Tag Archives: Online Writing

Getting back to old habits

22 Apr

This blog is old. I’ve had it for about three years, but hasn’t written for about two. This blog is a recollection of short stories that I used to write. Most of them, as one would perceive, are full of language errors (mostly because of my learning of the English), and are also very rustic and not well developed.

I used to write in this blog when I was away from God. It was the period where God was nothing but a theory. Some of the stories that never made it here were a protest to something I tried to refuse. But God brought me back, and here I am, changed by HIM. Everyday God amazes me more and more.

Nevertheless, I am back to my old habits of writing. In this space I will share a bit of my mind… pretty much a bit of everything. Since the future belongs to God, I can’t say what this will become. In the meanwhile it is good to be back to writing… there is lot to write about.

Oh yes!


The reason to Fall

30 Jun

At midnight I looked up and had the most beautiful sight I had ever seen. She was perfect; the last months with that girl had been the best of life. I realized that moment I had fallen in love. Love to me was pure, innocent. It was the idea of being a little kid again, to be naïve. I’d let be driven now, and would stop only when death had did us part. Yes, I had planned my life in a matter of minutes.

“What are you staring at?” She asked, moving those symmetric lips. I was lost in her, her beauty, her body.

“You,” I answered sincerely. “Have I told you’re beautiful?” It was cliché, but she was beautiful, and it had to be told.

“Not in the last hour,” she smiled. I never felt so alive before, never felt like I mattered so much, but that smile gave it to me. I wanted – no, I need her – more than anything in my life.

“You’re beautiful,” I replied then.

“Thank you,” she said. I couldn’t cope with it. She was the boss of my eyes, and had ordered them to not look away. They were her fans, and she was the idol.

Not looking at anything but her eyes, I asked. “Have you been in love before?”

“Yes, only once.”

“Have you ever been loved back?”

“No, never,” she looked at me, half nervous, half worried.

“How would you like to be loved?” I got on my knees, and waited. Any time now she would say yes –

“No, I – I can’t,” she turned around; her back to me. Her hair fallen on her shoulder.


“I’m sorry. I don’t love you in the same way.”

I heard my heart sink as I looked around and came back to earth. We were still on the rooftop, where minutes ago she looked at the stars, and I to at her.

“So, if this is not going anywhere, why did you give me any hope?”

“It was just so nice being with you. I’m sorry?”

Was it happening? Could it be happening? She came back to my sight, and it was then that I understood. It was not to be. I walked to the edge. There was a small wall on the border; I stepped onto it.

“I’d rather have one last breath remembering how pretty you were in the last time, than having millions more with nothing but a memory.”

She turned; I turned. My back was to nothing, I was on the edge of the building. “I’ve always felt like flying into the gray of your eyes.” I looked at them for the last time. “I love you,” I gave a step back, and flew. I’m still flying; flying into the nothingness of her eyes, but I never seen to arrive.