Mais prefácio, ou Muito mais do mesmo

Cada cabeça uma sentença. Cada voz uma lingua. E as vozes são tantas.

Porque começar assim? porque em cada dia a inspiração vem em uma lingua diferente. as vezes eu demoro para escrever não é porque estou ocupada, sem inspiração ou nada disso. é que eu sou falo português, inglês e um tiquinho de espanhol. quando a inspiração vem em russo, sanscrito, tal... sei lá não escrevo porque não vou poder ler e entender depois. sacou?

Esquecer as coisas, já dizia uma amiga (acho) faz da vida uma surpresa.

Noticeably Psych

Everything appears to be ok. Appears.  I´m not sure if it can be explained.  I guess I am not “explainer” kind of person. Anyhow, let’s try. Take your preferred brand of chocolate. It looks like a very good piece of chocolate. Thinking about its consistency, you open it up, and your mouth is watering, it looks like the one you like, your eyes send the signals to your brain, you recall the last time you felt it in your mouth, when your tongue finally feels it, it sends a RED alert, telling you “this is not what I meant”, you feel depressed endorphin production stops. Desperately you look over and over the paper that stills evolving that so called food  (I don’t know how to call it, this shit it’s not chocolate), trying to find any visual indication that your stupid eye missed, maybe a “diet” alert somewhere and nothing. Nothing can logically explain what’s wrong but you can feel it’s wrong.

So here I am, sharing a little bit of how tastes my life. I tried to reach memories, and didn’t take me too long to realize I do not have any memories. And, more analogies are coming.  Yes I can walk. How the hell do I do that? No freaking idea. Ok no clue about anything.  

It’s important here to mention that this was supposed to be my life. But don’t feel like my life, you know? I choose everything that’s mine right? Or I believe I should have chosen.  And of course, the fact that every second I stop and try to understand what am I automatically doing make my head burns, my eyes bleed, (someone can please take this piano from my chest? I can’t breathe!).  

What if everyone else feels as weird as I am? Everyone around seems to be ok in the way we are. Is it than just me? How can I tell?

Very few things seem to be right.  I saw a movie a while ago, the guy writes down every single thing he believes is important. Ok I won’t tattoo “I hate this shit chocolate Sbrubles” in my arm. I will try to save my sanity. But it means I have to make notes.