perdão

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"Com o tempo aprenderemos a perdoar aqueles que nos rejeitaram. O rompimento não foi uma opção deles. Cada tentativa inábil de alguém para informar o outro de que necessita de mais tempo e espaço, de que está relutante em assumir um compromisso ou teme intimidade encerra um esforço de intelectualizar um veredicto essencialmente negativo e inconsciente formulado pela vontade de viver. Sua razões podem ter incluído uma avaliação das nossas qualidade, sua vontade de viver não incluiu, e o informou de uma maneira que não suportava nenhum argumento - eliminando seu interesse sexual em nós. Se eles se deixaram seduzir por outras pessoas menos inteligentes do qe nós, não devemos acusá-los de superficialidade."


alain de botton
em as consolações da filosofia


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(chegou agora pelo correio e já estou sentindo coceira nas mãos pra começar a ler)
(me consome, esse homem. me consome)




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dark and scary

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“it’s like in the great stories, mr frodo, the ones that really mattered. full of darkness and danger they were. and sometimes you didn’t want to know the end, because how could the end be happy? how could the world go back to the way it was when so much bad had happened? but in the end, it’s only a passing thing, this shadow, even darkness must pass"

Lord of the rings - j.r.r. tolkien


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bem assim mesmo

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"One minute, you’re fine. You’re thinking about the coloring of the last photo you took. You’re thinking of a minute little task you have to finish tomorrow. You’re thinking about the weather, and what you’ll wear. You’re thinking of nothing in particular, then it hits you. Suddenly and without mercy, it hits you.

Then you can’t think of anything else. You can only think of him. And the emptiness hits you like a hurricane. Then the longing stretches his arms around you and squeezes, tight, so tight, wrapped around your heart, your chest, until you can’t take a breath without his breath. You’re thinking of the exact shade of his eyes. You’re thinking of his smile, the slight upturn of his lips, the shape imprinted upon yours, an invisible stamp cloned on, you’re thinking of the slightest raise of his eyebrow, a skilled puppeteer manuvering it just the smallest angle upward, expressing so much.

And oh how it hits you, and you nearly cry out. You would trade anything in the world right now for his touch. His skin pressed upon yours, your head nestled against his shoulder, his hair entwined in your fingers, your tongues dancing. Anything.

But instead: the memory pressed upon you like a ghost, whispering silky moments, conversations, fingers tracing shapes against your curves and crevices, voices in your head. Just that. An image, a dream, a figment of your imagination. A memory. And instead in your hands there is time, there are conflicts that need resolving, lists to be crossed off, alarms to be set and conquered and forgotten."




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desse blog aqui



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change?

“ For nothing is fixed, forever and forever and forever, it is not fixed; the earth is always shifting, the light is always changing, the sea does not cease to grind down rock. Generations do not cease to be born, and we are responsible to them because we are the only witnesses they have. The sea rises, the light fails, lovers cling to each other, and children cling to us. The moment we cease to hold each other, the sea engulfs us and the light goes out. ”

James Baldwin


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almost there

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Good friends, good books and a sleepy conscience: this is the ideal life.
— Mark Twain



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falta só a consciência pegar no sono. e tá quase!



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missing you

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"We’re all lonely for something we don’t know we’re lonely for. How else to explain the curious feeling that goes around feeling like missing somebody we’ve never even met?"
David Foster Wallace



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