Remember all the time

Medo de coisa boba

Campeã em ter medo de coisa boba, ela juntava traumas antigos e construía temores novos. Isolada em meio aos seus pensamentos, fugia de tudo o que era novo. Era melhor não se arriscar, já que tudo tinha chances estratosféricas de dar errado.

Mas, um dia, o novo a alcançou. Insistiu. Desmanchou a sua armadura. Por culpa do desmanche, foi atingida por uma flecha. E ela, coxa, tentou fugir inutilmente.

Dizem que, por enquanto, ela está vivendo feliz por aí. Sorri um sorriso honesto, mas que camufla o medo de tudo cair por terra a qualquer momento. 

there's a bluebird in my heart that
wants to get out
but I'm too tough for him,
I say, stay in there, I'm not going
to let anybody see
you.
there's a bluebird in my heart that
wants to get out
but I pour whiskey on him and inhale
cigarette smoke
and the whores and the bartenders
and the grocery clerks
never know that
he's
in there.

there's a bluebird in my heart that
wants to get out
but I'm too tough for him,
I say,
stay down, do you want to mess
me up?
you want to screw up the
works?
you want to blow my book sales in
Europe?
there's a bluebird in my heart that
wants to get out
but I'm too clever, I only let him out
at night sometimes
when everybody's asleep.
I say, I know that you're there,
so don't be
sad.
then I put him back,
but he's singing a little
in there, I haven't quite let him
die
and we sleep together like
that
with our
secret pact
and it's nice enough to
make a man
weep, but I don't
weep, do
you?

Bluebird, by Charles Bukowski.

Notícias ruins chegam e vão. Cabe à gente se juntar ao Thom Yorke e cantar, em coro: "no alarms and no surprises, please".