How I lost my foot

It was dark. It was freezing. It was unbelievably freezing. But I had to endure it. There was no way I could go back there without finishing the dare. They would skin me alive. The fear of not fitting in, of seeming like a coward, drove my actions. There I was, standing on the frozen lake, peeing my name on the ice. Not my proudest moment. The darkness caressed my naked body while the cold pierced through it. Why did I have to have such a long name? At that moment I could only curse my parents for the day they decided to have a son named Constantine. Don’t get me wrong, I like my name. It is very unique and I’ll never find anyone else with the same name, unless a strike of bad luck hits. But this was a different kind of strike of bad luck I could never have imagined would be attached to my name: the day I had to pee it in a frozen lake.

The trees seemed to laugh at me as the wind stroke their leaves. All the others were watching. This was my moment, it was now or never! Although I had already been there for a full five minutes with stage fright, it was now or never. So I started. It felt great to relieve my bladder of all those beers I had consumed. It just sucked it had to be on the ice, naked and with everyone watching. Things were going well, you could somewhat discern the letters from each other, but when I hit the second t I heard a crack. That wasn’t good but I chose to ignore it, as my thinking abilities were at that point non-existent. All that was filling my head was the fear of having to go back there with an unfinished mission and spend the next three months with only half a moustache. No way. Not when I had that job interview lined up after months of trying. So, for my own doom, I continued. I continued like a warrior. I peed my entire name on the ice. But, as stupidity is my middle name, I decided it was time to put an exclamation point at the end of my name to, you know, make a statement. While I motioned my hands to form a straight line with the last of the pee I had in me, because I was standing too close to the work of art, the ice gave in. My entire right foot went down into the water. It could’ve been a lot worse, but there you have it. That’s the story of how I lost my foot.

Anúncios

Leandro’s mission

It was a day like any other and Leandro was playing in his grandfather’s barber shop, alone. He knew he was not supposed to be there now, he was supposed to be in his bedroom doing his homework. But that was so boring and practicing his karate moves was a lot more interesting. When he was about to get the moves from the movie Karate Kid right for the first time, he heard voices approaching. He could notice it was his mother talking to his grandfather. In a panicky move, he hid in the big cabinet next to the chairs, that was always kept empty for no reason.

  • I know you just want the best for us, but you have to trust I know what I’m doing. He is my son, after all. You have been of great help, dad, but you have no idea what I’ve been through with the boy before we moved in with you.
  • Then tell me what you’ve been through!
  • It’s too complicated.

He could hear the tingling of the shampoo bottles. Hopefully grandad won’t decide to use this cabinet for the first time today!

  • You have to tell him where he is. I know I don’t know how it came to be, and you don’t need to tell me, but you have to tell him. He is your son, he deserves to know!
  • It’s too dark for him to know. It would crush him. You know how he idealises the man even without knowing anything about him. I can’t crush his dreams of one day meeting him.
  • But don’t you think it’s worse for him to have this illusion that’s not based in anything but his own imagination last forever?

They suddenly stopped talking. Was that sound mother crying? What could be so horrible that they did not want to tell Leandro? Who were they talking about?

  • The thing is, dad, I don’t know where the bastard is. I never saw him again.
  • Didn’t you live together?

Marina sighed.

  • Ok, dad, here’s the truth. We never lived together. It was a rape.

There Marina started sobbing and Leandro could not understand why. What was this thing called rape? Why was mother so sad about it? And who the hell were they talking about?

  • Oh my god, my daughter, I am so sorry! I shouldn’t have pushed you to say anything. I had no idea…
  • Do you see now why I can never tell Leandro who his real dad is?

“His real dad”? Of course he should know! Why on earth would mother try to hide such a thing from him? And what was grandpa sorry for? Leandro couldn’t understand any of it, he could only feel the anger arising together with the sadness. He wanted to cry. He wanted to burst out of that cabinet and beg his mother to tell him, to give him the answer to the ultimate question: who was his father after all? But how could he? He was frozen. He didn’t understand why, but he understood that there was a terrible secret his mother was keeping from him, and now his grandfather was in on it. They were both hiding something. The two most important people in his life, keeping secrets from him. What a horrible day that suddenly become.

  • I know it was a horrible thing, and you are so strong, my daughter, for going through this and coming out as such an amazing woman on the other side. But you still need to tell him. Not about the rape, of course, but tell him all the rest. He deserves to know. He can’t keep this monster on a pedestal forever.

A few minutes went by before Marina could say anything. But the answer to the ultimate question was at last revealed:

  • Ok Dad, you’re right. I’ll tell him. Everything. Tonight. He’s been living a lie for 8 years, it’s time he knows. And it was about time you knew as well. So here it is.

Could this be it? Could this be the moment he found out the answer to the ultimate question?

  • It was the man you trusted to take care of me while you were gone. It was godfather João. And after that night, I never saw him again. Now can we please go buy those groceries and leave this be for a day?

As he heard the footsteps moving away, his chock could not be greater. And now Leandro had a target for his mission: to find godfather João.

Oliver didn’t know how to love

The sun emerges from the top half of the buildings, as if emanating from them. The angled light, though, exhibits the darkness of their bottom part and of the street. How can such a dark and heavy foundation support such a light and shiny top? How can such a sinister core bear such ripe fruits? How can love prevail on such a melancholic heart? With a mellow background music, gloomy thoughts arose. Can one’s core be broken and still give birth to such beautiful sentiments?

These questions bothered him as he sat in the local café and looked out the window. He was torn. Oliver knew himself, knew how broken he was. He knew. And yet, he thought, he could love. He could love like no one else could. As broken as it was, he could pick up the pieces, glue them together, and give his heart to someone, fully, as if he had a spare. But what, then, was he left with? Well, nothing, it seemed. Nothing. And in this nothingness he lived his days, not knowing what to do with himself. Not knowing how he got there, not knowing who he was. Only knowing that he loved. That much he knew well. But not your typical romance movie kind of love, no. Not that mellow shit. Not that throwing up rainbows kind of love. No. He loved more deeply than that, messier than that. He loved like the broken adult he was. He loved with all the quirks and paranoias of someone who’s had heartache.

Outside, he saw a couple kissing. How cliché. Their eyes crossed but didn’t meet in the middle. They kissed but didn’t exchange a part of their soul. They said love words that were empty. But how did Oliver know that? How did he? After all, Oliver didn’t know how to love. He just did it. Maybe that was the secret, just doing it without knowing. But that was just something he told himself. Oliver didn’t know how to love. He only knew how to be broken.

Oliver blushed. He looked around in the café to make sure no one saw it and hid behind his coffee cup. He was thinking about her. How every time they talked he smiled like a teenager. How they could go on and on for ages about every possible subject. How he missed her. How he couldn’t see her as often as he felt like it (which was every day). Oliver loved her. Yes, he loved her. This was the first time he noticed it. He loved her. He loved her silly humour, her silly smile, her silly crush. He loved her eyes. But he couldn’t have her every day. He couldn’t. He was broken.

Oliver was not the kind of broken people say they are, when they’re just not happy about an aspect of themselves. He was the real deal. The one they warn people about. He was really broken inside. How he knew? He just did. No one could have that much pain if they were whole. No one could have such a messy life, such a messy way of loving. No one that was whole could see the darkness within love. The darkness whole people try so hard not to see. The darkness of sacrifice. The darkness of jealousy. The darkness of truly giving yourself to someone else and forgetting who you are. Who was he? Who was he before he loved? What did Oliver become when he gave himself, so deeply, to the one he loved? And how come could they not just have each other? Truly possessing someone, in fact, only happens when you let them go. Another cliché, he thought. He was full of those these days.

Cliché. What a fucking cliché. Sitting in a bohemian café, thinking about how broken he was. What a fucking cliché. That doesn’t matter. She knew he was broken. She knew, deep down. That’s what she loved about him. He was a little bird she could tend to while she ignored her own shit. Her own shit. What was it? He didn’t know. She was secretive that way. Or maybe they just didn’t see each other enough for that to appear more clearly. Her own shit.

That same day, as Oliver walked back home, he saw a tree. In its glorious height, the tree didn’t know who it was. The tree didn’t know anything, it just was. It was there. It had always been there. But Oliver just noticed it that day. He noticed how that tree had been there probably his entire life. How that tree was like a living rock. A safe harbour in the middle of the storm. How that tree represented one of the containers of his heart. Yes, one of them. He had multiple. They tend to appear whenever he falls in love with something else. Every single time, he could feel it growing inside him uncontrollably, becoming another living part of him that would for ever stay there, a living rock. Just like that tree. And just like that tree, it has probably been there his entire life. Until one day he noticed it. Like today.

How many containers can a heart possess? How many things can a person love? How can you be broken yet have so much space to safeguard that love? Those questions would forever haunt him. Forever. Until he took his last breath.

When he went to bed, that day, Oliver took his last awaking breath for the day. He was enveloped with the dream world, where things are clearer than ever, yet so unattainable. During the last seconds of conscious unconsciousness, he thought of her. Of the love he gave her. Of the part of his broken self he so willingly gave her. How could she still want another life? How could he not want anything else? That was the last question he posed that day. Then, during his awakening that could only happen when he slept that deeply, when he dreamt that intensely, could he know the answer. The answer was that there was no other way. He could only give himself so deeply because he knew he had nothing to lose, broken that he was. He could only love so joyfully after having seen the darkness creeping up on him. He could only be himself when he was with her. With them. With all he loved. In this sweet contradiction, Oliver dreamt the night away. The next morning, though, like every morning before that and every morning after, he started questioning his love again. Why? Because that was his nature. Because that was the only way he knew how. Because that was him. And because of who he was, he loved her. But did she? Well, all we know is that Oliver didn’t know how to love.

Saudade

It burns.

It rips the heart out.

Leaves a void.

Saudade.

 

The urge to jump on a plane,

to run for miles and miles

to overcome every obstacle

just so I can get to you.

 

Saudade.

 

The wind whispers your name

while the rain marks the beat.

The pulse of my vanes

screams :

 

Saudade.

 

When do I get to see you?

When do I get to talk to you?

When do I get to kiss your lips

and hold you in my arms?

 

When do I get to run towards you

to see your face, to….

sigh.

When do I get to?

 

Saudade.

Small Wonders by Thaís

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Let me tell you a story…

Once upon a time a young woman felt totally lost in life. She was in a different kingdom, away from home, friends and family, feeling left out of society, not fitting in. She always felt different from everyone else, but couldn’t put a finger on what it was. One thing she knew for sure: she was creative, and felt the need to express that in order to feel at peace.

In this new land, she didn’t have a place. Although she was married to a charming and loving knight, she wasn’t good enough to fulfill the traditional role of being a wife. She didn’t like taking care of their house and she couldn’t find work because all the villagers thought her to be very strange. Some even dared to call her a witch!

So in the middle of this misfortune, she decided to get closer to her origins by carrying some of her lost family traditions, crafts she had learned when she was but a child. She had been crafting magical objects fueled by the love of her family all those years ago, when a dark being somehow took the magic away from her. But now, reaching rock-bottom, she was finally able to see the truth: the magic had been inside her the whole time, she only needed to believe in it!

Today, this young woman has embraced the label of being a witch and has as her life mission giving the world the opportunity of taking a piece of her enchanted childhood with them, experiencing the magic for themselves through the Small Wonders she crafts. Her name is Thaís.

And she is me.

Hi! My name is Thaís and I love creating Small Wonders for my costumers. I Have been doing handicraft projects since I was about 10 years old, which means I have now 15 years of experience doing all the items you can find in the store. I originally come from Brazil, but now live different adventures in Copenhagen, Denmark.

I hope you enjoyed reading this little tale! Visit my shop at SmallWondersByThais.

We stand

“They kissed good bye.”

Pencil breaks.

“They kissed good bye. Life does that sometimes, you know. You love more than you think capable, but the end is near.”

Sips a chocolate liquor.

“Yes, the end is near. Near sometimes takes forever, sometimes not.”

Reflects on endings… doesn’t accept it has already come. Scratching head. Small sip. Re-reads.

“This time, near has already passed, faster than thought possible. In fact, near has come and gone so fast that it all just feels like a dream: it took forever while happening, but passed in the blink of an eye after gone. That’s how ending love feels. No matter when, it’s always like a lifetime or a second ago. But that’s love, you know?

Your heart gets broken. Yes, every single time. One way or the other, at least.”

Feels like another sip. Needs something else with it.

“It comes and goes as it pleases. Doesn’t respect time, age, color, religion or the like. It devastates. Like a tsunami. Heavy. Destructive. Beautiful. Unique. Every time unique. That’s difficult to understand.”

Turns on the heat. Sharpens pencil. Too much, it broke. Closes the curtains. No light can come in anymore, no judgment. Order of things was actually different.

Pours half of the last can of beer. Familiar smell, now with a whole new purpose. Looks at drinks… sighs. Sipping, we can do it.

“It can be destructive, alright. Something made to be so beautiful, with such dreadful characteristics. Something with such pure intentions and poor judgment. Something so…”

Has no clue of how to finish sentence. Sips are no longer counted.

“Gifts. People. Moments. All that is desired is… it doesn’t matter. Desire does not leave the imagination, anyway.

Desire of the new, exciting, refreshing, revitalizing. Desire leads you nowhere. If somewhere, to the doom.

Desire of happiness: the most dangerous of all! It affects your partner, children, parents, closest friends and most fierce enemies. Desire kills you.

Hope kills you.

But hope is something else entirely.

Talk about drugs!

What’s fashion takes you places. To the bad or to the good. What’s fashion saves you.

If you live your true self, must you succumb to desire, passion, hope… must you succumb to life itself. For life is no more than a dream, and a dream is no more than the possibility of life.”

Reflects upon things written.

“Tears rejoice, for tears rinse. Suffering evaporates, though a salt bond is formed forever. Tears hurt.

The breath is but an attempt to stand over what’s happened. Such doing is believed impossible, as time only progresses. Where do we stand, then?

We stand in he arms of a loved one, in the words of kindness, in the hope of a better future, in the vain words of a failed poet, in the hidden feelings of a successful figure, in the infinite spaces between the universes; we stand tall.

We stand after others have fallen around us, we stand on top of mountains conquered, we stand for what’s right, just; we stand for the possibility of error. We stand against hypocrisy, after all aren’t we all just products of our own nature? We stand for the right of being human, for the humanity of being us. We stand for ourselves, we stand for each other. We stand.

May the most harsh of winters and the most burning of summers, may the spring flourish what should stay and the autumn take what’s done – may them win against what’s human, but may humanity be it’s purest.

Shall we fall before what’s handed, may that be brave. Shall we die upon disease, may that be in our most perfect health. Shall the world beat us, may that be after we have beaten the world.”