About me and my sometimes tired soul
About me and my sometimes tired soul harder stories

joana Lost unicorn trying to be kind
Autoplay OFF   •   a year ago
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About me and my sometimes tired soul

I experimented with this in my first week back to university, this pieced writing because I had no time to sit and develop a narrative around some random thought I had had.

In this sense, I deposited my random thoughts in the drafts over those days and edited it later.

This will be an extensive read and I know most of you may tire of it quickly, but that's okay. This is ment a lot more for me and for Alice than anyone else.

If you do read it to the end, give me some feedback.

Day 1

Having a Neptune-sized amount of thoughts swimming in my jelly brain and not having the time to curse them out on paper (or an internet based community of sweet writers) makes my exhaustion

much more heavy.

Already knowing that staying awake until three in the morning to put it all out is a bad decision, I am now taking bits of my time here and there throughout the day.

Seriously hoping to make a whole out of these smalls pieces, I will in the company of my comfortable, understanding and silver shining friend puzzle them together.

We'll see if they are worth something, later.

Day 2

Later is now, but not as late as I intended. It happens I found myself with time to kill while waiting for my delirium companions to arrive at the line for a 30 Seconds to Mars concert.

In Portugal? Yes. And no, I never before imagined that it could ever happen.

But guess what... Aftet spending two days learning and talking about children sexual abuse, this couldn't feel sweeter.


Crazy. Crazy sweet.

Well, a few hours later (2am now), I should publish this little day of mine but knowing the crazy next little days I have ahead of me I'll try something different.

A crazy little week.

How was the concert? That will have a piece of its own. Believe me, it is deserved.


Morning later (I will never call ir after, there's only 5 hours of difference) and my body feels as if it was severely beaten. And this is tells I'm back to university.

Being with the people you love the most does not mean you talk or look to each other or even are aware of their presence all of the time.

The best companions will invite you into their private worlds, put something you both love playing and share food with you. And you'll simply stand (or sit, or lay) there existing with them.

To exist comfortably is the ultimate marker of someone who is home.

Today was a companion's birthday dinner. I've taken my lenses off for bed. My eyes feel dry and hurt, tired of a day interacting with the colours of the world. It is becoming pastel to them.

It used to be bright and vibrant, its colours used to fascinate me. They still have that effect on me, but not the day-to-day tones of life. Those have gone dormant, faded.

People are faded, they always want you to grow up. If only they could understand that children have the power to save the world.

Today, it is a lonely night.

Today is a bad one.

Today, I hear them laughing and I want to sleep but I can't.

Today is in its end.

Tomorow will be better.

Day 4

First praxis of my freshman as doctors. They seem to feel more like doctors then I ever did.

My eyes shut without my command. My hands (holding an half broken old phone) fall unwillingly into my lap.

In the bar, feeling too tired to think of beautifully constructed descriptions. They drink, I fall asleep with my head resting on my arms.

Had that table not been there and I would have woken up laying on the beer stained floor.

The problem of my tired soul being accompanied by a tired body is their synchrony. When there is no energy, the barriers fall down, no clue of the fortress that there stood moments before.

And music, oh, it hurts again.

The problem of feeling striped of substance, of feeling empty is the terror in it. In these times, I fear I have to go back and face the crying little girl inside.

She has been there since I can remember, at the very core of me. She dictates everything I do and say in a deep enough consciousness that, most times, I am not aware of it.

Then, these days come, the hard ones, that I need to get through.

They sing.

They smile.

They talk to each other.

I try not to cry while writing this.

And that's all for now. Lets take a vow.

Day 5

Slept a few more hours than usually last night and feeling a lot better. That was not a good night.

My writing is monstrous, hard. It feels as a big hunched back person that stumbles in the streets with big intervaled grunts.

Darking and brooding in a night sky with no death in it, no beauty or singularity. My writing is lacking energy, the same as me.

In a more positive side of this big piece, the week is almost over.

Tomorrow will be the most important day of it, career wise.

Day 6

The last day of my very tiresome first week back. Presenting my poster at a national congress seemed more exciting when the day hasn't come.

Considering the previous days, I took time to have a good night of sleep and am feeling quite well for today.

It's over! I was successful and everything is well.

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