There's so much more in a friend than you would ever know. They're the ones to hold your hand when no one else would, during the most difficult, embarrassing, funny situations. They're the ones to catch you when you're about to fall, from their own foot in the road. They're part of your tears, part of your smiles, part of your non-sense... And some of them are an extension of your own body and soul.
My friends, for example, are my family. Pay real attention to this detail... They're not LIKE my family, they ARE my family. We travel together, we take care of each other in sickness, we cry until we laugh when we're in pain, we find comfort in one another. We dance in the rain like no ones watching, and mock of ourselves right after. We show affection shamelessly, and the last time I checked that wasn't a crime.
We roll in the grass, we kiss, we bite, and that is what makes us who we are. That is what shows the deepest connection between our spirits. We are free, we love each other.
Of course, I wouldn't expect some of you to understand the concept of a friendship like the ones I hold so dear in my heart. Some of you have a putrefied mind, and a tainted soul, and will NEVER be able to have what I have, to experience true love from those around you, specially because you can't love them like that yourself.
For those reasons, and some others I know I don't need to quote, you can go on distilling your poison. Your venomous tongue might be hurting me now, but I'm sure it hurts you even more, having to swallow all that cancer you're trying so hard to spread.
In the end, I will still have my friends, my treasures. In the end I will still have the truth, and whatever you're trying to sell, whatever you already sold, will be given back to you.
Have a nice day.

Posted via LiveJournal app for iPhone.

There are those who give us a hand instead of a kiss. Those who touch our hands negligently when they feel we are about to escape. There are those who, bluntly, sit on our laps when they want the conversation to find its end. Others that firmly pull our arms to show us the way.
There are those who caress our hair in a gesture of gratitude because we told them exactly what they wanted to hear. There are others who prefer a patronizing pat on the back. And, of course, there is always someone that, with cold hands, warms up our body.
But what we never know is if those who touch us are doing it because they want to or if they are moved by an urge (a need) of feeling touched as well.
The same hand that touches is a hand being touched.

--

"I'm dying of love. It's ok."

Posted via LiveJournal app for iPhone.

               There are four distinct seasons in the country I am currently living; But whenever I think about them as two main seasons and two intermediate ones, I’m magically teleported back home.

                In Brazil we have nine months of summer and three months of rain. Yes, of rain. I wouldn’t dare to call it winter. Well, perhaps, for writing purposes, I will.

                It’s December, five in the morning, and you’re tossing and turning in bed because it is too hot. You wake up and all you can think of is a huge bowl of your favorite fruit flavored ice cream. You take at least five showers a day, and you’re blinded by the sunlight that flows with the intensity of a lightning bolt from the windows.  Everybody is slowed down by the warmth that surrounds the whole country.

                It’s the swimming pool season! You bath in sunscreen by the simple thought of leaving the house, and before you reach the neighbor’s parking spot, you’ll get tanned in your face, neck and arms. You are magnetically dragged to the beaches, and their blue skies with absolutely no clouds. And, more often than you would like to admit, you catch yourself singing, and even dancing, while you cross the street to get a drink of fresh coconut water by the shore.

                February. Sweet February and March, with its marching bands on the street and people running from party to party during carnival weeks! O… You got to love summer time!

                Then comes June, and you program your mind with the following lines: You must believe in the last season as being the next one. But when it rains… It floods!

                It doesn’t matter which time of day, it’s so cold and gray, and you can’t stop pressing “snooze” on your alarm clock. As soon as you get up, you find yourself with a huge cup of coffee. Something to warm you up. Something to keep you awake. Shower? Yes, of course... Once a day. And, if you’re lucky enough you won’t come back home, soaked from head to toes in tropical rain, as a second or even a third shower.  Or, maybe you are lucky, and you won’t be soaked by yourself. Winter has its charming and this romantic appeal to most us.

                The sky is gray and ugly and people’s mood gets basically the same. Avoid your neighbor’s parking lot… You never know. Your tan lines are starting to disappear and you can feel the warmth of the summer leaving your skin day after day. You’re not singing, you’re not dancing, and the coconut water gives place to three shots of whiskey on your favorite local bar.

                But God gives and takes… And He gives it back. Au revoir, August; We welcome September! And people’s faces are full of joy once more.

                Such different seasons, such a contrast. But if you give yourself some time to think about it you’ll see the importance of the divergence between things. It is because of the winter that we learned how to love summer. And with that said, with all their differences, I can’t love them both less than the same.