How interesting, not to mention funny, life works.

Only those trapped in this looping know what it feels. And you know. To believe ardently in something. Finding gaps in the speech so we can keep trying, something that gives us hope. To hold on so, once again, we were not wrong.

And we seek comfort and help in each other’s words, but my words and yours are the same. Not long ago I told you: just don’t hurt yourself. You said the same to me. Yet, we are not sure on how to – and it is eating us alive, from inside out.

My dear, we were not wrong. We did all possible. We always gave everything we had – sometimes all we have is not enough and it’s not our fault. It would be enough for many, but some are always craving for more, because they can’t find it on themselves. We may show the way, but we can’t learn the lesson in their place. All we can do is show them the path and hope they will take the road. And I know it hurts and it is frustrating. But life is a funny thing. We are all here to learn, they say.

It is early morning peace with a hurricane.

We might question ourselves why someone lied to us and this is the biggest mistake – not only because we will never know the truth, but because this can eat us alive. It starts like a little doubt, just something you want to know so you can cope better. Slowly it becomes a hole – a dark hole that eats everything in its way: your smile, your desires, your happiness. It takes away every little joy you have and replace it with doubt and fear and hate. Lies are no good for any part – but if you are the one who was lied to, you should let the lie go. If you are the liar, you should come clean. Honesty is a very powerful thing.

Most of the time we lie. Rather it is out of fear, cowardice, shame, desperation or simply because we are addicted to lie or because we just don’t know how to do differently. So, we lie. About how we are feeling, what we own, what we do, how we see ourselves. We lie to our parents, our friends, our lovers and our partners. We lie to conquer something, not really aware of what this will cost in the very end. It may cost you everything or it may just be brushed off. Or the lie itself becomes so big it can’t be undone – but it destroys everything. Most of the time we lie and we don’t consider the consequences – lying is very seductive and we are blind. We jump – but we didn’t look down to see if it will be a deadly jump or not.

What people don’t remember is that a lie, undeniably, brings one thing: humiliation. And humiliation tastes a lot different from anything else. It brings some sort of pain, but I can’t actually pinpoint what kind it is. It is a very strange thing to feel, a very complicated place to be. It seems like looking at yourself from above, not knowing what to do next.

But we keep lying. We keep hiding – is hiding the truth also lying? I don’t know. Lying consists in actively telling something backwards – a yes becomes a no, a no becomes a yes. Sometimes the lie is so big and full of details you don’t even know if it’s not the real thing. Hiding consists in never speaking of the subject and dodging any conversation on the said subject. We lie and hide hoping this will avoid facing the consequences of our bad deeds – and the reactions it may cause.

It’s in the human nature to seek for complication, to pursue drama so the adrenaline levels keeps high – possibly a heritage from our cave ancestral we clearly don’t need but our DNA keeps there. Instead of hunting for food or shelter, we have to hunt something else – so we chase problem and drama. Lying may get us in trouble – or on the verge of trouble. Adrenaline rush, fast heart rate, dilated pupils. Problem is: hunting for food guaranteed our survival; hunting for adrenaline may kill us in the end.

 

To Florian & Corina.

We’ve met each other, for the first time, four years ago. We are supposed to have regular jobs, as being a Black Cat pays you shit. We are still regular human beings and have to put a roof on top of our heads. We also eat and get sick, so a job that pays you is highly necessary – we are no heirs here. Just because we were “chosen” (sometimes “cursed” seems a better fit), that doesn’t mean we are instantly rich or that money will magically appear in our pockets – although it should. Seriously, they want you to have this job, go through all this crap and want to see a smile at the end of the day. Fuck, the whole lot of you.

Black cats quickly identify another one. You can notice their eyes, their attitudes, their quiet voices explaining a few things. You can hear it in their silence. You can read it in their features. When we met, we knew. And when she had that nervous breakdown, the one and only I ever saw, we no longer not talked about it – it all came out of us like lava from a dormant volcano.

Thing is, about Black Cats, that you need to know is that we don’t have seven lives, as the name could imply. There are no real cats here, just a name someone who probably didn’t have much to do decided to call us. So, years went by and we became good friends, telling each other all the weird things we have done for work – or how crazy it can get sometimes. Not because we want it or cause it, but because the human nature seeks complication.

 

P.s: There is a lot going on today and reading the book I wrote you makes life a little easier on the shoulders…

How interesting things are when we decide to share our craziness with someone else. Something changes, yet they don’t. It is as if life was waiting and the adaptation comes easily. Sharing is quite complicate – you have to want it. If you don’t, you will end up cruising life meeting new people every day, live adventures that won’t leave any memory, just blurred images. Adventures that you can brag about, but not hold on to. Remember, pictures are not memories. The things you lived and felt and left a mark in your heart, that smile so big that shone your eyes – those are memories.

Intimacy requires being open and willing to allow someone else to see not only your physical flaws, but who you really are. The person who cries easily with silly movies. The person who gets frustrated and mad when something goes wrong (or just can’t find something). The dark circles underneath your eyes. The old, full of holes, T-shirt. Intimacy is what leads us to make memories with our minds and hearts – no pictures necessary to capture a moment.

It takes a lot of courage to undress, not just your clothes. To show your fears, your insecurities. To let the other know you are jealous. Intimacy drives us to complete honesty, even when we don’t want you. Intimacy allows the other to notice in your eyes or in your voice how you are actually feeling. It is still hard for me to undress myself, fully. But our intimacy holds me by the hand and make me shiver. Undress becomes a little easier each time. Intimacy has nothing to do with laying together, sleeping naked. Intimacy allows me to be frail, even when I want you to think I’m the strongest person you will ever meet. Allows to learn your flaws and your desires and your dark spots. Learn your likes and dislikes. Intimacy is one great teacher.

But it is not cheap – maybe this is the reason why people run from it. Because undressing yourself means to be vulnerable. To be known and to be accepted – and sometimes we think we are far too much damaged for someone to accept us as we are. So, we close. We live disposable relationships. We fuck around with no strings attached. But is it possible to do that forever? Is it possible to cruise life, hopping from one bed to another just to fill a gap that is always increasing its size?

In my case, I rather face it. Intimacy is a tricky friend – it makes you say the things you don’t want you, but you can’t avoid. Even in a sarcastic tone, covered in irony. Trying hard to hide a jealous tone. The irony of intimacy…

 

I left your village/community and I said to my friend: “I felt like paying for a human zoo. Is this the future? Where we pay to see humans in their natural habitat?” You should not be seen as a wild animal, but somehow, to people who visit your place, you are.

I fell in love with your innocent smile and your cute messy hair. I loved when you sat by my side and allowed me to know you a little more. You told me your name and asked for mine. You smiled when we asked if you liked to pose for pictures. Pictures you will never see. Taken by people who will never understand the way you live and probably won’t remember you when they come back to their reality. My heart melted when you tried to explain to me the little guy was not your brother, only a cousin. Your broken Portuguese, for a six year old, made me sink. I wonder if there is some sort of school where you live.

Your baby teeth are tainted by cavities, your nails bitten to the flesh, your tiny feet are so dirty… Yet you smile the most honest smiles. Your eyes are bright and they shine even brighter when you laugh. You see the beauty where I only saw misery. Is it fair for you to live like this?

At this little paradise, with fresh fruits and veggies and fish that can be fished with a single hand, I see you with a bag of chips. Maybe now I know the source of your cavities. A can of soda, lots of beer cans and bags and more bags of industrial crap. Shouldn’t you all be safe from modern crappy food? Shouldn’t you be fighting to keep your inheritance? Your little piece of paradise?

Little girl, I hope that all these people visiting you sparks a little flame inside your heart and you get curious. I hope you realize there is a lot more than your village for you to see. I hope you get an education and learn how to fight for yours and your village rights. So you can come back home and show everyone how lucky you all are. How incredible at peace you guys are, but that you also deserve to be taken care of.

Alice, I’m here for you. Even so far away.

 

P.S: Thanks, Guga!