Monday, September 21, 2009

Fado Nights (Reflexions about this Fucked up World, Part II)

Sometimes we hurt ourselves, just for the fun of it. Maybe because we feel the urge to feel, once again. In fado nights, love and happiness are so tender, so soft, just like the morning breeze. But our skin has grown hard, and the morning breeze has passed us by. So we long for the icy blades of a winterstorm. So we can feel again. So we can feel alive once again.

It is not so pretty, it is not nice, when the blade meets the vein, just because a girl hurts deep inside. But as the blood flows free, well, there is something inside that beats again. It is not nice to listen to fados with a bottle of wine and tears in your eyes, even less nice to do so in a balcony ten stories above the ground. But we do so. Maybe because a boy hurts somewhere inside. Maybe because we long for that which we have lost. Who really knows why Jenny jumped to meet her end in the silent freeway? Who knows why Mike shot himself with his lover’s gun? Who really cares about that. Who cares about Cass stop eating, or about Joe getting high as a kite every hour or two. We live on the fast way to hell. We don’t give a shit about this mortal coil we are trapped in. It is all a fucked up life. We are judged, weighted, tested every day. We can not be who we are, because is wrong. It is wrong to be gay, to be lesbian, to be bi or trans. It is wrong to be fat, or way too skiny. It is wrong to like Heavy Metal, or Classical Music. It is wrong to read the obscure books, to laugh at the stupid things that we do, to paint your toe nails black. Is it not fun? To live in a world where you are the riff raff, where you are the one who’s got it all wrong. Well, little boys and girls, let me tell you, in our own little world, we got it all right. Maybe because it has been a long long time since Hollywood mirrors have reflected reality, maybe because so much shit and pretending has blinded you, who knows, who cares? But truth is, we have seen the true naked core of your souls. And if our bodies, hearts, and minds are rotten, well, so are your souls. At least we are true to ourselves, not to god money, god glitter, god fame, god power. No, we are true to us.

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