my heart was looking at me. I chuckled a bit. what a peculiar dream. my legs moved forward.

‘‘you craved death so much.’’ my heart said to me, painful and exhausted voice. once the words hit me, something in the deepest part of my body hurt as it never had before. as if someone had stabbed me and, without mercy, had twisted the blade. my heart closed its eyes and I felt my breath failing.

‘‘sorry, heart. I was tired.’’ it took me a lot of strength to say that. my body wanted to give up. my eyelids felt like two bags of stones.

‘'we are losing her!’’ one of the doctors said.

‘‘you didn’t even want to see the future. if there was anything bright ahead.’’

‘‘I just don't see the point, heart.’’ I felt the warm blood on my arms and suddenly there was red juice all over the floor.

‘‘they are going to tear us apart now. maybe I will belong to a child.’’

‘‘oh, my dear beloved heart. it was never going to stop.’’

‘‘what, little girl?’’

I smiled. it was finally the end of the bridge.

‘‘the pain.’’ my eyebrows moved, confused. ‘‘I didn’t feel anything. the numbness. the numbness is the worst kind of pain.’’ my sharp cheek bones were wet now, an angry river was waking up. I felt something. perhaps relieved?

‘‘you are going to be a great heart for someone who wants to be here.’’ a weak smile took over my face. the high-pitched, constant sound was the last thing I heard. I wish it was my favorite song. or the sound of the water droplets coming to an end during the rain. or my dog barking. or my sister laughing. or my parents kissing as if it was their last time. or they finally saying that I am enough. or my best friend saying ‘‘I love you’’. but I guess I can stay with this sound, if it means the end.

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I tried, though. I tried hard, from the bottom of my small little fragile childish heart to like fruits.

I never liked them, though.

but I wanted to, because everyone else had a special fruit.

they loved cherries, or strawberries covered in whipped cream or dark chocolate.

once I saw all of that magic on TV, and asked my parents for a little taste of it.

I took a bite and pretended to like the weird texture, the dirt on my fingers and all

but you see, I never liked fruits.

still, I wanted to. and I was a little girl watching the love that they sold to our souls that came with the charming prince and that damn red apple.

And all the girls liked boys and all the boys liked girls

and I, well, I was a little girl who waited and waited for her love apple that never came.

and that little girl grew and grew and she tried really hard to be pretty and lovely.

she was going to be a Snow White, even if it meant facing death in a box while still breathing, like she was a wild animal exposed to everyone that appreciated the sight.

therefore, the little girl’s apple became wrinkled, rotten and forgotten on her own chest, while she waited for someone to gently take it away and show her.

except for today. because I wrote that phrase down and looked at the sky and tought of something good without have to force my head for it. and it's actually funny, because lately, I’ve been so down. today I woke up thinking that maybe I shouldn’t have. this week I failed so bad at my maths test that in the middle of it I thought that I shouldn't be here, because my head was trying so hard to convince me that I do everything wrong.

anyways, going back to the sky, I realized that the sun was there, shining. the sky was clouded and foggy, but still, the sun was there. even if you are lost, inside a terrifying forest, you will look up and see that, between the towering trees, the sun is shining brightly through the leaves and twigs, and it is wonderful sight. sometimes, during a storm, it disappears, but it always comes back.

and perhaps, if we feel very cold for a while and become blinded by the waves of the sadness, someday we might feel the sun’s warm kisses on our skin again. and then we’ll feel strong enough to take off the blindfold and look at the world, even at the storms.

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or when someone who loves me finds me, i hope it lasts

because i dream of a three-hour hug, filled with whispers and love and heat and tears and pain and words of desire

how stupid i am, though. because my dreams are just dreams. who’s going to want me, anyway?

but oh, my dreams are so beautiful

i want to kiss you until i lose my breath, and i want you to kiss me until you lose yours

i want to be wrapped up and held in your arms; i want to feel safe.

i want to wake up wanting to live because i know i will see your eyes and hear your laughs,

but i know you don’t exist.

i want someone who wants to love me just as i am.

not to tell me that i'm not broken, or that i can be fixed, but who loves me without trying to glue my pieces back together

therefore, i will surrender and embrace my sorrow,

accepting that i will be alone forever and ever

and the devil possess me and i scream

with knives tearing apart all the love in the room

i need you to please believe that deep down, this isn’t me

i need you to please believe me that i’m sorry

i’m sorry when i scream at you, cutting you with my sharp words just because you didn’t give me the pills to set me free

just because i felt so desperate that now i had to throw up everything inside me

i’m sorry i was rude, mom, but aren’t you proud of me?

look at me

i am so delicate, such a tiny

doll, i am the one the friends carry and can sit on their laps without worrying

i am not the prettiest, not the smartest, mom, and i am so sorry

but at least i am the skinniest

and still no one seems to want me

feeling stares and receiving glances and words of worry but shining with the sick attention

mom, look at me, hear me, i’m sorry, please believe me;

but at night my mind is such a hell.

doing crunches,

looking for pills in a sick way to make me small all over, crying when i can’t find my slimming dose of the week.

up and down the stairs until i see stars

chewing my food and spitting it out just so i can feel so disgusted that all my desire disappears

stealing even my will to live

i can’t even focus anymore, planning every second what the hell i should eat

48, 47, 46

mom, look at me

i’m sorry

i just wanted to be seen

45, 44, 43, 42

but then in a second my parents turned me into a pig or a bird, however you see, and they were suddenly huge gulls which i couldn’t escape and they put me in a cage

and they let me go only when all my work was gone and now i hate myself so much more but they refuse to see – everyone is just so blind, proud of their work, of what they’ve done to me

but now more than ever i just wanted to disappear

and i feel so wildly ugly inside and out, staying at home so no one can see me, sleeping without showering just so i don’t have to look at myself, stare at myself and pinch my own skin

. . .

Assine agora

. . .

tired of being unwanted, unlovable

tired of feeling that my soul has already gone and my body is just waiting to no longer be here

i am so fucking tired

tired of not being enough, of my body being too much

tired of asking myself if i deserve the roof over my head, the food on my plate and the pillow beneath my head

tired of asking myself if i should really be here

tired of not remembering how my life is supposed to be, because now all i can do is just survive and exist. and oh, i am so tired

tired of waking up and eating and then going to sleep without a single thing to make me smile or make my heart race

tired of fixing my happy mask every day, taking care of every crack so i don’t fall apart or fall into what’s real,

what’s true, because it’s so ugly that my eyes can’t handle the sight, so dark that it steals

all my light

but the thing is that once, on an misfortune day, i already saw it

and the thing is that i am so damn tired of knowing that deep down

i wouldn’t care if i wasn’t here

. . .

hello, everyone! i just wanted to thank you all, from the bottom of my heart, to every reader who supported my first poem here! without you, i wouldn’t be posting this. thank you for reading!

please consider giving a heart, leaving a comment, or subscribing to support my writing! i love you all!

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“you are what you eat”

and then i smilled and would go back home and eat a colorful plate with smilling fries

and had a piece of cake for dessert

when i was a child, my mother used to tell me:

“you can try this dress first, because you are bigger then your sister”

and i would try the dress first, with my eyes filled with tears, and i would beg her

“please mom stop saying that”

and she would smile and say:

“what do you want me to say?”

and i would stop talking.

when i was a child, and we had a family party, i used to dress me up and then i would go to my parents room, and i would open my mouth to say how gorgeous my mom was that night

but she would open hers first and moan how ugly she was

when i was a child and was time for dinner, my mom ate less than a baby and i used to think how daring i was for eat all that food

when i was a child, my mom would comment about the woman at the cash register saying how fat she was

and i used to look down and look at my belly

and then, later at night, i would face the mirror, saying to myself that i should eat less

when i was a child,

i used to be happy eating a piece of cake.

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i open my heart and my mind and you can feel, touch, and see without any lies or fear who i am

behind my smilling mask

on this paper, i cry without tears streaming through my skin and i bleed without a knife that cuts my wrists

on this paper, i speak and have a voice without scream or open my mouth, without actually speak, without almost apologize just because i can breath

on this paper, you can see me, whole and truthfully,

with cracks and bruises that are already gone outside but still hurts inside

on this paper, i can finally breath without feeling that i’m not really here

without feeling that, at any second, i could crumble into tiny pieces that no one can really see

. . .

hello, everyone. this is the first poem i’ve ever published, and it took some courage, but i did it! thanks so much for taking the time to read this, it means a lot to me. i hope you are all well, and if you’re not, remember that things will get better and that you have to know sadness before you can know happiness. im here if you need someone to talk to

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viajar é ver outro modo de viver através de outra cultura, outros olhos, outras pessoas e juntar tudo isso para montar seu jeito de viver. dá para fazer isso de casa também.

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-bru tai lopes| vlogs tranquilos,

-dyllan johnny| para quem ama literatura e profundidade através da simplicidade,

-ellora| ela tem um podcast incrível,

-híllary christy| cheia de artes e artesanatos,

-isabela juliana| mais vlogs,

-kate brock| moda,

-livresenhas| vlogs, livros, conselhos,

-marianne beaulieu| música com poesia em imagens,

-noa maria| cozy vibes,

-patrick watson| tutoriais para quem toca teclado ou piano e música maravilhosa,

-ro mitchell| ela ensina tanta coisa que nem consigo descrever em uma frase curta,

-sierra jane| vintage vibes que eu amo,

-vivi ribeiro| inteligência emocional e reflexões,

-yan| poesia!

-julia contessoto| vlogs leves e com ótimos vídeos para aprender inglês,

-brittany| maquiagens incríveis,

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-it’s just jordan| vibes maravilhosas,

-hope segoine| vlogs para relaxar,

-emily| cozy vlogs e receitinhas,

-caitlyn richardson| vlogs, filosofia e livros ótimas vibes.

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na adolescência, estamos todos perdidos. sempre tentando descobrir alguma coisa. o que aquela pessoa acha de você, porque ela está te encarando, porque querem me beijar, porque não querem me beijar, o que vou fazer da vida, porque não me sinto o suficiente, será que meus pais mudariam alguma coisa em mim? é tudo tão desesperador. mas nessa trajetória, todos os adolescentes têm um ponto: a necessidade de se sentir amado, útil, necessário para alguém; e se sentir parte. parte de um grupo, parte de qualquer coisa. qualquer um. qualquer pessoa ou evento que te faça sentir isso.

é por isso que a irmã de charlie namora com um namorado abusivo, além de, claro, todos os fatores históricos e o sistema patriarcal que a incentivam a fazer isso. é por isso que patrick aceita um cara que o deixa nas sombras. é por isso que o uso de drogas entre adolescentes é tão normalizado, tanto como anestésico como para diversão.

a situação de charlie faz com que muita gente se identifique. fez com que eu me sentisse entendida, sobre o que eu mal conseguia colocar em palavras. charlie se descreve como expectador da própria vida. ele vive no piloto automático, até conhecer sam e patrick. é quando ele começa a ‘‘participar mais’’. a viver com gosto. eu ainda não conheci minha sam, ou meu patrick. é triste que, dentro de mim, meu fogo da esperança está quase apagado. mas não acho que eu esteja sozinha.

todos os personagens da trama são exuberantes. não me refiro a beleza exterior, mas a complexidade da mente humana na adolescência que sempre me encanta e surpreende cada vez que leio o livro.

charlie enfrenta problemas para lidar com suas questões. ele começa a narrativa descrevendo com facilidade, como descobriu o suicídio de seu melhor amigo, michael, mas apresenta dificuldade para reconhecer seu passado. é só no finalzinho que ficamos sabendo, de fato o que aconteceu com charlie. ele se sente culpado, confuso. mas o que nunca sai da minha mente é: e se os homens fossem de fato tratados como seres humanos?

o machismo e a sexualização internalizados são o ponto aqui. e se charlie tivesse sido ensinado a reconhecer seus sentimentos? se ele entendesse que não é problema chorar sem ser isolado? e se a irmã de charlie entendesse que não é problema se seu namorado não é um cara machão? e se ela entendesse que não tem desculpa para ser submissa a um homem quando se é abusada por ele? e se os adolescentes, hoje, fossem ensinados que são suficientes? que não devem aturar qualquer coisa só para se sentirem válidos para existir sem serem uma vergonha?

‘‘as vantagens de ser invisível’’ demonstra a vulnerabilidade masculina para o público, mas charlie e patrick têm dificuldade para se sentirem permitidos a serem vulneráveis. essa máscara de durão destrói patrick, que desaba com charlie após o término com brad.

‘‘você tem uma relação com sua música favorita.’’

é uma frase que minha irmã disse na aula de inglês, quando estávamos analisando a música ‘‘asleep’’ que tanto é falada por charlie. nos seus períodos mais depressivos, essa é a música que sempre se sobressai. ela parece uma despedida, uma carta de adeus, mas tranquilizando quem fica para trás:

‘‘sing me to sleep
sing me to sleep
i’m tired and i
i want to go to bed

sing me to sleep
sing me to sleep
and then leave me alone
don’t try to wake me in the morning
‘cause i will be gone

don’t feel bad for me
i want you to know
deep in the cell of my heart
i will feel so glad to go

sing me to sleep
sing me to sleep
i don’t want to wake up on my own anymore

sing to me
sing to me
i don’t want to wake up on my own anymore

don’t feel bad for me
i want you to know
deep in the cell of my heart
I really want to go

there is another world
there is a better world
well, there must be

well, there must be
well, there must be
well, there must be
well

bye
bye
bye
bye
bye’’

a música é retratada como refúgio e dádiva para sam, patrick e charlie. ‘‘heroes’’ é uma outra música que se sobressai em momentos felizes. uma passagem importante nela para mim é:

‘‘we can be heroes
just for one day

we can be us
just for one day’’

ao meu ver, no final do livro, todos os três amigos estão melhores em relação aos seus conflitos emocionais. eles escolheram ser heróis de sua própria história, e ensinaram uns aos outros que as coisas sempre melhoram. e que sempre existe alguém que vai te entender e aceitar, e que algum dia você vai encontrar essa pessoa. seja em uma relação de amizade ou romântica.

existe um ponto na trama que sinto que é pouco falado. a família de charlie não é saudável. eu, por experiência própria, posso afirmar que o emocional dos pais e irmãos, afeta o seu, diretamente. a mãe de charlie é reservada, mas quando tem certeza de algo, consegue impor limites, assim como a irmã dele. mas existem momentos distintos em que as duas permanecem em silêncio. por escolha, ou por medo? elas são muito parecidas. o irmão de charlie parece ser mais o estereótipo, e não é tão aprofundado como os outro personagens, mas ele e o pai são duros, machões. ambos se parecem, mas charlie é diferente. e isso monta para ele uma imagem de que ser diferente é ruim. o pai dele só reforça essa ideia quando pede a ele para não contar nada quando charlie o pega chorando na cozinha.

homens não devem ser vistos chorando. não devem ser vistos vulneráveis. e isso os destrói. o estigma de que o homem fraco é o homem que não sente, ou pior, que sente sozinho, é o que os desintegra. de acordo com o ministério da saúde, homens se suicidam quatro vezes mais do que mulheres, e a faixa etária mais afetada é a de quinze aos vinte nove anos. isso não é coincidência. homens não sofrem mais, mas são ensinados a ficar em silêncio. as mulheres também não são inocentes nesse cenário. existem homens que são rejeitados por elas quando se abrem. que são humilhados, invalidados, ou feitos de piada.

os homens acabam muitas vezes, expressando ou esvaindo seus sentimentos na única válvula de escape que encontram: a agressão; que é, não ironicamente, vangloriada dentro da comunidade masculina.

por fim, o que são, as vantagens de ser invisível? em minha perspectiva, o grande ponto é que ser invisível te protege da performance que você se sente obrigado a realizar, quando se é o tempo todo o centro das atenções. ser invisível te dá coragem para ser inteiramente você. mas ser invisível sozinho é solitário. é por isso que no final, charlie é invisível junto com patrick e sam.

o livro inteiro é maravilhoso, mas para encerrar, algumas passagens do livro:

“so, this is my life. and i want you to know that i am both happy and sad and i’m still trying to figure out how that could be.”

“he’s a wallflower…you see things. you keep quiet about them. and you understand.”

“it’s strange to describe reading a book as a really great experience, but that’s kind of how it felt.”

“and even if somebody else has it much worse, that doesn’t really change the fact that you have what you have. good and bad.”

“and i thought about how many people have loved those songs. and how many people got through a lot of bad times because of those songs. and how many people enjoyed good times with those songs. and how much those songs really mean.”

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