ENGLISH: So tell me, what did you come to find here? Read more and see what my opinions & thoughts on everything are all about. Followed my blog? I'll follow yours. PORTUGUÊS: Então me diga, o que você veio encontrar aqui? Leia mais e veja quais são as minhas opiniões & pensamentos sobre todas as coisas. Seguiu o meu blog? Vou seguir o seu.
There was a person. There was another person. And there was love. And as if all of the complications within love weren’t enough, this one came with a bonus: kilometers.
Kilometers that were there for some reason. Work, studies, family, roots, destinations, luck or the lack of it. Kilometers in which daily flows the traditional and inevitable “missing you” feelings, the undeniable anguish, the latent anxiety and the eternal feeling that life wasn’t fair to you.
Once upon a time is a classic story, spread in the world like a virus, and it is the one that’s new and fresh in thousands of chests, with this overwhelming capacity of causing inconveniences and happiness in the exact same proportion.
Are “love” and “distance” incompatible words by nature? Or are they those words that attract each other like magnets, wanting to create stories worthy of movie scripts, crossing oceans, challenging time and all probabilities?
Is this some kind of test? A test to see how willing we are to give ourselves in? Some kind of ordeal? An evaluation to try to demonstrate how interested we are in love?
I know that, at times, seems like a mean joke by destiny. When, for instance, we catch ourselves jealous of a couple holding hands, such a luxury… When we reach out for something at night but there is just an empty space in our beds. When we realize that we can also miss certain smells… Like the rest wasn’t enough already.
And the stages to the most beautiful affection scenes are no longer sunsets at the beach or a rainy day in a field, instead they turn into an airport at 7 am Tuesday morning, a crowded bus stop or train station filled with unknown faces completely unaware of your story.
And then you discover little pain in things you didn’t even know existed: caressing faces in photos, putting perfume on for a Skype call, falling asleep holding the phone, trying to beat sleepiness and distance yet succumbing to both; making life a countdown without reminding yourself that each day you win, is one less day waiting.
You find out new neuroses, in which the sentence “I’m having a beer” is read as “I’m having 14 beers, 8 shots of whisky and 5 tequila shots with 18 women with nice hair and rack”. Or the phrase “I’m going out to dinner” is read as “I’m going out to dinner with a lace set, high heels and yes there will be an after dinner party.” It happens. It is not easy not to freak out.
But you find some new joys: plane ticket sales, that sudden moment where your 3G is good enough to hold a 7 minute Viber call, the pleasure of waking up in the morning with an endearing Whatsapp message. It’s the art of looking for liveliness in the smallest things.
The truth is, is that it isn’t easy. It’s harder than killing a lion a day. Because when you miss someone, you can’t kill that on the inside. There’s no replacing that space. The absence we can’t accept without reluctance.
It is really amazing our capacity to adapt. The effort our brain makes to turn memories into something a little bit more sensory: the memory of touch, of smell, of taste. The day-to-day life somehow fits in. The heart that is able to calm down a little, but still beats strong with every tiny memory.
Some days we question ourselves. Does this make sense? Until when? Where are we headed? Some days of “what ifs”… What if it doesn’t work out? What if it is a waste of time? What if we can’t handle it?
But, in the end, the truth is that if it really is love, we know it is worth it. Each step, each sigh, each kilometer faced. And we know there is no way out: living the impossible romance is a thousand times better than not living romance. And, deep down inside, this burning eagerness makes us feel extremely alive every day.
Loving in comfort, in solid, in presence is always beautiful. But loving in difficulties, in daily sacrifice, on a tightrope is huge. It is for the strong. For the brave. For the willing. For the ones who declare to life: “I came to love. I will love. Doesn’t matter how, I will. And don’t offer me an easier love. This is the one I want. This is mine. There is no other.”
Hi everyone, I didn’t write this sadly. I read it and instantly related. I hope it gives you the hope it gave me.