[•] Correio Terráqueo [•]

(Writing Update)

The Short Journey

For most of my life, to think about the end is almost like to think about the infinite. We can pass long times calculating the time we lose to go for another star, another galaxy. For me, a young guy, the end used to stay in a place so, so far away.

I used to say, ‘I certainly would't like to be a vampire. Live forever would be a torture’. At the moment, I can stay with this idea. I don’t want to live, only here, forever.

The other side come to you when you miss the people that you think they will stay, not along you, but here, on this place. Ok, at this moment, I can say that is not about a journey to another city or country.

It is strange to realize that the passing of close friends, with the same age, can be harder to you in the place of the passing of older people and relatives.

To feel the missing of one that you ever imagine living in the same world with you through a long, long time, is the most painful thing that you can feel.

The pain of love is similar, but different. Because you know that the person only do not care about you at this moment of her life.

The pain of young’s death is The Pain of NEVERMORE.

The pain you feel when you hear ‘no’ turns into nothing. Hear something is a privilege. To see the one cross the street, and look, or simply ignoring you is, at leash, a feel that you can hold, and do something that you can with it. You can even make it an impulse for your week, for the month.

The moment you realise that any people can die, is the moment that your friends are not here on this place.

You don’t think about the older who could stay here. For those: came the moment. This is it. Will happen to everyone. Keep in mind, don’t suffer and don’t you ever make someone suffer with you.

The older deaths aren’t that gets you bitter, but the young; the friends.

I’ve felt it every day and stayed ever pissed off.
So, keep in your fucking mind: It will certainly get into the pages.
It is a promise.

Rio de Janeiro,
December, 2023