Reading Myself Through Others

In the crowd of people's thoughts, I caught a glimpse of him. He was sitting four seats ahead, right across me. A beautiful young man at his mid-twenties drew my attention in an unknown way. The more I looked at him, the more I thought of me. I realized how long it has been since I asked myself what kind of men I liked most. Blond? Brunette? Tall? Short? I was surprised to find out that I stopped thinking such things and I was sure that was a tiny thing among millions that I ceased to ponder about my life.

At the end of my trip, I voted in dark blonds.

I voted in him.

Nobody

Nobody heard you. Your words deafened me.
Nobody saw you. Your sight blinded me.
Nobody felt you. Your presence killed me.

Heading to London

I'm heading to London, so in the following days I won't be around. Need some inspiration, need some fresh air. See you later!

His Existence

How sacred meanings I attached to his existence. He wasn't a saint and I wasn't an angel. And I know we both failed in this illusion business.

I looked at his pictures again. I couldn't recognize him, as if he was a stranger and we've never met. Year by year, I was amazed to find out how I perfected him in my mind and how much I was willing to continue keeping this picture-in distance.

Others and Me

Man: Everybody thinks you're strange!
Me: I know. It's because they're so worried about others' lives and forget theirs (Pure reality). I am happy I am the strange one. Otherwise what would they talk about?

Lost in Her Own Life

When words cease to carry a meaning, the best remedy is silence, she thought. And this thought freed her mind from its chains and stopped her tears. Sank in silence she was happy. In these moments of silence carried her what she stopped doing long time ago: seeing the pictures of her present life in distance. She got lost among those pictures for hours and hours. One thing made her quite worried though: she couldn't find herself in them. In her own life, she was missing.

Portugal doesn't feel Right Today

Let alone being yourself, acting your unique self is so difficult in Portugal. You're given a mask, a new face as how they want to see you. You're given your role, if you don't act well, you're judged and labelled immediately: a misfit. Your reasons are not even considered. Because in this small country, you aren't supposed to question, but just bow your head and accept. Inside you resent, outside you just smile as all Portugueses do.

Today it feels so boring to live in Portugal as it's never been, so much surrounded by social codes and so many hypocrisies.

And today is my day to drop off my mask, refuse to be a hypocrite.

And just be myself.