Nessa Cidade.

Every attempt feels forced. As if I’m trying really hard to be something that I’m not. I fail at every single thing I try. A step forward is all it takes to crumble my kingdom. This kingdom has no king, for one should be convinced that he is one. I’m not a king. I can’t lead. I can’t think straight. I consistently doubt my own decisions. My thoughts are completely chaos. My intentions are essentially good, yet I still keep getting punched and being mocked at. ‘Who mocks you?’, you might ask. My own flesh turns against me. I am the target of my own witch hunt.

                While I am a survivor, I’ve grown tired of waiting for the sunset that never comes. I’ve grown tired watching my life pass by. My lack of judgment causes the ache that I feel. I don’t know when to stay or when to go. I have no capability of making my own choices whatsoever. Apparently, I can only stay. Leaving doesn’t suit my body. The heavy burden breaks my soul, no matter the outcome. Mentally, the anarchy emerges and takes over. There is no law, no limits for my actions. The feeling of invincibility consumes my essence, creating the perfect storm. My surrounds are mere moving objects. I am untouchable, although I’m no king.

                This country isn’t my home. There is nothing here for me. I wasted everything that I had. I apologize. If there are no other opportunities for me, I will see you soon. Don’t worry, my darling, the letters will reach you and you will still be able to smell me through my horrible writing. Don’t keep the door opened and don’t forget to turn off the tv, for I’m not coming back. If you also feel a certain disparity, I will be waiting across the bridge. The keys are under the rock, the one with your name on it. But, if you do come, I beg, don’t wake me up. The dreams that I have of you sometimes outclasses the cruel reality.