Sorry, I’m about to break your heart

I start out saying I’m sorry. I’m sorry, but I can’t go on with this. I feel like I’m fooling you, and that’s not good. It’s terrible.

When we met, I had no idea we’d get to this. I was just looking to get to know someone new, to see how things went, slowly natural with time. I didn’t know you’d fall for me so fast and so hard. I couldn’t predict it. It never came into my mind, to be more precise.

But you did.

In my defense, I say I didn’t feed your urge for passion. We spoke, I told you funny jokes, we laughed, we told each other childhood stories. No big deal. I didn’t present myself in a way to seduce you on purpose. I did it as I do with everyone I get to meet, I just tried to be nice, funny. Cool. No seduction or anything intended.

So, when you told me you’d fallen in love, after I thought “Oh, how lovely”, I kind of panicked. I wondered why you felt this way, as we don’t know each other very well, and to be honest, our dates didn’t give me this sign. You asked to be my girlfriend, I panicked even more.

Please, please, before you start hatin’ on me, try to see it through my point of view: out of nowhere, I became almost someone’s world (as you yourself said it), I became “the most pleasurable moments in someone’s life”, I became your teenage dream. It wasn’t something built with time, with my intentional participation. It was delivered to me and I didn’t ask for the pizza. Get it?

I worry because I don’t want to disappoint you. If we had had the time to build a relationship, you’d know my flaws, my fears, my hopes, my dreams. You would be falling in love with Me. The whole me. I’d be certain of your feelings. Of my own feelings as well. But you fell knowing none of these.

Lies on my shoulders the responsibility to keep up with your expectations and I’m sorry but I don’t think I can do it.

Yeah… I think I’m about to break your heart. Oh, I never thought I’d say it, I’d write it. Never pictured the situation in which I let someone down this way. Know that it breaks my own heart as well, I feel bad doing this. However, no other choice comes up to me. No other option that can do good to both of us.

I hope with all my heart that you’ll find someone to love and who’ll love you back. You’re a great person, you deserve it.

Regards,

Your Ex-Future Girlfriend

Time traveling

If there’s one thing that inhabits my thoughts whenever I daydream is time travel. In all of its forms, of course.

Time traveling isn’t just about one of the greatest challenges to the Laws of Physics. Well, I believe it can be even simpler than that, given the fact that we almost don’t experience “present” as our senses can only process things that have happened at least, I don’t know, a few femtoseconds before. But let’s not go that far. Even with our simple notion of past, we have to agree that past events are crucial to our present and future. Therefore, we are always looking at the past. So, we are always time-traveling.

But sometimes, there are parts of our past we’d rather not look at. We’d rather forget their existence. In my experience, we may do that, but there’ll always be a time this past returns somehow. It’s happening to me now.

I’ve got a Reunion to go. I’ll meet some of my High School classmates – the ones I considered friends. And I’m scared.

I’m scared because that time was one of the hardest for me. I hid from everyone my true self, my thoughts, emotions, because I was terrified. What if they found out? What would they think of me? I was trying to be a girly girl, trying to fit in. I felt terrible. Will meeting them bring back all these feelings?

I’m scared because I’ve changed. Both mentally and physicly. They will obviously notice the latest. Will I have to explain these changes? And if so, how will I do it? How can I do it? How will they react?

The true point is that, for me, it’s like my today self meeting their past selves. ‘Cause maybe, for me, they haven’t changed. I’ve only felt time go by in my own life, I know little about theirs.

I guess I should try not to think of it this way.

I should force myself to believe they have changed as well. That their past selves are as much gone as my sorrow. That we’ve all grown. Yes, we’ve all grown. And I must be true to myself. Always.

Life is weird

Life is weird when I don’t bind. #recentdiscovery

A Letter To My Possible Future Girlfriend

Hello,

I want to start here apologizing for being so cold. Ok, kind of cold. I want to apologize for talking too much about various subjects without stopping, and maybe not letting you say things yourself. It’s just that… this has never happened to me.

This flirting, dating thing. It’s never happened, I swear. Yeah, I know I may be a little old to say it, but this is the naked truth. I used to be a very complicated person in the past, I’m not going to detail those things right now, but this is… way too new to me.

I get a bit nervous when I’m around you, but I know you freak out when you’re near me. What is this so much special thing you saw in me that makes you feel this way? Is it the way I look? My behavior? I don’t know.

In fact, I have absolutely no idea of why you fell in love with me, as you yourself said it, so fast. I mean, it was really fast… Even though I’m aware of the fact that I have no experience in relationships in general, I’m pretty sure this is the fastest I’ve seen someone fall for another. And this is a bit… how can I put it?… scary to me. I confess I’m little lost.

It’s not that I don’t like you, I do, really do. For real. But it’s just too much for me to hear you say you’ve fallen in love with me… I don’t know… We’ve had only a few dates so far. Things are going nice, at least they were…

Please, don’t think of me as a jerk who doesn’t care about your feelings! I do care! That’s why I’m getting the courage to, the next time I see you, tell you we perhaps should continue to take things slow. See, I’m still learning, I’m still on the first steps. We have time to get to know each other better, to bond. Let’s not rush things, ok?

Well, I’m here wondering if you’ll understand…

---

Hello, dear readers!

I’ve been away for a few days because I had many tests these past weeks. I’m planning on posting the last texts I wrote for Writing 101 and some posts about  my views on Brazilian politics.

See you soon,

Maria.

‘Take Me Out’

Yesterday was free-writing day (I’m sorry I’m late) and I want to talk about something I rarely talk about in my life: flirting.

I’m far from being good at it, as I didn’t practice it much in the past. Introversion, shyness and my discomfort about my appearance (which is finally over :D) have stopped me from acting on my feelings towards the people I liked.

However, recently I noticed this really cute friend of mine was kind of flirting with me (maybe my (new) butch style made me more attractive) and, the thing is, I faced my fears and responded. So, I have a date coming up, but I still feel a bit insecure about how to behave, what to do, things like that.

So, I ask you, my dear readers: do you have any advice to share about dating, flirting, romantic relationships in general?

Party All Night Long

Writing 101 asks us to talk about our fears. I adressed my biggest fear: Parties.

I look at the mirror. From the other side, a weird-looking me atempts to smile, to no avail. I see the long straighted brown hair, the light brown skin on my face has a few layers of make-up, I see the black dress I’m wearing. I can not smile. All I can think about now is whether I’m well suited for the big party I’m about to go. I think I am – the dress and the make-up are those things society expects girls to wear. So, I’m all good, aren’t I?

I don’t feel well — the dress, the make-up, the hair… I feel awkward. No one cares.

I set everything up, enter the car. I prepare myself mentally — there will be loud music, people dancing, food, drinks. I must smile, say hello, sit down, try to eat something, drink something, talk a bit and wait for the time to go back to the hotel. That’s it. No secrets.

As the car flies across the city, I try to pay attention to the beautiful buildings all lit up at night. I remember I will be sleepy in a couple of hours, before everyone else. And at a party, things can get rough if that happens. We’re getting closer.

The car stops.

I look around, see the other guests getting out of their cars as well, everyone dressed up. I wonder how the other women can walk with those heels. I could never wear them, I suppose. The cold wind blows in my face. I can hear the loud music from where I am and my heart starts beating fast. I want to go home. I must go home!

But I’m trapped. I have to enter.

I walk towards the club, start sweating. I see someone I know. What do I do? Do I hug them? Shake hands? Just say hello?

I say hello, they hug me. I go for a hug, they shake hands. I get to the obvious conclusion I can not read people. The place is full of people, unfortunately. Where’s my table? Where. Is. My. Table?

Oh, more known people. Hug, hands, hands, hug. Some kisses. “You look nice” “You too” “How’s university?” “Good, good”

“Have you been seeing anyone lately?”, they ask everyone else but me. I know the reason they do this, tough I can’t talk about this now. In fact, it’s not just one reason. Maybe I’m too weird to date anyone. Maybe I study so much I’m not interested in relationships. Or maybe… I better not talk about that now.

I find my table, I sit and notice that since I entered, my vision got blurred for some reason. Everything bothers me, I can’t eat or drink, what if there’s someone looking at me and I spill a bit? Are they looking at me? Are. They. Looking. At. Me?

I’m getting frozen — can’t move, differently from the 99% of the others, who are dancing happily. I could never dance. Not in public. How much time have I spent here?

Twenty minutes.

How much time do I have to stay? I better not think of that. It’s getting more blurred, oh my! I can’t speak. I want to go home. There’s too many people here, too many! And they’re all looking at me, judging me! I close my eyes, It doesn’t help. Why did I agree to come? Why do people feel so happy in these situations — crowd, loud shitty music, alcohol? It doesn’t seem fun to me at all. It never did. This dress and the make-up are not helping, let me tell you.

People are getting drunk. It’s funny and sad to witness. Funny because drunk people do non-sense stuff. Sad for the same reason. Why would someone choose that? I could never know.

…

Finally, time to go to the hotel! I try to say goodbye to people, but most of them are drunk. So no hugs, hands, hands, hugs. Thank God.

The car looks like a golden carriage to me. I enter with my heart full of relief, thinking about my quiet, empty hotel room.

The Golden Watch

*** Fiction (kind of) ***

“So, what do I need to do, mom?”, I asked.

“Sit there”, she points to the floor, “Yes, there. Here’s a box with your grandma’s stuff. I need you to separate the papers and the other objects. When you finish, let me know. We’ll throw some things away and keep the most important ones. Got it?”

“Yeah. I got it.”

She left my thirteen-year-old self alone in the room. I opened up the box with much care and took a look at everything.

There were a lot of things, most of them were paid bills. My grandmother used to be very organized and responsible. When she died and we had to separate and split things with other family members, we got impressed with such a structured system of hers.

I took the papers with my little hands out of the box and reflected on how my job there would be simple and small, compared to what she’d done for me. When I was little, sometimes I had the clear impression that my grandma was the only person who cared deeply about me. The adults were always too busy, my baby brother was too young. But she always paid attention.

It was a shock for me when she passed away, even though she’d been sick for a long time before.

Going back to the box, I spotted something interesting inside as I took the bills out. It was a watch.

An old and indeed broken watch. It had a golden strap, a circular golden bezel and it showed numbers in Roman numerals. ‘Classy’, I thought as I held it. ‘How long has it been broken?’, I asked myself.

Thinking back now, I believe that it might’ve been broken for over forty years. I just considered “a lot of time’ then. The golden parts had small risks along them. The part behind the numbers had oxidized.

“I wonder why she never got it fixed. It could be easily fixed. Maybe she didn’t like it… but if she didn’t, why is it worn out? No, no, she liked it… ”

I remember that I spent time thinking about all of the situations that watch witnessed. Maybe it was with her when she went to high school… when she go married… When her kids were born… It is weird to think about the time our grandmas were young. It’s like there were always there, old and wise, ready to hold us tight and cook delicious cakes and watch us play. And tell us to behave well, to study a lot…

I envied that watch a bit for the maybe thirty, twenty five years it spent with her. My grandma. My dear grandma…

My mom came back.

“So, what did you find?”

“uh… These bills… and this watch. Do you remember it?”, I showed it to her.

“No… “, she took it, “gosh, it’s old!”

“Can we fix it?”

She looked at me and smiled.

“Sure. I think she’d like that. Now c’mon, get up, let’s go eat something, shall we?”

Finding… myself

Hello, there! Writing 101 asked us to talk about something we found. I decided to post again a text I wrote a few months ago. It talks about the moment I had the chance to really see myself in the mirror, not someone else. So, here it is…

“So, after two months of thinking (or mentally torturing myself ), I finally got my hair cut (and now it is extremely short!)

It was really difficult to book an appointment with my new hairdresser (he’s so good that it seems like everyone in my hometown wants him to work with their hair). Thankfully, he made an exception and booked me before everyone else on a tuesday morning.

I left home early that day with fear inside my heart. What would it look like? Would I really let him do it? Would I… cry? I thought for two months and yet I had no idea what I was up to.

As I arrived, I made the decision that, whatever happened, I would not give up and I would not cry. This was something I wanted – the first thing done to my hair that was decided by me entirely.

I entered the salon and sat on those salon chairs. Got my hair combed and divided into groups. He made ponytails with those and cut them with scissors (it was needed because I’m going to donate that hair). I looked at myself in the mirror and felt… nothing. 70% of my hair was gone within seconds and I did not feel sorry for it. In fact, after I observed myself a few seconds, I felt an excitement I’d never felt before – I wanted that so much and it was finally happening! My big chop!

He washed the hair and shaved my head. I looked at myself in the mirror again and LOVED IT.

Seriously, I feel prettier than ever and do not regret what I did. Now, I want to take care of my hair, of my whole body… I believe that I even love myself more. It’s a sense of power, of knowing that this is my body, my hair, and I can do whatever I want with it.

Another thing that crossed my mind that day (and I will keep with myself forever) is this: I won’t ask anyone’s opinion about it. The reason: it’s none of their business.

It’s a fact that whenever people make these big changes in life, some of their friends and family members will judge them and maybe even be rude to them. To avoid this and to be more empowered, I haven’t asked anyone’s opinion about my new hair style. I know some of them will say things anyway and I may get mad at them for that, but I won’t carry these bad feelings with me.

That’s part of being an adult, right? Making decisions and sticking to them. Lesson learned.

So that’s it, you guys.”

2am

For today’s (or yesterday’s – it’s still Set 29 in Brazil) task, writing 101 asks us to talk about the home where we lived when we were twelve.

Suddenly I’m a few years back, sitting on my bed. I think my brother is asleep… yes, he is. Are mom and dad asleep? Probably. This means I’m all alone. Awake. What time is it? I take my little watch into my little hands and approximate it to my eyes, so I can see. It’s 2am.

And I’m awake.

I don’t know yet, but in a few years forward this insomnia problem will disappear. I look around and it’s dark. I always regret not telling my parents that I am, in fact, afraid of it. Afraid of the night. And my life would be a lot easier now if I weren’t thirsty as hell. What do I do? Do I stay here, sitting, thirsty, waiting for some miracle to happen so I can fall asleep? Do I get all the courage I have, challenge this huge house dark at night when everyone else is asleep and go to the kitchen to drink something?

I choose the second one.

Because we live in the countryside, I can hear all kinds of animals… I know they’re outside, but their noises are really creepy. I leave my room, foot by foot, and enter this long aisle. I know that, if I follow it through, I will get to the living room, though I can’t see it. It’s dark. I walk slowly, trying to ignore all of those sounds… I know I hear my parents’ breath, but it seems ghostly from where I am.

Damn it, I’m scared! What if it’s a ghost? Or an alien? Or a wild animal? I’m screwed!

But then I think, ok, a ghost could easily enter here, as much as the alien, yes, but not a wild animal! The house is closed! I’m getting near the kitchen.

I turn left, get to it. I see some of the machines — the reflect the tiny small amount of light that beats them. I get to the fridge. I open it — thank God there’s light! I take the bottle of water, take a glass, pour it down and drink… oh, it feels awesome!

What is it? A wolf howling? Could it be a ghost? An alien? Oh my God! The bottle goes fast into the fridge, I close it, let the glass on the sink and run! Run like the wind! I get to my room again and, as it’s near my parents’, my mom woke up because of my running.

“Hey, honey, is everything ok?”, she asks.

“Yeah, I just went to the kitchen to drink some water, no big deal”

“Ok”

I hear no more from her. I sit on my bed again. Look at the watch: 2:08. How much time is it gonna take before I fall asleep? “A lot”, I think.

I Stepped Outside Five Months Ago

Hello, everyone!

Today is kind of my anniversary. It’s been five months since I shaved my head! Five months since I “came out” as butch. And I have to tell you what an amazing experience it’s been.

When I started this blog, my main goal was to talk about my country. However, writing unlocked all these emotions I had inside, I felt these immense need to let them out and ended up talking more about myself. And it turned out to be my first official post, in which I talked about my hair, reflecting the unsatisfaction I had with my appearance. I got to the conclusion that I only presented myself that way (long straight hair and feminine look) because I wanted to fit in. And it was making my life miserable.

So, I decided to shave my head, end the “long hair” Era. I thought a lot and, two months later, I did it, even having no idea of what would come next. That triggered my letting my inner butch out, finally.

In these past five months, I began to take care of myself: I became an athlete, I’m on a “diet”(cutting down on a few things). I communicate better with people (both online and offline – something I thought would be hard to do). Why? Because now I feel much more comfortable in my own skin!

So cheers to that!

And I also want to thank all of my readers for following this process!