attempt to give memory of a buried past I

cannot say without fearing what to say. you know, you write your statement, and this imply something for sure, but what we do with what we say, and what the the others do with, all of this, is kind of frightening somehow. but fear is a strange word, after all we shouldnt be afraid of making something else of all of this. even though you are in such a situation like, for instance, SWIM? you got the code. but should there any code. the code is the problem, all of they do of all what we do.

as a fact, a simple gimpse, a simple drop of our eyes, cant make we ellude ourseslves and think a lot of hells and heavens. and surely, those terms are so absolutely interchangeable that we might get crazy for sure. and even be cured for our crazyness. maybe not by doctors, but… you know, those people we love, and care about us… but do we want this?

i know its pointless to start saying all of this, i feel somehow. but, its for pointing what i want with that, because for sure, i am hypocrite and selfish bastard with lots of macabre desires, and lost wishes. i do even want duties, without wanting them. and yes, there is clearly an obligation, which i didn’t refuse, but saying this is absolutely ironically, because i did, really. i refuse to take some giant steps and keep walking on the line, without trying to evade myself from this stupid clear and amazing point of view, in which i had hope, too much hope.

and i rememeber a quote that say that the hope we have, is due to lack of hope of the others. and i believe absolutely that this is true, because my hope, and the evil, yes i believe its evil what i am doing, its like i am seducing myself, my own self to make this thing fit into some patterns in which i would like to see me before i am dead. or worst than it. but no is not my suicide letter. and its not evil. nothing is right or wrong, everyhing is ”necessary”… dont?

i should say more about hope. about my hope. and about the hope of others, my friends, my siblings, my neighbours, i mean, all of the people which are in a condition of misery which allows me, for being such a trapmaker, and someone who literally implode our hopes, and yet, still have some hope.  maybe this is necessary too, right? after all, if hope is there, why dont me make this effort, too stop this? and why not?

feels like a complaint. but it should mean more than that, because, someone will grab what we say and will make a threat with it. and this is repeating over and over, and someone grabs money with this, or whatever… for sure, this thing here is making a lot of money, for someone. the production of ourselves, even me… such a hedious person capable of a lot of courtship… this is so convenient. more one Bloom. more one Homo Otarius.

right now, we, if there are any reader, we are being arranged and rearranged in a system of distribution of our hopes and expectations. why i say this, because i need some real interaction, even with someone i dont know at all. i need you, possible reader, to understand that yes, i am being manipulated, and even more, a manipulator too. why saying this? not just because is truth, but because something else, like a warning, for instance. or a attempt to not speak in my name. not that i have the right to speak in the name of the others, but because i shouldn’t be comfortable by not speaking in the name of those who can’t. and even those who can, but whose voice will never be listened, because you’re just a manipulator or a manipulated or a lunatic or… and its go on…

”the world is full of traps and we should break it.” but maybe its time to say goodbye to all these ”fictions of youth”? i think im losing the battle. of course this battle is a ilusion, cause the fight will still go on. and its not my betrayal that will make me stop believing it, and to dare to call it soul, even though i am really killing my soul, and even killing history, by making this choices without realizing what they are. or knowing really well, but not knowing what what we do, how can we go on with this battle? should we defeat our enemy? should we find in our enemy, a possible ally of life? the lies are so much that even truth is being told as lie, and for the convenience of some schemes and some organizations of our lifes, that yes, is hard to criticize, its hard to fight.

the hard is that while i am writing, the enemy is at my side or even in front of me, or even behind me, and he is reading this, and he is looking for… or i am just being paranoid? no, i dont. im being a fascist. and yes, is painful to say this. that i am patronizing this violence. and even more, that i am receiving from this? if i enjoy some pleasure, while i know there is a scene of violence, behind the wall, am i not enjoying it? but the problem is the one, or the many, who feeds from the necessity of this ignorance, the enemies, even the inside enemy, that maybe because of exterior impositions, lead us to doing something that will erase our history. and our souls too.

you can think i am playing a game. but its a confession. and it is one of only ways i have to preserve and recreate this memory. cause someone, for instance: google, microsoft, wordpress, neighbours, i mean, not just the people who are actually reading this, but the possible readers – they’re possible writers too. and thats okay… the problem is that i have name. and someone maybe is talking in my name. you know, stolen data. stolen info. stolen energy. stolen bodies.

where are these people that robbed our data, and make of our lives a theater for private fun, where are the people who used our names to make portraits of desires, mirrors of unconfessed urges, in which certainly we would find the immoral, the disgusting, the one which we shouldn’t care to bother.

should we look for the guilt? cause guilty i am. i refused to help. i refused to fight. and now, should i wear my ball and chain? i mean, serious…

(brazil. são paulo. 05:19)