Yesterday he was angry because I wasn't making sense. And I really wasn't. I wasn't telling him the whole story, but I wasn't lying either. I wasn't thinking straight and my words, usually carefully chosen, fled from my mind and I couldn't speak at all. He said I was confusing him, with my mind in one place and the rest of me in another. I remembered that movie in which the guy said "end of discussion" and the girl angrily responded "end of relationship". I did angrily say something like that, and the worst part is that that's what I meant the most. He said he didn't get me, but I left him there to deal with it. Then I was the one to go home and I was the one to deal with what would follow.
It sucks, but it's a relief to feel childish in the sense of never wanting to see him again. Puta contradição, que nem ele falou. Mas é assim que é a vida, eu disse pra ele, pouca coisa faz sentido. E às vezes é melhor deixar não fazer sentido do que tentar entender. That's when time gets lost (and I do tend to think in time).
Isso é outra coisa que deixou ele confuso - my tendency to think in terms of time. Either we have it or we don't, and I think that's because of that summer two years ago (still). I'm glad I'll finally deal with it this summer - 6 and 7 are my favorite numbers now. Two days isn't a lot, but after yesterday I find that four hours are more than enough time to deal with the important things.
Odeio silêncio. Odeio conversas evitadas. Odeio pessoas que odeiam contradições mas vivem se contradizendo. Odeio a pressa, odeio ontem a noite, odeio vinho, odeio orelhas. Apesar disso, tenho certeza que vou mudar de idéia daqui a um segundo - puta contradição, eu sei, igual a esse post trilíngue sem sentindo (pra combinar com meus pensamentos). Mas é a vida, e continuo a saber que nunca vou me arrepender de nada.
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