It is as it ever was, hard but now getting just harder and harder not to face it and embrace it. I feel stupid everytime I deny something I know and others know to be true. It’s the feeling, the moments, the looks, the songs, the smiles, the stupid things, the moments I can’t think of anything else, the hopes that I shouldn’t have, the dreams that I shouldn’t dream, the wills that take power over me and make me and to do something, anything to have you.
And I know that the most likely outcome isn’t favorable. I know that I’m probably not what you’re looking for. I wish I didn’t feel like this but just your sheer presence doesn’t make it any easier for me. And there’s nothing either you or I can do to change this. It’s just there and it’ll be there. The feeling, the will. To do something I morally shouldn’t. To have you.
Because you’re just so perfect to my standards without even knowing it, you just say all I could want to hear. It all fits perfectly with all that I wanted. It is so stupidly perfect that it is upsetting in its unreachability.
I’m running after something I might never have but I’m not running away.
“She’s so hard, I’m so hard”
(Já lá vão dois anos que numa noite de Natal aborrecida criei este blog do alto do meu aborrecimento. Já muito se passou, eu já mudei muito mas a verdade é que no fundo ainda sou a mesma. E tudo o que senti, com mais ou menos melhorias, continua a surgir repetidamente como num círculo, mudando apenas as pessoas que entram no mesmo.)
