Numb...Encore?

I´ve got my eyes on the horizon, my hair is floating in the wind, and my mind is wandering.


Sometime people have to be brave. We have to make hard, harsh decisions. We have to hurt others, in order to save ourselves.
And sometimes we have to step away, and look at our lives from afar, to make sure we are doing what our hearts need, not what our mind says.
Other times we have to throw our pride, our distance, our ego out the window, and curl up to the ones we love, beg them not to leave, and stain their shirts with our bittersweet tears.

Moments of Nothingness

Empurro. Estou sempre a empurrar, sempre a forçar, mas nunca estou contente.
É o dilema constante do ser humano - nunca nos contentamos.
Queremos sempre mais, e melhor.
Queremos o que o outro tem, queremos o que o outro quer.
Mas nunca estamos contentes.

You Think You Are Cooler Than Me

A minha vida está a andar tão depressa. Pisco os olhos, e os dias fogem. Estou quase no fim do meu segundo ano de licenciatura, só falta mais um. Mais um ano que vai ser atribulado, em tantos aspectos.
Hoje completei o "último" passo na minha candidatura de ERASMUS. Daqui a sensivelmente um mês vou receber um mail que vai mudar a minha vida. Daqui a um mês vou repetir aquela experiência da colocação na faculdade.
Fingers crossed.
Preciso tanto de expandir-me por este mundo fora.

E esta nova perspectiva faz-me olhar para trás. Cheguei a casa e tirei a minha caixa das lembranças, onde guardo bocados de mim, bocados da minha vida. Pus-me a ler, a folhear, a sentir todos os objectos naquela caixa. Pus-me a descobrir a Rebeca que fui, durante a adolescencia, durante a grande mudança do secundário. Vi caras que fizeram parte do meu crescimento. Lembrei-me de coisas que magoam, mas sobretudo, lembrei-me das coisas que me conduziram até aqui.

Quando andava no secundário, escrevia muito. Escrevia para fugir, para expressar as coisas que não tinha coragem de gritam a quatro ventos. Consigo traçar minunciosamente esses três anos relendo aqueles textos de adolescente que tenta encaixar.
Encontrei isto (acho que é muito fitting neste contexto):

"Nunca é tarde demais. Simplesmente pensamos que é.

Se cada um de nós, em vez de hesitar, se atirasse, o Mundo seria muito diferente. Diminuiam brutalmente as oportunidades perdidas, os beijos desejados, mas nunca dados, os suspiros de infelicidade. Aumentava a adrenalina, os sorrisos, a felicidade, e quem sabe, até mesmo o infortunio.

Mas...a responsabilidade é um fardo pesado que nos prende à realidade. Agimos em conformidade, conformamo-nos mais vezes que as estritamente necessárias. Sacrificamos muito. Tudo por causa da responsabilidade. E do medo.
Do medo enorme de ouvirmos um "não", de ficarmos de mãos a abanar, com os sonhos desfeitos no chão. Escolhemos o caminho mais seguro e ficamos para todo o sempre a pensar "E se....?".
E se tivessemos dito, ou feito algo diferente? Onde estariamos agora? Quem preenchia os nossos dias? Com quem acordariamos de manhã?"

Chiffon Covered Goddess

Ladies, don´t deny it. No matter how beautiful, no matter how skinny, or curvy, no matter how long your hair is, or how bright your eyes are, you are never really happy. Or at least I´m not. It´s part of being a woman, its a part of this crappy society we live in, this world that bombards us with sexy, fashionable, size 0 girls, that make us feel like little pieces of grey fluff under the couch, little puddles of dirty rain water.

Believe me, I´ve tried. I´ve tried the positive, the negative, the skinny, the chubby. I´ve tried every damn thing, but nothing seems to work its magic. I´ll walk out the door feeling ten feet tall, and walk past a beauty, or catch my boyfriend oggling some other girl, and there it goes. I´m 2 inches tall (again), and that will sum me up for quite some time.

No whispered compliments from my boyfriend, no joy at getting on the scales and being the "right" weight, no fitting in to a size 40. None of it has any effect. Somehow I need to push harder, I´m never, ever happy. I´ll never let myself go, and if I do, there will be some form of punishment.

Sometimes I hit the ground so hard I lose my breath, and everything goes numb. It´s not anybodies fault, it´s all me. And no, I don´t want to talk about it, don´t expect anyone to understand. Don´t want food pushed down my throat, and then comments about how its all a matter of exercise.
I´m the one that needs to change, not anyone around me, I know that. I need special pink tinted glasses that make me look perfect in every single way. And I´m feed up of hearing that it´s what makes me unique. Sometimes I don´t want to be unique, I just want to be totally right.

I guess it all sums up to a simple matter of self esteem. Which I´m lacking. In a big way, unless that isn´t obvious.

N is for Noise

...Shut it out. All of it. All the meaningless chatter, the white noise in the back of my mind. Just make it stop, make it all quiet.

...The noise takes over, and reality mingles with an endless string of silly conversations, that happen inside my own brain and that are out of my reach.

...I just wish it would stop. I wish I could close my eyes, and run through this with my hands over my ears, screaming just so I can block everything else out.
I hate that I can´t turn it off. I´ve never been able too. I´ve never shut down my little voice, never just let it go. I´ve always got out of bed on time, studied for my exams, worried about the things I have to do, and when I have to do them. I can´t just make it disappear, it does not work like that. I´m not in control. I can´t just stay in bed all day, can´t put down work that needs doing. I can´t. And it´s driving me nuts...

Someone Like You

Ladies and Gentlemen...
I am officially a university student. Not just a study a week before exams student, I´m a come home after lesson, log on to the PC and work ´till I drop.
Reality check, people. Who said it was easy?
Getting up in the morning, as tired as when I feel in to bed, with a million things to do during the day, and not enough time to do them...How do I not panic? Could someone give me more hours in a day? 36 should do it...wait, make that 48.
Ok, so one thing at a time, little steps, and I might just survive this.
And I better survive this, because I´ve embarked on an adventure and a half - I´ll be attending a semester at Universita degli studi di Napoli Federico II, Facoltà di Lettere e Filosofia.
Do I speak italian? NOOOOO.
Have I ever been to Italy? NOOOO.
Do I know anyone in Italy? NOOOO.
Am I shit scared? errrm, YES.
I´ve just sent off my course plan for the semester, and my choices are someone dubious...but what the hell, if I´m going to go for an adventure, I´m going head first, amore mio :)

I´m dreaming of pasta, pizza, scooters, opera, castles, sun, sand, new sounds, new friends.
I´m stepping out in to thin air, and somehow, it feels so good, so right, so amazing.
If I ignore the slight panic, I´m fine.
The immensity of what I´m doing is probably only going to hit me when I walk of the plane and I´m all alone in a strange, mafia controlled city. I believe I´m going to be best friends with my self, and hold myself up, in an attempt to stop myself from booking a flight straight back home, and running for my parents house.

Right now all I can think is how am I going to fit all my stuff in to a 25kg suitcase? Big dilemma. Huge, massive.

Anyways, thats all from me. Bath, bus and then bed!!

Moving in Circles

Something feels strange.
Something feels off.
She just can´t put her finger on it. It´s just not the same anymore.

She feels frustrated, lost in this strange world. She questions her decisions, picks faults in her actions, is never satisfied with what she has.

She wants more, more emotion, more pain, more anger, more happiness, more passion. Just MORE of everything, so that the numbness gets lost in all the other overpowering feelings. God, she feels small, and useless, and insignificant.

She leaves, and returns, and can´t tell the difference. It´s all the same. All the moments blur together, all the words and conversations are just white noise in the background.

She´s afraid this is all there is. That around the next bend is more of this, more normal, more usual.
She´s scared that in 2, 3 years time she won´t be happy with what she choose, what she becomes.

She feels like shouting of rooftops, piercing her body, tattooing herself from head to toe, just to see if it makes a difference, just to see if the pain makes a difference.

She has had enough of american tv, crappy books, boring classes, but can´t find the strength to change, to say no.

It all seems the same. And how sad is that?