postmortem-diary - Tumblr blog

[postmortem-diary]

What to do

This is the age of the falling ones and I wish I could disappear as weeks goes by and nothing change for me. I’m a housewife now, working on my free time; I carry weight, spend all my coins and clean the dust.

The only reason I’m still breathing and writing this down is that I couldn’t leave my cat.

I failed with everything and I don’t feel like moving on because I can’t stand the feeling of this eternal wait for something good to come... ‘Cause, if nothing good ever happens, I would realise then that I’ve lived my life being a burden to everyone I love and it feels even worse.

[postmortem-diary]

All this songs I used to listen a couple years ago should be reminding me of times I was waiting for you but now going through them again, they just got me back to myself, to the rush of trains and mornings fulfilled with coffee. My time, my life, my space. You weren’t there and you are still absent. Meanwhile, I catch my mind full of doubts all over again, just like everytime. Doubts about who I am, doubts about what I was supposed to be. This brings me no satisfaction.

Maybe, a lone runner. Again.

[postmortem-diary]

04.09 - Ruthie

[postmortem-diary]

How does it feel to spill the last drop of sweetness? How does it feel to have nothing to be bind wtih? How does it feel to be exhausted only with the thought of sharing? How does it feel to have nothing to give? How does it feel to let somebody else drown? How does it feel to stand and watch somebody else drown? How does it feel to be empty of meaning? How does it feel to lose what turns you on? How does it feel to see behind someone else's eyes? How does it feel to have the need to lie and hide? How does it feel to ignore without purpose? How does it feel to hurt with no apparent reason? How does it feel to spill the last drop of interest? How does it feel to to push somebody else away? How does it feel to lose the podium intencionaly? How does it feel to be nothing to you and others? How does it feel to abandon? How does it feel to suffocate somebody else? How does it feel to be unexistent?

[postmortem-diary]

Grounds

What is the point of hanging on to uncertainty steps? I’m about to complete 25 aniversaries and all I ever thought about this age 10 years ago is incomplete; I planned to achieve my on house, my own car, an stable job, a carieer, being married and all I’m is a graduate intern of a small company living with my parents which I can’t mostly stand, with not even a licence and, obviusly, very poorly resolved about love.

1/4 of a century. This year I wish I could solve somethinigs. It’s not about acomplish regular goals, it’s about trying to reach some sort of inner satisfaction. I’m done feeling like I do, I’m done being a person that pretend to be fine occuping myself off the boundaries of what is called healthy just to be so tired that I have no time to think.

I’m done with superficials relationships whose sex is a distant memory and what excites is far beyond what is spoken. Logic is aways taken down when - what nowdays I can be sure to say - my anxiety comes along and the wonders turn all into problems. This year I want to find something that can be trully shared. I’ve been exausted for too long.

And, about the rest: I want a roof but I don’t really want wheels. Now I have a decent payment and I fiercely want to start a new life.

With or without what grounds me down.

[postmortem-diary]

What do you like?

I’d like to be more aware, to know who I am. Currently a though issue to the wicked to know. So it’s better for me to start writing down what it feels like To not know Or a few clues that which can actualy lead me somewhere If I could choose, I’d like to be a carpenter I feel terrible for dislike so much the idea of a house full of people But I’d like to have one single person to share the existance It could be anything

By this time, again, I’d turn my backs to humankind and Abdicate of every material trace of it

Because I’m sick and tired of wake up feeling useless Because I’m sick of seeing myself as an individual that doesn’t know

[postmortem-diary]

saudade

Por saudade, a saudade acaba. Por saudade nos sujeitamos a tanto apenas para acabar com ela. Uma vez que ela acaba, não fazemos mais as tantas coisas que podem ser bonitas para quem dizemos que sentimos falta.

E por saudade moveu o mundo, o meu mundo, foi o que sempre faltou mas agora não há saudade e a bondade se dissolve e o rotineiro volta e me consome.

É que acostumo muito fácil com o bom e com o ruim; acredito que o bom vai durar pra sempre e o ruim só dói na hora e é como sei viver.

Não quero ser protagonista da minha própria vida, não quero ser protagonista de nada, quero deixar de existir nessa peça. Não há nada que eu queira fazer.

[postmortem-diary]

Endeavour

I’ve been lying and trying to Find excuses to Don’t think about the bruises I carry into me

I’ve been scaping time and Trying to Running everywhere justo to See you and

I’ve been swallowing my Fears and shivers Trying to Not see the cage you put me into

And I’ve been up to Let myself to taste the bitterness Of your arms all around Erasing their absent when I needed to

And how I was alright Trying to Find my path to Myself

And now you come Trying to Make the mistakes That made you be gone

[postmortem-diary]

Se eu soubesse o que viria pela frente

Não há qualquer tipo de alegria para aqueles que dependem emocionalmente do outro.

Não sei o que se passa na cabeça dos homens mas não consigo acompanhar uma mente parada, receosa. Há tanto no mundo e tão pouco tempo. Mas há medo e sempre medo. Não há confiança, não há vontade. Não há confiança de que juntos podemos fazer com que as coisas que queremos aconteçam, não há confiança na força que temos juntos. Não há vontade em construir absolutamente nada, não há vontade pelo outro.

Não se abre o coração e nem a mente.

03 de maio de 2018, 23:34. Mal se passaram 48 horas.

Houveram mais decepções do que em alguns meses, somados. Houveram mais expectativas despedaçadas que em algumas semanas, somadas.

Meu melhor amigo volta a ser um completo estranho. Completamente desconectado da minha realidade e completamente desinteressado nos pequenos momentos que fiam a colcha do nosso relacionamento. 

Eu estou sozinha. Novamente.

Entre dois planos de término, um de relacionamento e um da vida como um todo, compreendo agora que tudo que senti nas últimas semanas foi por causa dele. O desejo de morte, a vontade pela dor, o choro sem fim, a falta de ar. Tudo. E eu não quero isso.

Se a completa estranheza entre nós vai voltar, prefiro ser eu a partir. Não posso ser tratada bem apenas pessoalmente e ser uma figura sem rosto à distância. Prefiro não ser.

Não quero mais depender sempre da vontade de outrem sobre a minha ou de esperar esperar esperar.

[postmortem-diary]

Instrumentality

The storm is endless in the middle of the Pacific Ocean, which is, in fact, such a contraditory event. Contradictions are the bricks in life’s walls indeed, actualy, we may even think off life is the oposit of death. There is darkness and light, conscience and impulse, positive and negative, freedom and slavery, bourgeouse and  proletariat... and it goes on. There is all of this duality filling the universe and within human’s body and soul.

But, what lies between the contradiction? In material’s existance everything is duality but in essense, there is not a straight line leading to both good or bad, there is a circle connecting countless experiences. The mind itself is an hostile ambient which the connection of these experiences may not be easy to find. 

We may comprehend contraditory events of material plane but we can’t even stop to think about what is inside the event of slavery and freedom. We are unable to redeem ourselves from the evil of slavery as we fight with all our strenght  to remain as slaves; slaves of our own lack of perception of the circle we are in.

Understandment about an hypothetical circle that rules over our way of life is such a complex thing. Can we ever achieve it? The thread that connect the tissue of the human inner existence can lead us to past and future, Nothing can go unsee for that circle, the evil you do, unlike of what some may believe, won’t give you any good. There is contraditory but also there is balance.

01.

[postmortem-diary]

Some people get by With a little understanding Some people get by With a whole lot more I don't know Why you gotta be so undemanding One thing i know I want more I want more

(and i need all the love that i can't get to) (and i need all the love i can get) (and i need all the love that i can't get to)

D'you get scared to feel so much? To let somebody touch you? So hot, so cold, so far so out of control Hard to come by, and harder to hold

Some people get by With a little understanding Some people get by With a whole lot more I don't know Why you gotta be so undemanding I want more (and i need all the love i can get) (and i need all the love that i can't get to) (and i need all the love i can get) (and i need all the love that i can't get to)

There are parts of me that don't get nervous Not the parts that shake You won't get what you deserve You are what you take Learning to cry for fun and profit I'm not done yet Counterfeit dollars or the english zloty Anything i can get

Some people get by With a little understanding Some people get by With a whole lot more I don't know Why you gotta be so undemanding One thing i know I want more

(and i need all the love i can get) (and i need all the love that i can't get to) (and i need all the love i can get) (and i need all the love that i can't get to)

All the love that you can get All the love That i can't get to

[postmortem-diary]

Apathetic

Old photographs can't shake a dust on me

Old memories can’t move a cell

I laugh to myself over the joke it has been

and feel regretful for allow myself

It’s me and the doubt again

[postmortem-diary]

What the air gave me

Um dia igual a qualquer outro que eu consiga me lembrar: as nuvens, o vento úmido e as luzes acesas as 15 horas. Essas ruas agora se expandem no espaço, não são só os passos mais largos, são também as distâncias - metafóricas ou materiais -, são também explosão.

Andei em outros lugares mas meu corpo, em simbiose, sempre carrega essa cabeça cansada de volta para rua atrás da rua com as árvores altas em que a luz da lua brilha apática diante do vento que corta os olhares. E ela também estava lá! Pela janela, no máximo à 50km/h, surgia das nuvens e era minha única oportunidade de fazer um desejo: sempre o mesmo.

Muitos quilômetros de movimento pendular são sempre muitos quilômetros de coisas pra ver, quilômetros de pensamentos pra elaborar. Não digo que gosto, que não me canso. Fico exausta, me dobro. À tragédia sob as pontes carrego a minha própria sobre elas em passos lentos que imaginam sempre como seria voar [de cima da ponte para baixo dos carros ou direto para o fundo do Pinheiros].

Enfio mais um chiclete na boca, atravesso fora da faixa correndo, pulo o último degrau. Bom dia, boa tarde, boa noite. Acompanhada posso cochilar, sozinha posso encaixar o fone e esquecer de mim. Catarse. Somos humanos desumanizados diante de quo, somos coisas que nasceram para servir e então morrer. Se não somos mais do que peças, do que vale sonhar? Sentado ao lado direito de Susan toda-poderosa está o CPF tal em direção à periferia.

De touca, sou um leãozinho, um ratinho, mais uma cabeça na manada, pensando... a violência. Eu esqueci o que eu conhecia mas os bolsos vazios carregam o que o ar me trouxe e eu sou o que sou, o que sempre fui. Depois da tempestade vem a bonança, é o que dizem, e já até mofei. Se meu sol vem a noite, minha lua haverá de brilhar. O fogo precisa do ar.

Tenho medo de pedir ajuda, eu mordo e ataco e pra isso não há desculpa. Mas perdoo e me doo muito mais do que posso, numa tentativa vã de equilibrar a balança do universo, correndo pendendo sempre pra um lado assim como carrego minha mochila na rua. 

Eu sou o pulo no degrau, o beijo na chuva, a lambida no olho, a blusa de frio e mais um número na fila. Eu estarei sempre lá, nessa e naquela coisa, até desaparecer como fumaça no vento. Sou conjunto das coisas que me formam, de cada segundo que passei pensando enquanto caminhava sob as nuvens e sobre o asfalto. Dos planos que fiz e das coisas que disse mesmo com medo, de todos os compromissos que assumi e nunca tive a intensão de deixá-los passar.  Todo sentimento é o melhor sentimento e cada dia é o melhor dia. E eu vou esperando mesmo cansada.

E esses passos vão por todos esses caminhos, por todas essas ruas deitadas sob o céu nublado, sob a garoa e as luzes de carros e postes. Entre passos apressados e um milhão de músicas performadas nas ruas que me reservavam a solidão, a única alma enquanto ninguém olhava, foi onde eu cresci, foi onde expandi. Expandi as dimensões, os passos, os olhares, a consciência e explodi.

Sei por onde andei e cada centímetro entre a mais alta riqueza e a que já foi a pior pobreza dessa cidade tem um pouco de mim assim como tenho um pouco dela. Não sou nada mais que a síntese de situações inteiras. E assim vamos carregar uma a outra, em implosão.

[postmortem-diary]

Ei... Eu te amo. Queria estar ai pra você não se sentir tão sozinha. Lembra que tem sempre um mineirinho aqui louco por você Ah muito ruim ficar longe e não poder estar ai pra sei lá, dar um abraço e tal Sei lá... Eu to aqui sempre pra você Me sinto horrível quando você diz que se sente sozinha e não tem muito oque possa fazer daqui Te amo amo! Minha ratinha

Yeah, once upon a time that movie you claimed it's scientific fiction and I said it’s a romance but in the end, I wish that whole thing to exist. I wish I could remove you completely out of me, get rid of all that reminds me of you, forget your smile, your smell, the image of you sleeping on the living room floor and the sensation of your fingertips moving slowly over my legs. But, if I could go back in time, I would tell you two years ago what have happend so far. I would tell you that all your promises are lie, I would ask you how you feel knowing that you hurted me just like you said you never would. I would ask if you could be pushed to the limit by that time and how does it feel to know we never acomplished anything, I would like to know if it feels so scary to know all of that or you have planned it all along. If I could go back in time, I would like to hear from you, in a time you used to talk to me, if you were ready to give me some of the best times of my life and some of the worst. If you would think that all of it worth, knowing what I would tell you. I would tell you to enjoy my arms while it still last, to take a close look at my smile while I was still able to it, I would tell you to never betray me and you that way. I would ask you if you if knowing this rejoices you... And I would tell myself to never believe. But that wouldn't be easy because I was so crazy about you, so I wish I, instead, I could just vanish you out of me for good, like the movie we watched a long time ago... while there was still you.

Yeah, I’ve got my answers even tho I’m not a timetraveler. Even tho I’m not a timetraveler, there are many paths that can lead us to the past. With this I mean I understood I wasn’t such a big problem as I saw myself lately. You messed me all along, got into my head in a very fragile moment to supress your own frustrations, so in the end, I’m not the only one who needs a psychiatrist.

The things we lived, the plans we made... were all circunstantial. Life is what it it, you see? I’m no longer a victim, but I was mistaken by myself, and I thank to the sisters that helpeld me to see through; innerself I wonderer how would it be if everything was just simple, if I gave you only my body and never my soul but wouldn’t ever be enough because you were willing to tame me and I’m a full person: ever and aways, heart, mind, body and soul. I gave everything I’ve got and in return I’ve got a rope around my neck [disppair and lonliness]. I became ill but I’ve found myself again. And I can’t say I regret anything because it’s just part of the long way.

I’m thicker than ever. 

[postmortem-diary]

Injuries

I don't like that cliche, the one that quotes the Le Petit Prince's fox about emotional responsibility because, for me, there is a lot more sense with you if you can rationalize situations. But the human mind is a huge mistery, even you and me being humans with minds, we are unable to comprehend what lies beneath the obviouness.

So let's put we both at the same perspective, imagine you have just found an injured animal. What would you do? You can move along your way because you 're not responsible for that unfortunate one or you can try to help somehow. Even you´re not responsible for this animal´s welfare before, you´re now engulfed by that because, afterall, now you have conscience about this state in time and you can decide to act by this point.

If you decide to move, the result of this particular episode will never be known; if you decide to act, you must be aware that wounded animals are willing to be aggressive because all they can do is try to, instinctly, survive. So, afflicted by pain, they won't be able to distinguish your good-intended hand from a threat.

You shall be prepared: pain is an effective blinder for animals.

Now let's set up another perspective: this animal is you and I am the passerby.

[postmortem-diary]

erosion

I am so distressed by this feeling of some sort of unsure debt that I cannot liquidate, so I am eroded before my own convictions.

I walk head down all along the way [inside]; 'm not feeling this or is it so longlasting that is already a part of my personality?

It is confusing to myself after all, all this waves crashing down my shore, if I am still such a solid matter or I am.... eroded.

My own guilt, my own pain, my own disbilief Can I write? Can I read? Can I understand? Can I be good enough to be where I am or it was just a glimpsy of luck?

Every day; every night. Since the moment I open my eyes and until I close them.

And you say that all you got here is me and here all I got is everything; so what am I up to expect? I’m unfair!

Automaticly, your problems are all mine; I find myself bound to provide you the bestest life I can; I find myself shielding you from the failure...

...While I am going down, spiraling down myself. In pain; in anger; in nothigness; in failure.

I couldn’t, so easily, walk through the end of my contract, so easily as I managed to get you yours in a place my tentacles cannot even reach.

Why is that? For what is that?

I don’t allow myself to feel, to assume or to fly because you said we are in this such unfair trade - and that should not have been this way if we kept the vitue we used to.

So, I guess that what hurts me the most is that I feel trapped by a thing that I didn’t even ment to; it hurts me the most that this situation makes my heart beat faster and my breath to extinguish because I don’t know how I can get out [this cage].

It hurts me the most that I can’t cease to open my heart to feel absolutely everything while there is a struggle inside of me to keep you apart of all harm; a struggle that is invisible... and your eyes cannot see thin air.

[postmortem-diary]

L abel

It’s been troubling my mind The doubt, and I often caught myself trying to fit on a label

What am I? A person who despise Any interaction but still up to be betrayed

What am I? A person which The heart is unactive And the body is stucked

But my mind is on the run To something that I can’t reach I can’t reach out to know The label I fit in