And here I am leaving behind the greatest love of my life, the person that I love the most, that I have loved the most so far in this short life o' mine.
And here I am pretending nothing has happened and that we are not one soul and that we are not the best people together.
And here I am going back to same old life in bloody Sao Paulo, a place where hope has not come yet and where people work to survive, not to live.
And here I am being a single gal at 27 years old, denying a good family and a good happy ending, going back to where I have been born "once".
And here I am regreting every single step I have taken and I am to take, regreting every single sorrow I have created.
And here I am being weak again and not facing whatever I have been hoping for in this life and in the past one.
And here I am closing the big open door God has opened for me to face a great reality and a better and brighter future.
And here I am half drunk, half fully awake, totally regreting the fact that there are 3 gals dancing the song in the pub, whereas I went for pizza.
And all the times I have been neglecting my heart and my will and my lungs. And all the fat I have eaten. And all the exercises I have not done. And the Yoga classes I never did, the mass I missed this morning.
And here I am feeling sorry for not being born rich and prettier, or skinnier. And here I am regreting the marriage I did not take, the kid I did not have, the beer I did not finish.
And here I am, thinking maybe I should never go back to old Brazil, where corruption is all we have got and public schools sucks. I have no power against it, no forces to it.
All the pain and the blood, all the scars and the guns. All the poor people and the lost souls. All the bad side of my own country come to me in a flash, and in my heart stay. All the mother with no power to keep on going. Maybe I should have been born another Veri, another dollar.
Health, a man that loves me and who I love as I have never loved anybody else. Nobody else I say to myself. Cause surely I've had many flirts in this 27 years, full of stop-overs. Anybody like him. With that voice, that heart, that soul that fit mine. He fit me. I fit him.
And here I am feeling sorry for myself going back to you, Brazil, whom so many times have rejected me. Whom so many times have closed the door behind. All I asked for was love. I have never been robbed or raped or mugged. All I asked for was love.
And here I am after being 4 years studying in the best college of South America. Where da fuck is South America? Havaianas, Carnaval, Soccer, Fuck you Ronaldinho. I don't even like them. I don't give a shit about soccer. All I asked for was love.
And here I am totally drunk and hopeless, expecting to get over all it soon, as soon as possible. Going back to a place that I lost my hope on. My hope in. My hope for. That's me in the corner, like Baby. Nobody leaves Babe in the corner. Everybody leaves Veri in the corner.
And here I am with all my brazilian sex appeal complaining about trivial things, while others struggle for life. Sick people, God help them. People being robbered in fucking Brazil, God bless them. God bless all of us. Except the fuck cops. And the fuck corrupt people.
And here I am, as usual, ruinning my own life. Leaving him, my treasure behind, as for I could be a married woman with kids and happiness now. But no. I have to take the hard path. The fucked hurtful one.
And here I am wondering what to do. Searching help from friends trough Msn, trough telephone, trough palm reading. I am all wrong. I just want to do the right thing. When I came to Oz, in 2006, I asked God for Light. A small little light of salvation and hope. He gave me the whole incredible big ocean on my feet. I still remember the very first time I saw the South Pacific. And I felt the ocean breeze on my face. And I steped into the ocean. It was God.
And here I am noticing that he also gave me him. A tall, gorgeous, sensitive and tough man who can make me laugh anytime in the day. Who hold my hand amytime in the day. Who talks to me just to make clear I am his. And I am his. And he is mine. A man who accepted meeting my parents all of a sudden in a dinner. Who brought wine, a new shirt and his heart. A man who dressed up for us.
And here I am thanking you God for all you have done, for him, this man whom I have no words about. Who protects me and is so proud of me that even makes me shake. A man who understands my needs, who is sometimes too jealous or too good or too caring. A man who gave me his soul and I, as always, am throwing away.
And here I am realizing how grateful I am for this man. And his blue eyes, his shy smile, his big arms around me. His white belly, his freckles, his jokes, his smell. Why do I ever asked for him if now, in this very hard part of my very existence, I can not keep him?
And here I am wondering why da fuck I don't keep him with me, by my side, tightly close as if we were one? We are one. We are better as it is. As we are. Together forever.
How do I dare leaving all that behind? Why did I ask for it if I could not keep it? Hey, God, are you wondering that too?
(If yes, send me the answer asap)
Thanks!
