Tag Archive | prosa

Desabafando | Letting it out

Já se passou algum tempo. Ando a evitar chatear-vos muito com os meus dramas interiores e batalhas mentais, mas depois penso que este espaço foi feito para a partilha. Não só daquilo que “produzo” artisticamente, mas de mim – pelo sentido de conexão e união, de pertença até, que isso possa trazer: para vocês que me lêem e para mim que escrevo ( e recebo os vossos comentários e opiniões, que me enriquecem de tantas formas).

Ando irrequieta, interiormente. Sinto que se aproxima uma grande mudança, que de certa forma fui eu que pus em movimento, mas não estou preparada. Cheia de medos, de questões, de incertezas. Não ajuda que este instinto não seja algo de concreto, relativo ao que mudará em que aspecto da minha vida e como – é apenas aquela sensação intensa de que alguma coisa vai mudar, vai acabar, vai dar uma volta. E com essa sensação vem alguma angústia – o que me deixa ainda mais irrequieta e mais preocupada nesta cabeça de hiper-pensadora, ruminadora – que me enche de preocupação e de temores e me deixa paranóica.

Vamos a ver o que os próximos tempos me trazem, depois da confusão que foi o mês de Agosto em termos de relações familiares e estabilidade emocional…torçam por mim, sim?

It has been a while. I have been avoiding to nagg you too much with my inner dramas and mental battles, but then I think that this space was created for sharing. Not only what I “produce” artistically, but myself – for the sense of connection and union, even belonging, that it may bring: for you that read me and for me writing (and receiving your comments and opinions, which enrich me in so many ways).

I have been feeling restless inside. Feeling like a big change is coming, on that it was me who set in motion in some ways, but I am not ready. Filled with fears, questions, uncertainties. It does not help that this instinct is not defined, in regards to what is going to change in which aspect of my life and how – it is just this instense sentationthat something is going to change, to end, to take a turn, a 180º. With that sensation in comes some anguish – which makes me even more restless and more worried in this overthinking ruminating head of mine- which fills me up with worries and fears and makes me paranoid.

Let us see what times will bring, after the confusion all of August was in family relations and emotional stability…fingers crossed for me, ok?

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I have been (over)thinking

I feel restless. I feel miserable. I feel lost.

I really don’t know what to do with myself lately. Can anyone relate to this feeling of helplessness, where you know that something has do be done but you have no idea what or how? Has anyone overcome a stage like this that can give me any pointers or tips on how to go about this incredible need for something (I really don’t know what), for change, for purpose?

Family matters are tense, to be soft on it. I find myself very much on my own when it comes to close blood ties. My relationship with my mother tends to deteriorate further and further with each interaction and I do not know how to go about it right now except distancing myself, for all it does is hurt me and bring me further down. Then, this distancing – perhaps even severing ties (at least for the time being) – also hurts me and brings me further down, fills me with fears of being all alone in the world, helpess and unsupported and just sort of…orphaned.

I know I am not: I have other family that I feel would lend a helping hand and be there for me, as well as good friends – the family I chose and that chose me – who wish to see me well, desire me to be close to them and would extend a helping hand whenever needed. I have my guy, supportive and caring, ever more patient towards my quirks that annoy him – really making the effort for us to be all we can as a team, as partners, as companions. Yet this person, my mother, is one of the grandest foundations of my life, along with being also a source of many of my “traumas” – I really don’t want to call them traumas as I don’t feel my stuff is as severe as what you would call trauma, let’s go with ‘dents’ instead. Together with my grandmother (though not biological), still living and nearing 92 years of age; they comprise the living relatives that I remember being there my entire existence. The onset of dementia brought by a nasty fall, along with all that old age brings, is taking my grandma away from me day by day – living away from her, every time I go on a visit the pain is sharp and dull at the same time. Oh, how the forced perception of mortality (others’ and my own) hurts!

What is the point in all this? Why struggle so much, to have, to amass, to buy, to be rich…? Nothing of it goes with us – should mankind really be such a slave of its own construct?

Yes, I have been feeling terribly non-conformist. Tired of the way we live. I feel myself drowning in meaningless struggle for something I don’t see as truly purposeful or suitable for me and the happiness and serenity I long for.

Any thoughts or advice? Am I alone in this?

(I did go a long way on this one, didn’t I? Sorry folks!)

Carta a um amor longínquo…

δ Agosto, 2011 δ

Meu amor,

               há 5 anos que nos tocámos pela primeira vez, naquele lugar entre aqui e ali, entre sonho e limbo, entre terra e céu. Há 5 anos que te instalaste no meu coração, no meu pensamento, na minha alma. E aí ficaste, como se me tivesses lançado um feitiço.
               Dirias talvez que foi o contrário, a feitiçaria foi minha e foi de mim que ficaste cativo, com prazer. Cheguemos a acordo, foi mútuo e inesperado…e oh tão bom! Lutei contra a certeza de ti e deste sentir, então, temendo estar a ficar louca. Aposto que lutaste também, fugindo a sensações, anseios e sentimentos que há muito esqueceras que existiam e estavas certo de não ser capaz de sentir, pensar ou experienciar.
              Demos tanto um ao outro, meu amor, damos tanto às nossas almas imortais com esta união que o amor nos proporciona. Com esta entrega, este fogo, esta ternura risonha que agora me aquece o peito, ao lembrar os nossos despiques e provocações.
              Quase quero chorar, sinto água a juntar-se nas pestanas, mas luto contra as lágrimas. Recordar-te, recordar-nos, é um prazer. Deveria ser fonte unicamente de alegria. Se me assola a ânsia de te carpir, é porque te sinto a falta, porque as saudades sufocam tanto que o ar que respiro mal é suficiente.
              Amante, amigo, confidente, companheiro, amor. És tudo isso e muito mais, meu querido. E eu que sempre fui boa com palavras, fiquei sem vocabulário capaz de dizer o quanto te amo.
              Pergunto-me tantas vezes o que estarás a fazer, a pensar, a sentir. Pergunto-me se teremos outra oportunidade de nos termos nos braços um do outro, perdidos. Pergunto-me se sentes a minha falta, se pensas em mim. Se ainda me amarás como antes.
              Meu querido, meu amor. Sonho contigo, acordada e entre os lençóis da minha cama solitária. Fecho os olhos e vejo o teu rosto, sinto o teu cheiro, respiro o teu sorriso e o teu calor. E quero-te a meu lado, cada vez mais, a cada instante que passo sem ti.
              Os nossos planos para um amanhã partilhado foram-se, desfazendo-se em fumo? Não creio. Muito menos creio que assim o aches. Apenas os adiámos, até ao momento em que o destino nos volta a juntar e transforme em viver o nosso sonhar.
              Eu e tu, o “amor e uma cabana” talvez. Mas o amor, sempre o amor, sempre. Acima de tudo e de todos, para sempre.
             Um dia terei uma palavra que te descreva e ao que sinto por ti e tu por mim. Mais do que meu amor, mais do que meu amado, meu amante, meu querido, meu anjo; mais do que alma gémea, perdição, paixão. Consigo dizer o que és, o que não és, aquilo que és mais que…mas não consigo algomerar, aglutinar, conjurar, combinar os vocábulos para fazer compreender ao mundo este sentimento, este Amor.
              Tu tornas-me inteira, quase o velho cliché do “completas-me” mas não é bem isso. “Apenas” sou mais eu quando estou contigo; quando te tenho ao meu lado. Não receio ser eu mesma, sem vergonhas, contigo. Amar-te e saber que me amas faz-me acreditar em mim e nesse “potencial escondido” que dizem que todas as pessoas têm.
             Sinto a tua falta, tenho saudades de ti, de nós e de quem sou contigo. Mal posso esperar pelo nosso “para sempre”.

Amo-te, antes agora e sempre.

Tua, inteiramente
 Mashiara

– Reencontro de Colegas –

É hoje que se realiza um jantar que sinto que será muito interessante… 10 anos depois de serem finalistas (eu fui um ano depois), alguns dos colegas de faculdade propuseram um jantar de reencontro. Um pouco no espírito das reuniões de “X” anos depois do Liceu que fazem na América (ou pelo menos nos filmes).

Estou muito curiosa em relação ao que irá acontecer neste jantar, como vão estar as pessoas depois deste tempo…se ainda há uma afinidade natural com as pessoas com quem a tínhamos quando fomos caloirinhos e durante o percurso académico que se seguiu. Se a maioria manteve contacto ou não, depois do fim daquela fase da vida.

Como fiquei retida no 2º ano, ao mesmo tempo que entrei para a Magna Tuna ApocalISCSPiana, perdi um pouco deste criar de laços que unem este grupo de pessoas – ao mesmo tempo que sendo uma pessoa terrível a manter contacto acabei por me afastar aos poucos, especialmente após o regresso ao Algarve. Mas o carinho por estas pessoas, com quem partilhei excelentes momentos, nunca se desvaneceu! (tanto as do curso, nas várias turmas em que estive; como as da Tuna, com quem também fui uma nódoa a manter contacto!)

Recentemente, retomei contacto com uma dessas pessoas: a Rita, do blog From Pemberley to Milton, sobre JAFF e North and South. Foi muito bom, tem sido maravilhoso sentir esta re-conexão com alguém com quem tinha criado tanta empatia há cerca de 14 anos (oh GOD! 14?!). Gostava de conseguir o mesmo com tantas pessoas que foram saindo lentamente da minha vida mas não da lembrança e estou entusiasmada com este jantar especialmente por isso!

Estando noutro ponto do meu ser e estar na vida, creio que me será muito mais fácil, em especial em comparação à miúda de 17 anos que aterrou no Alto da Ajuda sem saber muito bem o que era aquilo tudo e se seria o que queria, socializar hoje, mesmo com o meu jeito introvertido e preocupado com o que irão pensar sobre mim e etc. (introvertido sofre!)

Depois logo vos conto como foi (com fotos e tudo e tudo)!

 

Abreijos!

Pensado em coisas… | Thinking of stuff

Ando cansada do mundo. Deste paradigma que impulsiona a sociedade.
Não me faz sentido; não ressoa no meu sentir; não parece mais funcionar para a Humanidade.

Pensar nestas coisas angustia-me. Pensar no que nos aguarda nos dias vindouros, é um exercício intelectual que me assusta. Mas dou por mim, cada vez mais, a revisitar estes pensamentos e a re-sentir estas angústias e temores.

Será que podemos mudar alguma coisa? Como? Por onde começar?

Não sei. Não sei. Não sei. Mas há que tentar.

 

I have been feeling tired of the world. Of this paradigm that drives society.
It does not make sense to me; it does not find an echo within my feeling; it doesn’t seem to work for Humanity anymore.

 

Thinking about these things leaves me anguished. Thinking about wait awaits us in days to come, is an intelectual exercise that frightens me. But I find myself, ever more, reviting these thoughs and feeling these anguishes and fears once again.

Can we change anything? How? Where to start?

I don’t know. I don’t know. I don’t know. But we must try.

The Crest of Snow and Copper – Ending

** Warning *** Mature content ahead *** My “sort of” erotic piece ***
I’ll be posting this short story in a few installments, weekly. Would love to have your feedback on it, pretty please?
The Ending:

– It’s not what you think… I’m sorry! – He started explaining, while her anger built up slowly to a desire to beat him up. – I really don’t know how to explain this any better than saying that that marking is something that I bestow upon beings extremely rarely. It means something more than ‘I’ve been here’. It means you belong to me. But it also means I belong to you.

She was dumb shocked. Had he just said that she belonged to him? More, had he just said he belonged to her? Something seemed extremely impossible to her in all this, now. When was she going to wake up, for this could only be another dream?

– You did something to me… marked me, to show I belong to you and you belong to me? – The girl asked, confused. – But most people aren’t able to see that marking? So what’s the point? And what do you mean with belonging?

– The mark, my seal, my crest, if you wish to call it like that. It may not be visible to the majority, but even though they don’t see it, they will know you have someone. – He started explaining, with a soft smile on those rosy ‘just-the-perfect-amount-of-thick’ lips. – You did something to me, you know? You awakened something in me I had no idea I had. You saw in me things, a person, not even I had seen. You have marked me long before I marked you. And that marking you gave me is just as invisible as your own.

She was speechless. All that was like him saying he loved her, actually. Maybe even more than that. The girl could only smile, understanding his actions. She could only hold him tight as she kissed him. She could only try to hold back those tears of joy that ran down her cheeks into his face. She had never felt like this. She had never been felt like this.

Resting again on his chest, the girl curled with the boy, both slipping slowly into the land of dreams. Though no dream could ever compare to how they felt in each other’s arms.

The Crest of Snow and Copper – XXI

** Warning *** Mature content ahead *** My “sort of” erotic piece ***
I’ll be posting this short story in a few installments, weekly. Would love to have your feedback on it, pretty please?
Part 21:

There was a tingling at her lower back, almost like a slight burning. It hurt a bit, too. Still her curiosity about what he was going to say surpassed the pain.

– I’m sorry if I’m hurting you, but… – He started off again, but she had something she had to say before he proceeded.

– Amo-te. – The woman said, firmly and with certainty, causing him to look her straight in the eye.

He was, quite obviously, rendered speechless. Even though he could not speak the language, he knew as much as to understand she had just said she loved him. The fact that she did so in her native tongue only made it in a way more special and, definitely, more serious. Her eyes reassured the young man that she didn’t expect a response of any kind from him, she simply had to say it and that was that.

The same way he was apparently struggling to express something his own way, she had gone by instinct and mouthed the words on her mind uncensored. He also knew she might come to regret having so rashly said those words, maybe even sooner than either expected. She was probably regretting it right now, but it was her own conscience which had to deal with it.

Still tracing a strange pattern on her lower back, he seemed a bit far away in thought as she observed him. The girl felt that slight burning come to a halt the exact moment his hand moved to rest at her hip, but the area kept the tingling feeling it had started off with. She had no doubt now that there was some kind of spell-crafting imbued in the movement of his fingers on her back. What had he done to her?

– It is done, now. – He said, in a deep thought kind of tone, startling her. – My mark is on your back, even though most people will not be able to see it.

– What?! – She asked, confused and appalled with his words, a little anger showing through. – Ah, so that’s how you roll, heh? You fuck a girl and then you brand the girl like cattle?