brokenallison-who-blog

[brokenallison-who-blog]

e se ela morrer

tudo isso terá sido em vão

[brokenallison-who-blog]

Eu tenho que me lembrar constantemente que você não é boa pra mim. Eu sempre me esqueço dos porquês.

[brokenallison-who-blog]

[brokenallison-who-blog]

w h o ?

Empty walls in black and white

No music, no photos, no flowers or toys

Nothing to help you understand who lives there

Even thought it’s all said

[brokenallison-who-blog]

Pouco mais de seis minutos

Não sejam ingênuos. Está tudo acontecendo de propósito.

Acham que os 6 minutos foram à toa? Ele sabia bem a reação que aquilo iria causar. Ele tá sendo apenas uma peça nesse jogo todo, e vocês também. Ele é só o fantoche.

O golpe virá, e, como planejado, ele irá cair. E não for “naturalmente”, é claro. Tudo bem pensado.

Os que eram a favor dele já estão repensando. Não vão dizer jamais que votaram errado, é claro. Mas vão dizer que o vice é que deveria assumir. É questão de tempo. Com toda a força ele será derrubado, tendo feito bem seu papel em todo esse teatro, satisfeito, completo. Ou será que não? Ou será que o próprio não sabe que é um fantoche? Alguém duvidaria disso? O maior palhaço do Brasil, é isso? Que nem mesmo ele percebeu que o golpe viria, e quem sabe, talvez nem mesmo ele saiba quão planejada foi a facada. Pobre coitado, não é? Iludido, acreditou que estava mandando bem, mas na verdade ele estava sendo controlado. Não como uma peça, mas um marionete. De uma forma ou de outra, o pior ainda está por vir.

O que hoje acreditam ser a verdade não passa de um teatro, e todos fomos de um jeito ou de outro parte disso. Querendo ou não. E cada um teve uma grande importância, se quer saber.

Ainda se soma a tudo isso o crime de Brumadinho, a prisão de Lula e outros atos do teatro que nos distraem do backstage. Sempre há algo, nada é por acaso. Tá tudo entrelaçado, tudo conectado, tudo programado, quem sabe.

Quem sabe?

[brokenallison-who-blog]

I am so afraid of trying.

I am so ashamed of telling people what I really want. What I really am.

I’m afraid of people laughing at me. I know it shouldn’t matter!

I wish it shouldn’t matter.

I am so afraid of people finding out who I really am that I lost myself on the way. I don’t know who I am anymore!

I don’t know what I like, I don’t know what to wish, I don’t have dreams, I have no inspiration.

I am afraid of not ever being what I want to be. Is that why I think I don’t know what I want? Because I don’t want to try and fail?

How can I know when I don’t want something and when I am just afraid?

Why am I so afraid?

Why do I even care about others? Is it really about others? Or is it about others confirming what I don’t want to face, confirming that I am never going to get what I want, and I pretend it’s actually depression and that it’s all in my head, like I can do it, but I don’t try it because I’m depressed so that’s why I don’t believe in myself, but ACTUALLY I really am bad at what I wish I was good at, so I’ll never conquer anything, I won’t be successful, I am always gonna fail.

I don’t know what is true and I am afraid of finding out.

I don’t wanna face the truth whatever it is.

I’m such a coward.

[brokenallison-who-blog]

purple things inside the refrigerator

I threw your grapes out

Took the heart out of your name

The comfort you gave me I’m keeping in the closet

But there are some things I’m not able to remove

I couldn’t find all the little notes you wrote me

In fact, I haven’t even tryied yet

I’ll run into them in random days

I know you’re still on my bathroom

All over my place, my head, over me

Are you over me?

‘Cause we are, you said

I think you said

[brokenallison-who-blog]

paths

There’s this girl I am in love with.

Not only I am in love with her; she’s in love with me, too. We are in a relationship now, but we’ve struggled a lot so we could be together. We have a beautiful story, but what has always haunted me is the thought that she is soon going to die. 

You wouldn’t believe how many similarities we have with each other. One of them is that we are not quite mentally healthy, you know. But I’m not saying that’s what is going to kill her. I have a lot of images in my head. Accident. Suicide. Homicide. Disease. I don’t know which one of them it’s gonna be, and I hope none. But sometimes I wonder if she feels it too. If she knows. If that’s why.

I can already feel the emptyness in my heart for when she leaves me. I hope what’s making me feel this way are my mental issues, I hope it’s all a lie. I hope she’s not going to leave me like this. But there are days when I just feel it. It’s one thing to read or hear about something but to feel? How can someone deny it to someone else? To her/himself?

The way I feel it, I’m still going to be her love when it happens. We’ll be in the middle of her story. I can see her in a hospital bed, with tubes and all. I can see her face crying looking at me and trying to smile, but being to sad to do it so. I can see her eyes.

If there’s any kind of “secret” about life, the universe and all that stuff, I hope I am avoiding this to happen just for writing about it. I don’t need “the truth” sending me a message by taking her from me. i don’t want this post to go viral after she dies. I just want her to be here, so we can be happy together. 

I hope you read this one day, when I’m not afraid anymore. 

I know you already knows I am writing about you. But just so you can be sure... 

e x t r e m e   s t e a m p u n k    l o v e 

[brokenallison-who-blog]

.i

essa é a realidade em que você vive

até que em uníssono se escuta o último número

quando estiverem um em cima do outro tudo vai ser diferente

quase como um ritual, só que improvisado