The story of me, first chapter.

As long as I can remember I always thought I was different. Well I guess almost every single child thinks they are special for a while, since in the first part of their life it's like the whole universe spins around them.

But I was always different, even in that sense. I remember crying without knowing why on father's day in pre school, as my teacher told me if you don't have a father just draw something else. I wasn't crying because I didn't had a father, I was crying because that made me different from the rest, I didn't want to be different, I wanted to be the same.

Growing up I started to realize little by little just how different my life really was. My house consisted of two family members, besides me, my illiterate grandfather who was the wisest man I ever met, and my autistic mother who suffered from epilepsy. Sure I had other family, a uncle and an aunt, a godmother that made my days brighter, and two "borrowed" grandparents that were basically our landlords but treated me as if I was their own grandchild.

Memories are fuzzy and confusing from those days, but some things were burned forever in my mind, and even though at the time I was very little I remember them as clear as if they had happen yesterday. I will never forget the night when my godmothers best friend came to our house, I knew something was wrong, I could feel it from all of the commotion and strange things happening that day, but watching her come knock on our door at night was by far the strangest. Something was wrong, she would never be there if everything was right. That grown up figure standing outside my house and calling my name made my heart stop and as she kneel down and put her hands on my shoulders my young little mind was already waiting for the words I didn't want to hear.

Sorry Joao, Leopoldina, my "borrowed grandmother", passed away, she has gone to heaven now. The shock was too much for my 4 year old mind, my gut was twisted, my eyes started flowing and I cried myself to sleep on my living room couch, screaming and gripping my pillow until my body and my mind finally gave up.

Every thing changed from that day, no more home made cooking made by an angel, no more stories and adventures, on the house above mine. Years have passed but her image is still stuck in my mind, and all the good memories we shared will never fade away.

My "borrowed grandfather", Antonio, was my first teacher, he taught me how to do math and write simple words even before I started school. I remember fondly helping him in the garden, building a fence for the chickens, or painting a shed for his tools. He had little ducks once, and we even built a small lake for the young ducklings, their side of the garden was like my own little wonderland. He taught me so many great things but even that stopped when she died, he became more and more reclusive and just started waiting day by day, for the embrace of the grim reaper, hoping it would take him back to her.

Still I tried very hard to cheer him up, I was constantly there in my free time, browsing his old library, playing with my Godmothers old board games and puzzles, she is their actual granddaughter.  

But even that was not enough. I watched his health deteriorate, I watched my mother doing her best to take care of him, countless times I would refuse to leave and they ended up placing a mattress on my Godmothers old room for me to sleep in.

He passed away when I was thirteen, on a Tuesday... this was the second saddest day of my life,.. 

I had a lot of friends growing up, my oldest one is still around today, and we keep confiding in each other even though our lives are now too far apart.

Most of the lessons I learned in life I learned from them, from watching how they were and how their parents acted with them. My mom, as much as I love her, lives in her own world, she did the best she could, but for me she was always someone I needed to protect and teach, not the other way around.

I remember when she took me to the Zoo, we used to do that a lot when I was young, she had a epileptic seizure in the middle of the train and dragged me out before we reached our stop. She was lost and confused after the seizure, she always is. I remembered being scared that day, I was about five or six years old, stuck in a strange and empty train station with a mother who couldn't reply to my questions, and seemed more lost than I was. I think my brain did the only thing it could and forced her to stay sill in the platform to wait for the next train, hoping that by that time it arrived she would have regained her wits and guide us to our destination.

As time passed and this little episodes happen again and again, I learned to deal with this the best I could. Most of the times I would just need to wait for her to regain control of her own mind and avoid the surrounding crowds from taking her away. I remember being so used to this that whenever I heard my mom speak "Oh my god", No matter where I was or what I was doing I knew she was having a seizure, so I would just keep an eye on her and wait it out.

But as much as I tried to protect her, she still had her own mind. She had a boyfriend when I was young, and because of him I started school in a private college near my house. It was his decision and my mom just went along with it. This was perhaps, even though I didn't knew it at the time, the best wrong decision anyone ever made with my life. Those six school years I spent there where simply blissful, even though the monthly payments were about the same amount my mother received from her forced retirement, that school provided me with the best education I could hope to get in my early years. Thanks to those years, and my personal experiences, my mind developed in a way it wouldn't have in a different school.

I made friends for life in that school, despite only one of them remaining in my life. The people I met there showed me a completely different world from the one I knew. From the huge Lego collections, to the multiple computer games and tv channels available, their amazing big houses and loving families. And most of all they showed me that there was more to life than what I had. They showed me just how different I was from them and at the same time, in their kindness, always made me feel like a part of their world.

To be continued...

Thorn apart

There is a place hidden between the mist and the rain, a home away from home where when the sun shines it's always brighter. A city filled with beauty, a mixture of green between the grey and brick red of the buildings.

It's a city of new beginnings, a city of warm hearts composed of seducing melodies and filled with ghosts of the past. A cultural pot of customs, progress and weirdness. Where creativity runs wild and kindness is ever present.

This place slowly took me in, beating into my soul the hardships of the past and in the end, like the heavy hand of a caring father, left a void that I struggle to fill ever since I left.

I have travelled far, but with every decision, every choice in my path, this city draws me closer.

There is no other place on earth like it, not for me at least, and if leaving my home-town was hard at the time I had no idea I would ever miss a place so much.

I miss my life there, like if when I left part of me refused to leave and stayed behind. It's my new home, the city I was craving all those years ago when my mind kept telling me leave.

I am thorn apart, between the job I adore and the city I love.

It's funny how whenever I cross that border and that place draws near, my soul feels cleansed, renewed, like all the sorrows and all the tears are washed away. Just by seeing that white cross on that blue background my heart starts racing in anticipation of that place, and it's people.

Because a city is never complete without people, and for me, by chance or struck of luck, I found the people. The people that truly make that place for me.

I never wanted to leave, and I'm dying to go back.

Twice have I spoken this words with true meaning, for one of those times I already returned, for the other my heart still aches.

I'm coming back. The echo of this line doesn't stop. I don't want it to stop. and one day, I will be able to say, I'm finally home again.

The best in me.

There are few people in this world that manage to bring out the best in me, and all of them are far away now.

I stumble along the road leaning to the walls on a constant basis, like a drunk inebriated by the alcohol in it's blood. I go from nice guy to ass-hole in seconds, I waver in the presence of society and push my feelings aside to brush it off again.

Those people, the ones that make me whole, they're not easy to find. Be it lovers friends or something else they are rare.

I have been blessed and cursed in a few occasions, savouring the bliss of their presence already knowing I was going to lose them in the end. I realize this now but I can't tell what it is, it simply is. Like an invisible connection shared among 2 random people.

I met wonderful people throughout the years, but most of the ones who got close, got close enough to turn me into a monster, a beast with a famine big enough to devour the world.

But then there are those, who rip me away from the line, warm up my heart and make me smile like if nothing else in the world mattered.

When I'm near them I feel at peace, complete, I'm happy.

Just sharing a moment, even a digital one makes my brain fire, makes my aching heart heal. They turn me into the best version of myself, and even though I keep trying on my own i never seem to be able to reach the same state without them.

My brothers in arms, my borrowed sister, my foreign family, my one true blood and my eternal friend. They all bring me together, and I would tear this world apart to keep them safe.

Because deep inside I know the animal I am, the misunderstood beast that keeps raging and will stop at nothing.

But like a lost animal I keep searching for that one final connection, for that warm smile in a sunny Sunday morning. I'm searching for the final piece, the final cog.

I am the sword, but my Saya is still nowhere to be found.

The sense of the incomprehensible.

I am a psychotic maelstrom of emotions, raging away ripping the tide that keeps reacting to my momentum as I thrust forward. I am a deluded being craving for attention, denying the pain and covering the bruises with success.

A simple loyal soul, lost in a crowd of ghosts and ghouls engulfed in darkness. A shiny ray of dim light piercing the barrier, raping your ideals with the sharpness of my wit.

The beacon at the edge of the cliff, I balance my insanity with shivers of reason, acting abnormal in a normal world filled with strange faces and recurring nightmares. Limited only by the invisible chains set in stone by the compendium of my thoughts I am aware. Aware of my ignorance while I glide trough the nothingness of the now.

Observing with care, caring with patience, I am the patient patient revolving the chair in the middle of the big black hole that makes you whole.

Shackled in the transgression of your aggression I struggle to release, freeing the burden of fate and destiny. Destined to miss my destination I confuse the confused and reflect without the reflection.

You, me and everyone else are bonded by what breaks, what has no consistence in this inconsistent complexity of forms, shapes and blobs. We are one and one we are everyone, smile and laugh while  crying the sadness of joy into the stream of anger that gives form to the contours of  eternity.

My mental flexibility flexes my otherwise unbend-able reality twisting and turning the guts of fiction virtually tearing the rips on the sand.

I am what I am, a mix of lies and truths that compose the symphony of me, screeching between the acoustic energy that floats in this sinkable scenery.

The immortality of the mortal confronted with the memory of the future and became the hope for the past that was written by those who can't write and spoken by the silent.

I follow illogically the logic of fool and rejoice in the ignorance of the wise.

And so in between the chaos of my order I bring to a close what never really started leaving the ones i never met hungering for my immaterial presence reliving the what as yet ceased to exist.

This is a rant, if you're easily offended please skip this text.

This is a rant, pure, simple, harsh.

I'm sick and tired of all this fucking fake smiles and fake ideals.

I'm sick and tired of stupidity, the world is filled with morons and I feel alone because i am not part of their world.

How can you be so hypocritical claiming that the problem is people who do not respect the rules or other peoples freedom when you act exactly the same, just on a level that suits you and not another.

How can you be so blind, a sheep following the path to the slaughter without ever wondering or thinking that there is an alternative.

I'm tired of self righteous bitches who claim they want to be independent but cling to the lamest ass hole because they feel alone. I'm tired of your bullshit, I'm tired of listening to you say you're happy while you smile for the photo, but deep down we both know you are miserable.

I'm tired of this fear of feeling, this fear of committing, this fear of opening up. I'm tired of doing what is supposed to be done, of fitting in of acting like I'm part of this.

I'm tired of the blank stares, of the emptiness behind those eyes that are too ashamed to say they don't understand, they don't care, and they never will.

I'm tired of that stupid phrase, I'm here for you. It's more I'm here for you as long as we are talking about me.

I'm tired of people assuming I'm like the rest, I'm tired of dumbing myself down in order for others to feel at ease around me.

I feel alone, yes dammit I feel alone, but at least now I'm not stuck in that pretend life, in a dead relationship being miserable just because we need to pretend we are happy.

I'm tired of seeing the moves in front of my eyes and having to  hold my tongue because if I speak people will be offended.

I'm tired, so godamn tired of being alone. Alone because you don't understand me, when you try it hurts, thinking hurts, knowledge hurts, when you know you see it clear and when you know you realize that all those perfect lives around you are nothing but facebook posts and stupid camera filters.

I'm tired of the bullshit, of wasted dreams, of wasted opportunity's, of listening for countless hours to your hopes and dreams knowing fully well you have already given up on them.

I'm tired of normal, tired of missing the people who are unique and special.

I cry, I do, when i see slivers of genius and passion i cry, because i know what it means, I know how much heart, blood sweat and tears is behind that song, that book, that message.

I'm tired of all the morons, of all the good, all the bad being wasted on people who prefer to numb themselves only do to the fear of admitting their failure.

I'm tired of morons, and I'm tired of you. I'm tired of pretensious fucking people that think their life has more meaning and their time is more precious.

I don't feel loved, I never have, because no one cares, all they care is them, they are all that matters.

We are lost as a species because we never truly belong, i'm tired of people telling me I never call when they are the ones who ignore me.

I'm tired of all this shit, i'm tired of you him and all alike.

I'm tired of the loudspeakers who want to be heard but have nothing to say, i'm tired of sheep with zero creativity that follow what's hip, listen to what you listen, eat what you eat, or drink or do because that is what everyone else is doing.

I'm tired of seeing a broken system and their broken services being stuck in a loop, eternally suffocating on their own bile and shit and vomit.

I hate you and I can't stand you, I can't abide by your morals when you don't abide by them. I'm tired of being ashamed for being too nice, for caring for trying to help.

I hate your fucking opinion, that non sense argument of we all have importance and tastes. No we don't, some of us have but in the majority what you have is half a brain that you insist in keeping dormant.

I'm tired of seeing smart people dumbing themselves down just because they wouldn't fit in the popular group otherwise.

I'm tired of all your lies, those sordid secrets you have and I despise that image you want to project to the world, of the self righteous prick with nothing to hide but with everything hidden.

I know you lie, i know you betrayed me time and time again, but i have to pretend i don't. I know you speak, about it, i know you find me strange and in need of help,and guess what. I do need fucking help, to put up with all of these morons time and time again.

I'm tired of money, I'm tired of religion, I'm tired of cocky worthless maggots infesting my proverbial mind garden.

I am not alone but I feel alone, because it's depressing knowing that most people refuse to evolve refuse to learn, they are so convinced of their own capabilities they forget to learn. They forget to listen.

I'm tired of screaming. I want to listen and to be listened too.

But no one listens to anything else than the sound of their own voices.

Where the fuck are you, where the fuck have you gone?

Tell me your story and let me get lost in your words, don't be afraid I don't judge, just speak.

Let me do to you what I want you to do to me.

Let me listen.

I'm tired of prejudice, shame, and old habits.

Be who you want to be, not what everybody else wants you too be.

Seek your own path, follow it to the end and i'm sure they will eventually cross. your path and mine, if forever or just for a while it remains to be seen. I might not be the biggest cross road in your life but at least I will be part of one.

Words, the foundation of my reality.

The great late George Carlin once said.


"When it comes to changing the language, I think they make some good points. Because we do think in language. And so the quality of our thoughts and ideas can only be as good as the quality of our language."

His mastery of language and words has been an inspiration since I first stumbled upon him.

The art of weaving words into a web of pure divinity always made me shiver.

Words either spoken or written are weapons of the highest calibre.

They make your emotions rush, your mind wonder, your heart race in your chest. They turn frowns to smiles, they comfort, they make a difference.

When they say more than words, it' just a statement of a limit that shouldn't exist.

Words are important, they convey meaning, they state purpose they enlighten.

I can't remember when my passion for words began, I can't remember when I first picked up a pen to strike the paper with my raw emotions, I can't recall the first time I flushed all of my soul into a tiny piece of paper.

But I did.

I did write, I did open my chest and spilled my feelings on white with ink. sometimes with laughter, sometimes with tears.

Writing made me sane again.

It's the only way I could and can cope, it's the only way I could and can express all that bare and naked part of me that keeps boiling inside.

But I know, my words are still not enough, they are still incomplete.

With every attempt my frustration diminishes, with every type my limit widens, the formula becomes clearer, becomes easier.

I learn when I weave strings of letters, I evolve just as much as my writing every moment I transform my thoughts and ideas into readable code.

For me writing, and pretty much everything else in my life, has to be fully understood. Once I can de-construct and reverse engineer something, expose the cogs and wheels that make it work, I can then create it from scratch, improve what was before, or simply understand it's beauty and mastery.

Writing has taught me so many important lessons, it has allowed me to understand so many masterpieces, so many strokes of geniality, not only in other texts, everywhere. Writing, and reading, made me who I am today. Ad even though if I can't really pinpoint the first text I wrote on my own volition I remember fondly, being maybe ten or eleven years old, the time when I picked up my first master piece, the first book I read that made my mind explode with thought and my chest burst with anxiety. Anxiety to get to that next page, to get to that next chapter.

The book was twenty thousand leagues under the sea by Jules Verne in case you're wondering

So with my writing I evolved as a person, and now I start to understand  the words that compose the foundation of our reality.

So I want to dedicate this text to all of those that helped my passion develop. This is for the ones who made those words and to the ones who are still doing them. The words that blew my mind away. Some when I first read them, some that took me several attempts to finally fully understand what I was reading.

So thank you, I bow to your mastery, now watch me develop mine.

My life is my favourite book.

I'm old god-dammit. I was so busy being a kid I never realized I grew old. At some point in my adventure I became an adult without ever noticing it. It's funny, a few years ago an ex-girlfriend told me, "you think you are all grown up but when you get to my age you realize that your view of the world has changed. No matter how mature you think you are you can't understand it right now. You need to wait a few years before it happens." And it did.

My friends are old too, getting married, having kids, trying to keep up.

I made my choices, they made theirs, and I'm sure some of them still don't realize it, but they will at some point. They will wake up one day and think, how did this happened. Well at least that's how it went for me.

I'm old and that's fine.

I have very little regrets about my journey, I'm not even halfway there, I'm almost halfway  through the book of my life and the story just keeps getting better and better. Even now I can look back at the chapters I've read and remember fondly all of those epic lines that filled the pages. It's astonishing how many great characters this book encloses, all of the twists and turns, all of the tears and laughs they contributed to the book. And I'm sure there are a lot of characters that have yet to leave their mark on the story.

It's wonderful how the pages have evolved, how the characters have grown, and it's true you can't have a great story without extraordinary characters in it. And my book as so many of them, some came and went, others came and never left the pages, some might return in the future but each and everyone of them is unique, and I'm sure their story is just as amazing as mine.

But my favourite is my book.

And right now, on my mind one thing echoes, one spark of curiosity leaves me daydreaming on those rainy days. Will my book at some point become part of another book, will it include other main characters. I hope so, but even if it doesn't it's fine.

Either way it's such a great book, it's my book, and I'm not scared of reaching the end chapter, I just hope I can make the ending calm and peaceful, so that when I reach that chapter I'm able to tell all the new readers how exciting and fulfilling it's been.

I hope my book can inspire new reader. Inspire them to write their own books, pushing them to create their own adventure, filled with emotions, great characters and unimaginable twists. And I hope it will be remembered for a while, or who knows for more than a while, so that in that way the story can live longer then it's author, leaving behind hundreds of dedicated readers.

That is my biggest hope, for this story to live on, long after the final letter, that final stroke of ink.has left it's mark on that white page.

My crossroad.

I have a passion for geniality, just browsing through someone's mind through the door they left in the world feels me with emotion.

I rarely admit my own genius, I hide it, I dumb myself down because I'm lonely, so I can relate easily with people.

I'm not proud of it, I think it's a flaw of mine, but most people don't like to feel challenged. They want to be the one shining, the star, the epicentre of reality.

I want peace, companionship, happiness, but this cruel seductress called loneliness helps me improve. And so, because I think when I'm alone, because I don't dumb myself down to be relate-able. On my own I evolve.

So alone I thrive but hunger.

Together I feast but whimper.

Such is my cruel fate.

I do not lead I follow echoes through my mind, a single little lie that pesters the dark corners of my being.

But why shouldn't I lead?

I'll tell you why, because no matter how good I am at it, leading leads to a life of choices too hard to make, too hard for me to sleep, too hard for me not to feel the guilt destroying me from the inside.

But I still lead and don't follow. I learned from the ones around me, never becoming better until they are gone from my sight so I won't outshine them.

People will read this text and point out my flaws, my mistakes, my darkest secrets. I don't care, that's nothing, it's weak, it's your defence when you feel out-powered it's your last resource to point out weaknesses in others to hide your own, to make you feel better. Yes I am gullible from time to time, specially when I'm not alone, undisturbed with my thoughts, but in the end, I know,
even subconsciously I know.

All the flaws, all the mistakes, all those secrets you have been hiding, I know.

And now you're probably thinking to yourself, if only you knew what I know.

I know, I'm not blind, and almost everybody talks, everybody speaks, everybody caves in sometimes, when they are lonely, desperate, vulnerable. Because after all we always need a little weakness.

I work harder than most and act like I work less than most. Why? Because nobody likes someone working that hard, showing that much passion for something so minuscule, so empty of meaning, of purpose.

I have no ulterior motive and I have all the ulterior motives.

I want balance, I want knowledge, I want love, passion, feelings piercing my soul. I crave tears of joy and sad laughter. I wan't to travel, to see the world.

I wan to make it better, but to be heard you have to make noise, and I prefer to be quite, to be humble. In reality my heart is butter, it melts with the warmth of the human touch, And how long has it been since I felt that warmth? Days, months, years?

Perhaps I never felt it, I never received it and so I keep searching, ever faithful to my unfaithfulness, ever watching, ever caring. Could that be the truth? Could that be my reason?

It can't...

Just being ambitious get's me sick, being greedy get's me sick, being envious gets me sick. I know. I have been all three. And yet here I stand, locked away in this fortress of solitude, silently typing away on my keyboard, shouting in silence, in the flimsy hope I will be heard.

But I shout in vain, well not really in vain, every now and again someone listens, someone realizes, like when from a little spark, from that little tinder comes the fire, that fills this room and clears away all that's dark?

How can I see so much and yet be blind, so lost, so confused?

Who knows, I have been blinding myself my whole life. So maybe I'm not really blind, I'm just choosing not to see.

Isn't that a pleasant story, a pleasant tale, a deserving reveal for the grande finale.

I'm seeking, I'm searching, I'm following that dim light and choosing to ignore it. Because in the end, whenever I follow I'm not really following, I'm just learning, steadily behind you until the day you look back and I'm not there. I'm somewhere else, somewhere on a different road, on a different plane, pulled away from your world and dropped into another never leaving my own. And again I follow, calmly, reserved, so that one day I can lead, so I can be the dimming light on that road, just lighting your path, not really being a destination, a finish line.

I'll just be that warm fuzzy feeling, that comforting light while you rest from your adventure, gently dreaming about mine, from all the stories, from all the tales. From all those words that were left along in your path.

Then again, I might be wrong, and all I might be missing, all I might be overlooking might really just be there waiting. Resting in the shadows, not waiting for me, just waiting for our paths to cross.

A good friend told me not to get stuck on my own prison, to unlock the door and search for that intersection. Is she right?

I'm not sure, no one will ever be sure, but I am willing to at least try, who knows what I might unravel on that crossroad.

So perfectly imperfect...

I love words, sentences, language, meaning.

The act of communicating with another can be basic and simple or intrinsically complex.

The mastery of words and letters takes time and effort, the language is an ever growing beast that never stops, never rests, never runs out.

I started making my own conglomerate of words because I couldn't find them written yet.

But sometimes, we all come across a message, that fits so well in our life you have no choice but to admit it's genius and just let it flow like an open dam over-flooding the river of communication.

This is one of those cases.

I wanted to say something but the words have already been put together, so I humble myself before the genius that turned that thought into reality.

This one is for you, like always, it's not my own words, but it speaks for me.

Imperfect

"
Somethings are better off forgotten
We bury them in places that we really only visit by ourselves
Oh, and you were a version like no other
Oh, they never tell you what to do when all you see is gone
What's the sense in anything when what they say is wrong?

Oh, what do you wanna hear?
Do you wanna know how many times
I tore myself apart cause' you're not here?
Oh, what do you wanna know?
Does it make you feel alive?
I had to die to finally let you go

Stop me, I find myself believing
A story gets rewritten so blasphemy's committed once again
Oh, and you were so perfectly imperfect
Oh, they never tell you what to do when all you have are lies
What's the sense in anything? It's just one more goodbye

Oh, what do you wanna hear?
Do you wanna know how many times
I tore myself apart 'cause you're not here?
Oh, what do you wanna know?
Does it make you feel alive?
I had to die to finally let you go

Oh yeah

Oh, what do you wanna hear?
Do you wanna know how many times
I tore myself apart cause' you're not here?
Oh, what do you wanna know?
Does it make you feel alive?
I had to die to finally let you go

Oh, oh
Finally let you go
"
by Corey Taylor

Wondering.

I wonder if you ever wonder about the wonders of the world? If you take the time to slow, slowdown on that road.

I wonder if you wonder about the wonders of the mind, when you immerse yourself just taking the time.

How I wonder what I wonder, I wonder, if those wonders will ever leave me wondering where I was.

So I wonder about all the wonders of your love, will it really make me loose myself in words..

And do you wonder if I wonder? If i lay awake wondering where you were.

I do wonder, if what makes me wonder about all the wonders of the world is simply all the wonders of your soul.

You left me wondering, sitting here alone.

All I can do is wonder, wonder about my own wonder.

Who am I?

I don't know, it's too hard to tell. For I am an agglomerate of traits, lessons, experiences. What composes the symphony of me is entangled deep in my past, in my friends, in my experiences.

If ever I tried to return the parts of me, I know where to start but I would never know how to finish.. A few parts I know, I have my grandfather unbreakable will, my uncle never ending determination, and the softness of my mother's heart.

The rest I glued together, piece by piece, taking a bit from here and a bit from there.

I don't truly know me, and I think I will never fully understand me. Step by step I uncover those footprints and at the same time realize I left new ones behind as I move forward.

I realized a lot over this almost 30 years, my passion for displays of geniality, my craving for emotions, my affair with loneliness. I found some basics, some hobbies, some notes on how to describe me.

My passion for words, that craving of having something to say but feeling like I lack the skill to say it. My constant typing on this virtual paper, my eternal struggle with the torrent of emotions buried inside. I want to create and compose, I want to compile with unequal mastery the holy grail of written text, the combination of letters that follow each other slowly unravelling their meaning as they expand.

I want, I lust, I crave, for your eyes, for the moment when my careful threaded thread of little black images carefully weaved in that white background. When it's power invades you, steals your breath, makes your eyes water and your heart race.

But despite all of this, I still don't know.

Who I am, how to love...

All that's left is this blank page staring back at me. Calmly waiting for my feelings to bottle up, for my emotions to boil inside, until it becomes unavoidable for them to spill.into it again.

Things I already said, but still no one knows..

There are some things that I can't say, others that I can’t hide.
There are some things that I need to say, but in the end...  I can only hide them.

It’s funny how it's so easy to hide something, all that's needed  is to place it in plain sight. no one will ever look for it if it’s not hidden
Only things left covered, left alone, untouched and wrapped in a veil of shame,. hiding in a dark and shady place, where secrets usually are... end up being discovered.

I had something to say so I said it, but most likely you will never hear it, read it, or understand it.
Why? Because it’s not hidden, it’s out there, right in front of your eyes, without a need to sit, abandoned in the darkness..
Lately I had a lot to say, Thoughts and words running wild in my brain, waiting to become the digital ink on my virtual canvas.

I still feel imprisoned.  Saving all that should be said, saying all that should be saved. I feel trapped and shackled by my thoughts, eternally waiting for the right moment, the right time, the right chance.
That fleeting day that never comes.

 I have so much to tell, so much to share but no one here to listen, so I write, and hope. Hope that the message will reach its place, but it rarely does, and I am left alone with my abandoned words.

Words, when written, are my healing for the soul, I cleanse myself of all those feelings. The feelings that stay bottled up inside. I vomit on a piece of paper, blurring the lines where my soul was spilled.
I share my thoughts with everyone, and at the same time, no one...

I share my heart with whoever decides, by luck or fate, to read my message. But in the end having no control on who reads it or when, it is indeed read.

And like that, my open messages leave room for interpretation, you might think this message is for you.You might almost be certain, but in the end, the rightful owner will be left unknown. You can only assume, guess, hope... and this uncertainty, this flicker of fate, amuses me.

The uncertainty of letters formed into words. Formed into sentences. Formed into  messages.

Messages that only I know to whom they were intended, and, as time goes by, constant on it's path, I might forget why the message was written, and then it truly becomes uncertain, forever frozen on a state of where it has been delivered and still lingering in limbo.

And that amuses me. And so I write,  so I let go. I send my message out there, and let it go following its chaotic path,

It really feels a bit like staring at the stars, no matter how much you look, how much you try, you can never tell what really is on the other side.

Left alone with all my thoughts...

My chest is burning
the tears flowing.
The whole in my chest
Grows wider without rest

Confusion spills onto the floor
leaves me hungering for more
sadness rises up above
I am missing the ones I love..

deeper it goes the wound
buried deep into your womb
silenced the scream i wait to take
to soften this dying ache

My mouth is open but there is no sound
my body falling to the ground.
will and hope gets dimmer in my wake
riddling me my cruel fate.

Am I whole or am I hollow?
Where is that hope i borrow?
I'm silently crying, can't you see?
all i wanted was for you to be...

The letters fall right from my mouth
laying silent while I shout.
I cry and scream with no avail
I am lost and oh so frail.

In the darkness my soul is shaking,
in the the light my smile is breaking,
while i whisper to the night
set me free, release the fight.

Misery sets itself into my stones
I can feel it in my bones.
My fingers type while I am numb
never dreamt I was the one

Fighting solitude with hope and dreams,
its more fleeting than it seems.
It screams, it shouts, into despair
why is there no one there?

What if, it was.

When ever I decide to visit these lands bathed by the Atlantic it always becomes a nostalgic trip.

I visit places from my past, I meet people from my past, I breathe the air from my past.

True most of the people are still very much a part of the present, true a lot of them will be part of my future but still, I linger, still stepping outside my Mom's house on those clear nights and finding myself, just like I did countless times before, staring at that starry sky.

Now a days I feel more and more like a ghost, a spectre, a breeze that gently passes through, passing through their lives like sun rays through windows.

Yes here and there I leave a little touch, a gentle tap on the shoulder that makes them turn around looking for something that isn't really there.
It feels me with joy and sadness this sensation. The joy of still being here and the sadness of not really belonging any more.

The last hours are always the hardest and the easiest, the pain of saying farewell again, and the relieve of leaving a place that is no longer my own.

Change is scary, change leaves us shaking in the dark, afraid of letting go of the past, terrified of the unknown.
For some, even though they are scared, the temptation of reaching out to the unlighted and the foreign is too much to bear, soon it drives away the fear and makes them jump forward.

The what if's of life are too many to avoid them all, but, some of them are really never meant to stay that way, they become the memories and challenges, they become part of us, shape-shifting from if to was, from regret to accomplishment.


I love my past, the what ifs I turned into it was, the good the bad, all of it. It turned me into this, into me, and this is only part of the road, part of the journey.

My life is full of people, amazing people, and I'm glad I don't belong here any more, I rather be a reason than a constant, I rather be the push, the breeze, that gentle touch.

I rather be a memory that never fades than a pillar eroding with time.

And while here I'm passing through, there my roots are spreading, seeping more and more on that land, gripping it tight without letting go.

My journey isn't finished, my road still has miles ahead, but there is nothing wrong with stopping, for a little while, and enjoy a drink from that fountain.

The sound-waves of emotion

Music, the undeniable food for the soul, the indescribable emotion. Music brings us closer, makes us forget, makes us smile, and sing and dance. It makes us loose ourselves in the sound-waves that dig deep into our being, energizing us, making us feel truly alive.

For that fleeting moment that lasts just as long as the song, you forget about the world, immerse yourself in the sensations and experience the orgasmic seduction of the sound.

This becomes even more a reality when you're seeing it being made in front of your eyes, when the band is composing in front of you, making you dance, making you laugh, making you jump around and to let go of all the sorrows, the grieves, the sadness.

I love seeing bands playing live, and in this sense for me, the smaller the audience the better the show.
Last night It was XPTO night in a hidden bar somewhere, lost between the streets and alley ways of Lisbon, gathering just a few music lovers to see people filling the room with sound.

I had been there before and loved it, and last night was no exception, the vibe, the energy, the way they commanded the crowd made me forget all of my pains and just laugh.

They are well worth seeing, and if by chance you are lost in one of the most beautiful cities in the world I urge you to find them, you will be engulfed by the sounds.

By the sound-waves of emotion...

XPTO - Facebook

To the aching heart

My heart is aching
Slowly breaking
My mind is crying
slowly dying

As the hours pass
Ticking away so fast
My mind quickly crumbles
My mouth barely mumbles.

As the sadness sips deep
into my broken shell
It wades away too quick
ripping away that spell

Even though my heart endures
It slowly breaks
Even though my mind resists
It slowly aches

Memories of a time gone by
are keeping my heart alive
dreams I have yet to dream
turn more real it seems

In a world of sorrow
filled with lust
The hope I borrow
turns itself to dust

And even though my heart is open
It slowly breaks
And even though my mind is sound
it slowly aches

I find myself lost in words
as the clock gently turns
the tears streaming through my face
quickly accepting their fate

It falls to madness
My pitiful sadness
It turns hell
this darkened cell.

My heart is aching
Slowly breaking
My mind is fading
slowly raging

It aches
it burns
it slowly turns

It breaks
it cries
it slowly dies...

A letter to Corey Taylor / Friends I never met.

Hey man.

I know you are a busy man, but I feel like I had to tell you this eventually.

I'm am not a maggot, I never was.

I couldn't get it, your words and all that sound were screaming out of my speakers and yet I failed to grasp it.
I couldn't relate with the movement, I couldn't relate with every one around me full of hate and sorrow when their lives seemed so perfect from my perspective. I was young, and stupid. I'm older now, and wiser.

You have been a a part of my life for at least 15 years, you came and went every so often. I saw you in 2004 telling a crowd to kneel down. I liked your music but I still couldn't grasp it.
I saw you again in 2007, just briefly, I wasn't there for you that time, I went to see James. So I saw you from afar ripping your lungs out screaming at the crowd to get inside.

I still liked your music, I have fond memories of  my radio playing Sulfur, and Before I Forget while I was stuck in traffic coming from home.

A few years later Paul died, I was sad, even though I never met you guys, even though I had bands I liked more, I still consider you all important to me. to the world.

Music has been an addiction of mine for as long as I can remember. I can't play it but I love it, I can't live without it. I consider every musician that as ever send chills down my spine or make the airs on the back of my neck stand with their music as friends, friends I never met.

Through out the years I lost a few friends I never met, Paul, The Rev, Kurt, Dave Williams...

I lost so many friends.

Last year, in march 2014 I lost my best friend I never met, his name was Joao Ribas, he was the lead singer for a punk Portuguese band that I have loved for so many years.
His lyrics and sounds got me out of depression, his voice shouting from my radio made me feel more alive and confident then ever before. I was growing up, turning from kid to man, and his songs were shaping me into what I wanted to be.

I was devastated when I found out, it's silly even now while writing this my eyes still get all teary, but when all seemed wrong in my life I had him giving me strength through his music and now it was gone. all I had left was the past, I couldn't look forward for what else he had to say any more.

Soon after I had to go to a place very strange for me, I felt so out of place, so ripped off from reality, so trapped... and all I had to keep me sane was music.

For a long time I couldn't hear his music, the only song that I couldn't remove from my playlist was the last one he did before leaving.

But after a while another voice rose between the chaos of my playlist, this voice was now giving me courage,  keeping me alive and sane. It started growing on me, from one song it became a whole album, from an album an entire compilation. And some time after I was roaming around the streets of Paris with you shouting in my ears. The emotions and feeling of empowerment while you asked me to Do You a Favor, when you said to give the lunatic a chance, I remember your cover of wicked game giving me chills while I sat outside in a coffee shop dreaming of girl.

Not long after a close friend told me you wrote a book, well actually more than one by that time, but he told me to start with the seven deadly sins. I just finished it and its amazing how much we have in common. Wrestling, comics, Carlin and many others.

I was surprised, I loved those things my entire life and you never came across like the kinda of guy liking that stuff.

I read all the chapters and you made some pretty good points, I still wonder though who the hell was that rock star?

But my point is, after all this rambling, I had lost my best friend I never met, and I never got to say thank you for all the good times. And you stepped up unknowingly. You became the one giving me something to look forward to. And I wanted to say thank you.

Thank you man, for being who you are.

Thank you for being Corey fucking Taylor.

The sweetest pain, the sourest joy.

Do you know what it's like to fall in love?

Do you know how it feels taking that punch in the stomach, the agony that grabs a hold of your chest robbing you of breath.

You gasp for air, anxiety boiling in your entrails.You get lost in their stare, your hearth racing as the gaze becomes everlasting, stopping time around you.

Do you know the pain of that mental image, burned in the flesh of your brain? The stabbing feeling of their smile ripping your very essence to shreds...

Do you?

Do you know...

When your hands start shaking and your sweat starts running, gushing like blood from an open wound.

While their lips draw ever closer...

You become helpless... Powerless... Trapped in your imagination...

The addiction of that very first moment, the one that hit you, the memory that taunts you, mocks you. never returning, haunting away in the corner of your mind.

Do you know what it's like to really fall in love?

To dream of a future that's fleeting, treacherous , ethereal...

The experience of their aroma raping and violating your essence.

Its like a bottomless pit in your heart overflowing with the most poisonous nectar.

Do you know what it's like to really fall for someone?

When your mind drifts into madness... The straight jacket binds your very soul...

I do...

I know what it's like to fall in love...

I have known since the first day I saw you, when i cursed myself, as your soul defile my own.

Wrapping itself around me. Without ever letting go.

How quickly I forget, how long will I rise.

It’s astonishing how things tend to fade away with time, how what we though was the most important thing in our life now seems meaningless. Ties break, values change, smiles waver and memories wash away as messages in the sand.

There was a time when Mondays were my favourite day, struggling a part time job with my studies in order to not starve away my hopes and dreams, going weeks on end with no days off, Mondays were my relief, it was the day that I woke up with the most energy, happier, when I really looked forward to get out of bed.

I still remember my first weekend of freedom after that time, one hell of a drunken night, I still remember my then girlfriend dragging me to her bed and going to the kitchen to make me a cup of tea. I remember waking up to the tea sitting untouched next to the nightstand.

I also remember juggling a lie that was snowballing way over my control, agonizing each day about being discovered, holding the tears inside while that lie was wreaking havoc among my friends, family and love life. I remember crying myself to sleep when I finally decided to let go of the lie, crying in a girls lap while she petted my head after realizing she had been betrayed and destroyed when she put what little trust she had left to give.

I remember a time when I had to travel 6 hours a day to get from my house to my job and back, thinking, while I stared at the road in the sidewalk, how my brain had shutdown, how my body and mind felt like they were going on autopilot. I was watching my life play out like I was sitting in a couch watching me in the television screen, unable to move, unable to feel, unable to speak.

I remember being stuck, not against my will but stuck do to circumstance, in a foreign land, away from family, friends, in a culture that I couldn’t relate in a country scared by war, famine, terror and despair.

During all those times I held dear so many different things. Claiming at each time that what I was missing was what I needed to be happy.

Freedom…

Truth…

Time…

Money…

And now…

Now I sit here, still not satisfied, still not happy.

It’s like an hunger to get more and more, while my body is breaking down and my mind is no longer willing.

Don’t get me wrong, I’m not unhappy, I have so many good memories, so many good friends, so many good things in my life that I it should be enough to be satisfied.

But it never is…

My thirst is like a curse, always wanting more, always putting myself in situations that force me to evolve and overcome. Always gathering the wood and the tinder. Always lighting it, staring at the flames while the wood crackles with the fire. Always stepping into the agony of burning flesh, always feeling the hell fire on my skin and falling apart to ashes. Always rising from them in a new form, reborn so to say, drunk by the fleeting high of conquest.

But now my thoughts permeate my confidence, I hear the voice, I see the cracks beneath my skin.

Until when will I rise, until when will this gamble give me what I want, when will I be stepping into that fire for the last time, unable to rise. When will I be just a pile of ashes being blown away by the wind like a memory on a mind, slowly drifting away into that open sea…

Dark thoughts

There are a few words that only come out in the sweet embrace of the night.

When the hour is far gone, the silence settles in and the despair tempts the root of the soul.

I find myself during these dark hours immersed in desperate thoughts, cursing at that cruel mistress that goes by the name of fate.

It amazes me how many times I feel lost, endlessly searching for an intangible object.

Somehow writing always seems to calm the urge, dilutes the rage and sadness, open my heart and lets it heal, even if just for a few minutes, before falling again into that endless pit.

It’s hard to be alone and far away, far from all that’s familiar from all that feels safe.

What’s the meaning, what’s the purpose?

Why do we tick forever forward until our energy runs out and we fall on the floor?

Where am I going, why do I crave, why does this thirst never fade?

So many unanswered questions…

So many thoughts roaming around…

Simple

Simple...

Like you simply did, simply crossing my path,
simply stopping me in my tracks.

I love you, I simply do.

I love you because I do, it's simple, simply because it's you.

Simple is what you are, simple is what I  am.

Simply yours, simply mine.

Simple is what I need, simple is what I crave.

Simple lines in a simple mind.

Simply staring into those simple blue eyes.

Simple shall the future be,
simply here,
simply there,
simple lives in the palm of our hands.

One so simple yet so far
simply closer to my heart.

Admire

There is a man I admire.

For over fifty years he as been roaming this earth, living a simple life, threading on a simple path. A path filled with complications, aggravations and trials. Simply a complicated road in a indeed complexly simple journey.

 The education he has is what life gave him, but that doesn't diminish the immensity of his mind. Cunning, sharp and straight forward, with a vision  shaped by the despair of the past. A mind shaped by the harsh embrace of reality, born between a rock and a hard place he bettered himself, always moving forward, molding his life with the grace of a composer gently drawing the notes of a symphony.
A man who knows is limitations, who clearly draws them in the road he travels, simply to break them with the next step.

 Like the man before him his will is astonishing, unbreakable, unstoppable, unmovable. A bolder in in a empty and desert land, that refuses to erode like the rest of the surroundings.

His personality fills the room, attracts people like a gravity field, you swirl around him unable to escape the pull.
A gentle and kind soul that never stops laughing, even when his smile is frowning.

If it wasn't for him I wouldn't be here, ready to take charge, to let my will flourish. And like he did before me, so to I will walk and shape my own path, not following his footsteps, simply seeking what he sought.

I already started...

To risk it all.

This my first post in 2015 about my life...

A lot has changed in the last 12 months, my new year's resolution from 2013 year took longer than expected, only coming true in 2015.

Since I was a young boy I have dreamed and hoped for this. I clawed my way here, I shredded my existence over and over again to be here, to be allowed, to be free, to truly show my potential.
I cried, I suffered, I learned. I leaped into the unknown, I evolved, I opened my mind.

I can't recall when it was, I can't recall if someone said it to me or if I read it somewhere, but the phrase "If you love what to do you won't have to work a single day in your life" echoes in my mind.

It has been a long journey, full of struggles and barriers, but I enjoyed every last bit of it. I still do, because even though I reached what I had dreamed of I'm not stopping, the adventure continues.

I look back at the people that inspired me,that molded me into being. From the amazing father figure to my closest friends, all of them had a role in my story, all of them were part of it and will continue to be. You showed me how to think, how to act, how to be the person I dreamt of being for so long.

I look back and all I can say is thank you, thank you for being there, for believing in me, for trusting me, for teaching me, for making it possible for me to get here.

I'm finally where I wanted to be, in a place where I can constantly explore, where I can constantly learn, where my actions speak louder than my wallet, my diploma or my status.

I'm in a place where I can meet amazing people, from different backgrounds, with different ideas, with different beliefs but that share a open minded approach to the world.

I'm in a place where I can explore my mind without being classed has a pretentious bastard, a know it all, someone that tries to outshine everyone else.

I'm not in it for the glory, for the fame or for the money, I'm in it to win. To win against myself, to break my limits, to evolve and perhaps to give meaning to a meaningful world.

I had to evolve to get here, I've cut the chains of the past without forgetting my mistakes, I let go of my fears without becoming fearless, I have risked it all when I had everything to lose.

But instead of losing it all, I gained it.

The chance to challenge myself and the ability to take on that challenge without weights on my back.

They took the chains of my wings to see how far I can fly, I'll show them exactly that my limit is only where I let it to be.

Similarly different.

We're different you and I.

We will always be different. Although you may think we share the same experiences, the same thoughts the same way of life, We're different.

My life is my own, my ideas are my own, my principles are my own.
I'm not normal nor am I abnormal. I'm special just like everyone else. The way you look at life, what works for you, the way you think is different and unique, just as everybody else.

I don't need your guide, I don't need your views, I don't need your advice let alone your orders.
No rule is set in stone, nothing is mandatory there is no universal way of life.

I see different beliefs, different people everyday, I've seen more diversity in the world than the majority of the population will ever see. I watch, I ponder, I wonder. I do not impose, I do not criticize, I do not look down from my proverbial horse.

You're not better than me, I'm not better than you.

People spend to much time trying to control what wasn't supposed to be controlled. They are too afraid to follow themselves, they are so afraid to be themselves that they try to shape others to best suit their liking.

This doesn't work, this will never work.

We are individually unique, a non repeating sequence of mentality's that may share some likeness but will never diverge.

I don't like control, It's unnatural. I believe in a chaotic amalgam following a pattern that far exceeds human comprehension. A cluster of specs, seemingly alike but fundamentally unique.

So pay attention, understand your surrounding, share your knowledge do not impose it, advise when asked, respect when applicable.
Adapt, evolve, realize.


“Don't follow in the footsteps of the ancient masters; seek what they sought.” (Matsuo Basho)

Live your life your own way, do what makes you happy, what makes you tick. Know what you love, know what you hate. Understand that we are all different, and that in the end, that's what makes us normal.