réu confesso

 I know this feeling very well and I also know how stupid it all sounds in a different language. Unfortunately there are no other words to say that I overstayed my welcome in your life. It took me a long time to realize this, three months, maybe five. 

There is no way of thinking of you and feeling sad about the fact that you’ll never understand the songs that best describe you to me. There is definitely no way of explaining to you why when I think of you I think of 80’s music. Everything is ridiculous now, nothing is even remotely romantic and I can’t merge these two in a language you’d understand or appreciate. 

My therapist told me maybe this would be good for me, to fight. I don’t think your therapist agrees. Maybe that’s not what my therapist told me exactly, maybe that’s just what I heard. What I'm learning these days is that I’ve been here way longer than I should have. I didn’t do enough with the time I had, and now I wasting what I have left, while everyone secretly wishes it was over. 

I can tell when I’m not wanted at a party, when I don’t fit into a group or when I get a pity invitation. I never thought I’d be so obtuse not to notice when this was a whole relationship. I thought for once I could think only once or twice before acting. Turns out, self doubt is my only friend.

There are no more apologies, something you’d also miss. The thought of you finally being so near and choosing not to be with me is more palpable by the second. I can see you look at me with disgust when, once again, all I can say is that I’m sorry. I can see there’s no room in your heart for me. I was the eighth guest to a dinner party with seven seats at the table.

There’s nothing wrong with acting accordingly to the way you’ve been treated. It’s on me to take any rudeness that comes my way and I hope I do it gracefully. I will take my great references and great feelings and leave you with everything that’s yours by right, for I have none. 

Eu ainda resisto à vontade de te explicar que você na minha mente tem a mesma sensação que uma canção do Tim Maia, mas eu sei que você sequer a ouviria se te mandasse. Que ridículo que você chora e diz que não me quer e minha mente me leva para a fonte de mel.