Devia

Você devia vir aqui e nós devíamos assistir um filme, e eu devia rir de alguma careta sua e você devia segurar a minha mão e eu devia te provocar com alguma piada boba, e a gente devia ser como era antigamente.
Ou eu devia jogar fora esse medo de me apegar às pessoas, guardas seus bilhetes na gaveta e tentar escrever novas histórias.

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Rant on Youth

I wish they had told me how hard it was to be young. I wish I had learned in school about this sad phase of uncertainty that was going to taint me if I chose the road less traveled by. If I didn't get into uni like many of the others, if I breathed in and out instead of just rushing with life without even breathing as I would have done otherwise. I wish I knew how bitter uncertainty would taste so that I could be prepared, so that I could know it's a passing phase and all. I don't really believe my future is dark but I have no real proof I'm on the right track, and if I could only find an indication of that. I have no idea what to do with myself in order to be useful, to become a productive citizen of life and the world and not simply a mediocre working ant, I want to produce yes but not for the system, I won't work for capitalism or the government, I want to work for people for my community my elders my children things that I believe in, I want to serve happiness. 
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On the sense of continuity

I must admit that I keep hoping for it all to be the same when I am back. Or actually, better. I keep imagining little flashes of routine, you frying something in the kitchen the smell of melting butter and the shhhhh it makes when hot, wearing a shirt that's too big for you while the sun comes in through a window. Me decorating our new apartment putting flowers everywhere and buying tablecloth and pillow covers, me worrying about all the little details like bed linen and the color of the cups. As you say, killing it with kindness, being a control freak in the sweetest way, saying you can buy all the kitchenware you want but only in this specific color, babe, otherwise it doesn't fit the plates.  I must admit that I make plans. Of all the beautiful things I could bring from all my trips, of sleeping and waking up by your side, even the fights we'd have over how many times your friend comes over for lunch doesn't she have a job if she keeps eating our food might as we
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