Here I am, 2 a.m. on a Friday. Blending into the room, empty stomach, warm skin, feeling bloated like a pufferfish.
Describing the situation was never something I considered the smart guy’s job. I’m tired of where I am, too tired to get up and go somewhere else. It’s the trap of the today conundrum. How can you plan your steps if there’s no perspective of a future? No future for you, for me, for everything itself.

Unless…

Well, it probably doesn’t matter since the chance we had is long gone and the past is a matter of interpretation. Maybe the probability of my estimations is overrated. Maybe I still dream of something else because I love it. I love it all. And I’m going to miss it. But then again, there’s the question: have we reached critical mass?

Are we paying attention to what the masses even care about? I can say it all, but I’m still writing in this disgraceful English because I don’t feel comfortable with my own language.

All I wanted was to say something smart about all this love I feel for what we could have been. Complaining about it is never the brave guy’s job. They always know how to chase their dreams. And today,

eu não sei.