sexta-feira, 8 de junho de 2012

Soulsick

In spite of it all, I'm still soulsick.
Yeah, have you heard of it?
Oh, it is terrible. It eats me alive. 
And I've heard it won't heal. Not even with time.
Joy has slowly come back to me, found some abandoned rooms to live in. It brings me to life in most of the days. But then there are these dark, cold and rainy days, when world seems to be just a big old monster that makes you shiver with every step it gives.
Part of my soul is as black as night, as cold as winter and as dead as a corpse.
Nope, na-na-no. It is not dead. Oh, no, my friend, it is alive. 
By a thin line, but it is alive, because it still hurts. And the pain gets bigger than any room full of joy i may have rented.
I see world in blue, green, yellow, pink, purple, red, and then... Colors start to fade, then it's all gray and dark again, then my feet lose ground and my head loses me.
Then I'm a hurt creature, screaming and moaning in deep agony. My screams could scare little children. 
Oh, damnit, they could scare big and independent adults who claim they can see horror movies and sleep like a baby at night.
How do I know it just won't heal?
Oh, babe, I know...
Years have gone by and this part of my soul hasn't gotten any brighter. It has, in fact, gotten darker. Darker and harder.
Medicine?
Well, I was first told it was time. And I believed people for a while. I mean, I know they only mean me well, but they're wrong.
They are so wrong, sweetheart.
Because time makes it even worse.
I didn't use to fear things. Now I do.
I fear the dark. 
I fear imaginary monster and specially I fear my feelings... Me.
So yeah, I'm alive. You don't have to worry.
But I still hear that tango music in my dreams and wish it was still on when I wake up.
I still use his sweater in order to feel his smell.
I still miss him breakheartedly.
I'm still sick.
Soulsick.


Natália Albertini.

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