*Such a lifelong seriousness, you know?
Taking life too seriously, taking myself too seriously, taking others too seriously, and giving all of us a trouble big time - hey, why did you show up late? why did I say that? why did you break my heart when I loved you such much? I'm so so so sorry... (and keeps going) not to mention the moral hangovers, self-consciousnesses, shame of going to the library with my wonderful pajama-like blue pants.
*There's also this thing of all-that-you're-supposed-to-do at a certain moment of Time.
So it felt so painful back then this silly thing that I was the last one to kiss a boy at school when I was 13, and the last one to have my period and at 29 I got so afraid of turning 30, because when I'm 30, well, I have to be all wise and I'm so fucking faraway from wise with these insecurities and fears, including this big one for a woman at that age: that at the moment I had no such supposedly-natural feeling of becoming a mother. [and the clock felt to be always ticking]
*Not only time but also Space.
When everybody settles, and friends become Families with apartments, or even when I listen to those who have their favorite city in the world I watch from the inside my inability to find a place in all 5 continents where I would like to stay for more than 2 years or, to go a little further: not able to even decide if I prefer a house or an apartment, if I am urban or if I like the countryside
Or this uncomfortable one of not feeling particularly Brazilian although not having any other identity to replace it: Exiled from nowhere with no asylum country.
*And there's also the Being a Proper Good Person.
So I read Dostoievski when I was 15, got good grades in hateful biology and chemistry, studied Law at a very good university, refrained from dancing Macarena in public, wore dreadful high heels, exercised regularly and so on (thanks God I've been a smoker for 20 years now).
* * *
Then it came this one day when I realized that it was maybe too much, huh?
Following others' advices, I tried to imagine I was my best friend and that I was hugging myself and so on. But some things are too deep-rooted to be taken care of this way.
And it was then, sitting in the cushion, that I understood that there was no way to fix myself because there was none to be fixed but the stories I had created about this me.
So I dropped everything and quickly came to this understanding:
:Life's a balloon ride
* * *
Taking life too seriously, taking myself too seriously, taking others too seriously, and giving all of us a trouble big time - hey, why did you show up late? why did I say that? why did you break my heart when I loved you such much? I'm so so so sorry... (and keeps going) not to mention the moral hangovers, self-consciousnesses, shame of going to the library with my wonderful pajama-like blue pants.
*There's also this thing of all-that-you're-supposed-to-do at a certain moment of Time.
So it felt so painful back then this silly thing that I was the last one to kiss a boy at school when I was 13, and the last one to have my period and at 29 I got so afraid of turning 30, because when I'm 30, well, I have to be all wise and I'm so fucking faraway from wise with these insecurities and fears, including this big one for a woman at that age: that at the moment I had no such supposedly-natural feeling of becoming a mother. [and the clock felt to be always ticking]
*Not only time but also Space.
When everybody settles, and friends become Families with apartments, or even when I listen to those who have their favorite city in the world I watch from the inside my inability to find a place in all 5 continents where I would like to stay for more than 2 years or, to go a little further: not able to even decide if I prefer a house or an apartment, if I am urban or if I like the countryside
Or this uncomfortable one of not feeling particularly Brazilian although not having any other identity to replace it: Exiled from nowhere with no asylum country.
*And there's also the Being a Proper Good Person.
So I read Dostoievski when I was 15, got good grades in hateful biology and chemistry, studied Law at a very good university, refrained from dancing Macarena in public, wore dreadful high heels, exercised regularly and so on (thanks God I've been a smoker for 20 years now).
* * *
Then it came this one day when I realized that it was maybe too much, huh?
Following others' advices, I tried to imagine I was my best friend and that I was hugging myself and so on. But some things are too deep-rooted to be taken care of this way.
And it was then, sitting in the cushion, that I understood that there was no way to fix myself because there was none to be fixed but the stories I had created about this me.
So I dropped everything and quickly came to this understanding:
:Life's a balloon ride
* * *
Loved it! :)
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