“She threw herself in front of the car!”

The man was yelling – loud. Everything was hurting, I was mildly aware of being in a hospital. And I couldn’t even breathe properly. I heard my mom shouting back. I knew she wouldn’t believe him. She was a car accident victim when she was 6 years old and since then thought cars were killing machines. Especially if they were driven by really young men.

“She saw my green light and walked!”

The nurse was trying to be nice. He was always smiling at me, even if I could notice some pity in his eyes. I don’t mind pity at all, it gives me something to talk about in group therapy. He checked the medicine going through my veins and then, the ultimate pity act: that soft squeeze on your hand and that corner smile trying to say “everything will be okay”. I was wondering if I would be able to walk again, but I didn’t say anything.

“She was waiting for the right moment!”

Truth is, I’m always waiting for the right moment. It never arrives. I try to convince myself I should built it on my own. But that hurts more than this pain in my chest right now. Because “moments” are always here – one after another. And “right” is just an adjective we add to say that something couldn’t happen in any other moment – except that’s not true. Any moment can be right, if it works out in the end.

“She’s fucking crazy”

Most people feel like outsiders, which makes sense because you know yourself better than anyone else and it seems like you’re this really complicated human being while everyone else is superficial. I don’t feel like an outsider. I feel that I can easily soak things in. I have this withdrawn personality, but it’s sort of an act to protect myself from the obvious things. It’s the subtleties that kill me – one after another.

“She’s probably going to try it again”

I see a cute japanese kid walking, and it calls me – how many times this child will be disappointed in life? I notice an old man with a melancholic look, and I wonder – does his family still visits him? I walk pass by a homeless mother – how did you end up here? There’s this guy that shouts the restaurant menu on the street while wearing a cardbox ad – how long has it been since someone prepared him a home cooked meal?

“And she doesn’t even care”

listening while writing: Apanhador Só – Salão de Festas