Gravity

Stuck in a time and a place that isn’t here.
I saw somewhere once that that was the definition of gravity. Time. Space.
I guess that’s all I would need to go back in that case; defy gravity.
I should have been an astronaut.
It’s the closest real world condition to being a wizard, to travelling through time, quite literally.
We can’t see the quantum that dominates our lives. How our rules don’t hold up when we break them apart into infinitely small pieces. But we feel it, in our souls, all of the time. When our reality doesn’t seem to match our emotions. Lonely in a crowded room, or overcrowded in a lonely room. Weighed down by objects and people who aren’t there.

You start to wonder what’s even real and life weighs so much more than gravity.

Isolation

There is a silence

a hesitation that’s befallen the whole world

but if you listen very carefully

if you stand so very still.

Then maybe sometimes you can hear it

How the Earth shifts underneath you

Creaking slowly on its axis. As you hold your breath and hold your muscles.

When you return it will still be there.

Pride

I’m not proud of my past.
I’ve fucked up a lot.
So. Much.
Wasted myself,
Taken advantage of people who love me… or even who just loved me.

If my story were told,
In some movie or some book somewhere,
I doubt I’d ever be the hero.
Not a chance.

But in the end my past is mine, in fact it’s the only thing that well and truly is.
No one else lived it but me.
And I think of all I’ve learned from it,
How much it forced me to grow.
Really forced me. Or maybe I forced myself.
Because I hate nothing more than inertia.

I’d rather take the risk, jump, fall, break apart into a million pieces.
Because at least once I’ve picked them all up I’ve learned something.
I learned not to do that.
Instead of paralizing myself in fear.
Instead of wondering “what if?”
Instead of sitting in one place for all eternity complaining why it is that nothing ever happens, why no progress is ever made.

I might not be proud of my past,
But in the end it’s uniquely my own. And my own self, there’s something I am damn fucking proud of. Who says you would have done any better if you had lived my life for me?

Orgulho

Não me orgulho muito do meu passado
Pois errei tanto nele que me da agonia.
Fiz muita merda mesmo,
Me desperdicei,
Abusei de quem me ama… ou ao menos me amava.

Acho que se contarem minha história não saio como uma heroína.
Não mesmo.

Mas no final o passado é meu.
E penso o tanto que aprendi que ele.
Quanto ele me forçou a crescer,
Porque eu não gosto de parar quieta.
Detesto a inércia.
Prefiro me arriscar, pular, cair, me estabafar bem feio mesmo.
Porque pelo menos assim digo que aprendi a não fazer,
Ao invés de me paralizar de medo e reclamar que a vida nunca me ajudou a progredir.

Posso não sentir orgulho do meu passado. Mas ele é únicamente meu. E de mim; disso sim. Tenho o maior orgulho. Quem disse que você teria feito melhor tendo vivido a minha vida?

Dreaming through Life

Like waking up from a dream.
But in a calm, peaceful way.
Almost like waking up from one dream into another, unsure of which one is more dream and which one is more real.
Knowing ultimately it doesn’t matter.
The one factor that won’t change is the one that matters most.
The one factor that won’t change is only you.
In waking life and dreaming, you are always your companion. Always there to witness you, to prove to you what you made happen.
So be there for you, listen, give creedence to your voice and action. Cause in the end you’ll always have you. You’ll always be there, through all the madness.