Who we are

PEOPLE DON'T KNOW YOU.

I guess the weight of this sentence just got into my head once I've started to realize who I am. Actually, not exactly who I am, but understanding that being me is not that simple - which means I finally started to see how much I'm worth which sounds like progress.
When I was taking the TESOL course there was Fernanda, a brazilian girl from Brasilia. She and I never got to talk much, though it felt like we should, but we just kept it slow.
As time went by, we turned out to get along pretty well, though she looked like someone that wouldn't relate to me, as if she were just too "by the book". There was one day that I got in the school and instantly when I looked at her I knew something was wrong.
- Hey, so when are you going back to Brazil?
- Right after the course.
- Wouldn't you like to stay?
- Oh, no. I have to go back.
- Oh, really?
- You know, I'm engaged...
- Oh, true! When are you getting married?
- Soon! - she didn't smile when she said that.
- I'm sorry, are you ok?
- No, not really.
- Yeah, I could tell... what's wrong?
- Do you remember I told you about the story of a guy that texted me "Wanna hook up?"
- Yeah. You asked me what it meant.
- Well, you see... I don't know... we do things when we are alone... I don't know, I just wanna go home - she started to cry. I couldn't tell if she was crying because she felt alone or because something had happened. So I just said what I felt when I was feeling alone.
- I know... you just wanted to be near people that know you. - She cried harder and mumbled a yes, so I continued - People that spent time with you, won't just act as if you are something you're not because... you know... they know you. - She was crying too much now, so I thought it would be better if I just stopped.
- Yes... that's it.
- Just remember this, what we do, doesn't define us. We have our reasons for doing what we do and only we will fully understand those reasons. Don't let anyone take that from you. I guess it makes you deal better with what happens.
I don't know if she understood what I meant, but she nodded anyway.
Then I just started talking about something else because people from our class started to arrive and started to talk to her and ask her what had happened and she looked at me and I understood that it was just going to make things worse.

I don't know if it's a brazilian thing, if it was just our thing or if it's a human thing. The fact is that I am myself before being anybody else. Wherever I go, whatever the time, I never left home being somebody else, even on days that I wanted to. The days I did feel like somebody else, it just wouldn't last. I ended up being whoever it is that I am. And it seems to be a big problem in this culture.
It seems that having an alternative identity, an exterior identity is more important than being who you are inside... and at some point it makes sense - at least in a society where looks means everything.
Let's put it like this:
There is a gap between who you are and who people think you are. The way people think you are is basically who you are to society, and that judgement is never done through an analysis, but taken with the first impression people have of you. First impression means looks.
That first impression will determine who people think you are and they will act as if you were that person because they don't know any better. And at this point you should really be sure of who you are because this is when people tend to hurt you... me, at least.
People start talking to me as if I were this hunk sexy brazilian guy, taking me totally for granted. Once I went to bed with them - because that is what they expect and that's what I do -, they would find I am this other guy, sweet, caring, clever, smart... they got surprised. But then, they weren't "buying" a nice guy when they took you to bed. They were getting a guy to fuck, and that's all you're ever gonna be. They actually believe it harder because if you're not with someone at this point, it means you just want sex. Also, they think you were faking everything you did or that you have issues because you are a little bit too much - if you give yourself too much up front, you might have some issues.

This is the first impression people have when I walk down the street: I'm hot and cute - I've heard it countless times so no, I'm not being cocky.
But I must say: I feel handsome and I am fairly fit. I am brazilian, which is exotic, I dance well and at some point I look cute. So I am phisycally attractive and people will take me for that. But that's not all of who I am, so I keep on getting hurt or misunderstood.

And then I got the sentence: PEOPLE DON'T KNOW YOU.
Right after that, another thought came to me: YOU CAN MAKE THEM THINK YOU ARE WHOEVER YOU WANT THEM TO.

And my conclusion to this whole thing was:

People think you are something that is based on your looks, and it is different from who you are. So first, you become physically the image you want to give people - whatever that is. And with that, you should try to keep away the ones that have absolutely nothing to do with you. Doing that, you will see, you'll start to have control over who you want and who you don't want to meet. And after that, it's time to select the ones you want to show who you really are.

And you do it gradually, for then you'll know who deserves you. You'll observe the ones you want to be with you. And you'll figure out who are the ones that are faking it all the time. No, I don't mean Adam. 

I don't think he was fake. I think he played safe. If you think about it, he never said much about himself. What do you know about him? So yes, he didn't open himself as much as you did, and you got hurt because you took the chances and you assumed he wanted to know you better. 

You know, when we listen to people carefully they are much more likely to stick with us. If you listen well, they will stay, because they will think you understand them or at least that you are interested in getting to understand all of their madness. You took Adam for granted just as much as he did.

So you "outer" self will protect you "inner" self. And being physically attractive just makes us have more power over who we want to be next to us. 

So understand this Leo: you still don't fully understand how much you affect people. You may never fully understand. But you must be sure of who you are, who you want people to think you are and manage it - find the balance. And management doesn't mean lack of excitment. Things can still be exciting and be taken slowly. And you will learn how to appreciate taking the necessary time. You will get it once you see you're getting hurt much less.

That moment after

I wish I had had better friends. I wish they hadn't bothered me that much for being so naive. I wish they would have seen that I was younger and that I never really understood what they were doing... what I was doing. I wish they had known better so I would avoid being sexually abused by them. I wish people had had more patience to tell me what experimenting sexuality was and that it wasn't wrong, but it wasn't the right time either.
I wish my parents weren't poor at that time and all the love I needed, I would get from them.
I asked God for answers. He said:
"You see, we all have boxes in our minds. Each box is marked with a 'What I know about...' and we would put our experiences in those boxes and tag them. There would be one with 'What I know about relationships' 'What I know about myself' 'What I know about school' and so one. Our experience makes us fill those boxes. But then, there are moments that we are hit by fatalities. And if no one tells us what was it that we experienced or even try to teach us something after the experience, our box will be filled with something that shouldn't be there.
Your boxes of What I know about 'myself', 'others' and 'relationships' were all filled with something that shouldn't be there, something caused by a series of unfortunate events that you shouldn't have gone through but did.
So now, when you see such fundamental concepts that you had as true for you entire life just falling apart, you can't help questioning everything you have ever lived. As if a layer had been put out of your sight, and now you can see. As if you were exiled for ages and then just thrown in the middle of NYC. First, you question if anything that you had lived was real. Then, you question who is it that you are, because there was something that was definetely different in you that should have have triggered the realisation. And finally, where is it that do you from now? Do you change? Do you stay there, go, disappear, live, die?
The truth is that right now you are resignifying every single relationship you've had. Specially with yourself. "

So I asked him:
Why now? Why here?

He said:
Because you want to be better. But first you have to realise how good you are. And now I think you're starting to get it.

I said:
By accepting that I was victimised and realising the absurd of what was done to me...

He interrupted me:
You will learn how to be more of yourself. This is where you self-realisation journey begins. These are the blank pages you'd been asking me for. Enjoy.

The bubble

I feel I'm in a bubble. Like I'm a vulture wandering around the street aimlessly.

Stranger in my own skin

I am the one who should know about social roles. I've had them all. It seems that during the course of my life I've done nothing but to try to live up to people's expectations, trying to be someone people would like, people would care about.
In that way, the person who I really thought I was got erased by this versions that ended up doing better than that first person I thought I was, so I just let go.
Sometimes, I would meet some guys and they would talk. Just talk. And the way that  those guys showed emotion, in a way that was so similar to mine, made me fall in love with those guys. Even for one night, even for a moment whatsoever. I think I was so traumatized by the way my dad didn't show emotions, and I was so different from that... and actually, I never saw guys as sensitive as I've always been.
So that's when the silence started to take over me. Soon I was one of these guys that put depressing songs on the radio and would lie on the bedroom's floor, starring at the cieling, wondering who he was and who he was supposed to be. If there were supposed to be a gap between those two, and if there was, why?
Why was it that we would have to go through life inventing people we were not?
Because of that, I never felt anyone cared about me. Only about the person I was trying to be. Something that, for me, was unatural.
Occasionally, one person would see me for who I was, as fragile as I was and I would give them all of my tenderness. I don't know why. Maybe I believed that if I gave people all the love I had, they would stay. They would see all that I really am and they would want to stay. So I would smother people with so much love that it would end up turning into guilt, so in that way they would have to be with me.
I've been the fat introvert kid, the fat nerd, the nerd that went bad, the rebel gay guy, the gay guy from university, the crazy bitch, the excellent student of something, the ascending professional of an area. I was the guy that lost a lot of weight, I was the gay nerd guy, I started to be the hot guy, then I turned into the foreigner which led to brazilian hot guy... but never me. I've always felt like a stranger in these skins.
And my honest self is so vulnerable and so open that when I see some indications of someone that is like that, I just rely 100% on that person's feelings because I know that it has to be unique.
And all the people I loved, just cared about some traits of mine. The ones that would be interesting for them. But at the end, they would always find boyfriends, other friends. And I always ended up alone.
I got used to people leaving, I got used to people that after years of friendship just treat you like crap. I learned that there should always be the humilliated guy, the funny guy, the gay guy... and I could be all of those.
At some point, people started to be enemies and me, even if I could be open to anyone I wanted, I was just fake. I would always push people away, I would always deal with my demons alone.
I don't know how it happened. I don't know why it happened.
All I know is that I don't believe anyone that says that likes me or loves me. For me, that love is not real, almost irrelevant. As if, if I died, people would be a bit affected but everyone would just be fine after a couple of days. As if I was just this storm that went by their lives.
I think I don't matter, I think people don't care and if they do, they care about this fraction of who I am, the part of me that I know they will like.
Right now, I'm trying to figure out how much damage that growing up this way did. I'm trying to understand because I know some parts of my behaviour are not natural. And I have to be better. I have to be someone else. But I still don't know if I can be me. Does that sound desperate, lonely, sad, depressing? I don't know... it all seems so natural to me...

Demon #1

I think this will be the most hurtful thing I'll ever write.

It's about child abuse, sexual abuse.

The reason why I never talked about it before was the definition I had for the word "abuse". I always thought that abuse meant something violent, that there something had to be forced, it had to be done against one's will. Only today I checked the dictionary and saw:

1. to use wrongly or improperly; misuse: to abuse one's authority.

2. to treat in a harmful, injurious, or offensive way: to abuse a horse; to abuse one's eyesight.

3. to speak insultingly, harshly, and unjustly to or about; revile; malign.

4. to commit sexual assault upon.

I don’t know why I thought that abuse had to have resistance from one part. I guess that’s what made me quiet for all this time.

When I was a kid, my parents worked a lot. And I was basically raised by neighbors. Every day I was in their houses and they would take care of me, play with me, give me all the love I needed while my parents were trying to make our lives easier, and that was incredible of them.

But, just as other people’s parents can be very nice and try to educate you well, the kids were not that nice. As they worked a lot, my parents managed to get every best thing for us. When everyone was buying a 21’ television, there we were getting one too. We couldn’t afford those items, but it made us feel we had a special home, a special family.

Certainly, my house was empty for long periods of time, but it also had great stuff in it to play with, so I started to stay home for longer periods of time and take friends over. Eventually, everyone wanted to be my friend. We started to have big parties in my house, and my requests were never ignored by my mother. I don’t know, maybe she allowed all those parties because she felt guilty, but the point is that I knew that if I couldn’t throw parties for my friends, they wouldn’t want to be my friends anymore.

And that was the relationship. Lots of parties in my house, lots of people that left without helping to clean, never gave one buck to help with the expenses. But I had a lot of friends.

I was younger than most kids, so they started developing their sexuality faster than me, but I was there, hanging around with them every day. In our group, there was Fernando. Fernando was my best friend. I wanted to be with him all the time, because we talked so naturally and he was so cool and it seemed that he could like me even if I didn’t have all of those things.

One day, Fernando and I were laying down on a relaxing net in his garage, and I don’t know how, but I ended up giving him a blow job. I thought it was something special, something that showed that friends really liked each other. And in a very naïve thought, I shared that information, right after it happened, to one of Fernando’s friends.

I will never forget how his expression changed from surprise to absurd. And how he started yelling that I was a fag. And I was crying at his gate, begging him to stop, because from what I had learned, being a fag was something that would make your parents angry and disappointed. There were a lot of people on the street at that time, everyone was surprised and I don’t remember what happened after that.

The next memory I have after that is my father sitting on the carpet, working. He’s not even looking at me, and I’m standing there and I am so afraid. My dad said that what I had done was wrong. And that I shouldn’t do that again.

So I kept quiet, because if it was something I did wrong, I think I should have missed the right information. Because how can you do something wrong if you don’t know what is right? I only had that feeling. Those butterflies in my stomach that made me want me and Fernando to be closer and closer.

At some point, everyone knew about the whole blow job thing. And while others took their time to mock me and call me a fag and really humiliate me in very public situations, others - I believe – thought they could get lucky. And they did.

Another day I went to a house of some guys – they were very poor, these 3 brothers, and they were really bad people. On that day, they were jerking off looking at naked woman’s magazines. Once again, I don’t know how it happened. I remember seeing them moving their beds, but I wasn’t quite getting it. They told me to go under the bed which was in the horizontal position, so my legs wouldn’t be under the bed, but only my upper body part. Then they went under the bed, but on the opposite way. Only their lower body parts were under the bed. And I gave them a blow job.

On that day, I pre cummed for the first time, and they told me that I had peed on my pants. They mocked me with that joke for days, and I forgot about the blow job thing. My dad had said it was wrong, but I wouldn’t have friends if I refused to do that. I actually didn’t know I could say no to that. What could I have known at that age?

So I didn’t say anything, and I started eating a lot and that was when I got extremely fat. But I kept throwing parties, and being humiliated for other people’s amusement. I was the jester of the group.

Life went by, and there was a cousin of mine, who I jerked a couple of times, and I thought we were best friends but he acted as if he didn’t know me afterwards to avoid the subject. Then there was this other cousin, but at this time, I tried to suck his dick. I pretended to be asleep and “accidently” sucked his toe, trying to suggest him to put his dick in my mouth. He suggested it out loud and I confirmed, pretending to be talking on my sleep, and he hit me because I think someone had told him that that kind of thing was bad.

In my love life, after Fernando, I felt crazy about some guys. All of them were older, all of them showed extreme kindness and I didn’t even have to suck their dicks for them to be nice. I wanted to be more and more with them because I thought they could teach me, or take care of me. I felt so anxious about these guys that I would behave like a crazy person. Expecting them to put me at the center of their lives. Demanding talks, calls, “dates”… and all I told myself was that I wanted to be friends.

About my sex life, let’s start saying that I was a bottom for the first time in a night club’s dark room. Because all that people had told me was that it was going to hurt, it wasn’t going to be good, and gay guys have sex all the time. So I felt that it didn’t matter. I also thought I didn’t matter, so what the fuck. My sex life was marked with wreckless moments and that is because 1 – I don’t like sex 2 – I didn’t think anyone that really liked me would have sex with me 3 – the only way to make people like me was having sex with them.

This situation just kept on going. People that I liked, my friends, would take me for this person that knew better but I always felt like a kid that had a good pose. I would trust them with something and then there were two options: they would disappear, because they would get a boyfriend or other friends or eventually we would fight and they would bring my secrets to public audience.

I kept on being fat, nerd and quiet about everything that was inside, and I started living as this kid that knew better. But every time someone would look at me as if they were seeing me for what I was, I would go crazy because I would want to be with them all the time. And then these people would be scared and leave me too.

Everyone I loved would leave. Everyone I fucked would haunt me. I felt like nobody knew me. I felt like no one would ever want to. So I got bitter, angry and I told myself that I would never trust anyone in my life. I wouldn’t open myself to anyone. And I didn’t. And people were always pretty satisfied with what I gave and told them it was me. I’d learned how to be a likable person, but no one really knew me. Eventually there was an episode in which I’d fall in love and I’d make everything fall apart, but that was that.

I even remember this day at a barbecue with guys from my University. In the beginning of my college course, I was this flammy gay guy everyone liked. After my second year, in which I got a serious job and went through some hard times, I started to see that I was changing, and I had no business in being flammy. But nobody could forget the title “Leo the gay guy”. It pissed me off so much that one day I told one of my best friends from class: I don’t want to be just the fag of the group anymore, I’m sick of it. She laughed.

I don’t know if she realized I was being extremely serious. I don’t know if she was drunk. Or me, for that matter.

That was when I stopped talking to people from University and met a group of people with which I would be whoever I wanted to. And I carried a lot of anger in me. So I started drinking, doing drugs, drunk driving and all things that could kill me accidentally. I really had no problems in dying.

People didn’t really care, they would always disappear and become strangers, guys just wanted to fuck before getting to know you and there were no such thing as good men.

So it was like living a version of me at a time.

Then there was the car crash, Leandro and etc.

I don’t think the rest is important right now.

For me, the important part is about the fact that I was sexually abused when I was young and I thought it was normal. I thought it hadn’t influenced who I was at all. But it did. It affected the way I see people, act with them, trust them… it affected how I see myself, how important I think I am for the others and myself.

I think I still carry the filters with which I see people. The ones I got from all of this experience. And it has been fucking me up. Now, I don’t know if it’s important to think more about the fact that I was indeed abused, or if I just move on.

All I know, is that I needed someone here right now, just to say they understand. I don’t know the result of going through this discovery moment alone. I don’t know how I’m going to feel about people. But I do feel different.

I feel like I didn’t exist anymore. And I don’t know if it’s good or bad. And I’m scared… I keep questioning “Really? Aren’t you being dramatic? Was that really abuse?”

And if it was, what does it say about me? Who I am, what I do, can I fix the damage, can I be somebody else? Is it sad? Is it normal? Aren’t people used to this kind of thing? It’s like I needed someone to tell me what is it that happened because I just can’t believe it. Just can’t.

Demon #2

I am the one who should know about social roles. I've had them all. It seems that during the course of my life I've done nothing but to try to live up to people's expectations, trying to be someone people would like, people would care about.
In that way, the person who I really thought I was got erased by this versions that ended up doing better than that first person I thought I was, so I just let go.
Sometimes, I would meet some guys and they would talk. Just talk. And the way that  those guys showed emotion, in a way that was so similar to mine, made me fall in love with those guys. Even for one night, even for a moment whatsoever. I think I was so traumatized by the way my dad didn't show emotions, and I was so different from that... and actually, I never saw guys as sensitive as I've always been.
So that's when the silence started to take over me. Soon I was one of these guys that put depressing songs on the radio and would lie on the bedroom's floor, starring at the cieling, wondering who he was and who he was supposed to be. If there were supposed to be a gap between those two, and if there was, why?
Why was it that we would have to go through life inventing people we were not?
Because of that, I never felt anyone cared about me. Only about the person I was trying to be. Something that, for me, was unatural.
Occasionally, one person would see me for who I was, as fragile as I was and I would give them all of my tenderness. I don't know why. Maybe I believed that if I gave people all the love I had, they would stay. They would see all that I really am and they would want to stay. So I would smother people with so much love that it would end up turning into guilt, so in that way they would have to be with me.
I've been the fat introvert kid, the fat nerd, the nerd that went bad, the rebel gay guy, the gay guy from university, the crazy bitch, the excellent student of something, the ascending professional of an area. I was the guy that lost a lot of weight, I was the gay nerd guy, I started to be the hot guy, then I turned into the foreigner which led to brazilian hot guy... but never me. I've always felt like a stranger in these skins.
And my honest self is so vulnerable and so open that when I see some indications of someone that is like that, I just rely 100% on that person's feelings because I know that it has to be unique.
And all the people I loved, just cared about some traits of mine. The ones that would be interesting for them. But at the end, they would always find boyfriends, other friends. And I always ended up alone.
I got used to people leaving, I got used to people that after years of friendship just treat you like crap. I learned that there should always be the humilliated guy, the funny guy, the gay guy... and I could be all of those.
At some point, people started to be enemies and me, even if I could be open to anyone I wanted, I was just fake. I would always push people away, I would always deal with my demons alone.
I don't know how it happened. I don't know why it happened.
All I know is that I don't believe anyone that says that likes me or loves me. For me, that love is not real, almost irrelevant. As if, if I died, people would be a bit affected but everyone would just be fine after a couple of days. As if I was just this storm that went by their lives.
I think I don't matter, I think people don't care and if they do, they care about this fraction of who I am, the part of me that I know they will like.
Right now, I'm trying to figure out how much damage that growing up this way did. I'm trying to understand because I know some parts of my behaviour are not natural. And I have to be better. I have to be someone else. But I still don't know if I can be me. Does that sound desperate, lonely, sad, depressing? I don't know... it all seems so natural to me...

All about Adam

I wanna register everything I can so I can remember why is it that I fell in love with Adam. I hope that writing about it will help me to let go of this and just move on.

First, there was the way I kept on looking at him from the distance. He seemed normal at first, which was very comforting.

After that, there was the smile he gave once he saw me. It wasn't as if he were evaluating me like - oh, he's not that fit, oh he's good looking - it was just a smile that said "I'm happy to see you" and I could reply in the same way.

Then there was the way that our chat seemed natural. We would go from movies, to books, to whatever we wanted and the sense of humour was great between us. He actually laughed at one of my jokes and sent it to his best friend.

And then the first kiss. We was going to put his bottle of beer on the bar, leaned his head over mine and kissed me. It was a very good kiss. And a second point. 

The way we looked at each other after the kiss - and the look meant "Yeah, it was good. Damn". 

After that we decided together what to do - go to his place, smoke weed, order food and talk. 

His friends came along and we actually had a good time. I didn't feel misplaced, things seemed good.

When we were high and he was having a cigarrette, there was this moment when he asked about me. Somethings about my past. And I guess that was the strongest moment of them all: the attention in his eyes while I spoke, that sympathy he showed without judging me too much. It felt as if he actually cared about each and every word, as if sharing was very important for him.

Our kisses were very passionate. And the sex was indescribable. We had time to actually look at each other and smile again, and by smiling I tried to show how much I cared about him, and also try to give him the fuck of his life. 

Watching was so hot, I could've fucked him the whole night long, but I guess he'd get tired of that so we finished up and I gave him a massage. I put some of my favorite songs to play, and he seemed to have enjoyed it pretty much. 

To end our sunday, we slept. And I don't remember being as comfortable on a bed next to a person as I was with him. 

In the morning, we went to this restaurant he likes. We had pancakes and he looked at me sometimes. He was just observing. That way you would observe something you admire. And I would do the same. And we would look at each other in that same way... 

After that we went back to his place, got high again and shared songs that we liked. We talked a bit about movies and what we were going to do that day. The previous day he said he wanted to see me again on Monday, but I didn't keep on talking about it because I didn't want to seem to "all over him". He scheduled everything and the second date was set.

On that day, I went to the Cetral Park, and besides being yelled at, there was this man asking for money in exchange of his poetry. He seemed like a pretty simple guy but with so much heart that I ended up buying one. And here's the poem he gave me:

"Let's love

Let's love one another

No matter what we see

Who are we to judge each other

We must allow each other to be

We are all created beings

Fearless, unlimited and free

That alone is proof to us

That life's aim is just to be

To be yourself is important

To be yourself is for real

To be oneself is vital

Can you understand this

Can you deal

When you judge another

You deplete your inner wealth

So let's love one another

No matter what we see

Cause when we love one another

We allow ourselves to be free

STRIVE TO DO YOUR BEST!

AND LET GOD DO THE REST!!!

To all with love

From Willie G

The poet of New York City"

As simple as his poem was, so was his message and so truthful and it made so much sense - I mean, how could you not see that as a message?

And all I did was walking around remembering the previous day, thinking about what I could do next to just blow him away.

I decided to change clothes, so I got a quite nice outfit and went to our date. I thought about buying flowers but I don't think he was interested in that and that might have been too much for a second date. He had the same clothes on and seemed pretty tired. All I wanted was to give him that massage again.

We talked on that day. We talked about relationships, how tricky they were, how was it that it felt so difficult to trust someone or to even give a try to relationships after being screwed up - even by yourself in the rush of having a relationship. We all made those mistakes and were afraid of making them again. 

He called me one of the sweetest man that he had ever met and he cried.  I am normally the one that cries, but he did and it was beautiful. It was just one tear that roled down while he looked at me. I gave him a hug that might have seemed misplaced, but I just wanted to let him know there was nothing to cry about.

At that moment, he brought up past lives, something I've believed in for quite a while but don't talk about it because some people just find weird. He said he had met before, and I felt the same. I said I didn't want to miss the night without him and he said he wanted me to stay too. So we set that we'd have to wake up at 6h30 so I could take the bus back to the hotel and finally go back to Toronto.

We had sex again and this time I felt the lack of sleep got into me. I didn't give him the best massage and I might have snored too much, I don't know. What I do know is that he woke me up at 7h30 and well, I was fucked. But he gave me 100 dollars so I could take a taxi back to the hotel, which really amazed me. It was really nice of him. And I felt mortified. I'm always uncomfortable when it comes to money, God knows why.

Once I got back to Toronto, I realized I had got used to having people around. Chatting, laughing and all. And I was back home, alone as usual. There was nothing else to rely on but the memories of that weekend and the hope of having one as good as that first one, but here in Toronto. We talked about sharing so many things that I actually started to look forward to them.

So I decided to devote to him and do something nice. I wanted to read a book, so I sent him a second copy so we could read together and he told me I was the sweetest man he had ever met and I felt I had done something right, that would motivate the setting of a date for our next meeting. It didn't motivate much I guess.

He said he had thought of me very fondly, and that I was his gatu. But there was this distance. This lack of commitment I felt. Firstly demonstrated when I mentioned his visit to Toronto. He said he would do his best. I really don't think that, if you really wanna see someone, you do your best - you do everything you can. Maybe they mean the same thing but it "do my best" for me is the same as the minimum effort. And then he said "it is difficult because we live in different spaces". And that's just an excuse for not trying harder.

Me, on this side of the rope, got more anxious as the days flew by. No sign of a gift he said he had sent me, no sign that he had received my letter. Nothing... I wrote so many letters. Filled with love, anger, regret... I still write a lot of letter directed to him but only one got sent. 

I read a text that talked about why is it that we fall in love with someone. And it made total sense for me falling for Adam. And it didn't make sense the way he treated me over the weekend just to disappear afterwards.

People say that the important part is to let go. Not talk too much with the person, make the other one miss you. But I already missed him and knew I wouldn't be able to have him in a month so why was it that I would avoid contact?

I kept thinking day after day about the reasons he would act as if he didn't care about me anymore. But I didn't have any. So I was living the other days, looking at people that I knew wouldn't compare to him as just couldn't even talk to them without seeing him. I didn't want that, I didn't choose that... but we met and it happened to me. And I didn't know if it had happened to him. And then the questions were: if it did, then why wouldn't he say anything? if it didn't, then why wouldn't he just tell me to fuck off?

I don't know if I should try to make him understand how lonely it can get around here and that he is the closest person physically that I want to be next to. Even his friends are such great people that I could be around them always. I wonder if he knows what it's like to be far away from everyone you care about. 

I wish I could just wipe out this drama and be happy. Talk to him nicely, set the date to see each other again, enjoy time being with each other and that's all. But I don't know. I don't know him at all.

Caros pais,

Hoje eu fui na escola de cinema de Toronto. Eu sabia desde o comeco que o curso eh extremamente mais caro do que um curso numa universidade normal, mas eu jah tinha feito inscricao para o evento, entao decidi ir.
Me inscrevi para saber mais sobre o curso de Roteiro para Cinema e TV, jah que me interesso muito em escrita e eh um dos cursos mais baratos.
Cheguei lah e me senti muito mal. Primeiro, me senti como se eu nao devesse estar lah, como se nao fosse meu lugar, porque eu nao tenho dinheiro para bancar os estudos lah. Foi bem frustrante e, de inicio, eu queria ir embora e desistir.
Mas me mantive por lah e decidi ficar ateh o final.

Depois do coordenador dos cursos terminou a apresentacao sobre a escola e os cursos, fomos direcionados com o coordenador de cada curso - eu fui com o de Roteiro.

Chegando na sala, lah estavam tambem 3 atuais alunos do curso de roteiro.

O coordenador fez uma introducao e falou como funcionam as aulas, e falou tambem do que mais importava para mim: emprego.

Todos os alunos que estavam na sala tinham conseguido coisas grandes. Trabalhar em filme grande, produzir uma serie de TV que vai ao ar, escrever para seriados famosos. E todos eles me disseram que soh tinham mesmo escolhido a escola pelos contatos no mercado que eles tem e nisso a escola nao os decepcionou em nada.

Foi o momento que eu senti que era aquilo o certo a fazer. Qualquer outro curso soh me dara uma outra carreira que vai girar em torno dessa. Se eu fizer eventos, vai ser para chegar em cinema de qualquer forma. E eles de fato tem a perspectiva de trabalho pago para os alunos que estudam lah. E para mim, o importante nunca foi fazer cinema somente. Se fosse, eu jah teria feito. O negocio eh fazer cinema e dar certo. Conseguir empregos grandes, bons. Eu, se fosse trabalhar com cinema, seria para ser O cara, alguem de quem as pessoas iam falar sobre. Eu nao conseguiria ser uma daquelas pessoas que faz faculdade de cinema, vai parar em emissora de TV fazendo programas que odeia, indo de fim de semana fazer filmes amadores com amigos por lazer e eventualmente tentar colocar num festival. E, no fim das contas, acabar abandonando o cinema e ir para uma carreira mais pratica, que de mais dinheiro.

Aqui eh onde o cinema e a TV dao dinheiro, e eu acredito muito na minha capacidade de mandar muito bem por aqui. Consegui no dia falar com os alunos, bati papo com eles, com o coordenador que me deu o cartao dele. Eu me senti extremamente bem e confiante de que esse deve ser meu foco de vida agora.

Nao me interessa se eu terei que voltar para o Brasil e trabalhar ateh o osso para conseguir o minimo para me manter, nem se eu tiver que passar fome por aqui para conseguir me manter. Eh isso o que eu quero pra minha vida, eh por isso que eu sempre quis lutar.

O curso custa no total R$ 54 mil. Ele nao eh de 1 ano, como todos os outros, mas de 1 ano e meio. Eu sei que esse valor nao existe para vcs desembolsarem agora, mas teve algo que me fez pensar que ainda ha uma chance. A questao eh que essa escola aceita pagamentos mensais, ou seja, dah pra pagar tipo mensalidade mesmo. Isso dah uma media de R$3.000,00 por mes de mensalidade do curso. Mais um custo medio de R$ 3000,00 para eu me manter. Ou seja, eu precisaria de uma renda de R$ 6.000,00 mensais para conseguir bancar tudo agora. Eu talvez consiga juntar uma media de R$ 3.000,00 com o dinheiro do meu salario, o que pagaria a primeira mensalidade ou seria o dinheiro para me manter por 1 mes.

De qualquer forma, nao haveria outra forma de fazer isso se nao for com vcs. Pensei em algumas solucoes: a primeira seria tentar fazer um emprestimo ou financiamento desse valor - porque aih poderia colocar em, sei lah, 50 prestacoes ou mais pq baratearia o valor a ser pago agora, pagaria todo o curso e depois era soh arcar com essas prestacoes. Certamente depois que eu comecar a trabalhar que eu poderia quitar mais parcelas.

Fora isso, soh se vcs conseguissem segurar essas pontas ateh eu conseguir um emprego, que seria lah para o meio do ano que vem.

Nao vejo alternativa a nao ser voltar para o Brasil e economizar o que puder por um tempo, se nao for nenhuma das opcoes acima.

Fora isso tudo, eu vou precisar de um adiantamento do meu salario, sim. 650 reais devem dar 300 dolaares que jah cobrem minhas proximas 3 semanas, e eu pago de volta no dia 7 de setembro, podemos fazer isso?

Conversamos melhor no skype.
Beijos

Too many words wasted on you...

(Never) Let me go

- I don't think we're gonna see each other again.
- What are you saying, babe? What's wrong?

I was crying. I was holding him and crying. I didn't want it to go away. I had been away from that warmth for so long that it was the only thing I'd been longing for. The way someone looked at me as if my story really cared. The way he smiled at me as if we were closer than friends. The way he cried to me and showed he had opened himself and that made me think he felt comfortable with me, that I was needed in his heart as much as he was in mine.

- If you are not going to say you want to be with me, or that we are together, I can't be next to you. You know what I offer. Massages, talks, experiences maybe trips. I'll do anything I can to make you happy, I will watch romantic movies, I will learn your deepest likes and I will surprise you with them, I will pretend to forget something important only to make something better just so you'll have another day to think as unforgetable. I will be romantic, dramatic, rude, sarcastic. We will get to each other's nerves, we will have days that we won't be able to remember sadness at all. I offer a relationship, commitment, romance, companionship... all of those we've tried and failed. All of them that drove us through a journey to here. I have seen a lot of relationships that went bad. And people used to live in the same neighbourhood! So whatever difficulty it is that we might face will be ours, and ours to face. I wanna have fun next to you. I want something to remember as something good. For both of us. From you, I could have less from that, but I would never be satisfied. So, if you do not want all of this I just said with me, I have to be away from you for a while. 

- Don't you think that's too much?

- I'm not saying we're there. I'm saying I'm willing to be commited to you to build that. Because it all involves commitment from the first day. And we have to be happy about it all. When we are in love and not afraid of it, we act like this. We go at our own pace, doing things we believe will make us happy, we will share that. I don't want either of us to start without excitment. We have to feel like we're going to have fun together, that we are not strangers. Commitment is about having a bond of companionship, and that's not complicated, but it takes a lot of our heart.

- So, you want me to be your boyfriend?

- I want you to be with me. Cheesy, right?

- It's cheesy, but very truthful. I don't think there'd be another person that could make me believe what you just said. You must really mean it.

- I don't think I would say it if I didn't.

Stay

You know what? Never mind!
I have to see the mistakes that I made
What did I do right?
You are gone, there's just no place to stay
It is the first time
Falling in love just pushed you away
There's so many reasons why
I was foolish, a romantic slave

Put it on the dance floor
Shake it out, my love
You know that I can be bad too
You took me for granted
But I gave my all so
I'll learn the lesson from you

Cause if I hadn't liked you that much
I'd have given
The space that you wanted, the time that you needed
And you wouldn't have ran away
I would just not listen, pretend that I don't care
And you would just beg me to stay

There's no much more time
There is no desperate way out
The more that I try
The more you fade from me, ouch

Dance as if you weren't there
Not give a shit, never care
It seems this is the only way
Being the good guy didn't give me much
So I'll hear all that you never said

If I hadn't liked you that much
I'd have given
The space that you wanted, the time that you needed
And you wouldn't have ran away
I would just not listen, pretend that I don't care
And you would just beg me to stay

Oh baby,
Please erase it
Forget the one guy I was
I promise I'll be cold
Ignore you, let you go
I'll do all want and more

I saw what I wanted to see
I saw in you what was missing in me
I can see how foolish I was, all that I did
I created you in my head, a "you" you didn't want to be

Goodbye

Dear Adam,

As far as I feel, it seems this is going to be the last letter I will write to you. It might seem that I wrote 3 - the book, the first letter and this one - but there are so many more that you might get to read one day.

These last couple of days I found myself thinking about my great-grandparents and my great-grandmother's funeral. I remember looking at my grandpa's eyes and seeing that life had vanished from him - like he had just lost the reason he was alive, his purpose

And thinking about it today made me realise how I should and will be with someone that will understand love as much as he did. 

I was talking to a friend and he was talking about how people get into relationship for the status that comes with it. Dating a hot guy, a rich guy, a foreigner, an exotic guy. I see Canadian guys at bars looking at  pictures discussing guys' abs and eyes' color. How is it that people came to that? How is it that I didn't get to be like that?

I figured that with time I would eventually come to those terms: people just want sex, relationships are not good, they all have expiration dates. I think I would just be a guy that would settle with the one guy that seems more convenient, there wouldn't be much of that falling in love and it would be fine because deep inside I would understand that that feeling was the real one.

Unfortunately, the exact opposite seems to be happening. More and more I see myself as a person that is going to be true to his heart, that is going to commit to one person and be devoted to this person, doing everything I can to be happy next to him.

At some point I believe it's better if I accept it than to keep on avoiding it, getting drunk now and then and meeting people I have no interest in. 

I don't know why I want to tell you this. It's not about saying anything related to you. I just trust you and out of all people I've know it seems you could understand this. Respond to this in a sincere way.

More and more I think, as much as I nurture caring feelings for you, that "we" is just not going to happen. There's too much scepticism between what we could have. But it is ok.

You're going to be happy, so will I, and I will always be grateful for having the chance of experiencing what I did with you. I felt like I hadn't felt in years and I have you to thank for that.

Whenever I think of you, I will think of a man of love and caring that deserves nothing but the best anyone can give, and at some point it doesn't feel it me - not that it isn't but you just wouldn't commit to the idea of me being that person to you.

I will always carry you in my heart, and I still hope we'll keep in touch. I will never get over you, but at this point, I have to move on. 

And I wish for me and for you that we'll find the man of our dreams. The one we will say: My love for you has only one expiration date: my own. 

All the best,
Leo

The funeral

I remember this one day I was rolling my cigarette when I saw all those cars coming. It was everyone. My sons and daughters, and their sons and daughters that were starting to have sons and daughters of their own.

I felt incredibly heavy for being responsible for all these people existence. And then I felt her hand. Warm hands that turned my fear into comfort, that hand by only a single touch would say “Here comes everything we have accomplished. You should be proud of us”. And I was.

The kids would jump out of the car singing and smiling at me and I wondered who they were. They didn’t seem anything like me or even one single part of me. It was just like they were strangers in my house and, as usual, I ran into the woods.

He was always scared of them, the family members. I believe it was because he felt underappreciated because no one would ever ask about our story. How we met, how we got married, how our first child came to the world, how was it that we managed to survive the terrible times when we had nothing, not even food.

But most importantly, I think it really bothered him the way our family would never ask about how was it that we built our love. But I guess it’s different for them. For us, there was nobody else but ourselves. And luckily enough, that was exactly what we needed.

As I looked at him, the more I identified emptiness, the more I wanted to understand. And the more I felt I needed to be able to feel like that one day. It’s not that I hate myself, but it was just as if his soul was gone with her. He stroked her hair and kept on looking at her closed eyes. People all around him would ask him to sit, eat, get some sleep and he would say only one thing: I’m staying here until the end. What kind of love is that? Does it even exist nowadays? A love that was so strong that I could see it. I couldn’t feel more sad than I already was. And all I could do was look at him

-          Go talk to him.

-          What should I say?

-          I don’t know, you figure something out.

-          I can’t

-          You have to

While I walked towards him I thought about everything I could possibly say:

-          How are you?

-          Are you hungry? Sleepy?

All of those questions seemed so stupid. What I wanted to say was:

-          I am so sorry you lost the love of your life. I wish you could die now to, so you could be with her, because there seems to be no more life for you here.

That was the truth. But here’s what came out:

-          Hi Grandpa… I know everyone has asked this, but can I get you anything?

-          No… I’m ok – How could he say something like that? Even with those empty eyes he would say he was fine and that felt so brave and so stubborn.

-          Ok. If you need anything I will be right here. And I’m sorry for your loss.

All the ones that lost their loved ones.  All of the joy and pain that companionship brings. I didn’t know where it came from and I thought I never would.

Life was good like this. I took care of the animals, she took care of the plants. I could see her talk to one of our great grand sons. Leo. He was a nice kid, I could see it. He looked so innocent starring at the tomatoes and lettuce as if he wondered how was it that we made them grow like that. He was amazed by the simplicity of nature and that was the first time I saw myself in one of my family members. But I think he was scared of me. He would say hello and keep on starring at me from time to time but never actually talk. But it was ok, because he was talking to her and that made her really happy.

And that was why we started our family. To have these moments when we can teach our children. We can show them the world through our eyes and luckily they would learn something from it. It was clear that Leo did. And here, smoking my cigarette, I felt glad for being his great grandfather.

Everyone is here, but him. He stayed in the farm. I wish he could see how happy everyone is and  how I feel happy for being around all these people that will remain once we’re gone. Which I don’t think will take long. At least for me. And I never smoked one single cigarette in my entire life, that bastard. I wish he was here.

I think I will never have something like they did. I don’t what was it that kept them together. If it was isolation or the fact that they were happy the way they were. Their lives were enough. And nowadays, enough is not a word we know. Now, there’s only “more”. Enough has become an enemy and love is just too hard sometimes. I feel people lost track of it all. And I keep thinking about my great grandmother’s funeral. The way grandpa looked sad, the way we were all product of that love and we didn’t even realise it. I wish I could let it all go because I felt everything was right in the middle of my throat stopping my breathe. I wondered why God made me so sensitive, and if there were other people that understood love the way I did. Because if there was, God should start to put a plan to make them come into my life soon. Because I feel so hopeless.