Hiraeth age stories

cachoportuguez Laugh at all, they're all wrong.
Autoplay OFF   •   8 months ago
I miss and praise the never happened events.






unexpected persistence.

Annoying obsession with their secrets

plead guilty to an endless stagnation of the thoughts, watch the time,

don’t you dare to run that fast,

what an unfair distance of my past.

I’m in love with the moment I believed the lies.

Merry FUCKING Christmas:

The smell of December afternoons remind me of my beloved lost field,

a place where their fears didn’t fit.

The ocean at night, the foam of the waves, the unknown submerged, the revenge of the whales.

The sincere,


laughter of the kid,

charming snort of embarrassment,

disaster and awkwardness well deserved for the king.

I’ve never felt the snow of the winter’s tale,

never believed in the white bearded obese man,

the red walking miracle in flesh or in the newborn baby on a December night.

But when I look at the skies, I do try to look for that star, I do sit calmly on the swing of my hometown park, tried to comprehend the distance between me and the unreachable sky.

Wish I have a big enough fan so I can scatter the clouds, wish I could find someone else

as intrigued and dissatisfied as myself.

But what if there’s no one up there?


When we were all friends,

remember! When our ties weren’t supposed to be unleashed, when our blood our pinky were as sacred as unique.

Remember! The sunset at that abandoned dirty beach, the ringing of my ears unexpectedly started to emit, that sublime but creepy melody, that made us all smirk,

as well predictedwe lost the sun that evening, my peers.

We lost it all, the carless state of being ashamed, the bruises and the scrapes.

Our disgusting bitten blue nails, the eggnog sticked in our greasy hair, the ashes from Mr.

Bobby’s dog, the lust and hopeless mood on our road to fictional love, the promised goodbye, our last play on the trash, we didn’t know it was the last.


When did I stand up from my bed? Looked at the ceiling, increasing emotions of defeated.

I rejected the successful, luminous path.

Neither abomination nor ambition, I spied on their lives, neither shame nor proudness for them.

They became the ensembles of relate, the shadow of triumph, the dinner for the lions.

I was still standing there, my toes were nailed to the soil, my neurons were paralyzed, almost to the void.

My heart was projecting an image of familiarity, a far but so near remembrance of sweet tragedy.

Fantasy road:

That dead end road, that nightmare but dreamy orgasam, I never claimed to stop.

I just wanted to sit, on that beautiful but desolated long street.

Heat penetrating through my butt cheeks, our lingering truth was shut down by the stormy roof, the instant picture of our nostalgic bereavement, that half smile of nearly achievement.

Smile in the war:

The yearn for crying of joy, bliss, felicity that feeling of undestroyed.

Never cried it but so desired it, I want my red lipstick to be wiped off, my mascara to be inked into my leather and soul.

I want my jeans, my sneakers to be burnt off, all in flames, cremated remains into its lust.

Episodes of coconut:

I’ve always liked to go through the tempest alone,

one day I won’t be able to let go.

I erased the paranoia by holding my tears, supress the tsunami in front of my dears.

When my voice breaks, my hands start to shake, I look away.

Please don’t hug me, my heart might explote, I don’t wanna sail again this flood.

I’m the the Dictator of Happinessland, I’ll be smiling even when my panties will be full of sand.

I built the highway of miserable state, I found comfort on being wrong in a good way.


There are just shadows walking, now all I see are their ghosts.

Sucked up and vanished from the streets of the yesterday.

Actions, promises, we were gonna be last the ridiculous standing.

It never mattered, It won’t never matter.


I’ll disintegrate myself supposing someday I’ll try my best.

I’ll decompose myself shouting from my mattress, my cave, such a shame.

Friends are called dogs to me, human companions are named Mom and Dad.

The more pathetic it gets, hide your bother, don’t watch me cry.

Child in the last row:

I used to think that someday I would understand, “when I grow old I’ll celebrate to be them”.

The times at the backyard, the mud in my palms, my old tamagotchi was my lethal weapon on display, these naughty aliens won’t get my by any chance.

I peed in the line to brushing my teeth, nobody remembers how I cried, nobody remembers me in fact.

I was the first to get caught in the game, my rolls didn’t allow me to run, I tried to keep my posture, I still fell, that garbage can just got in my way, what a winner I became.

The teacher’s room was our getaway from the tumult of recess, what a 12 year old badass.

We’re just practicing the flute, it’s too much of noise outside ma'am.

I’ll just spin on the chair until the bell rings, keep making sounds with this stupid instrument that I never learnt to play.

The Winnie the Pooh mural never meant nothing to my eyes, the words “don’t rush and sit to enjoy” were just a low whisper to my ears. I feel nothing when I left.

I’m feeling everything every sunrise on this Earth.

The failure of the butter:

The bathrooms smelled like purification of golden shit, the humidity didn’t permit me to look at myself, I prefer to watch them put make up on their clean, pretty flesh.

I used to fall to the wet ground even more oftently back then, I weirdly enjoyed it, those goofy laughs gave me life.

These times we’re inseparable, the grass and bullet ants will never disturb us at any predicted chance.

The destroyer was disguised as ourselves and the mysterious minion, the so called inevitable time. We were just pretending to care.

“Change” the old enemy of many out there, a bittersweet goodbye to you, my dear idiotic friend.


That old pathetic wish to go backwards to the point of start or the moment you’d like to be frozen in time.

The universe might be immense, the complainings of my mind are not that irrelevant to care. I was built to properly play their master game.

My energy is too low, pass me another battery of wise ignorance. I’d like to be normal and logical again. The acceptance from the tribe, the acceptance of our lie.

The end of the train rail? :

I’ll brusquely let my back lay on the soil with this rocking chair, I’m trying to restart this smudgy aged brain.

As I fell to the void, as my spine cracked, my skull brutally bounced, my memory gently engaged the regret. The free gift of my private sold ache.

As a venomous serpent I spread the bitterness to my environs, my well kept tears where drowning my designated ones, their love was on doubt, I owned the fault. I owe them all.

The psychedelic trip was ruined by my old desperation, my frustrated self, scratching inside from home sweet home of indignation.

Memories of climax and self- joy, blurred, exported and deleted to the never void.

I experienced the underated pain, I praised to gain and gain, I lost the nostalgia of the better days, I locked my desires of the will to vividly feel,

I warmed up my limbs to melt down my putrefaction of thrills, I sank myself into the state of not that sad and crippled twat,

I missed the unforgettable moment of getting trapped next to the not so evil man, I poorly drew my fate, I’ll miserable forever stay.

I camly crawled on the sand, “agony let me lay down”, I felt envy of the moon, I watched all of your glances, you all seemed like wondering when it was going to end.

Am I still here yet?

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