Just another liar

Only liar, but i am the best.
Only good for the latest trend.
Only good because you can have one almost famous friend.

The wild and carefree

            This is what I want to see, a face of a man who doesn’t give a fuck about nothing.

            A face of a person who knows too much, who has deep thoughts and doesn’t have illusions about life anymore.

            The aspect of who can control his feelings and wishes; the owner of a deep and wild strength, that comes from the underground and can be directed to whatever activity or goal that this rare person wants.

            The characteristics that are related to the ones who can easily walk through life, who are able to make jokes and laugh about everything, every time.

            I wish to find persons who can choose to have a happy perspective about everything, who can enjoy every moment of their lives and make all the experiences become special and meaningful, instead of living in sorrow and angry, like many many people do.

            I want to see the easy riders, who are able to create their own perspectives about the world, that are able to have multiple interpretation of the things; the ones who doesn’t have a soul centered in their selves and can see things and create concepts and wishes that are placed beyond bodily wishes.

            The signs that we can only find in the carefree ones who doesn’t care about nothing but, despite of that, can direct all their strength into a chosen direction and can dry all their energy doing such things, can reach exhaustion in their attempts, not because they really believe in a reward for what they are doing or have illusions about what they can achieve doing such things, but, instead, act in an intense and wild way just to explore life more widely, just to become better players.

            This is what I want to see.

São quase todos muito toscos

            O  tom artificial,  que muitos  dos meus textos possuem, me incomoda muito, mas não posso fazer muito a respeito disso. Não conheço pessoas que poderiam me oferecer as experiências que procuro. Em minha cidade é preciso se esforçar muito, muito mesmo, para que seja possível encontrar alguém que não seja absolutamente ridículo, e isso é muito triste.

           Sei   que   esse  empecilho fará com que meus textos permaneçam para sempre superficiais, muitas vezes incoerentes, sendo apenas desenvolvidos pela minha inteligência, sem nenhuma correlação profunda, verdadeira.

           Por isso a escrita é apenas um hobby para mim, nada além. Nunca poderia alcançar a minúcia descritiva de Proust, ou a intensidade de Dostoiévski, minhas interações não me permitem isso.