03:17 am

I wish I could shed tears. I can’t. My eyes won’t let them roll down my face. They’re trapped for some unknown reason. Caged. Caged tears.

This is me:

No sleep. No tears. Everything, everything… Denied.

Pills don’t help me, nothing does anymore. If only I could transform myself into…


There’s nothing much in this room besides my pathetic size — my smallness. The fact that I’m so ridiculously tiny… I’m so small compared to this world. So small that I’ve become invisible. I can’t defeat this world. I can’t fully love it. I can’t break free from it.

I wish I could stop feeling all these human sensations: here in this bed, I breathe… Air floods my lungs. I’m aware of my whole body. My fingertips touch my face. I feel my long nails hurt the dry, grayish skin under my eyes. Wish I could say I’m just trying to sound poetic.

My eyes are tired and humid, but I don’t cry. I can’t.






I think I heard the sound of a smile

Muito obrigada por ter falado comigo ao telefone, V.

Eu ouvi alegria na tua voz; alegria por estar falando comigo. Isso me fez bem. É bom se sentir uma pessoa querida. Fora o fato de que falar contigo é sempre uma diversão cheia de doçura. Eu também estava com saudade.

Qualquer dia eu vou desenterrar os meus milhares de emails pra encontrar os nossos poemas em conjunto. Saudade daqueles haikais e dos sentimentos que eles carregam.

Tu realmente vais ser um ótimo psicólogo… Ou um ótimo filósofo. O que o teu coração desejar ser — sei que vai ser ótimo.

Hoje eu sou mesmo Tristeza que não é tão triste.



Today, in this bed…

I wish somebody would destroy me because I’ve reached a point in my life where I feel too powerless to try to do that myself again. I’m so tired, and I absolutely hate complaining about my tiredness. I hate feeling weak. I hate feeling like I’m a victim of a horrible past; a victim of terrible, unfortunate circumstances as if that would give me permission to complain about myself and my tiredness — it doesn’t. My pelvic pain, the past, my depression — nothing matters. I never feel like my pain is valid. Nothing I feel really is. I want to cry, but I’m not worthy of tears.

Crying makes me feel guilty. Everything does.

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What I really think

I wish I could apologize for the things I said. Anger is a new feeling for me, I don’t know how to deal with it yet. You know, I think that acknowledging the mistakes we made and apologizing is always the right thing to do, it shows maturity and honesty… But I can’t do it this time. You really hurt me, too. I guess we’re just two fools at this point.
I wish I could say more, but I guess I already told you everything. My love was real, it was the real thing. It still exists in me, despite all the transformations it went through — I care about you.

Soon this pointless battle won’t mean much…