
Pára de falar.
Pára de escrever o que sentes.
Pára de fingir que sabes, quando te perguntam “Porquê?”.
Nunca viveste o suficiente para saberes do que falam, nunca te responderam quando sangraste as palavras que tens cravadas no peito, os teus pensamentos são certezas absolutas sem fundamento.
Nunca foste o suficiente para alguém, nem encheste alma alguma daquela inspiração que faz crescer livros…

I’m not the same person I was last year. Or the year before that. Scratch that. I’m not even the same person I was five minutes ago. I’ve been fighting this urge of putting things into words. Five minutes ago I was afraid of rambling on about the same things I usually do. I suddenly think I have the right to. For me. For my own sanity. I think so strongly about everything that I often find myself…