Tenho medo de

que não

dê certo pelas

burradas que já fiz.

Faça-se nas

razões verdadeiras

da vida.

Por mais que você tente

encontrar o homem perfeito,

nunca vai conseguir, pois

a perfeição é almejada por todos e inalcançável

em igual proporção.

Ninguém

pode afogar

meus sonhos.

A esperança

Sei que sou uma menina comum, que gosta de escrever. Alguém que aprendeu a valorizar as coisas simples da vida, e que não esquece dos próprios sonhos. Me conforta saber que, apesar de meus tantos defeitos, existem pessoas que me aceitam como eu sou, como por exemplo minhas amigas, e que posso contar com elas pra qualquer coisa.
Também me conforta saber que outras pessoas passam pelas mesmas coisas que eu. Afinal, mesmo quando tu pensas que está sozinho (a), sempre tem alguém verdadeiro no mundo, mesmo que seja raro. Por isso, não perca a esperança no amanhã!

A "embalagem" não deve

valer mais do que

o "conteúdo" das pessoas.

Viva sua vida

do jeito que você pode.

O maior erro

que se pode cometer

é ter medo de se arriscar

pelo que se deseja.

A maior prova da

intimidade de um

casal é que ambos compartilhem

suas vidas sem invadirem

o espaço um do outro.

Quando estamos

sonhando, o

céu é o limite.

Não importa quantas nem quais

as dúvidas presentes

em seu coração. Mais cedo

ou mais tarde as

respostas chegam.

Nunca sofra por antecipação, 

paciência é uma virtude.

Apenas espere pelo futuro,

mas nunca desista dos seus sonhos.

Corra atrás deles. Sonhar e errar

são atitudes humanas,

dadas pelos deuses para

que sejamos únicos.

Felizes para sempre

é um final hipócrita

porque ninguém

tem uma vida perfeita.

Não gosto quando

as coisas que escrevo

acabam sendo

irrelevantes depois.

Quem sou eu? 

Só mais uma entre 

7 bilhões de pessoas 

no mundo.

Carta ao menino que dormia embaixo da escada

Pois é meu guri, o tempo passou, pra ti e pra mim também. Tu cresceste e eu cresci também. Desde que eu era bem pequena, tu esteves presente na minha vida; hoje és um homem e eu quase uma mulher. Éramos crianças e sabíamos pouco sobre a vida lá fora, mas hoje já não é mais assim.

Eu sei quem eu sou, e se não sei, sei quem posso ser um dia; tu já sabes quem és e com certeza tem orgulho disso. Em meio a toda a magia com que convives todos os dias e pude acompanhar, com o passar do tempo entendi que tem muito mais, e isso tudo é muito importante pra mim.

Certa vez, quando Dumbledore e Minerva te deixaram ainda tão pequeno na soleira do nº 4, ele disse que um dia todos saberiam quem és. E hoje todos sabem. Muitos, como eu, hoje entendem teu exemplo de amor e coragem e tentam segui-lo; quem dera se todos fossem assim. Henrique, o tempo pode passar, mas sempre irei lembrar com carinho do que me ensinaste e do quanto fizeste minha infância feliz.

A magia nunca acaba se vive dentro de nós. Eu nunca vou te deixar, nunca vou te deixar ir embora da minha vida! Meus filhos um dia conhecerão O Menino que sobreviveu e vão saber o quanto fui feliz por ter te conhecido, já que crescemos juntos. Obrigada por tudo, meu anjo. Seja feliz porque tu mereces.

Letícia Bolzon Silva

O melhor

da vida

são as coisas

simples.

Se você não me

aceita como sou, não posso

fazer nada. Se eu mudar,

não vai ser pra te agradar.

Eu vou achar meu caminho. 

Só me dê espaço e 

não faça perguntas. 

Deixe-me fazer as coisas 

do meu jeito.

We can always

make our dreams

come true with

bravery.

Cansada

Estou cansada de ir aos mesmos lugares, ver as mesmas pessoas, ouvir as mesmas palavras, de fazer as mesmas coisas… estou cansada de um monte de coisas!
De ter que fingir ser algo que não sou por causa do que os outros vão pensar (apesar de não me importar de fato com isso), de por causa disso e outros motivos não poder dizer o que realmente penso sobre coisas que me incomodam. É difícil ter que conviver todos os dias com a hipocrisia das pessoas obsoletas de pessoas que se acham superiores, quando na verdade não são absolutamente nada; tão comuns e insignificantes quanto eu…
Eles podem encher o peito e a boca para dizer que sabem tudo sobre mim, mas na verdade só quem me conhece de verdade sou eu! Eles não sabem nem metade da minha vida, que é o que de fato se passa na minha cabeça.

Tu és a

única certeza

que o tempo me

deixou.

O medo

aprisiona e acomoda.

Não deixe

que isso aconteça

com você.

A verdadeira

solidariedade

vem do amor.

A beleza de

cada dia está

em cada minuto

de paz que temos.

Somos como irmãos e 

isso deixa meu coração mais leve.

Prisão

Não caibo
mais dentro
desta casa…

Muito menos
dentro de
mim, dos
meus pensamentos.

A fera
que vive
no meu coração
anseia por liberdade.

Não me espanta que eu escreva sobre as mesmas coisas nos últimos tempos. Os ciclos continuam os mesmos, o cerne da minha dor permanece do mesmo jeito, no mesmo lugar. Mas eu espero ser forte para não perder a paciência, muito menos deixar de lutar para que isso termine.

O mais difícil

Conhecer e
abraçar a
própria escuridão
como parte de si…

Sem se
deixar engolir
por ela.

Lembrete

Sou mais
do que
meus defeitos.

Não sou
apenas minhas
virtudes.

Eu não suportaria perder você, de jeito nenhum; os deuses não seriam assim tão injustos comigo. Eu esperei pela tua amizade por uma vida inteira! Por isso, a tua tristeza é a minha tristeza e alegria também. Não deixe ninguém te dizer que você não é capaz. Por favor, não me abandone! Se você cair, eu vou te levantar como você faz comigo com apenas um sorriso, todos os dias. Você não está sozinho; eu estou bem ao teu lado.

Quando é que você vai parar de duvidar de mim me diminuindo tanto, e entender que quando eu quero uma coisa, vou atrás e consigo? Quando é que você vai se importar de verdade com os meu sentimentos? Será que você só vai me dar o devido valor por todos os meus esforços quando eu já não estiver mais aqui? Se for assim mesmo, é triste demais.

Se você não me aceita

do jeito que eu sou,

eu não posso fazer nada.

Se eu mudar, não vai ser

para te agradar.

Perder o pouco

que tenho

com certeza seria

o fim.

Quando recebemos uma

segunda chance

na vida, temos outra

oportunidade de

mostrar quem somos.

A vida é maior

que o limite

que o olho alcança.

Certas coisas não

podemos esconder,

mesmo que tentemos

fingir ou esquecer.

Ser corajoso não significa

não ter medo. Significa

assumi-los e enfrentá-los por

um bem maior.

Nossas maiores conquistas

sempre nos deixam

as melhores

lembranças.

Não quero ser um exemplo de vida para ninguém. Mas tenho em mim o desejo de mostrar aos filhos que os deuses me derem, o valores mais importantes, para que a sociedade seja menos hipócrita e exista mais igualdade entre os homens.

O mundo é um lugar

estranho, onde verdade e

mentira parecem ser

uma só.

Os amigos

são a família

que nós podemos

escolher.

Através da poesia

o homem revela e ao

mesmo tempo

esconde os segredos

de sua alma.

My companion - Fanfiction

Everything that’s happened in the last few days made Victor think through his deeds. Perhaps he was indeed a sexist and also had been too hard on Henry by throwing truths at his face that must have hardened his heart with anger and sarcasm. He wanted to apologize and, if possible, start over with him.

After finding the adress of Lord Jekyll’s estate, he knocked at the door and was welcomed by a butler that reminded him of Sembene. Victor was told to wait for a bit and by the time he was kept standing at the doorstep, Henry seemed to have deliberated for quite a while before letting him in. Victor walked through a hallway in whose walls hanged paintings of landscapes in India, a full-body-half-profile portrait of Henry and another of a beautiful woman of oriental features who wore a colorful party gown before arriving at the office from where he could hear Henry’s voice in whispers.

By approaching the door, he saw a Henry bent over a desk before piles of paper with a pen on his hand raise his gaze towards him... A shadow of a smile passed through Henry’s face, but once he noticed his own escapade, he closed his expression, making the lines of age of his forehead show. Everything in the new lord’s body language indicated he was already a master of his domain and Victor couldn’t help but think he liked to notice that, deep down.

- Dr. Frankenstein... I see you wanted to know my new home. You couldn’t help yourself after the news I’ve told you at Bedlam. - whispered Henry, sitting straight at the high-backed chair.

- It’s really a beautiful estate and you seem to be taking good care of it. I’m glad for you, truly. - Victor clutched the coat he carried over his arm against his body and moved cautiously towards Henry, who crossed a leg over the other and followed him with fiery eyes.

- Are you afraid of me, old man? - asked Henry when Victor grabbed himself a chair and sat before him. The other denied with his head, but it didn’t convince him. After a few seconds, Henry stood up in a single move, went to the double door and closed it behind him, leaning his back against it.

- No, I’m not. I came here to speak to you. I’ve been thinking of some things... In truth, I’m afraid we cease to be friends due to my last deeds and I’m sorry for it.

Henry slowly pushed himself away from the door and squinted his brown eyes.

- Ah, so now you think of my friendship for itself, after fetching for me with hidden agenda, getting in the way of my research to achieve your own ends rocking the results at my face like a glass of water in front of a thirsty man, judging me for wanting that for myself, although using it to shape a woman into your liking.

- It’s not my right or anyone else’s to interfere in one’s pain. Now I see that I could neither do that to Lily nor let you do it to yourself. Days ago you’ve told me we’re all both light and dark... As complicated and scary as it is, we cannot hold our pain against others or deny it for what it really is: part of who we are.

 - But I still can interfere in my own! - shouted Henry when he approached Victor. - And it’s too late for you to stop me; I’ve been using your method with my serum upon myself since the last time we spoke. It was the only way I could handle myself, even more so because even you are condescendant with my issues, have no idea how hard it is for me and also step on me like a bug just like all others.

Henry took a glass with a furious and trembling hand, trying to keep the other as steady as possible while getting the water jar to fill it. Frankenstein shifted nervously on his chair with his heart sped up with nervousness. He’s never seen such anger in his friend’s eyes and it looked like it has just begun. Henry looked like another man.

- You’re mad! What are you doing? What are you talking about? You look so different...

- I was mad when I thought that with the years you’d see your wrongdoing and would do some justice to the efforts I’ve done for you so as to never forget my own goodness! How many times have I pulled you out of the mud and cleaned your veins of the cocaine, ignoring your insults? I want to care for you and by consequence help myself, but all I recieve in return is someone who can only bring me down, you inconsequent racist!

Henry drank the water, but it certainly couldn’t calm him down. The young man closed his grasp around the glass and when he made a sudden move so as to put it back on the table, it shattered, cutting a few of his fingers. Victor motioned as one would to check what happened, but Henry turned away and took care of the wound himself.

- But... I had no idea! Henry... I... - Victor threw himself back to his seat as if he were tired.

When he raised his eyes, Victor heard Henry breathe with effort and suddenly his appearence began to change. He seemed to shrink, for his clothes folded over and looked loose in his body; his hair went frizzy, his handsome face got hollow and scary with saggy skin, his teeth usually impeccable looked rotten by the dacays. He looked older and crueler. Victor called out for Henry but a laugh was all he was given.

- Not Henry... Edward Hyde now, and you shall pay! - the creature within Henry’s clothes took a hot fireplace poker and pointed it towards Victor’s neck.

- But what... Henry would never hurt me! Where is he? - Victor felt tears over his eyes when the heat from the poker touched his face.

- Unavailable at the moment, old man. And part of the blame goes to you.

- Please, Henry, I know you can hear me. Whoever this thing is, I can help you deal with it. I’ve seen something similar happen to a friend. I know you don’t want to do this. I sincerely thank you for saving my life once more and ask for your forgiveness. I’ll never hurt you in that way again, I swear! - Victor moved his hand towards the one of Hyde’s wich held the glowing poker.

The part of Henry that was opposite of Hyde, both being inhabitants of the same body pretty much literally, didn’t want to get carried away by Frankenstein’s words, they seemed too good to be true... The resentment he had for the other felt strong enough and Hyde would’ve settled the scores very soon...

If Henry had not allowed himself to believe in them. Although he deep down only accepted to get into Victor’s absurd game because he missed his old mate and wanted his attention and then thought he was a coward for not going through with Lily and the serum, Henry still hoped things could be as they were; that Victor would treat him better after all and get to see what’s been obvious in his eyes for all these years. Henry loved Victor the same way Victor thought he loved Lily.

Henry’s expression changed a bit, as though he were feeling some sort of deep pain. He moaned and his eyes popped; slowly his face started to go back to normal, as did his posture... The fright made Henry drop the poker on the floor and turn his back on Victor so as to unable the other to see him change and mostly cry.

- Henry, look at me. - said Victor quietly, breaking the overwhelming silence. He got up and stretched a hand to touch Henry’s shoulder

- I am so sorry, old boy... I’m scared! - Henry turned back to face Victor and clinged to his touch.

 - I know, Henry. But we’ll figure it out, eventually. - Victor made the other sit down and gave him some water, crouching down before him.

Victor saw Henry take one of his hands into both of his, looking him straight in the eyes with an intensity and tenderness never seen before. F.’s known those eyes for a long time and at that moment there was something that stopped him from breaking the contact. As though they were black holes whose gravity made him fall into them with no fear.

- Victor... Perhaps I am making a mess of everything, perhaps I am really mad for seeing things where there is nothing, but even if so I feel them and they already make it worth it for what they make me feel and remember, even if I don’t have it back. They remind me that despite my wrath, my darkness, I can still love and be gentle, care for another person as I loved and tried to take care of my mother and love myself. Aside from everything you do to hurt me. I must be freed of this, talk about this.

“For years I’ve been trying to squeeze into a little corner of my heart something that is much bigger than me that hasn’t changed despite all, being always here... That’s never given me calm or peace and that only strengthened after we’ve met again, for I could see you once more, reliving my hopes. We don’t choose these things, old man. What I’ve carried within me all this time is the hope that not only you are able to see the times when you mistreat me, which I know you can do, for all our history together. I know that you can be sweet, generous and kind when you want to...

“But also the sincere wish that you notice what I’ve been trying to deny and supress, but that today I know is written all over my eyes, my face right now. Something that does me as much good as your company or the memory of you at school with me, reading poems with great passion at night so as to help sleep after fighting the bullies and as bad as the same offenses coming from you or your arrogance...

“What you saw minutes ago is complicated, but what kept my fury from killing you was... The fact that I love you. I love you, Victor, that’s exactly what you heard. I love you, although your deeds don’t make you worthy of my love in theory. Because it’s not about deserving; I offer you my love freely because I want to and because I know you want to be loved.

Henry’s tone made Victor feel he referred to something more, something that went beyond what they already had.

- Please, Victor. Say something... Take me out of this misery, I cannot handle it anymore... - Henry ran a hand through Frankenstein’s face, resting it over his neck. He felt Victor’s pulse speed up from under his fingertips.

The craving for physical contact and some sort of response from Victor made Henry stop caring about the consequences. He brought the other’s face closer to his, whispering a shaky “I need you”. Victor didn’t seem to marvel at the attitude and surprisingly let himself go; he shifted on the floor to stand on his knees for a metter of comfort. Henry leaned his cheek against one of Victor’s, depositing little tear-tasted kisses; kisses that tasted like the tears from both of them, which were so soft that barely dared to touch him.

- Do you remember, old boy? Of that daybreak when the hooka’s smoke had the opposite effect and ourged our greatest truths from us? I haven’t forgotten... But what about you? - Henry turned his face over so as to whisper towards Victor’s mouth before kissing it with the sensual and yet tender thirst with which a hummingbird tackles princess earrings. Henry’s breath was fresh like summer rain.

Victor let himself be kissed; it felt so sweet, so comfortable, so familiar that, although he went breathless, he noticed his own hands were tangled in Henry’s hair and that he responded to the gesture with as much intensity. Victor himself felt that not even when he gave in to Lily the sensation was the same as now... Or as in the day Henry spoke of. It felt better, much better. Nothing could make him push Henry away, even if he tried or wanted to.

- I remember... Henry. - whimpered Victor when they set apart for a milimiter. He heard a cuckle come from Henry’s chest. - But I didn’t know that...

- Open your eyes, Victor. I’m the one who’s always wanted you. And you love me too. Or are you denying what’s happening? - Henry’s tone was that of someone who’s laughing as they speak; which was true, for he tried to swallow a laugh as he grabbed F by the waist again.

- I get so worried in being someone unshakable, who’s got control over everything, that I don’t know how to acknoledge my ephemeral parts. The poets did that for me, it was easier. - Victor took a deep breath, feeling Henry’s cologne run through his lungs. He looked like a small child in Henry’s arms. - I entered med school because I felt empty since my mother’s death; I wanted to spare others of such pain so badly and was so drowned in my own sorrow that I couldn’t admit to myself that you brought me that life.

“The truth is that I’ve always been afraid of confessing I was attracted to you. Despite everything you’ve suffered and suffer even from me, which I’m deeply sorry for, you’ve always fought to stand your ground, to be recognized and well-treated. Such  humble posture, and yet as righteous and haughty as a king’s; I’ve always found it beautiful. Even those who always humiliated you for your color couldn’t deny that. And also because you are... A very handsome man. You’re beautiful, Henry.

For a second, Henry thought he would hear Victor say something like “for a wog”, but a weight slipped out of his chest when nothing else was spoken. Henry wanted very much to believe Victor was being honest, just like he was. Henry loved him and hoped all of that was a proof Victor would retribute his love and patience.

- Thank you, old man. Likewise. - Henry felt his face blush and held Victor tighter. - I love you.

- I love you too, Henry. Forgive me for everything, I’m really sorry.

- If I hadn’t forgiven you, you’d be dead already. - Henry looked away, but quickly changed the subject. - If this is what it is... Will you stay with me for the night?

- Henry! I... What do you mean?

- Come on, you fool. Are we together or not? Was all this for nothing, like smoke in the wind?

- We are together, yes. I want to be with you. But are you sure that me moving in is wise? There’s my lab at the boarding house, all my things... What will the others think of this? You built yourself a reputation at Harley Street and...

- For God’s sake, Frankenstein! I’ll find a way later. How I hate that bunch of hypocrites! But I won’t let you live any longer in that slum smaller than a pilchard’s tin. I’ll send for your things right away; from now on, if you so desire, this is your home as well. The lab I have here is tremendous, we can share its space without trouble. Do you want it?

Victor’s eyes sparkled; his body language and way of speaking were the same as when he talked about Lily at Bedlam. But now it was because of Henry and he couldn’t help but love that.

- I do! I want it, old man. You know what? I just found out that a few friends of mine are spending a season in Cairo, at another friends’ who’s living there now. I’d love you to meet them some day... We can wait for their return and have a tea together....

- So you have other friends aside from me now, huh? HAHAHAHAHA I’m joking, Victor, that’s excellent. I can’t wait. By coincidence or not, my boss at Harley Street told me I could take leave for a while if I want to. We can get aboard tomorrow. But I doubt you can handle the heat of the desert.

- Go on, mock me. I want to go there to introduce you to them, as my old college mate and...

- But now I’m more than that, am I not, old boy? - Henry’s face was frowned, his voice sibilant, but firm.

- Yes, you are. You are my companion.

Henry noticed the euphemism but chose to remain silent for now. Victor was with him, it was all that mattered.

O tempo

e as circunstâncias

nunca separam

amigas de

verdade.

Não existe nada que eu queira

mais do que o seu bem,

do que a sua felicidade.

13/06/2011

Eu sinto falta de olhar pro mar. De pisar na areia, de vagar em silêncio escutando os barulhinhos, perdida em meus pensamentos. Quero vê-lo de novo, pra pedir que suas ondas levem minhas tristezas também.

24/06/2016

Talvez a razão pela qual eu até hoje me desculpe direta ou indiretamente contigo quando tu me vês chorar tenha a ver com a minha infância.

Hoje eu percebo que em boa parte das vezes em que eu chorei quando criança, não foi por simples manha… Tenho a sensação de que desde a mais tenra idade eu já estava dividida entre o que eu queria e o medo de desapontar os adultos se não pendesse para o outro lado, entre outros motivos.

E a vida toda eu fui de uma forma ou outra punida por chorar, por demonstrar fraqueza… Embora eu seja tão sensível e seja tão fácil para mim liberar a represa quando os botões certos da emoção são apertados, é difícil que eu não me sinta envergonhada quando isso acontece num lugar onde eu não consiga me esconder; onde eu ocupe espaço e chame atenção.

Mas desde o começo tu jamais me julgaste pelas minhas lágrimas, e apesar do meu medo, tomou-as como parte de quem sou… Ainda quero poder aceitar a nós dois como tu até hoje me aceitas; mesmo as partes que não conhecemos ainda, um do outro e de nós mesmos.

28/06/2011

Depois de tudo o que eu passei, você é uma das melhores coisas que aconteceram na minha vida; todos os dias eu agradeço aos deuses por tu existires e por ter te colocado no meu caminho. É bem possível que você esteja no meu destino. Obrigada por tudo, meu anjo. Eu sempre vou estar do teu lado.

Home is wherever we are together - Fanfiction - Chapter 2

After arriving at Cairo, the three of them booked rooms from a hotel and decided to look for Mr. Lyle’s house and make him a surprise by tea time. The heat and the sun caused quite an alarming change in Vanessa: she decided to buy herself very distinct clothes from those she was normally seen wearing, in material but mostly in color. Low-necked white silk dresses, adjusted at the waist, some with embellishments and all of them having long flowy skirts that tangled around her legs with the wind.

Ethan’s always thought Vanessa was beautiful, but this time for him she looked more than ever like a goddess, an angel, a vision from the desert, mainly due to her raven hair worn loose, elegant posture and expressive stare. Perhaps most of all the white color served as symbolism for the peace she seemed to be finding at last.

Getting to the opulence of the door they were sure that belonged to Ferdinand’s mansion, the gentlement allowed Vanessa to ring the bell and kept wondering how the house looked like from the inside and their frend’s expression after seeing them standing there, of all places.

- I’ll do it, Ahmed. I answer the door. Set the table for tea, if you please. - They heard Ferdinand exclaim in his well-known French accent. The trio wouldn’t dare to breathe with the excitement when they noticed his steps along the hall.

When he opened the door, Mr. Lyle randomly said a common Arabic greeting because he couldn’t see well with so much sun in his eyes. Sir Malcolm replied to it as the local habit demands and positioned himself so as to block a bit of the sunlight from the little man’s face. Vanessa had no idea what to do or what to say; she had tears in her eyes and took Ethan’s hand by instinct, who responded to the gesture by getting closer to her and leaving a kiss on her temple. The seconds that followed passed like an eternity.

- But… Sir Malcolm?! Miss Ives?! What… But this is Mr. Chandler! It’s wonderful you took the trouble to come here! I really didn’t think… You cannot imagine how happy I am with the surprise. - they had never seen Lyle wear such a delighted expression; soon all were showed in and the host kissed Vanessa’s hand in his usual manner.

- We are the ones who are glad to be here, Mr. Lyle. There’s much you don’t know, but what matters is that we’ve come to spend a season in Egypt to keep you company. We hope you don’t mind our sudden arrival. - said Ethan when the two of them shook hands.

- Of course I don’t mind, my dear Mr. Chandler! Speaking of, I insist you stay at this house, it’s got many rooms and I’ll love to welcome you here; I’ve missed you all dearly and fortunately we’re going to have plenty of time to talk. - Lyle stood closer to Ethan so as he could look straight at the other’s eyes. - You’ve had your hair cut, Mr. Chandler… It becomes you, it lets your face show.

Ethan just smiled and gently patted the older man at the shoulder. Then Lyle decided to show them his home and introduce them to Ahmed. They could see he got especially excited when he mentioned the name, which made Ethan and Vanessa share a glance. Surely he wasn’t just a mere house staff member.

When they entered the tea room, where a young man close in age to Frankenstein was capriciously setting the table, Lyle hooked an arm around one of his and brought him towards his friends.

- Ahmed, my love, these are friends of mine from London, who came to spend some time with us. Sir Malcolm Murray, the ever so beautiful Miss Vanessa Ives and Mr. Ethan Chandler, who by the way has quite a gunbelt and is also an American, you see. -  Ahmed gave each of  them a shy but friendly smile nonetheless, bowing slightly.

Ahmed was a tall man of slim constitution, with amber eyes that were a little pulled, firery because of the natural light coming from the big windows with curtains open. His hair was wavy and almost black, coming towards the middle of the back of his neck and that slowly fell over the sides of his head when he moved. His face was plain and dusky. Born and raised in Cairo with proud.

He was the secretary at the museum where Lyle began to work; they had met properly not long after Ferdinand’s arrival in town. What was most attractive to Lyle about him was eactly the fact that most of the time the young man remained almost unnoticed, but trying to make himself useful as much as he could. About two months later, both started going out together and eventually dating. Ahmed acts as Lyle’s translator from and to Arabic and has been learning to read hieroglyphics.

Everyone showed their joy for Lyle being at a place where he was sure he could be whoever he wanted and with someone who apparently made him very happy. Vanessa had the feeling Ahmed was a pure-hearted man and it gave her a sense of relieve.

Lyle asked how were things going for his friends up until that moment and for now they chose to say that Ethan settled a few scores in his homeland before going back to England, Sir Malcolm went hunting in Africa and Vanessa followed Lyle’s advice and asked for the help of dr. Seward, who did her best to help her… After a few seconds of mysterious quiet, Ethan and Vanessa announced they were officially a couple; which made Lyle propose a toast  and that after tea they sould send for their luggage so as to settle there.

Ahmed and Lyle took aside the bedrooms from the end of the corridor to their friends, which had balconies and a great view from the street, which got lit like a huge party by evening. Vanessa opened the door to the balcony after putting on her nightgown and brushing her hair.; she wanted to feel the colder wind after a tiring hot afternoon. The sky was cloudless, full of stars…

She felt Ethan’s presence and closed her eyes when Ethan wrapped an arm around her waist. The moon was full, but Ethan whispered her that that night the danger had passed; they could sleep together and no one needed to worry.

- You are as beautiful as the moon to which I am slave, Vanessa… And I think that perhaps one day I might love it as much as I love you. My comfort is that it brought you to me. I don’t know what I would do without you. Grace of my life is what you are.

- Now we are at peace with ourselves, Ethan… We could give it to each other and now I’m most certain God has never left my side, for He has sent His Wolf to be with me at the darkest hours and bring me back to the light.

Then she let herself be taken to bed in Ethan’s lap, nested into his chest. And they whispered a hacking Lord’s Prayer among Vanessa’s sighs and his kisses upon her neck, which smelled of rosemary and sweat from a clean body.

Home is wherever we are together - Fanfiction - Chapter 1

Vanessa could hardly believe that had really happened. That after yet another cycle of doubt, fear and hell, when Ethan left and made her think God had abandoned her, taking away her greatest source of hope and faith; when she reckoned the easiest way to end the torment was to give herself over to the dragon and embrace what supposedly was her destiny, as painful as it could be to the people she knew and even strangers…

Ethan came back and would never leave her again. She was in his arms once more. She would never feel afraid again and together they would face whatever came until the end of the days. How brave he was, the Wolf of God… And how she loved him for not giving up on her. For not letting her forget her own happiness in this lifetime, even when all Vanessa wanted at that time was to die. Because, deep down, she wanted a life, as troubled as it could be. There were things and people that made it all worth it. At his side, she’d find the light that seemed so distant.

After a few days of shock where both Ethan and Vanessa would lie as close as they could, savouring each other’s taste and smell and crying themselves to sleep, they would invite Sir Malcolm for a new adventure. She wanted to check in on her friend Mr. Lyle and to know his new home; so they took a ship to Cairo taking his adress that was written in a letter to see what the sands had to offer them.

Nunca deixe

de sonhar.

A vida é

feita de escolhas.

Escolha se quer

voltar, viver

ou correr.

Preciso saber

o que sinto direito

pra não

magoar nós dois.

Ao mestre que se foi

Na verdade, a vida é cheia de pequenas mortes, chegadas e partidas. Cheia de surpresas e novidades, que sempre acontecem na hora certa.

Pessoas novas chegam e passam a fazer parte de nossas vidas, fazendo diferença pela nova visão de mundo que nos proporcionam. Aprendemos muitas coisas com algumas delas, e acabamos nutrindo muito afeto e carinho por elas, apesar do pouco tempo que permanecemos juntos.

Já que as situações não acontecem por acaso, que sejas feliz onde estiveres. Foi bom ter te conhecido; ainda nos veremos de novo, graças ao laço que criamos contigo.

Não é um adeus, e sim um até logo.

Letícia Bolzon Silva

Para Pedro Duarte, autor do blog O Provinciano
14/07/2011

A noite dos olhos

Talvez eu não
olhasse nos teus
olhos por temer
que a noite
dentro dos meus
fosse escura demais.

Mas a verdade
é que nós
há tempos estamos
juntos nas minhas
veredas de espinhos.

Elas não assustam?

23/05/2015

É lindamente cruel que tenhamos uma consciência, uma psique tão complexa. A racionalidade que se desenvolveu em mim e fez com que eu questionasse minha fé vem tentando reduzir o que acontece com o ser humano a meros impulsos elétricos que são interpretados como emoções, sentimentos e sensações condicionadas biológica e ambientalmente, mas não consigo…

Isso porque na verdade não devemos nada ao universo. As estrelas não se importam com nossas falhas; simplesmente estamos aqui. A nossa única dívida no fim das contas é para conosco mesmos. Se são as emoções e o que vivemos com elas, através delas, que dão um sentido às nossas vidas, talvez o que todos precisemos para no fim nos juntarmos às estrelas de que somos feitos seja pelo menos a paz de espírito.

Nos devemos tanto isso quanto o perdão a nós mesmos.

XIII

Olá, meu anjo!

Dia desses, tu me falaste em expectativa. Do quanto não te sentes ainda preparado para o que as pessoas à nossa volta chamam de vida adulta. Eu entendo isso perfeitamente. Vivo esse medo todos os dias, principalmente estando num lugar e ligada a pessoas que não me deixam confortável, se entendes o que eu quis dizer. No fundo isso só alimentou meu conformismo e a sensação de que posso estar reclamando de barriga cheia.

Talvez o que mais me assuste sobre crescer é não conseguir me comprometer com as coisas em geral. Cometer erros grandes demais, que acabem afetando outras pessoas. Não conseguir ser alguém melhor ou mesmo… Ah. Conseguir equilibrar a logística obrigatória com aquilo que possa fazer de mim o que eu realmente for. As coisas simples, sabe.

Não conseguir voltar a acreditar em mim mesma. Fico feliz por mim em saber que realmente tenho meios práticos de ir atrás da vida que desejo para mim. Quero ter paz de espírito e para isso tanto eu como tu precisamos de paciência; tanto conosco mesmos quanto com as nossas circunstâncias.

Temos de pensar naquilo que mais importa para nós. Qual a expectativa que mais vale, que parece mais razoável. Por melhor que nossos pais nos queiram, ninguém nasceu para corresponder às expectativas de ninguém. Cada um tem o seu caminho e ninguém pode interferir.

Eu até hoje vivo com base nelas, como uma máquina programada, e isso só me fez infeliz e vazia. Não vejo a hora de me sentir livre de tudo. Principalmente da sensação de dívida e vazio. Talvez seja a única forma de eu conseguir aprender a não me cobrar tanto também. Aproveite o espaço que tu tens para pensar nisso, porque eu ainda não tenho esse luxo.

Que a gente dê nosso melhor em ser o que pudermos ser; sentindo que os dias valem a pena. Vamos ficar bem. Quando for a hora, tomaremos de vez nossas vidas nas mãos.

Obrigada por confiar em mim. Sinto saudades e te amo muito.

Da tua pequena.

Zona de conforto

A vida que eu quero viver está me cobrando pra que eu junte meus pedaços, todos espalhados por aí… Por muito tempo, apesar de saber o que sempre me perturbou, vivi em passividade. Condicionada a ser e agir do modo ao qual fui moldada. Agora eu tenho a chance de realmente fazer alguma coisa…

Mas será que eu vou ter forças para quebrar esse ciclo? Será que vou conseguir deixar de ser o que as circunstâncias fizeram de mim? Às vezes acho que estou de barriga cheia, mas de que adianta se não me sinto à vontade?

Eu sinto falta de olhar pro mar. De pisar na areia, 

de vagar em silêncio escutando os barulhinhos,

 perdida em meus pensamentos. 

Quero vê-lo de novo, pra pedir que suas ondas 

levem minhas tristezas também.

O exercício do silêncio

é a melhor maneira

de exercer

o auto-diálogo.

16/01/2012

O que eu puder fazer para que tudo seja diferente

 na minha vida, vou fazer. 

Nunca vou abrir mão das escolhas 

que me forem permitidas. 

Porque eu mereço me desintoxicar 

e escrever 

minha própria história.

Deusa poesia

Minha mente cada
vez mais racional
aos poucos forma
suas próprias opiniões
e toma lado,
procurando ser tolerante,
revendo meus conceitos.

Questiona a Deus
e a si,
mas não consegue
impedir meu coração
de ser poeta,
de orar para
o tudo etéreo
feito em palavras.

Preciso escrever

um novo capítulo

no livro

da minha vida.

23/05/2016

Talvez a minha sensação de descrença no amor romântico para comigo tenha a ver com tudo o que eu não vivi quando era mais jovem. Não tanto com relação a não ser correspondida (isso é normal), mas com outras coisas envolvidas nesse contexto.

Claro que tudo acontece quando precisa e não posso, nem quero desistir de viver isso, mas não posso esquecer de que tenho como ser feliz sozinha. Talvez seja o conhecimento disso que me faz lidar melhor com tal situação, por mais que eu sinta a ausência, a descrença no aspecto romântico.

O fato de eu não ter vivido certas coisas quando geralmente é o caso, seja pela circunstância que for, me afeta sim, por mais que eu só guarde bem lá no fundo. Pode ter colaborado para que eu ainda não tenha amadurecido para certas coisas, incluindo os aspectos práticos da vida adulta.

Isso me faz ter medo de ser amada, me dá a sensação de que existo dentro de uma bolha que não me permite viver de verdade e alimenta minha passividade. Não me ajuda a me sentir normal. Mas por mais que no fundo seja assim, eu quero me bastar no fim das contas. Não quero pensar em estar com alguém por ser ou estar carente e suprir uma necessidade, um buraco. Não gosto de me sentir carente.

Dependência emocional assusta.

17/01/2012

Preciso ir embora daqui, 

conhecer gente nova, 

lugares novos, 

viajar pelo mundo. Preciso 

me desintoxicar.

26/11/2011

Acredite: eu aguento calada o que você 

não suporta nem gritando. Pense bem antes 

de me derrubar. Eu sou muito mais forte 

do que você imagina.

05/02/2012

Muitas vezes, ficamos tanto tempo

estagnados numa condição

 que a possibilidade de mudança

 é encarada com um misto 

de estranheza e alegria.

27/05/2016

Talvez eu não saiba quem sou e nunca tivesse sabido porque só em poucas vezes já me senti realmente confortável para ser o que quer que fosse intrinsecamente meu por mais do que dois minutos. Sei que parte disso tem a ver com a vida em sociedade, mas se sentir como uma máquina programada quase o tempo todo não é saudável.

Talvez eu ainda seja romântica não por idealizar e sonhar demais, por ignorar as coisas como elas são de verdade, mas por ainda acreditar nas pessoas e no amor. Que posso ser amada. Que alguém pode fazer de mim uma pessoa melhor do que sou hoje.

Drink to forget - Fanfiction

Sarah arrived at Grandage place around six o’clock. She needed to clear her mind, or at least focus on something else rather than the facts of last night. Once again she believed in the wrong man, and part of her wondered how she could still be a romantic.

She ranged the big steel front door’s bell and, after a few seconds, she saw Ethan’s brown eyes show on the peephole and then heard him turning the knob.

- Hello, miss Braccini. - he said gently, though he seemed nervous, for he wandered a bit around the hall after he closed the door.

- Hello, Mr. Chandler. I am deeply sorry about the lack of word regarding my arrival. I just hope I’m not bothering. - she said when Ethan showed her the couch and went to fan the embers in that cold afternoon. Sarah found odd to see the house that empty.

- Not a problem, you don’t bother at all. It’s good to see you. A drink? - Ethan poured himself a double shot of whisky and indicated the fresh bottle of wine that was on the table as well.

Sarah crossed her legs and her hands upon her lap and nodded positively to the wine. When Ethan approached with the glasses  and handed Sarah hers, he sat beside her and spreaded himself on the couch. He sighed, smiled sadly and took a fine sip of the destillade.

- What happened? Where is Vanessa? - she asked under her breath, holding her cup with both hands.

After an instant, Ethan rested his cup on the center table and turned his face to the young woman.

- Miss Ives is not at home. She’s accompanying Sir Malcolm in his work with the poor ones. But I’m glad that you’re here. - Ethan’s tone was formal and a little bitter, as if he was really upset about something.

- Ethan…

- I don’t understand, miss. I swear to you that I don’t understand. Vanessa is so, so stubborn. And now… - he shook his head, as one would do if they wanted to forget something bad and crossed a long leg over the other.

Sarah sat up straight, put the wine aside after sipping it and slipped a hand on Ethan’s shoulder. The older man understood that through the gesture she was showing concern and wish to comfort him; he stroke her thin fingers and smiled back. He sighed and waited for until he could find the right words.

Sarah was a friend of Vanessa’s, maybe she could help him understand what was happening.

- I don’t know if you noticed, but the police is around the house again, just like when that thing happened to me. - Ethan’s voice was trembling, as were his hands. Sarah noticed that he was reluctant about showing his weakness to her, even though she and the gang have been friends for some time.

- Really? Why? Inspector Rusk makes me shiver… What does he want now? - Sarah approched Ethan’s face, whose eyes were hidden among his fingers, his head laid down and many locks of hair that went everywhere.

- Someone from the moors told Inspector Rusk that Sir Geoffrey has died. As you know, the man was the region’s law made flesh and almost everyone feared the shit out of him. Apparently, it was a normal death, but we know better than that. The same way Rusk somehow found out the death causes in the Mariner’s Inn, he started to investigate this one and is seemingly getting to put 2 and 2 together.

Ethan’s voice was now nothing but a whisper. It would always be painful for him to remember what had happened at the inn and at the moors. It was hard to know which was worse: knowing that he took all those lives, or that Vanessa would probably go through hanging for her stubbornness if he could not stop it.

- And miss Ives insists on saying that there is no possibility of something happening to her and it shatters you… My God, Mr. Chandler. You know better that anyone how relentless the inspector is and… Wow. - Sarah understood what he was feeling and she feared for Vanessa as much as he did, but she tried to find a way to calm him down. Ethan’s short temper wouldn’t help Vanessa to be more careful, much less change what has happened.

- Excuse me, I… - Ethan confirmed what the girl said with a gesture and started to get up, but Sarah made him sit again and drink the rest of the shot.

- Ethan, SIT DOWN! Cool it off. You are as headstrong as she is, don’t act impulsively and turn things worse. All of us will gather around and figure out what to do, but not now. Not like this. I just hope that Sir Malcolm is doing exactly the same as me here.

- But… - the cowboy wanted to argue, but Sarah was irreducible.

- Mr. Chandler, look at me. Don’t let me down, please. I came here to chat with friends, not to see them sabotage themselves. Take a breath. If you ever walk out that door, I’ll leave this house and never come back. - of course she would never leave them, but she surely could never bear to see them in that kind of scenario again.

Ethan snorted, gave it a second thought and kissed the top of Sarah’s head before sitting. Slowly his expression softened and she felt better.

- I’m sorry, miss. That’s no way to behave with a friend, much less when it’s a lady friend. I promise you I’ll do my best to change this conversation and be a decent company to my visitor.

- Good. I’m glad for that. Also because I would like to hear experienced male opinion on a certain matter. - she felt her face blush for a second and couldn’t help but laugh when she saw Ethan raising his eyebrows and smirking.

- I’m not the best role model in most of the matters, but let’s see what I can do for you… What is it about?

Sarah made a funny face and drank from her wine. She moved to feel more comfortable and to be sitting across Ethan and thought of something to say.

- Well… You might remember that, a while ago, I fell in love with someone. That I’m a practically hopeless romantic and that I went to Heaven when he said he felt the same. I really give myself over my feelings and still believe in the human race, even though I can very well end up with a broken heart.

- That’s beautiful! But he broke your heart, didn’t he? - Ethan asked sweetly. The young woman confirmed and he suggested with a wave of his hand that she could proceed with the story if she wanted to.

- Utterly. He has been betraying me in many ways and it only came to light yesterday. - Sarah could not stop either the knot in her throat or the tear that came from one of her eyes. She shut them tight and tried to breathe deeply, when she felt Ethan’s hand holding hers.

- I’m sorry, Sarah. Say the word and I go punch his face right now.

- Don’t waste your time, Ethan, he’s not worth it. Why the hell I am crying because of him? He didn’t deserve a crumb of what I gave him! I cannot let him ruin my life; I’ve walked that road before and survived.

- It’s not wrong to show weakness. - Ethan said in a singsong voice. - Even if some people hold that against us, it means that we have feelings, that we are human and flawed. Besides, I can’t with ladies in distress… - they laughed and she accepted the handckerchief she was offered.

- It also counts for you, Ethan. - quiet comes between them, but it’s not umconfortable. - I know that your father brought you up in a brutal way and that you carry a lot of guilt, but you have no idea of how tender you can also be. Of how gentle, generous and compassionate you are. Me, Vanessa and the rest of the squad accept you, no matter what. You can open up to us. Some things are indeed very hard to deal with, but we have friends with whom share the burdens. And the first step is you accepting yourself. As you are here for us, we are for you.

- Sembene told me the same thing… - recalled Ethan.

- You see? You can trust in those people. And, according to what I hear from miss Ives, as much as she hurts you by being so willful and doing those crazy things, and I see in your eyes how bad and scared you feel, you hurt hers by not finding a way of getting rid of the guilt and sorrow and not opening up to her.

Ethan turned away , but Sarah touched his arm gently and whisper an “I’m sorry”. He took a deep breath, said he would think about it and asked her to tell the rest of her tale. She agreed.

- Anyway, Mr. Chandler. I wonder: what goes around someone’s head for them to think they can steal your heart, only to betray you in the nastiest means possible? - she daydreamed after several sips of wine and words.

- Ignorance, stupidity or just wickedness. This kind of person doesn’t deserve the love they’re given. - by the hoarse pitch of their voices, all that alcohol was already doing its bidding.

- Have you ever gone through that, if you don’t mind me asking?

- Yes, I think. And how do you deal with a person as willfull as miss Ives? - replied Ethan.

- By not being as she is, I guess. - the young woman laughed.

- I swear to you, that woman drives me crazy in so many ways.

- I know, hahahahahaha. I see it; it’s mutual. He did that to me too. How does one get over such a treason? Because I know a lot about broken hearts that are not loved back, except that.

- I don’t know. Drinking to forget it, I suppose. A toast to the traitors and to love.

- To love.

As the drink ran down their throats, they laughed at the traps of life and at love. At how much Ethan loved Vanessa, and Sarah thought of how lucky they were for that. Of how much she wanted to have that same thing.

What won't we do for love? - Fanfiction

Even after five years without any news, Henry didn’t hesitate on looking for Victor when he was called out to meet him. The reason for it seemed urgent, but he would go there anyway because only the note received, written in trembling, desperate scrawls already seemed enough of an excuse, despite the apparent hidden agenda. Henry didn’t care. He wanted to see him again, know how he was doing, and his old mate wished the same at the end of the day.

Victor knew him too well; both knew each other too well. The passing of time and physical separation didn’t cut out the thread of loneliness and isolation that had united them during college; the odd spell that made them circle one another like prey and predator that can’t break eye contact certainly hadn’t been broken.

That was the hope that made him look for that tiny flat in a dirty boarding house full of sick and strange people. It was also the yearning for Victor that made him get out of his house, aside from the lack of letters from his friend, to walk with his head held up high down the suburban grey streets specially crowded with racist and ignorant people and that helped him restrain himself not to tackle and choke the woman who huffed him from the window of that same building.

Victor’s silence could’ve made Henry hate him, but it didn’t happen. The eagerness to get at least a piece of that relationship back was what guided his legs on that afternoon.

Henry felt glad to know that Victor needed him and would do anything to help him. He also needed Dr. Frankenstein in his own way, for being with the latter made him believe he was more than all the loathing for himself and the world that he carried within for the care he had for the lad. He was anxious to tell Victor the plans he had and show him his experiment, although it hadn’t yet achieved the expected and even necessary success.

The old habits and perhaps even the time apart didn’t allow them to abandon the old formalities when the door was opened and he was given way into the cubicle, but Henry liked to notice that despite the environment as decadent as the man who inhabited it, still remained in Victor the tender side that acknoledged him as someone intimate and trustworthy for the things known by both; which was demonstrated in the tea Henry didn’t refuse even with the only visible table in the flat being full of books, syringes with needles, dusted glass bottles and tubes with strange content and the china having its saucers cracked and its cups with wings and edges broken.

Henry knew Victor wasn’t much of a capricious housekeeper due to his sloth and obssesion with his own work (all that since medical school) and assumed he earned doctoring just enough to have a roof over his head and not to starve, but undoubtedly it hurt him to find out that a doctor with such talent let himself live that way and that the status was visibly critical.

Regardless of what else Victor wanted from him, the stubble several days dated, the dirty, scruffy clothes, the swollen eyes, the shaking hands, the meagerness, the crooked voice and arms patched with bruises and holes indicated that the young doctor beside him was in serious trouble. It was commom from time to time due to his lack of force of will, but this time it was different, it was worse. And Dr. Jekyll would be there. As a colleague in medicine and mostly as a friend. It was the least that could be done; both as a retribution and necessity as well as because Henry simply wanted to.

Even with the sarcasm in his speech while releasing his friend’s arm, Henry knew Victor would notice the concern in his voice for the pattern repeating itself once more... If the use of narcotics had to do with both love and work, Henry’s mind would deduce that Victor had failed in his researches and been rejected by a young woman, all at the same time, which could only create a catastrophy as big as that. The pain from disappointment or impotence creates physical pain which makes him appeal to the chemicals to ease both. The beast was out again.

Henry couldn’t help the surprise as to know that F. hadn’t let go of his dreams of beating back death with the help of knowledge in anatomy and galvanism, which was not less mad or impossible to achieve, but even more so with the word that it had worked. Victor has been much more successful than him; this made him feel a mix of pride and envy that left him speechless for a moment. If Victor wanted to, he could present the reanimated people as evidence to the RSM and receive the proper recognition for it.

The same acknoledgement and glorious flourish which his friend referred to as one day they dreamed of conquering working together as well as on their own fields. Oh, good times were those.

According to Victor’s narrative, his medical genius had charged a high price:  the conquering of death that had created monsters. It was then that Henry started to understand with his presence there, or at least he thought he had. Henry knew monsters. One has lived within him since forever. Apparently, the people that were reanimated came back less human and it scared their creator, so Jekyll knew where his mate was coming from. He felt honored for the confidence held on him with such big secret. Now the burden would belong to the two of them, just like in the past.

The research over the human body in clandestine mortuaries combined with further studies on the principles and applications of galvanism led him to try the ressucitation processes, with the renewal of damaged organs and use of electricity to make them work again... The first try caused him repudiation for the sudden, noisy and bloody way it happened. Not to mention that then he couldn’t yet make the stitches more delicate and less visible. It was reduced on the second shot, added to a learning and recovery of memories process much faster, which was abruptedly interrupted by his death.

Henry noticed that Victor went particularly nervous when he spoke of the second subject, lest he thought best not to ask any questions over the circunstances of the second death. When he began to talk about the woman, Lily, that once was Brona, Henry saw a spark of excitement in his friend’s eyes that mostly showed up when the latter compared the concepts of life and death presented by science to the beautiful, serene metaphores in the lines of Tennyson, Wordsworth and Byron, to cite only a few.

She was pretty, smart and perfect. Victor had done what he could to keep it a secret and at the same time reintroduce her into society as a country girl that slowly learns the cruel, demanding manners of the city; the lady in high heels and corset, fair-haired as an angel, that would take care of him as did his mother lost in childhood and desire him as the wife the circunstances never gave him. He would give her a better life than she has had as inn whore and that place would have the female touch it was lacking.

Despite all of it, the knowledge of it, please him deep inside because he was lending his ears and giving away his affection to a lonely friend in a rough situation for thinking too big and not being able to deal with the consequences and frustration of expectancies, it was only after he went to the basement where Victor’s lab was set that Henry fully understood the main goal to his summoning there.

Killing someone was not something he wanted to do, even wanting his father’s death with every fiber of his being and his past so well-remembered by Victor in a slightly scornful tone and - Henry would never know whether they were intentional or not, although his affection and loyalty made him look the other way as much as he could - occasional racist references that made him wither inside and feel less of a man, less of a person.

Just like his anger, that he’s been trying to keep at bay and redirect.

The ironic thing is that along with the debauchery came the flatters that would massage anyone’s ego, but he knew his own skills and his friend’s intentions enough not to let himself to be deluded. He knew that Victor’s helpless romantic heart wanted his aid mainly to try to make Lily to be gentle again and came to love him. Henry has always had the right ways to get to the bottom of Victor’s ideas, the fantasizing behind them.

The more he spoke and grabbed the truth out of Frankenstein through his whispers, the more Henry could see that he still had a great influence over that boy who was in love, as well as F. over Henry himself; the old chemistry was still there and it was clear that both fed on it. Frankenstein looked like a dried plant that relived when it drank from the water of his words, just because he was there, but mostly because Henry was aware that Victor desired chemistry to get a hold on Lily’s depravaty.

Henry was jealous of someone he had never met and of the delusional obsession Victor had for her, but loved him way too much not to help him in his quest, despite from having no idea whether or not it would work. Only the knowledge that he held so much of Victor’s soul in his hands gave him the delicious feeling of having the other back and that at the right time together they would shut the mouths of all those who laughed at Victor for finding him a lunatic and of Henry basically because he was a man of color trying to stand his ground on the medical community.

There was the old Frankenstein, the old Victor, whose name slipped from Henry’s lips as easily as cold water down one’s throat in a warm day. The same sad but grateful glance that stared at him deep in his wistful brown eyes. The same needy little child that would never walk away from his touch and care, which for Henry was almost instinctive, despite all.

Anyhow, the first thing Henry would do before taking him to his lab the following day was to make any resemblance related to morfine vanish and talk Victor into having a bath, wear clean, tidy clothes and eat properly. What won’t we do for love?

Thank you, my dear Miss Ives - Fanfiction

Despite the protest from the midwives and dr. Frankenstein that men only disturbed their jobs, once again Ethan couldn’t help his own nerves for knowing that a new life was about to come to the world and that Vanessa was screeching in pain, calling out his name upstairs. He would never understand why the blessing of having a child had to be so suffering and painful. But again everything would be all right and worth it.

A relief was the fact that Charles was being taken care of really well by the nanny who Sir Malcolm has hired, who was always there when they needed her, although he and Vanessa preferred to look after their boy themselves as much as possible. She took him outside to see the pretty flowers that laid on the grass, away from the noise and unrest. But not even that and the half bottle of scotch he swallowed could ease him completely.

Doing the best he could not to run through the steps, he reached the bedroom and once again saw the midwives asking Vanessa to do strength to push and saying that she was going well and a sweaty, tired and dishelved Vanessa complaining she couldn’t take it anymore, but looking more beautiful than ever. It was hard to see her like that, but he knew how strong she could be, even in the most vulnerable of moments.

- Ethan, go back downstairs, go stay with Charles. You’re too nervous. The child is crowning, but with a bit of patience and a couple of pushes, everything will go well. Vanessa just needs to concentrate. Come on now, miss Ives.- said Frankenstein the moment he heard Ethan’s strong pace over the floorboards and saw his long hair and broad shoulders moving to sit on a chair beside the bed.

- I just want to stay near her. I swear I won’t disturb you. - Ethan said under his breath, his voice shaky.

- All right. - said the doctor after all, without taking his eyes out of his job. - But try to calm yourself. Come on, Vanessa, when it comes, you push again, with all you have. Respect your body, but don’t give up. It will come out one way or another.

- Ethan… AAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHH!! - Vanessa had a new painful cramp and pushed as much as she could at that moment. Tears ran down her eyes when she felt Ethan hold her hand and brush pieces of hair away from her face when she rested her head on the pillow again.

- I’m here, my love. I’m here with you. I won’t leave this spot. Just keep pushing, right? It’s all gonna be good. - he held Vanessa’s partially closed hand against his lips and cheek and felt himself crying quietly, sweating due to the candles lit to enlighten the room and sterilize the scissors.

- I can’t take this anymore. I can’t do it. It hurts so much… - said Vanessa in a thin and weak voice after another cramp.

- Sure that you can. Vanessa, you only need a little more. Just an extra bit and it’s done; the little head is almost totally out. Isn’t it, doc? - said Ethan, and Victor nodded in confirmation. The young doctor smiled at him for seeing him calmer and knowing that everything was happening as was expected for Vanessa’s body.

- The head is the hardest part, but we’re almost there. Come on, Miss Ives, push again just one more time, you can do it. One, two, three! - shouted Victor, and Ethan watched himself sustaining Vanessa’s torso, which had bended forward to an almost sitted position.

The pale raven haired beauty screamed in desperation; at that moment, Ethan felt as though time had stopped and… For a second, all was quiet, until she fell onto bed again and everyone heard the most wanted sound of the day.

The baby’s cry. Their baby was born, at last.

The doctor managed to support the baby’s chubby little body amongst puddles of blood and placenta. One of the midwives helped him cut the navel-string and open the baby’s airways so it could breathe and cry without trouble. Ethan felt his body cold and shaky with excitement; Vanessa held his hand tight with the last bits of strength she had left.

- Be still, Miss. It’s a healthy and beautiful child. - stated the doctor with a smile and tears on the corners of his eyes. - A girl!

- A girl? - Ethan and Vanessa stuttered as one.

Frankenstein confirmed and delivered the baby girl to Ethan after cleaning her up a bit and wrapping her in a blanket. He recommended the father should lay her over Vanessa’s body later for her to rest and be fed, as should Miss Ives herself. Ethan took his child with as much delicacy as he could even though his hands and arms felt as rigid as a stone.

Vanessa and her baby were examined and seemed very well, despite the tiredness. The doctor and midwives gave a moment alone for the three of them and went outside to spread the news to the nanny. For what felt an eternity, Ethan remained motionless on his chair, holding his daughter.

“My daughter, my daughter, my daughter, I love you…” was the thought his mind would not stop whispering, although his lips wouldn’t say a thing out loud.

- Ethan, let me look at her… She needs to be fed and rest a little… - Vanessa said it with a pasty voice. Fortunately, all that pain was easing.

Ethan was so dazzled that part of him didn’t want to, but he ended up laying the baby near Vanessa’s breast.

- We have a little girl, now. - she said.

- Yes, we have a girl, a daughter. It cannot be more wonderful. - Ethan babbled.

- I’ll name her Claire. Do you like it?

- It’s beautiful, it’s a beautiful name. Vanessa, she’s beautiful… So pretty, so tiny. I think she looks like you. - despite trying to, he couldn’t help the tears that were making his eyes burn.

Vanessa stroke his face with her free hand and he felt as if he would explode with happiness. It seemed different now, every child brought a new feeling and experience. It seemed like Claire gave their lives and, in that case, his, a new light, after all the deep darkness they’ve faced.

- Thank you, Ethan. For being here, for giving me Claire.

- I thank YOU, my dear Miss Ives. - Vanessa didn’t hear that,because she and Claire nodded off, but he was sure that she knew the way he felt for having her in his life.

For a second time, he realized he was hugely and irremediably in love. Now, for two ladies at once.

Tu não podes, nem deves me proteger do mundo. 

Mas me proteges tão bem de mim mesma…

Não sei mais se acredito em Deus, 

mas tenho certeza de que há muita coisa

que foge ao nosso controle.

Se ouvir é questão de exercício, 

não posso dar uma

abertura para isso a 

quem não me faz o mesmo.

26/11/2011

Muita gente nem faz ideia de quem eu sou, mesmo convivendo comigo todos os dias. Nem imaginam o monte de coisas que tenho dentro de mim ou mesmo o quanto preciso de ajuda para aprender a lidar com os meus pensamentos e saber o que está acontecendo comigo, porque eu sei que muito mudou.

Eu preciso de alguém que me ajude a fazer a dor dentro de mim passar; eu sei que vai passar. Alguém que não me julgue, não me abandone. Quero ir embora daqui; talvez seja o único jeito de eu encontrar a felicidade que mora no cerne da minha alma.

Às vezes tenho a impressão

de que era mais sábia

quando mais jovem...

Antes de ti, embora soubesse do que sempre me incomodou há muito tempo e já houvesse falado disso com outras pessoas de outros jeitos, eu nunca tinha sido tão honesta com alguém, muito menos comigo mesma. Eu não sei como aconteceu, mas eu me senti madura e à vontade o bastante para admitir tudo aquilo a mim mesma e encontrei um lugar seguro, apesar de tu seres tão humano quanto eu. Um lugar onde há entendimento e principalmente aceitação. Foi o mais importante e eu serei eternamente grata por isso. Aos poucos tudo vai melhorar.

30/07/2011

As pessoas dizem que o tempo está passando rápido demais e que elas não têm tempo para si mesmas. Na verdade, isso é só uma impressão. O tempo ainda passa normalmente, mas o ser humano não vive este tempo como se deve, porque perdeu a capacidade de admirar as coisas simples da vida; que nos aproxima da efemeridade do tempo e sua função no mundo.

Não deixe o tempo passar na sua frente, mas não o acelere. Viva, não exista apenas.

28/06/2011

De vez em quando, sozinha em meus pensamentos obscuros, me pergunto se um dia vou poder dividir o tanto de amor que guardo dentro de mim com alguém que me ame de verdade e não duvide nunca do que significa na minha vida.

Talvez mais importante do que saber o que vou fazer 

da minha vida amanhã, 

seja lidar com o que me incomoda hoje.

25/06/2011

O que é mais importante?

Será que o corpo não é

mais importante do que as

roupas, ou a alma mais

importante do que

o corpo?

26/06/2011

Tudo o que eu queria era

que as pessoas me ouvissem

e parassem de me tratar

como criança.

29/07/2011

Tudo o que eu preciso é de liberdade. Liberdade real, não só a que vivo nos meus sonhos mais profundos. Quero ser livre para ser a mulher que estou me tornando, de atender aos meus desejos, para escolher novos caminhos no silêncio das ruas; sem medo do que possam dizer, nem que seja por um único dia na minha vida.

Quero ser tudo o que eu puder ser, dizendo as verdades que aprendi nos livros e com o mundo e escrever tudo o que sinto. Libertar minhas lágrimas de raiva e tristeza, ter um tempo só para mim. Livre para buscar a felicidade enquanto cresço, já que não tenho opção.

25/02/2016

Será que vou aguentar esperar mais tempo antes de me livrar de tanta toxicidade? Será que mais uma vez vou ter de baixar a cabeça para as circunstâncias e deixar que no fim das contas os outros decidam minha vida, enquanto fico de mãos atadas? Será que por mais um tempo conseguirei cozinhar minha raiva, minha mágoa, que ficarão entaladas em mim como espinhas de peixe na garganta, que só o pão da sagrada liberdade fará descer?

25/02/2016

É triste perceber que algumas partes de mim estão simplesmente morrendo. Primeiro eu perdi minha fé. E agora parece que minha capacidade até de acreditar no amor, de certa forma.

Porque o fato de eu ver pena nos olhos da maioria das pessoas ultimamente e ter sentido como se uma parte de mim não conseguisse conceber o fato de que ele me ama como eu o amo (como se isso só devesse acontecer em meus devaneios) só pode ser um indicativo de que há algo errado.

Eu não quero ser assim. Quero amar e ser amada como todo mundo. Quero acreditar que viverei outros tipos de amor com plenitude, como ele deseja para mim. Quero poder andar por aí e enxergá-lo nas pessoas e nas coisas. Saber aproveitá-lo.

Meu lábio cortado
com espinhos afiados
na mordida do arrependimento
do dito e não dito.
Palavras pesadas, que só ferem,
são pronunciadas.
A luz cega meus olhos
a cada amanhecer; a noite
é meu guia…

Tenho tudo a temer
porque minha alma anda presa
num corpo morto e tenta sobreviver.
Sem brilho vejo tudo,
nada é o que parece ser

Verdade, liberdade, paz…

Mentira entalhada,
alienada
enquanto os demônios
estão soltos,
nesse mundo cão

Sem chão

Veneno com gosto de vinho
ao alcance da mão nos supermercados
derrete as vísceras dos desajustados.
Gosto doce, açucarado,
o mal disfarçado.
A vida é um fardo!
Fique surdo e mudo
para não ser julgado.

O caos não é belo,
é sujeira embaixo do tapete
causada por corrupções diárias
com sangue inocente derramado
a vermelhidão, o teu
que suja minhas mãos desde grito
que silenciou tudo

A culpa é minha.

Sonihely Castro e Letícia B. Silva

Tremor de frio

É estranha
a despedida,
mesmo quando
não é
um adeus.

Por isso
eu demoro
a partida,
pela tua
presença aqui...

Nem mesmo
meu corpo
quer deixar
a paz,
o conforto.

Tu te
foste embora
e levaste
teu calor,
tua mão.

Assim, o
frio voltou
a envolver
meu corpo,
meu coração...

E aqui
fiquei com
aquela falta,
querendo silêncio.

O silêncio
da intimidade
da nossa
parceira solidão;
de fora.

Que aos
poucos permite
que possamos
doar os
nossos ouvidos.

Mas é
um consolo
saber que
mesmo quando
há "barulho"

que parece
sem sentido,
tempo gasto,
ainda é
tempo amado.

Tempo passado
bem junto,
na saudade
sempre presente,
mas suportável;

o contato
comigo basta
para te
fazer feliz,
fazer sorrir.

Mesmo quando
não escavamos
as profundezas
de nossas
velhas almas...

Traz aqui
teu amor,
teu carinho,
porque eu
estou gelada.

29/12/2014

Não quero me colocar na posição de vítima. Exceto por ele, certamente, mesmo que não digam, pessoas para as quais eu desabafo acabam pensando coisas do tipo “puxa, ela está botando toda a culpa nos pais, isso é péssimo!” ou “pobrezinha, olha o que eles estão fazendo com ela”. Isso é a última coisa de que eu preciso.

A maioria delas me dá esses conselhos baratos que no fim das contas não me ajudarão em nada. Até mesmo ele já me sugeriu tentar conversar com meus pais sobre o que sinto, mas hoje ele entende que não vai funcionar.
Pelo menos não agora e não no contexto em que estamos inseridos. Os padrões certamente se repetirão e só vai aumentar o tamanho da bola de neve. Eu já tentei fazê-lo, e a quê isso me levou? Mais introspecção.

Não estou dizendo que quero deixar as coisas como estão. Elas são ruins, não podemos todos morrer sem ter um dia resolvido pelo menos parte dessas questões. Mas isso só acontecerá quando pudermos nos ver por ângulos diferentes. Quando nos afastarmos um pouco e tivermos tempo de qualidade conosco mesmos.

Eu quero entendê-los. Eu quero me entender, ter paz de espírito. Espero pelo dia em que conseguirei tal façanha mais que tudo no mundo. Enquanto ele não chega, tento encontrar meios de suportar o resto do melhor modo possível.

Queimar a dois

Apesar da dor,
eu ainda acredito no nosso amor
porque sei que por onde a gente for
ainda existirá o ardor
que nos une mesmo quando a vida é cruel.

03/07/2011

Enquanto minha mente se mantiver jovem, me sentirei jovem e feliz. É claro que busco a felicidade, mas acredito que os momentos tristes existem pra nos mostrar o quanto somos frágeis e precisamos uns dos outros, e ao mesmo tempo fortes e capazes de trilhar outros caminhos por nós mesmos.

É nessas horas que conhecemos nossas fraquezas e buscamos maneiras de superá-las.

Durante muitas vezes pensei que a tristeza fosse me derrubar e que a alegria não fosse me dar a mão. Mas aí entendi que ela estava apenas fazendo seu trabalho; que não ficaria para sempre porque o mundo é muito grande para que tudo se concentre numa pessoa só.

É complicado querer

mais do que

o outro pode

nos dar.

Alguns anos depois, a quem pode ter me amado

Eu sei que já faz um tempo e que como dizem talvez não seja bom ficar remexendo no passado, mas enfim. Peguei-me pensando em como as coisas teriam sido se houvessem acontecido de outra forma. Gosto de deixar tudo esclarecido e o girar dos ponteiros ajuda nisso. Talvez o que me motivou foi o fato de que desde aquela despedida em que ouvi de ti apenas algumas palavras de forma indireta, nunca mais nos vimos porque a vida quis assim.

Provavelmente, mesmo se eu te perguntasse sobre isso hoje, conhecendo teu jeito, ou tentarias mudar de assunto ou talvez eu nem teria como saber se estás sendo sincero comigo... Claro que sei que existe mais em ti além daquela superfície debochada e até previsível (eu conseguia ver isso), mas como não quis insistir, tudo neste parágrafo é apenas uma suposição.

Se fosse diferente e tu me dissesses que era verdade, que independentemente da imaturidade de certas pessoas para com os sentimentos dos outros tu um dia me amaste, te agradeço outra e infinitas vezes a consideração que tiveste comigo diante daquilo tudo; como eu procurei ter contigo.

Se for verdade, eu repito o que disse naquela época; mesmo que hoje talvez não haja muito ou nada que possamos fazer quanto a isso. Mesmo que ele tenha feito aquilo para debochar de nós e para ter certeza de que estava livre de mim, eu não me permiti entrar no jogo para te usar e simplesmente tapar um buraco. Até foi bom, porque descobri do quê mais ele era capaz.

Foi porque eu vi uma possibilidade de me dar uma chance, pela primeira e talvez única vez em muito tempo eu amaria alguém que sentia o mesmo, me abriria para isso (feliz ou infelizmente eu me apaixono com facilidade).

Talvez eu nunca saiba o que te levou a esconder o que sentias por tanto tempo, se foi mesmo o caso, ou por que a opinião dos outros parecia tão importante para ti como fui levada pensar (o que me faz questionar se tu não tinhas vergonha de mim e do que eles pensariam de ti se estivesses comigo; seja pelo meu jeito mesmo ou até o fato de eu estar numa cadeira de rodas, o que de qualquer forma eu dispenso e acho particularmente horrível, mas espero que não).

Se tu tivesses tido coragem de enfrentar teus medos, quaisquer que tenham sido, eu teria aberto meu coração, ido atrás do que poderíamos ter oferecido um ao outro. Se tu tiveres mesmo me amado e tivesse tomado alguma atitude quanto a isso, eu teria investido em ti e honrado teu amor.

Eu teria tomado teu carinho como meu e te ofertado tudo de bom e ruim que tinha e tenho. Eu teria sido tua companheira, teria amadurecido contigo enquanto estivéssemos juntos; estava sendo sincera naqueles poemas todos que lembro-me que respeitosamente devolveste a mim com as faces coradas e pedidos de desculpa sussurrados.

Não sei se isso importa agora, mas se um dia tu me amaste, se tivesse sido diferente, a gente teria sido feliz pelo tempo que tivesse durado, pelo menos de minha parte. Tenho certeza que sim. É uma pena, não vou negar.

Sinto-me lisonjeada pelo teu amor, se um dia ele existiu. E te desejo coragem para ires atrás do que quiseres. E que possas dar a alguém que valorize, como eu teria, o que o teu medo guardou, porque por aquele rapaz na época eu já não sentia mais nada. Que não te arrependas do que sentiste e sentes, mesmo quando não dá certo. Que a natureza faça com que a fêmea do quero-quero também queira o macho que a corteja para que tudo fique bem.

Mesmo se não fui o objeto real de tua afeição, meu desejo segue o mesmo.

Se ouvir é questão de exercício, 

não posso dar uma abertura para isso

a quem não me faz o mesmo.

13/07/2011

Se existir mesmo verdade

e justiça neste mundo,

nada nos separa.

14/01/15

A noite passada foi uma das piores que já passei na vida. Talvez a pior de todas.
Nunca tinha sentido nada como aquilo antes… O dia inteiro eu engoli aquela vontade louca de chorar que vinha lá de dentro e nada tem a ver com a tpm.  Acho até que estou acostumada com ela; acaba na maior parte das vezes se libertando quando estou no silêncio do quarto, as luzes apagadas.

É como se o que costumo chamar de pesadelo decidisse me atacar com mais força justamente nessa hora, a hora em que eu devia sossegar e dormir. Foi o que aconteceu outra vez, mas numa proporção muito maior do que antes.

Quando o que quer que me faça chorar é muito grande e difícil de suportar, como em contextos assim, os espasmos de choro são mais profundos e duram mais tempo… Desta vez, o que eu sentia era diamantino. Eu não conseguia me acalmar sozinha; chorava cada vez mais alto a ponto de gritar.

02/01/2015

É difícil decidir o que é mais assustador: descobrir e saber lidar com os defeitos dos outros ou os nossos. Se dar conta de que até mesmo as pessoas que mais amamos não possuem apenas grandes virtudes, que nos fizeram admirá-las, mas também muitas coisas ruins.

Se eu, que estou a cada dia vendo isso nas pessoas à minha volta e até em mim mesma, já me sinto confusa, imagina para eles, que convivem comigo? Leva tempo para absorvermos o fato de que ninguém tem a obrigação de corresponder às expectativas de ninguém, que ninguém é perfeito. E é muito complicado perceber que herdamos os defeitos que abominamos em nossos pais.

E um grande problema é que aqueles que mais deveriam entender isso simplesmente esperam o topo de tudo.

Um dia eu já quis que uma pessoa mudasse, mas aí entendi que era furada. Estava só desejando que ela entrasse numa espécie de padrão para que não brigássemos. Tolice minha. Ela mesma muitas vezes engolia coisas que não gostava em mim pelo simples fato de nos gostarmos, até porque me conhece há certo tempo. Só agora eu entendo que esta é a única coisa a fazer.

Claro que ela ainda é jovem e muita coisa muda porque o mundo obriga, mas neste contexto não há outra solução.

Com certeza quando eu viver minha própria vida de verdade, com a minha casa e as minhas escolhas, vou conseguir mudar o que deve ser mudado e aceitar o que faz parte de mim. Aceitar mais facilmente as falhas dos outros e até as deles e as minhas, pois embora nada seja um mar de rosas, vou ficar longe de um ciclo vicioso que esfrega tudo nas caras uns dos outros.

Preciso conhecer outras pessoas e ver o que posso aprender com elas, o que posso sentir com elas. Tanto na esfera emocional quanto física mesmo. Como por exemplo, a paz que ele me transmite quando pega minha mão ou me abraça e o quanto sinto falta disso quando não o vejo.

O estalo

A morte levou o meu melhor
Tirou de mim, de repente
A mais bela e viva flor
Que já viveu sob o sol poente.

E assim, desde então
Tento entender o movimento
Que meu Romântico coração
Não aceita como em si mesmo um evento.

A genialidade faz de mim um deus
Que virou a ampulheta da natureza
E do perecido fez outra vida.

Mas também à sanidade deu adeus
Ao contemplar minha baixeza
Na absurda monstruosidade surgida.