"there'are things in life that are worth missing, maybe that's why", said a nun to me. I was at the hospital that day, tears were running down my face. It was a sad day.
after that time i would spend my days doing to things: ice cream and tears our drinks and dumb things.
it was a denial way of dealing with it.
Someday though i put it on the same jacket that i had when the first tears came down my face. It was a cold Monday, and i was walking through the biggest avenue with lost eyes. As i put down my hands into the pocket, i find a peace of paper, signed by the nun. As I read it something inside me awakened and my lost eyes lost the fear of letting it go.
That cold day, was the last time i saw that city. It was the lovely day that i decided to be gone too.

I was married to this guy; he was insane and sane sometimes. In those long years he let stand for hours on bar, all by myself, and never apologize for it. When someone came on to me he would flip, even though if he wasn’t there. He never knew what he wanted, and yet he knew me.
I always was sure of what I wanted, I wasn’t like him… I wanted attention, a smile and a company. I never got those from him. All I got was screams and tears, and maybe, on a great day a couple smiles.

There was this small town, right outside of everywhere, the roads that led to that place had no traffic; no movement; it was a place of dead silence. To hear all the noises of the pure silence town, there was its founder, a small bright man, with a bored happy face. In his life there was nothing but that town, those silent lost streets.
One day, the hands of wind brought this car, filled with sound, and laughter to the pure silence town. The man was scared and happy to see a living soul, and as soon as the dark haired girl got down from the car, the man knew something had changed.
She stayed there for four nights, smiling and telling the man how it was everywhere. His eyes shined with the unknown and with fear of it. On the day the girl left, he went with her.
During the years that the man took to know everywhere he saw what didn’t exist on pure silence town. He saw the good things, things worthy of a smile, but what he saw that got engraved in his mind was the bad things, the lost things. During those engraved years, he loved, laughed, cried and saw misery on its most cruel way.
In one winter day he got back to pure silence town, and saw with new eyes that town, it wasn’t the same; he couldn’t quite get the same felling. The bored ignorant happiness. He was different, he knew the world. That day he meet a girl there, a plain blond hair old lady, and when he tried to tell her about everything, she stood her hand up and said with grave voice ‘do not tell me, I do not wish to suffer, like you’re now, for lost of something that it’s stuck somewhere, and its somehow intangible now. Please, refrain yourself from coming back here, this place has to be silently ignorant, and to well knowing like you.’
The man than left, and always wished that he could ignorant sometimes, instead of being curious about life.

'heartbroke feels like you have a hole in your heart and it cannot be filled'
my heartbroken feels like a sharp pain, that sneaks around me in the middle of the night, it hurts in a way that makes to stop breathing and only able to feel the lonliness that was left behind...
the weird part is, that when i think 'what is it that i want', a name comes to mind, very weak and its surpassed by a strong wish to run; run far away and start in a new place, where home is nowhere and everywhere, where nobody knows my name, but they can see me shining
i still don't know if i'm heartbroke because of somebody or because i'm still here, stuck in the same place...

i'm afraid of going to sleep, cos if i do, you might resurge in the darkness of the dreams. and i don't know if i could hadle another goodbye

uma criancinha perdida no parque chora pela mãe, foi assim que Anna descreveu seu sentimento. Algo como uma perda muito grande de chão, uma confusão, uma necessidade de sua mãe. A psicologa atenta a cada gesto da paciente apenas observava; notara sinais de confusão e depressão, mas gostaria que a paciente notasse isso.
Durante uma hora Anna contou como se sentia, enquanto a sua psicologa apenas ouvia, ouvia e ouvia. Ao dar pesarosos passos para fora do consultório Anna reentrava na confusão e o sentimento de alivio passara.
Era como se o mundo girasse em sentido aleatorios, apenas para deixa-la tonta. Sem dizera que tudo ocorrera apos uma mudança repentina no modo de agir de sua mãe, quando apenas tinha 12 anos. Relembrava exatamente da mãe carinhosa, atenciosa, da mãe com jeito de mãe; mas ao entrar em casa se deparava com uma mãe não mãe. Gritos e ataques, diminuições e humilhação faziam parte do seu dia a dia. Fazia o maximo,( ha se fazia!), para se a filha perfeita, mas nada bastava. Sempre seria aquilo que a mãe lhe acusava naquela semana, vida. A ultima definição, se não estava errada, era de uma lesbica, alcoolatra, drogada, puta, que a odiava.
Anna lutara, (ha como lutara), contra as atitudes da mãe, mas sempre acabara sendo pintada como a errada e como quem necessitava dizer desculpe, inclusive na frente do pai. Como era ridiculo.
Naquele dia em especifico, apos lágrimas e humilhações repetidas, arrumara as malas. A sua psicologa não atendia, mas mesmo sem ela não via outra solução, deveria ir embora. Mas pra onde? E com que dinheiro? não havia como, não ainda. Mas sabia, (ha como sabia!), deveria sair daquele lugar. Largara as malas, andava até a sala, onde assistiria o filme mais triste que conhecia, tudo para tentar convence-la de que aguentaria mais um pouco naquele lugar.