And maybe we are all made to run, lose our breaths and shorten our lungs  between thick trees and dark shades of green. We run fast and we never realize that, from the outside, there’s nothing to be afraid of. Fear is, in fact, beautiful. 

Stare at it. Admire your hopelessness before it. 

To live in fear is a choice. 

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Things men shouldn’t break ever again: My routine. When it’s me I’m taking care of, all results are substancial. 

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Like the tide and the sand and how each one carries the other, after a while, they stop caring. And just sit in plain harmony, making space for each other as they go. That is how I have dealt with pain. 

And if you ever see me staring blankly into nothing, think of the horizon. We both run for freedom and stare blankly into solitude.

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Fuck

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Maybe we’re all a bit of this, a morning that arrives lost from the horizon. Dawn lites us up and we choose where to reflect to. Either it’s closer to the sand or swimming along to find deeper waters, we look for something new Something that will justify the reason for a new start. Although this morning I have found that maybe, the more we let ourselves be, timeless is the light we will be bound to contemplate. 

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Thank Gosh I’m a fast learner

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Just like spring, colors will bloom again. 

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Enough said. Enough felt. Can I move on now?

(via en-chantment)

Doe do peito até as costas. Tem um oco ali e, quando cansa de torturar a coluna torta e sem força, invade o estômago vazio. Acho que é dor e um pouco de ansiedade. Ansiedade de arrancar tudo pra fora, puxar pelas tripas, enfiar a mão goela abaixo pra saciar o eco dentro daqueles batimentos sem sentido, sem ritmo, sem ter pra quem cantar. Os recantos susurram baixo agobiados, pra não fazer alarde. Não há o que se explicar. Esta dor é gratis, chega sem ser anunciada, por trás, de fininho, despercebida e descarada. Esfrega, machuca, enferruja, quebra, rasga, puxa, queima. E por dentro, em silêncio, tudo se desfaz. Ninguém pediu e ninguém nunca vai saber. Doemos quietos.

Te sinto quieta.

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