It's gotta be my turn now. I need to show my sadness and I want everybody to notice I can not breathe. I want to cry in front of a store, in front of a doll and I want the doll to confort me. I need a colder touch than my own, I need to feel something more. I write this in despair, tomorrow's the day, tomorrow's just one more day, christmas eve. And I write the tears that Ihave right now, and the air I can not have for myself. I don't have time for me anymore. But I need that time, now. Preciso que tudo se desmorone. Não consigo aceitar tudo e não ter nada para mim. Needs that are lost inside all the things we can not hide. I know I'm not the only one that's willing to die, to not feel this. Because this is not good to feel at all. I feel lonely, in the dark, emancipated from obsessions that were never mine, because I've never been obsessive about anything. And maybe my own problem is that. Being so nude of warm feelings. And at the same time it's warm I feel. I can not breathe. Help me breathe. Ajuda-me, por favor.

Embrace

Psychosometic insomnia. Nightmares. Somewhere in between, there's where my subcounsciousness lies. The zombie, vampire myth embraces me, and I feel the weight of immortality over my shoulders, over my heart, over my everything. But there's more than loneliness you know? There's a deep and grotesque feeling of solitude that is hanged on my eyelashes that distort that image of my everything.
And the feeling of being, becomes a mistery, something that if no one can explain, describe, I can not feel. The what becomes who, who is always you, you become me, 'cause I'm made of you. In my skin that cries your distance.

As I'm walking the streets that I used to walk to school when I was a little girl,
I'm thinking about what I'm missing.
About why I feel so empty.
Every time I have to tell myself it will be OK, and that there will be a day that I will feel everything that all of you have around you.
That I will feel the wind that is blowing where all of you are living.
I will hear the languages, eat the food, sleep in a bed that's not my own.
Every time I have to tell myself we are under the same sky.
Same sun, same moon, same stars.
I'm half way, still the same street, it used to feel like a never ending street.
But now it feel so small and short.
I wish the distance was short. Wish that all of you where living in that street.
So when I was little I could pick you up and you could come to school with me.
Now i'm almost home, I only have to cross one more street.
Same street I'm living for almost 19 years.
Well almost 18 cause,
one year I spent in a place where all of you were too.
One year, that went too fast, that hurts in my heart.
But so glad I did it.
I love you all of you!

A gardener without flowers

My mouth is full of silence that was born since the era that you departed, and the silence is raising to more, much more pain. It is something so powerful that all the things that have nothing to do with it, doesn't mean anything anymore. They were forgotten.
But it so depressively funny the fact that the human being find support in solitude and in the agony of time, that we can stand so much, even when we think there's not much more to stand. Because sometimes eternity touch us, and then we mortals become titans greater than Hercules.
But this is not the way I want to be, this is not the things I want to accept through my whole life. Because it's not good to fell abandoned even if we can stand, and even if we can build lifes and walls against it. Because I want to have you in my life, because you saved my life like Hercules saved Hera. This is what I am trying to scream all along. I do not want a life without you.

Do you know how hard it's been to not give you my hand all these months?
And I don't want to talk about those words we all say that we belong together no matter how many miles are keeping us appart, because that's bullshit. And no games can prove me wrong.

'Cause my love is real, my fears are hard to fight, and loss is solitude as a main dish. And its hard for me to have it, even harder than a beautiful little girl eating soup.

What's only left are tears.
Tears for the angry and the lost control inside of me, but nobody knows.
Tears for not seeing you, not feeling you, of not able to talk to you.
Tears for wishing I could come, and see you again.
I miss you so much,
I need my friend, who can see when something is wrong.
Who only have to look into my eyes, and knows that I need a hug.
I feel so confussed and sad and at this moment I need you.

I need you.

Calm

It makes me calm, while I'm so hurt, confused and sad. It doesn't matter where I am. Sometimes it's in the bus, while the bus stops and goes on, people go in and out.
Sometimes it's when I'm at school, where my classmates scream and yell and I get irritated.
Right now it's in my messy bedroom. Even though I'm in my messy room and the mess drives me insane, it makes me calm.
I let the words come.
I can't even understand it,
but I wish I could.
It makes me feel so close,
and I listen, I almost can sing along...
I wish I knew what the words meant, I wish i spoke your language.
I will know it makes me even more calm than the song, coz that's how the language sounds like, calm.

of you

Everybody falls in love at least once before eighteen. Or at least have once been "gived" to someone and received a heart in exchange. Not me. I am eighteen, fearing it more and more each time I remember it, and I'm only pain and excuses, and solitude bigger than the sun. And it burns much more.
It's silly expressing this thought as in something as real as writting, but the necessity of both doing it and doing it in English lead me to this.
All my friends have been in a situation of kissing in the mouth of someone they liked and they were always wanting to talk about it, or just aswering my childish questions about things I can't talk about. But on the other hand I kissed already the guy my heart was suffering with. But it wasn't good enough, it was bohemic and unreal, was not true. It did happened, but I can't remember most of it. Alcohol had this things. For me, the worst things in my life did happen through it.
But the fact that I haven't fell in love with someone I could express my heart through shacky hands, naive smiles and heart beats without end, that makes me sad. Not because everybody else did, and not because I truly believe this is what I am questing for, but because I only want to know what is it like. If it's beautiful like everybody says it is, if I can have what my parents have, if it is immortal and eternal and unconditional. Maybe I just want it a little bit for me.
I am not sure if I had fell in love or not, by now. In a normal situation I would answer, off course. But talking with myself, there's this huge feeling that a broken heart is not the same as a love failure, so maybe I didn't. But not knowing it means I can't talk about it, and maybe that's what I need by now; to talk about beautiful things and forget you have to grow up without me, that's what's my mind is in all the time when I am awake. And when I dream.

11.

"Home is behind, the world ahead
And there are many paths to tread
Through shadow to the edge of night
Until the stars are all alight
Mist and shadow, cloud and shade
All shall fade
All shall... fade."

When I see myself in someones writing, I feel the world upon my shoulders; those things I feel, I feel for you.

"Air and earth are my horizons. What lies between is what I am.

[...] Every day, the sun. Every day. And I walk east in the garden to see you, west through the country to be with you. O sun, my head fills with light. Do not turn me away from your easy lust, whole in the sky, white with heat. Do not bind me in layers of darkness, a worm in the brown cake of earth. My hands are bread I have made every day. The sun comes into my heart where sparrows nest. I am ridiculous and rolling on the ground, pleased with such company. Every day, the sun on the wall, the sun, lingering on a ripe fig. I am he who worships the sun, a space in my heart a bird could fill. I am one who listens to the grass speaking in the garden. May I chew the green blade of eternity in a garden filled with sun. May I walk into the fire and be burned like kernels of wheat, ground into the pulp of existence. May the sun come and bake me brown as bread. May I rise like bread everyday.

In the field with my cattle, my shadow sinks into black earth and rises. The smell of things growing. The horizon parts like waking lovers and like a child, the sun rises from their sleep. The world watches its steps, old man, old child, old king. Sun passing in the sky, light of all that can be said, shadow of hidden things. Every face watches, every eye turns; resplendent dawn and evening. Such passion is existence. Every day the sun king rides his boat, glory dripping like water from an oar. Every day the streets fill with people, every face, turning. Such power can not be measured. Such love can not be told. Unspeakable grace in the fields and cities. I dip my bread in milk and eat."

The Egyptian Book of the Dead, translated by Normandi Ellis

10.

Wanna scream so loud, the others will have no way out but to look at me. No way out but to feel a little I am feeling all way around the corner of my heart. My soul is messed up with missings, I can not figure out how to hold it, I just want to get out of here, I just want to be ok with tears, fears, all things that makes me wanna to give up. But now I don't want to hold it anymore. I just want to be able to climb a couple of steps and watch you in the kitchen, hear you playing on the ground with the messy games and soccer ball I gave you.
Or at least be away from home and have the same old excuse of missing it a lot, and tell it to others who can understand it, even if they don't always agree with me.
It is good to be away, and now I want it much more I ever want it.
I need someone who can hold me and say that everything is ok, that I will find something that will warm my heart a lot of time, and not just some days, some hours, some time. Someone who can hug me and never let me go, and let me fall asleep in the arms.
Here not even my real family appreciates that I am back, they conformise that is whats normal, to have me here. But it is not for me, I want to watch you grow, and I want you to have me as something beautifully special and as a sister who can love you like no one.

Coming to you, someday. Today just let me get out of here.

9.

Tomorrow I'm going to be arrested. With 18 already, I am about to be arrested in the arms of strangers, they call for me, they scream for me, they want me to be more me than myself. I can't, one more time. There's nothing more to give up from, there is no time for silly conversations, or silly attitudes of someone desesperatly in love. There's a message way to close to ignore. There's something out there I can feel it, I can smell it.
Tomorrow's a festival, eyes on my v-neck, eyes on my legs, eyes on my desperation of being much better, to have a better body, to have my fes with me, to be beautiful, to stop breathing like the ugliest person on the planet would breathe. But either way, I can't actually breathe no more.
I feel so alone that not even the loudest scream in the world could ease the pain. It hurts so bad this time, there is no way out. To walk millions of miles would be the greatest answer, but there's not even money for new shoes.

Can't give up from tomorrow, I've promised, and my word on a day like this is the only way to preserve my sanity. Outside of the world I could be me, now I need to cry.

8.

A kid's passion, a black passion, another guy, a few years ago. A hand full of fears I could swear that have belong to me. Then the year, the one's just passed. The one's just fade away. Then monologues, empty monologues that will never mean anything. Brasilian songs, a long-pretended lost record I've just found, pretending to warm a cold heart completed by distance, missings and loneliness.
The destiny have just made what all this means, and I can not even understand what is that. Whoever fashion tv's on, the house is empty, and I can hear the starts breathing.
I can't just fucking hold on on this, just like it doesn't even make any difference the tries I keep making to make all this become poetry, become beautiful to read, because it is not so beautiful to feel, to always wake up from nightmares I can not manage, those when I am wide awake.
Now those kids are kids no more, and they have passions way to old for them. They emacipated themselfs from me, they don't love me anymore. And I can't love this here either.
They haven't stop love me because I've changed, but because I went away. While me, I can't love this here because I've changed. They don't love anymore, not the "beautiful soul" one of them told me once I was.
I've been crying since I'm back, because I am really convinced that I will not make it. I think, I powerfully feel that I must be a part of you, while you crawling, while you say your first word. Because I can't just live in the most beautiful place without having what I fought for this year; I just can't live in the most beautiful country alone.
There's no more kid to offer myself to. There's no one in love with me, one of them have just told me a few minutes ago, "I don't love you anymore, I am finally seeing someone, and I really like her. You do not have to worry again of hiding your friendship fearing my fall for you. I was in the floor already, but now I like someone else". I just though I was almost sure I'd give my friendship, and more I can't give. But maybe I haven't at all, not for him. For a moment I was in peace with it, with a smile on my lips. Then I realized that more I stay here, more I am alone.
I know in there I'm alone too, but I can hold my baby, I can hug him, I can keep him safe.
I admit, I just want him to remember me. Like these kids will not.

.

Sadness in my eyes, in my soul, in me. Where did my happiness go? Why can i not just smile to you, like I did before? Smile without the sadness. A happy smile. A loving smile, my smile to you. I like you, i like you even more than i did before. I wish i could explain it to you, explain how I feel, but i can't, it is the sadness inside of me.
Please, don't worry I will be fine. With you I will.
I will be happy again.
I promise that I will.

<3

The plate in my hands that I’m washing says Designed in Sweden, made in Portugal. The phone rings, a call from Germany. A visitor in the office, an American. But I’m not the one who was in Sweden to see how the plate got it's form and shape. Not the one who saw how the plate got made. I'm not the one who answers the phone and not the one who welcomed the visitor. I’m the one with the memories. The memories, deep inside of me. Myself with those memories connected with all those countries.
I feel alone, I only can share it with you, feel it with you, know it with you, but you are not here.
I feel alone, not myself, losing myself scared to give away the memories and the connection.
Come back and find me coz I feel alone….

7.

Now that I've found myself talking in each corner of my house, alone, to nobody but myself, my soul desperate to find proofs that what I've been through this couple of months before this is true, the american life, the american dream everybody ask me about, stuff that I want to mark and remark, things that I want to keep; now I know: I am blind, confused and confused again, fearing my own madness, my emptiness that never leaved me, the solitude always abandoned. screw all the feeling I must have in here, talking alone all the time makes me fall apart down the walls, a lousyness that makes me remember my childhood times when I was empty too, without knowing it. Because here, I don't have you. Here I can't hold on, not without you holding me. Here, there's no empty parking lots, here there's no Panera Bread, here there's no Macys to fear. Here is no answear to all the questions I've been questing for, and now the tear is sign that not now, not tomorrow or in fifty years you will belong to me the way you use to. What kind of sister leaves forever?

6.

I thought that turning eighteen would be empty, cold and scary. It was not like that, though. But was different; at a certain point I was just wondering how if you could be here with me. Even if I just close my eyes and you would be here with me. But it is not the same. I couldn't give my eyes, the window of the soul, sureness about anything. I don't know how to escape this solitude, the greatest of all, the hardest, the personnal, the Solitude.
I am at home, I feel at home, I feel good.
But inside me I know that now this is not the only one. That I have one with a basement and a second floor, that I have a big kitchen and a big tv, and that I will have you with me, forever. And that is so real and so unreal. And not fair.

I miss your touch, I miss your talking, I miss your laugh and smile. I miss your soul, James.

for you

Your words you spoke to me, your words you wrote to me, your handwriting your voice.
I see it when I close my eyes I hear it in my head, but it is not the same. You are not here with me. I can’t believe I don’t have you with me, I will only hear your voice when I call you and I will only see your handwriting when you write me a letter. But even then you are not in person next to me. I know you will be strong and I have to be strong too but I never thought about that I will never have you close by.
I’ll come to you even if I have to walk even if I don’t have GAASS I will come.
I want to hug you, embrace you, look at you as a friend as my special friend. With your voice with your handwriting but especially with you!

5.

The world is mad because you're leaving. The clouds have come together and are screaming to those who try to get out of four walls and a roof. Your place can not be replaced and the sky knows it.
I wonder the turbulence that you must have right now in your open wings, mine are hurt, I can't fly.
It is unbeliavable that you actually left; maybe I just can not accept it, and then I can not react. The hole I can feel. Huge, deep, cold hole that keeps eating me and my day, or what is left of it. A disgusting hole that makes me feel alone and abandoned.
The sky start crying, sorrowful and regretfull for letting you go. And I, here I stay for another week, and away from you the rest of my life. And the sky knows it.
But the moon is coming, and with it more sunrises. They will come. And like you said, "it will come anyway, lets accept it".
I will, when the time come. Until then let me miss you, and ever after, 'cause your hand hold mine, and I will never let you go.

Sê forte, fofinha.

4.

Graduate. The purple lines fell for the first time in the left side, and a purple cloud appeared in the skies, while purple tears came out of them. The next second, and all the ones before it remain as a silence too painfull to appreciate, or too beautiful to not regret going back.
The touch finally came out, the hands shacking catched breaths that were sacred. A balloon sneaked under the table, and I was watching as the wales don't watch the fish they swallow. Was pure, was real.

I just wanted to scream and end up smiling. In the end, I understand that the end would never come. Never will.

3.

Same old story. Degradation, darkness indeed, deep inside. We are back to the same feeling of loss, of running time.
The sand is almost gone, almost over. The same sand that have been touching my fingers for all this months, those months that I couldn't feel more than watch. Watch carefully, though. But I just couldn't feel nothing more than whispers of enthusiasm, and now and then fear and sadness.
The tea is cold now, freazing with ice, summer approaching. With it, Portugal, Holland, Germany, Sweden, Polland, Korea, Italy, France, Bolivia, Chile, Brasil. Nothing more than running away from here. My heart will belong almost in every country in the world. Any corner. Any feeling.
And will be empty with saudade. Empty without you.
Yes, I am dark, yes I am. But I have an excuse this time - loving you guys so much. I fell for you. I am in love with you.

FES!!!

WE ARE EXCHANGE STUDENTS So much is said about being an exchange student,but only when you experience it. Things make sense. It is definitely not easy and whether you want it or not, you´ll end up changing and growing. Once your exchange is done YOU finally realize that you can handle way more than you could and would ever imagine. You need to appreciate things you have because they might be gone sooner than you think. Life is not easy. True friendships are really forever. The best part about being an exchange student is not about the parties or places you get to go. Not the independence and life experience, but the friendships. I´m not talking about the friends you made from your host country but about the other exchange-student friends. For most of us, they were the very first "friends" we had in this new experience. We met them in orientation meetings or trips, etc. They were the first people we actually talk to without having the fear of speaking in a different language. No matter what, there´s a big difference between "host country friends" and "exchange student friends". Exchange students have a special bond. Despite language and cultural differences, you´ll understand one another because you experience similar situations. The hardest part of facing the end of your exchange year is to accept the fact that it´s gonna take a while until you have the chance to travel the world to see your exchange friends again. Because once you leave your host country, deep down inside, you know that sooner or later you´ll be back, but when are you going to have enough money and time to travel the world again??? Some of us became friends because we were placed in the same schools, lived in the town nearby each other. Others we met along the year, during trips and meetings... The trips... first day nobody knows each other, everyone is shy... By the end of the trip everybody knows everybody and says good bye in the last day is as sad as when we left our friends and family in our home countries... How many lifetime friendships and romances started with. "How can I say this in your language?" It´s hard to believe that so much can start from such a simple sentence! Does this story sound familiar to you??? Just wait, it gets worse... The very first trip, when it is time to leave is not so terrible because you have the whole year ahead of you, so the chances of meeting everyone again are very big. Time goes by and your year is slowly getting to an end. You have your last trip... Probably it will be the very last time you´ll see most of yourexchange friends for "God-knows-how-many-years"... this feeling is just horrible!!! It´s when you wish things would never end. When you wish you could turn back time and do everything again, and maybe do what you want but never had the guts to, like kissing that girl/boy or spending more time with A, B and C... And there you are, saying good-bye, fighting the tears and making promises to people that you could never imagine you would meet in your life... Unfortunately, things don´t always work as we want and not that everything is possible... Once your year is done, it is when you realize who you will ALWAYS miss the most. Your exchange friends spread all over the world. And one day you´re gonna be at a Geography or history class and as some countries are mentioned, you´ll think about your friends that are half way around the world away from you, and you´ll have to fight the tears again... Their occasional letters, phone calls and emails are going to be of unbelievable value and will bring joy to your bad day/week. And this is what this email is about. Most of us never thanked these ´friends? and never said how much they mean to us. So here it is 'THANK YOU, THANK YOU, THANK YOU? You are all wonderful, special and unique, and I´ve been made a better person just by knowing you. You´ve made my year unforgettable. And I don´t think I´ll ever forget the time we spent together! Hopefully we will meet again someday! Doesn´t matter how many miles keep us apart. I´ll always be here for you. The end of our exchange year doesn´t mean the end of friendships. As said before true friendships are forever? "As we go on, we remember all the times we had together. And as our lives change, come whatever. We will still be friends forever".

3.

"I can't imagine, any greater fear, then waking up, without you here. And though the sun, would still shine on, my whole world, would all be gone, but not for long.
iI I had to run, if I had to crawl, if I had to swim a hundred rivers, just to climb a thousand walls. Always know that I would find a way, to get to where you are, there's no place that far.
It wouldn't matter why we're apart, lonely miles or two stubborn hearts. Nothing short of God above, could turn me away from your love. I need you that much. Always know that I would find a way, to get to where you are. There's no place that far. Baby there's no place that far."

2.

At the same time that I miss home I just want to keep myself away from the lusitano feeling that got to be inside me in time to go back. And I don't want to leave, not now.
I can barely see anything without wanting to accept that I do not belong here, I don't, but I want to stay. Want to be able to hug my baby, want to be here and know what to feel at any time.
The fact that I don't want to go back, nearer to those who love me, those who helped me to be the person I am today, the little girl I am inside, with all these hopes and fears, all the walls I built and will never fall, those the same I can't stand no more, those can only sufocate me

I can not be myself far away again. No more. Never again...

shit.

1.

must come back, this time. Same shit with all my fears that are fears no more; but passion, friendship, my beautiful fes, those I catched and will have to leave in 30 days, one month. And it hurts not knowing what to feel, if fear, if a little nervous inside my stomach full of butterflies, butter. But the compromise of having to leave, that could not be worse.

Hate being so me again. Hate it, but it gotta be, I have to go back. Tomorrow.