October 15, 2002

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  Unfinished entries repose in oblivion.
  

  
  

  I stare into the mirror, the dead,black pearl eyes gazed back me devoid of emotion. I wanted to scoff, to hold the image with contempt, to mar it, tear it to pieces, and watch with pure sadistic joy as the injury dances across my face, my body, my mind, and finally pierce my soul. Suicidal thoughts fixed its hungry red eyes at me…I wonder if this could be categorized as eustress, or simply the end. I haven’t cried in a long time… Crying is for the girl that had nothing to believe in but fantasies tramping through her mind. Crying is for the girl that laughed while crying, smiled while fighting. Crying is for the girl that walked along the dark alleys of life. What of tears. What of anything. I hate it all. I hate it so much I feel jaded, broken… Why is it that beautiful things always feel like a mirage, and truth stares back only when you realize you have nothing, and that you are nothing.

  
  

  
  I sincerely do not know whether this is a good thing or not. Time, gliding, it moves quickly, without a glance, never have I ever felt its urgency. They say that time goes by quickly when you are having fun. It rings true. Perhaps, I love life. I really do. I love all the toil, all the pain, all the hurt, and all the gain. I don’t want it to slip away from my fingers. Why haven’t I felt like this before? I remember in middle school. I complained of school, of life daily. It was just a teenager’s job, to complain, to whine. Naivete. That would be me. Why was I such a fool? The worst kind of fool. A conformist. I’m glad I have come to terms with myself now. It is a geniune happiness.
  
  

  If I would close my eyes right now, I wonder what I would write. Nocturne, a dear faithful melody. Soporific. I love the cello, I really do. So much emotion can be withheld in strings, so much soul could be put into music. Humans are quite amazing in many ways. I was staring at the earth the other day from the 9th floor of Municipal library. The cars resembled lady bugs, moving incessantly and slowly, but moving nonetheless. For a moment I was actually in awe, at cars. I wonder how much I really know of this world, because I truly do not appreciated as much as I should. There’s so much more left to do for Earth, for us. This is why I do not like fantasy stories, not because I lack imagination, but because they do not see that other worlds aren’t nearly as beautiful as earth, or have as much potential too. Perhaps, I am also a romanticist who cannot see beyond her own silly vision. That’s all right, it is better than those that cannot see beyond their conventional cages.

  **P.S.: Today is Teacher´s Day here in Brazil…

  • 5:17 pm
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