pay attention, maybe you realize that you're way more loved than you thought.

Take my mom, for example. She's not much of a "I love you" person. She may not say it as often. But if she really cares for you, she'll be so devoted to you. You're craving some specific food? You can bet it will show up at the fridge as soon as you say it. You wanna go somewhere? She'll go with you without questioning.

I have a good friend who doesn't really like driving people to places. It's such a bother, you know? So I never ask. I don't have to. Either way he's always like "I'll take you here, I'll take you there". We will just blast Taylor Swift on the radio and everything will be fine.

I find those little things really sweet. It's the stuff that we usually take for granted in the day-to-day life, but it's also what counts the most. I think... it's what makes us human after all.

[ofalterspace]

breathe in

I am always running and I never look up at the sky at night. But tonight I did. A particular pair of stars catched my eyes -- they were glowing so much that I couldn't ignore it. At first, they were all I saw. But then, as I countinued looking, more and more sparkling points came into view. They were so many and so so bright that I had to stop for a moment and just...look at it. Take it in.

You see, the stars were always there. They probably shine just as bright almost every night, I just didn't see them. I am the problem here. I have this thing were if I don't remind myself, I forget to look for the beautiful things. And believe me, there are always some of them, even in the ugliest occasions.

[ofalterspace]

you should go. but you could stay.

I keep loving them enough

to let them go

all while hoping that

someone would love me enough

to stay

[ofalterspace]

the upside of blue

All the time while I was growing up I felt like love was conditional. It wasn't that I didn't felt loved, but it seemed to me that "love" was always a trade. You give something to someone - emotional support, obedience or an answer to that really hard homework. And, in return, they give you affection. So I did my best to be perfect, to never fail. I couldn't risk it. It felt as if love could go away with the blink of an eye as soon as I slipped up.

Maybe it is a cliché, but I feel like hitting rock bottom gave me a whole new perspective on the matter. For the first time in my life, I had nothing to offer. No job, no smart answers, no helping hand to extend at all. Only my not-always-incredible persona, a whole ton of background trauma and some silly jokes. Crazy as it sounds, it was enough. For the right people.

And what a joy it is to be unconditionally loved. There is so much peace in being able to commit mistakes, in losing some. And still being loved at the end of the day, even if you never turn out to be nothing more than what you already are. Because that is enough.

[ofalterspace]

divorce

Paraphrasing one of my favorite persons on the world, I'm so many versions of me. And I think it is natural, you know? We create all of these characters inside of us which are similar at some level, but none of them represents the totality of us.

It is as if there are a bunch of people living inside of me, and everyone that meets me has access to one (or several) of them. The real problem begins when one of these characters wants to be the protagonist and decides to overcome the others. The balance is vital for everything to work well.

It is exactly what happened to one of my personas recently. She became so big and so heavy that the divorce was mandatory. I'm officially splitting from who I was and making space for the new.

[ofalterspace]

time

I'll never ever be 22 again. I know that's kinda obvious and also true for every single age I've ever had. But, still, there's something about the 22 that makes this thought heavier. It goes right through my chest like a bullet.

Maybe it is Taylor Swift to blame because she wrote a whole song about how it is wonderful to be 22. I have been waiting to be this age for so long because of her. Maybe it is simply the unmatched expectations between what it was supposed to be and what it really was because of all of the things I couldn't control. I don't know. All that I do know is this: the person I was until this day will never exist again.

And I like to think that I'm growing old well. Really. I like this version of me more than any other else. But I can't help but feel a little afraid of time. How long will mine be?

[ofalterspace]

I, burnout

My therapist thinks I should get back to writing. She says - and she's probably right - that I shouldn't give up on such a great part of me just because I associated it with something that hurts me. I argue that maybe the bucket is empty, maybe writing was something destined to end and I no longer have any great ideas. Demand outstripped supply.

But if I just push a little bit more. If I stretch the dough to the other way. If I twist the words a little bit and add sugar. If I let ideas marinate for long enough. Then, maybe, I'll create something worthy of the spotlight once again. But I don't know if I still want it.

I, that never cared about being the center of attention, suddenly have been flirting with the idea of living an anonymous life in a forgotten corner of the world, doing something absolutely unimportant.

It is just that, the more I give of myself, the less I have left. They've taken my eyes, my fingers, my legs. It is as if they could get under my skin and drum with my bones. Playing with my arteries. And it still wouldn't be enough. Because it never is.

[ofalterspace]

there is always beauty and pain in being who you are

When I was younger, I couldn't get what it meant to have a "personality". Everytime I think about it, what comes to my mind is an exercise given by my Arts teacher in third grade. The challenge was pretty simple, actually: draw something that defines your personality. It was enough to keep a 8 year old staring at a blank page for some long minutes, without a clue about what to do. At the end, I may have drawn something related to Barbie or the color pink. But I wasn't quite satisfied with the results. I guess that, deep down, I knew that wasn't the answer.

The thing is that those were the first things that people thought about when they looked at me, you know? It is what a little girl is supposed to like. And, for years, I have fitted perfectly to that mold.

When I grew up a little, I began to think that maybe personality was an effort to counter expectations. Of doing exactly the opposite of what was expected from me. Breaking stereotypes, giving crossed answers, dressing in black from head to toe and listening to music that shouted how angry I was at the world. But, as every storm does, those things also passed.

Many years went by until I finally understood that the "personality" thing is, maybe, a game between the two extremes. It is indeed about what is expected from me: about being sensitive, feminine, creative. And it is also about what isn't expected. It is about fighting for the things in which I truly believe and care about. It is about not being embarrassed for dancing on the street, listening to country music or writing poetry. It is about listening to Taylor Swift and Ed Sheeran non-stop. About not being ashamed of my mistakes, my friends. My family. Of who I am and everything that brought me here.

It is understanding that no one has to like me and that even the ones that do may not like all the same things as me. It is accepting that some of those things are just cheesy or tacky. But I love them all anyways.

[ofalterspace]

the only exception

Dear Love,

I've been thinking a lot about you lately. Is it kinda weird to have conversations with someone that I don't even know outside my head? I don't know. It doesn't matter. I don't know your face, the shape of your hair or how your voice sounds. But I have a whole playlist ready for you (with 5+ hours of cheesy songs - and counting). And I don't even know if you do exist. That's just how I do things: thinking way too much. It is part of my show.

I've been wondering how long it's gonna take, you know? Because I ran for so long and I don't want to anymore. But I still have fear. Fear that I don't know how to let someone in. I'm terrified at the idea of having already known you and let you go. I fear that you were on those blue eyes or that wavy hair from which I ran away. Or that you are too afraid to reveal yourself.

See, I'm not as desperate as it may seem. I just get a bit contemplative sometimes (like, a lot). I wonder if I've missed my chance, if I've even seen it pass right before my eyes.

I hope that we still have time to see the world together. That you'll laugh at my very bad jokes. That you'll sing the second voice in all the Disney songs. That you'll dance with me in the middle of the street without caring if we look ridiculous. And I hope you have many dreams, because I wanna watch every single one of them come true. I just want to peacefully accept the certainty that everything is uncertain and that, even so, we will be here.

Already yours,

@ofalterspace

[ofalterspace]

dive

It is as if at the middle of the road there was a river. And I do like water, but this one wasn't part of my plans. At first, I couldn't believe it when I saw that much blue right in front of me. I got a little confused and stopped to ascertain the situation. I've measured the margins from afar, analyzed the current. It is impossible to say if there is land on the other side or even if my path keeps going. But I have to believe that the answer to both of these thoughts is yes.

For a few months, I tried to solve the puzzle by the floodplain. I have walked quite a bit, hoping that I could find anything resembling a bridge. But I just kept finding mud and loosen rocks.

With sore muscles, I've started to almost... wish for the water. I knew its freezing hug would be recomforting, that the absolute silence would chill out my mind. The thing is that, at the same time, I was so afraid. What if it is too dark, too deep? And what if there is a scary shark down there or some unidentified mortal-clam?

I've tried a bit more, just to be sure, because stubborness is one of my least praised traits. With some resignation, I've got in. I've let the milky shores swallow me and, for the first time in forever, didn't try not to sink. So I fell, miles and miles beyond the healty limit. I've hidden in the silent dark until there was nothing left but the feeling of the water caressing my body, the cold and, well, my thoughts.

If you like documentaries about the deep ocean as much as I do, you know that the kind of life that survives there is a bit peculiar. I could even say that is the closest we have from fictional monsters. It isn't a great place to be for a long time. But I found a spot that is quite comfortable, and if I stay still for long enough I can almost hear parts of my head that were long silent.

I remember someone I have loved for a long time saying that the best part of reaching rock bottom is that the only possible direction is up. But now that I am here, I don't even know how to start leaving.

[ofalterspace]

about the middle

Sometimes I feel just like an old hardwood dresser that someone decided to move and found out that (look!) the carpet is so much nicer without me. Or like a yellow-ish book, left behind at some random shelf, still on the glistening plastic jacket. Like a piano that somebody was about to play and, after sweeping the dust from the top, discovered that the second note was out of tune. And it takes a lot of effort to tune a piano, you know? It is hard work. I feel like a diet yogurt left to expire in the fridge of someone who took an unexpectedly long vacation. Forgotten by time.

But then there are the other days. When I feel like an atomic bomb right before exploding. Or when you turn on the radio without knowing the volum was so high -- but fuck it, 'cause it is your favorite song. Just like that millisecond when your heart stops because the car is going so fast and the euphoria is nauseating.

There must be something in the middle of the road, between the catharsis and the blues. Connecting the rainy beach with the nauseating rave. But I don't know it anymore. I am in love with the extremes.

[ofalterspace]

lifeguard

most days, I feel like a sinking boat

and the closer I find myself from the very bottom

the more I think

“damn it, I should’ve learned how to play violin

when I still had the time”

but a important thing about

sinking boats

and failures

is that it takes a little bit of time

you know?

there isn’t water on my lungs yet

but the anticipation is just as frightening

still, today, something happened:

I tried to get up amidst the chaos

explore the vertical angle of the submerging stern

and then I realized

the boat hasn’t sunk yet

and who knows how tomorrow is going to go

while there’s still air

we keep on swimming

[ofalterspace]

willingly

Sometimes, when the night is deep and the silence fills me, I stare at the abyss right back and ask: "God, I just don't wanna be a sad story". See, I'm pretty reasonable -- I no longer ache for greatness and ain't tryna be the happiest person on Earth (of course, given the opportunity, I wouldn't pass it down).

I just don't wanna be part of a rom-com movie. I am terrified by the idea of running over the years seeking for love just to find, right at the last breath, that it was beside me all along and I just couldn't see it. I don't wanna see the truth after way too many decades, sitting on a gray couch, looking at a wall filled with all the wrong portraits. Look, I don't wanna a love out of a fairytale. Most times, they seem depressing.

I also don't wanna be the one that succeeded "although". I don't wanna deal with an awful disease, a heart-felting family tragedy, a solveless puzzle. I don't wanna be a role model, the ones who inspire movies that fill your eyes with tears and make you wanna be a better person for a good fifteen minutes. I also don't wanna be someone who hits maturity and decides, finally, to chase a dream -- after a long tepid life devoted to the family.

At the end of the day, the only thing I'm searching for is peace of mind. A long-awaited gift that I never had the chance to ask Santa for. I want an easy love and a fulfilling life without that much noise. If I am lucky enough, maybe some dreams do come true. Maybe I will find some good stories along the way. I don't wanna be extraordinary, I just wanna be sipping coffee on a sunny little balcony. That said, I willingly take an ordinary life.

I just don't wanna be a sad story.