BIRD Magazine Gerais


I have hundreds of questions. Of that you were witness, last fortnight. Today, I have even more questions, but no answers. Maybe I have a few. Just like you might have. But what about the rest? It is a certainty of life: I will die and will not have all my answers. Nor will you. None of us will. So, why question? Because we can’t go through life without it and were not, life would suck!

So, what is there to be done? Try as I may, I cannot tell you. I cannot even tell myself what to do.

This past month has been a whirlwind of a living and made me put in perspective every single little aspect of my life. My routine was altered to its core, my vision of the future completely torn apart, my idea of human behaviour totally disrupted from what it used to be — life changing situations. Have you ever read a book that the not so important characters became, as pages go by, the most important ones? Have you ever gotten the feeling that the book you are reading is a mirror of your feelings towards whatever you are experiencing in life? Have you ever felt like so? I had before but never to this level. I wish I could have read such a book. That way I could have been prepared for the role I am now playing. Amazing how things can change in a blink of an eye…

But it is the season of joy. A merry line up of days where all the troubles and worries are left in the waiting-for-a-miracle-to-happen box. Because it’s Christmas and it is the season for the impossible to become its contrary, I will foolishly believe in Santa Claus because my gifts I cannot buy. I can only and truly hope for better days. So, I will be a child again and blindly await for Santa to bring me his most beautiful present, the one I have been waiting all year long and the one that I, a very nice person, am so strongly wishing for. Naturally, I am not that blind, nor that childish. But because it is my favourite season of the year, I will give it a go: I will hope for something that my brain knows, for a fact, that will not happen. But I will hope. I will not hope as in so much that I feel it will happen, but I will kindly await for the 24th evening to see what’s in the Santa socks. I will hope as I do when I reread Jane Austen’s novels: hope to see that Darcy will not propose as he did the first time. I know I will not be granted that wish, but I hope, nevertheless. Stupidity? Maybe. But, what makes this season so merry as it is? Is it not a continuously foolish believe that during this time all mankind is better towards one another? It’s all a make believe time, masked by bright lights, soft music and cookies. But truth be told, we all do it and the majority of us even enjoy it quite fondly.

I’m not Scrooge. Truly, I am not. But the fact is that when we become older, and when we read different books, and go through different experiences and get hit by life, right in the chest, you tend to be guarded and look at things in a perspective never seen before. Therefore, the answers pile up and are not as pretty as you would want them to be. That, of course, is in the case of you having had an answer…

I keep on questioning everything and everybody. I’m turning, some people say, a colder person. Maybe, maybe not. Who will question me and who will provide me the right answer? Do you have it? It will not suit me, guaranteed. I’m not you, your life is not my own and your books are not my choice. Do you go around life like me, hoping for something you won’t have? Why? I know why I am doing it, but do you know why are you? And are you happy with it? Than so be it. I’m not, that’s why I’m questioning myself through the words I am writing for you to read. Because, ultimately, you will give me an answer.

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