Bravery

There are different kinds of bravery. I can't say that I've been brave in all the aspects of my life, what's more, I'm particularly coward when it comes to talk about my feelings. But there are times when you need people around you to be brave. To tell you the truth, even if it might hurt (it won't), 'cause it's worst hiding behind a wall of silence, than telling the truth. It's much worse concealing it from someone because you think they might not like what they're going to hear. Not saying anything is worse than lying, since for lying there's some kind of courage needed, while for silence, well silence is the shield of the cowards.






So, do I wanna know? Yes, I do. Well, I do know already, I just want to hear it.

Sweeter than loneliness

She missed him too much that it was even painful to breathe. He hadn't been his first but she knew he'd be his last. They had been lovers for 15 years, first, while he was still married to his second wife and she was a naïve young girl who didn't even know he was married, who stared at the world wide-eyed. She still remembered when he told her he was married, how bad she felt for loving him, how much did it hurt to felt cheated on, and how she realized that, even though, she couldn't stop loving him.

After he divorced his second wife they moved in together, but they never married. She knew that for him a ring in his finger would feel like a chain. And so they could spend all those years together and happy.

But now he was gone forever and she could not face her life without him. All she had was that crippling fear that everything would go wrong from then on. She had to fight so hard for the days to pass that she decided to give up the fight. Just like that she stopped living and breathing, because it was easier than fighting. It was easier than waking up every day to find him gone, to find his side of the bed empty. She decided to die so she didn't have to be alone. As for her death was sweeter than loneliness. 

The ghosts of never-happening loves

It's always the same. I like a boy, but I'm not sure if he likes me, so for fear I never tell him. Then something goes wrong and  everything crumbles down. I somehow recover and I feel ok, realizing that something could've happened but both of us were too afraid. And then when I know for sure that I don't really love him anymore, something comes and makes me think about it again. Something like this song:


And then you wonder, can you mourn for unborn love? Can you still feel hurt even if there's love no more? Or I'm just being naïve into thinking that there's nothing left? Is unborn love like a missing limb, which you can still feel even if it's there no more?

Broken things

I spent most part of this last month wearing a cast. The story is simple, I fell from my bike and I broke my left wrist, but the lesson behind it is powerful. 

Breaking a bone is painful. At first, you don't even realize its broken, but once the pain kicks in it's close to unbearable. It gets all swollen so everyone can see it, and any movement can get you to tears because of the pain. Then you get a cast for it to heal, rendering the broken part useless for at least a month. The first days you're so tired that you fall asleep as soon as you hit the pillow, and you'd actually sleep the whole day long. You feel useless and vulnerable. After some days you find yourself unable to fall asleep because you feel uncomfortable and you start wondering how much longer you'll have to wear the cast, until the broken bone starts hurting again to remind you that it still exists and it is still healing. Then, finally arrives the day when you get your cast off. And your arm or your leg is all dirty and skinny, and it looks like a poor little thing. And you try to move it as before and you just can't. You get frustrated, and you start to understand that healing is a long process. Then you start the physio and, even if it hurts, it makes you feel alive, it makes you see some progress. And after some months your arm is better than new. 

As it happens, it's the same with broken hearts. At first you don't even realize it's broken, then you hide it away so it can heal by its own. And after some time you've to take it back out to the world so it can exercise and get even stronger than before.  

Friendship is weird

These last days I've been thinking a lot about friendship. Everyone has friends, the number may vary, but everyone knows what friendship is. But has anyone considered how weird it actually is? 

Let's face it. You meet some complete stranger and it either becomes your friend or it doesn't. Maybe you become friends with someone you've known for a long time before becoming friends. Maybe you've on and off friends, friends that you need to see frequently, friends that you see now and then.

But what makes you become friends? Sure, you have some friends that share your same interests, but you also have friends that have nothing in common with you. Would you still be friends with your friends if you had met in different circumstances? What about all the friends you could have had but you never met? How many potential friends do we have around looking for a opportunity? Why our friends are our friends? You could think that if our friend has a friend the later should become fast friends with us too, but we all have this one friend that has a friend we cannot stand. 

I guess that in reality friendship is easy and all this it's just my tendecy to overcomplicate things, but to me friendship is weird.