Mad Season

“(...) todos os seres humanos aspiram desde sempre ao idílio, a esse jardim em que cantam os rouxinóis, a esse reino de harmonia em que o mundo não se ergue como estranho contra o homem e o homem contra os outros homens, mas em que o mundo e todos os homens estão, pelo contrário, amalgamados na mesma e única matéria. Aí cada um é uma nota de uma sublime fuga de Bach, e aquele que não quiser sê-lo passa a ponto negro inútil e privado de sentido, que basta agarrar e esmagar sob a unha como uma pulga.(...)”
In Kundera, M. (1988). O Livro do Riso e do Esquecimento. pág. 12.


Why do we always want/desire what we cannot achieve…the impossible??!! Sometimes we desire something real, but simultaneously impossible (how I wish to be wrong!). Other times we desire impossible and unreal things… I don’t know for sure which of these two things I desire (real and impossible vs impossible and unreal). I suppose my desire is real but impossible. Unreal would be fighting against it. Thus, I believe it is, even unconsciously, both real and unreal…because I desire and I fight against my desire…even if the fight is completely and shamefully fake. Day after day I realize I think too much, and a catastrophe is the most obvious consequence.

Although I know I will never walk alone…sometimes I refuse to think in such an optimistic perspective. Why I do this???!!!! I don’t know for sure, but probably is to avoid suffering…sometimes pessimism is better than optimism. It might seem I am going mad, but I don’t mind…we all carry some madness, ones more than others. But my madness (there might be another concept to define me…but I just don’t know which is) remains only in my mind…and on the words I write every day. Should I exteriorize all my madness???!!! Sometimes I want, or I don’t want, or I think I should want but then I realize I don’t want…and sometimes I want to do not know what I want….I complicate the most simple things…yes….the most simple and natural human things.

The fact is that when my body and my eyes are standing still…this is simply a fake inertia…my mind is running a marathon through the gardens of the imaginary…thoughts…desires…so many other things that no one would ever imagine. It seems, most of the time, that I am not listening people who talk to me…but that’s not true…I hear everything. I just don’t show I am listening. I am a good listener…and I speak only when I want to. There is an external silence…but an amazing internal noise. That’s how I am. I don’t like to speak only because people are expecting me to speak…I speak when I want to (not always…but most of the times). Amazingly I want to write all the time…I am not lazy when I have a pen on my hand and a notebook in front of me. I love to talk through the amazing clouds of written language…such a magic way of communication…more magic than written language, only the communication through the eyes.

Egomet…and the voice of emotion (she stills speaking)