“The fragile keep secrets, gathered in pockets
And they’ll sell them for nothing, a cheap watch or locket
That kind of gold washes off

And the sad act like lepers, they stick to the shadows
They long to ring bells of warning to tell of their coming
So that the pure can shut their doors”
“Arienette” by Bright Eyes

I highly recommend to listen to the masterpiece Arienette by the Bright Eyes while reading this. I embeded the song above.

I realized that there was no formal explanation for the creation of this site. Well, to be honest, I’m far from empty of words these days. I’ve always felt language was truly one of the most beautiful things there ever were, but what feels to me like the saddest thing of all is that I can only truly connect with language once I’m deeply hurt or deeply in love. Every love I’ve ever felt, with no exception, was of the most awful hurtful feeling, so my connection to my true love that is language can only come when I’m entering someone’s bedroom or leaving it. Language, in this way, feels very romantic. I remember feeling sometimes that I used to lovebomb people a lot, but it was just that to me if I really loved you and you seemed clueless of how special you can be to someone else, I have to try to make it as obvious as possible that there is someone in this world that cares for you. There’s a little person with your face in the heart of someone across the globe from you that would die and suck that person’s soul while its body was decaying if you were ever to die in real life. I have a lot of people with a lot of people’s faces in my heart.

Writing about this made me realize I didn’t make myself very clear about why this site exists. Well, it’s for no one, really. What happened is that… It was probably a month ago. I can’t remember. I reached a low I was trying to avoid in a mess I put myself into at the beginning of the year. I was getting over someone. It wasn’t easy, we used to talk every day. As I said in the other text I put here, it was completely different from any love I felt before. I never felt this close to a person. Sadly, it was all the same as anything that happened before at the end. That person was this close to a person many times before, you see. She was bound to a raindrop as we spoke, and this is the topic of the low I mentioned. She misunderstood something I wrote in a review of a movie talking about a short film I was planning to write. It’s a long story, but she thought I was saying mean things about her and her boyfriend behind her back as a means to reach and hurt her. I don’t think she was crazy for thinking that. It was a long string of bad matches, it felt like pure bad luck to me. It’s just not something I do with people I like.

The problem is that I felt devastated upon hearing that she felt that way. I discovered through a friend who was very frustrated with the situation as well and started to accuse me and call me all sorts of names and basically describe the devil in other words. I have a feeling that from where they come from that devil is everywhere. But these were new words to me. I think that if she came to me with that I would have not even bat an eye, I would’ve just explained myself and we would’ve understood ourselves. Instead, the way I discovered that she was feeling so bad towards me was through what I considered a great friend saying unbelievable things to me. What I’ve been omitting, and what I told her after we settled the case, is that I have a deep, deep trauma of being accused of something I didn’t do. It’s one of the few great fears of my life; this feeling of freezing and not even knowing if you can prove yourself and watch someone you care for just not believe you. I guess this connects with my fear of being alone. As I also said on my past text, I was a child who was very alone. I didn’t know how to communicate, people were aliens to me. So any connection I made was true and holy. I wanted these people to trust me. I wanted these people to care about me. During my childhood, they just didn’t. They couldn’t. Losing these things, saying goodbyes, letting everyone die… It’s not easy for me, it never was. I know the answer for this but I don’t want to ever part with someone I love. I want every love to be eternal even if it breaks me in half.

Well, needless to say, I felt very bad these days between me discovering she was upset and actually talking to her about it. This friend told me to not talk to her about it to try and fix things because she was too upset and I’d make it worse. She was upset, but he really had prohibited me from talking to her because he didn’t want her to know he told me about it. I think he threatened to stop talking to me if I did. I obeyed. And those days were hell. I couldn’t stop crying. We weren’t talking anymore, my plans were to leave her and try and forget her. Suddenly she would have an image of me that was completely diabolical. An image of me that would destroy everything we had of the nothing we did. That started to destroy me bit by bit. I had shivers, I walked around the house in circles about a million times in a day. Could barely listen to music. I didn’t eat anything for about two days and slept very little. But it hit a low even bigger, you see. For the first time ever, I felt extremely suicidal. This is for a future text, though. It was sickening how this was affecting me. Hell, as I said, we weren’t even talking anymore. But it was a combination of everything. The way I discovered, not being able to talk to her, all the things I discovered she was angry about. Because she was very angry. She told me she wasn’t, but I know she was. I knew a bit after I recorded some voice notes for her, from checking her Twitter account even though I had prohibited myself from doing that. But I always knew. I knew those two very well. The things they said about what they thought I was talking about in my review could only carry a very specific type of hate. It’s not just observational. It’s a devil in a fingertip that I already saw they equip for other people. People from where there’s devils everywhere.

Anyway, it was mostly bad timing. I was going through a specific hard moment while letting her go and then all of this started happening and suddenly my OCD acted like the world was about to end. I’m not close to this now. I’m getting through. I just feel like something broke in me and I can’t fix it now. I changed my mind, I don’t think I want to talk to any of them anymore. Probably forever. I don’t hate her. It’s best if I just pretend none of this ever existed. That I never answered that text. That I never spent so much of my soul and, when I needed it the most, I felt like none of it was with me anymore. I’m tired, I’m weak. So I feel something is broken and I can pretend to mend it, but it will be shattered for as long as my mind is rolling. There are some messes you can never try to fix. I don’t think I’ll want to come close to a relationship for a long time.

So this site is a way of putting every single text I write in one place. Like a newsletter, but it’s not weekly and not paid. Fuck that. I don’t write that good. And even though it’s a public site, I don’t care if no one reads any of this. It’s more of an online archival of mine than an exposition. Maybe I’ll share the site on my private Instagram, but I don’t think anyone in there reads my things anyway. The texts on this site will alternate between portuguese and english; this text was only in english because the previous text was on brazilian portuguese, so I wanted to prove that the languages would change. The idea for this site was just because after my previous suicidal ideations, I started to write a lot. About the situation, about her. This site also wasn’t created with the intention of being a space for texts only about her, dear Christ. Soon enough I hope to write about other things. For now, I just needed some place to put those words. Maybe some place I didn’t wanted her to read them, not that I do mind. It’s just not my intention to play Chinese whispers with her as she thought, I just need to let these things out. And maybe this helps with letting go. Not of her, but of something much more valuable. A mirror. A woman mirror.

“So take my hand, this barren land is alive tonight
Oh, the corn has grown stalks that form a wall too high
But the wind carries sounds that I can’t see from beyond that line
Then the stalks begin to sway
Oh, stay with me, Arienette, until the wolves are away.”
“Arienette” by Bright Eyes