22.02.2017

Twenty-two.

Eight months since our first 22. Have to tell you that I’m way different than back then; I’ve changed; I’ve never expected this, but I did change and now I think it was for the better for me. I was kinda needing to go through all this, not that I’m masochist, but I needed to know the reality of loving someone, the for and against, how a real relationship works. Ok, you can tell me that 3 months is not even a reasonable time to call it a relationship, but then I tell you that what I’d been through was as intense as an 1 year’s relationship and, as a long-distance one, everything about us was out of “standards”.

I don’t say that I get colder but I’m certainly being more realistic about romance. Before you, I used to be such a dreamer, a romantic idealistic, always looking further for a bright and magical love story for me as I used to see on my favorite Nicholas Sparks’ novels and romantic movies. What I forgot (or maybe denied) was that love stories could also be tragedies, just look at Romeo and Juliet. Love stories could be full of magic and great feelings but sorrow and pain as well. I had all of this. Our relationship was just like a roller coaster ride: thrilling and fast.

You messed me up so hard but in the end I liked the mess I’ve overcame, I’m just a little concerned with where all this mess can lead me to… But for now I’m OK and enjoying the view from up here. So, if you ask me how I’m doing, I’d say “I’m great!”.

All in all, this one is to thank you. Thank you for our unexpected relationship and even more unexpected break up. Thank you for the twenty-twos, the ones we had and the others that doesn’t belong us anymore, because these twenty-twos will be my reminder of everything I learnt with you, everything I’ve been through and how much I grew up because of you. Thank you, F.

Now, after all this time, I face these twenty-twos as a different kind of celebration, a celebration for the New Me.

Happy 22!

Eu também te amo, F. – Off My Chest #2

 

“I love you too, F.”, that’s what I answered you. You don’t have any idea of how painful it was for me replying this…
I’ve never told “I love you” for anyone before. I grew up facing this sentence almost as holy, keeping it for the right person, for a special moment, because love is strong, is special and is right, I mean, you have no doubts about it, right?

With you, everything I lived, everything we’ve been through, it’s been being such a punch of reality, mostly showing me the real face of all the dreams I carried within me since I was a kid… It hurts really bad right now, but maybe this will be good for me in time, for life is not as bright and magical as movies and Nicholas Sparks’ novels showed me which I held so tight. I found it out in such a bad way, but actually thanks God I did. Dreaming is good, one of the greatest things on life (and we should NEVER stop doing it) but we always have to remeber to keep our feet on the ground. So, besides all, I thank you very much, F., for leading me to realize that.

But I told you that I love you and it was way different than I’ve always dreamed about. It was not even close to that magical and special moment. We’re not together, we broke up. You’ve hurted me and I was really mad at you (why did you have to say that?!). It was by text! Damn, how I hate you! But, after all that anger I felt as soon as read your message, everything I could think of was “I love you too.” And I surely do.

You stole my colors and dreams, but I said “I love you too, F.” and still, you don’t have any idea of how painful it was for me replying this.

22.12.2016

Sonhei com você nessa noite. Estávamos em uma casa bem grande e chique, não só eu e você mas muita gente, conhecidos nossos. A casa parecia ter sido alugada para algum evento. 

No primeiro momento, eu e você estávamos em um quarto. As paredes eram cinzas e a iluminação baixa. Algumas pessoas entravam e saíam desse quarto. Eu estava sentada na cama e você do meu lado. Tentava te ignorar enquanto você fazia carinho no meu braço. Sentida com aquilo, levantei da cama e saí andando. Não queria aquilo me deixar influenciar. Estava brava com você, muito desapontada. 
No segundo momento o tal evento parecia estar acontecendo. Era um grande salão de festas como se fosse à parte da casa, as luzes, diversas, todas suspensas em fileiras por fios no teto. Haviam diversas mesas redondas dispostas no salão todo e todas elas cheias de pessoas. Eu conhecia a maioria das pessoas. Na minha mesa estava minha família e pessoas que não me recordo. Estava tocando alguma música que foi interrompida quando você pegou o microfone. Meu pai, que estava do meu lado, disse: “Olha lá, o que o F. vai aprontar?”. Quando me virei pra ver o que meu pai estava se referindo, te vi lá, de terno, gravata e tudo o mais, lindo. Então, com o microfone na mão, coneçou a cantar: “Loving can hurt…”, seu irmão o acompanhava no violão, também de social. Assim que cantou esse trecho não se conteve em lágrimas e aquilo me tocou, mas tentei ficar indiferente porque já sabia o que aquilo tudo significava.

Em um terceiro momento, se aproximou da minha mesa (acredito que já havia terminado de cantar Photograph) e começou um discurso se desculpando por tudo o que passamos e me peguei enxugando uma lágrima. Me pediu para o encontrar para que pudéssemos conversar a sós.

Acordei. Sem saber o que teria sido essa conversa, sem ter ouvido sua voz mais uma vez, sem saber o que tinha pra me dizer. Acordei chateada. Não queria ter tido esse tipo de sonho. O tipo que você está nele. Isso dói. Demais…

Mas acordei com uma certeza, querendo ou não, os dias 22 sempre significarão algo pra mim. Graças a você, F., meus dias 22 nunca mais serão os mesmos.