Venha cá, Florbela,
vamos conversar.
De onde você tirou estes versos
tão amargos, tão tristes e tão fortes?
Como sabe você,
que ando perdida, que não tenho norte,
que sou a irmã do sonho e desta sorte,
e que sou a crucificada, a dolorida?
Sombra de névoa tênue e esvaecida,
que o destino impele brutalmente
para a morte?
Que sou aquela que passa
e ninguém vê,
que sou a que chamam sem o ser
e a que chora sem saber por quê?
Você acertou, porque
sou, sim, a visão
que alguém sonhou.
Alguém que veio ao mundo pra me ver,
mas que NUNCA na vida me encontrou!
(Versos do soneto “EU”, da saudosa poeta portuguesa Florbela Espanca)
My snacks have agendas.
Survival TV Fans? Survival TV is suffering edited for drama.
Unexpected House Guests? My in-laws don’t visit—they invade.
Libraries? Libraries are shush factories.
Midlife Crisis Purchases? A sports car doesn’t fix your problems—it just advertises them.
I don’t hate cardio; I resent its optimism.
Dumpster Diving Influencers? Dumpster diving isn’t sustainable when you bring a ring light.
Bunker Guys? Bunker guys build basements into paranoia museums.
Grandparents on TikTok? My grandma went viral dancing—she also went to the ER.
Spearfishing Bros? Spearfishing is stabbing water optimistically.
My self-control resigned.
Grandparents on Social Media? Grandparents on Facebook are chaos with emojis.
Bad Tattoo Philosophers? A misspelled tattoo doesn’t mean wisdom—it means Groupon.
Obsessive Horoscope Checkers? If you check your horoscope hourly, the stars are tired.
I don’t spiral; I slinky with intention.
Cooking Classes? Cooking classes are cooking shows without editors.
Remote Control Fights? Nothing tests a marriage like Netflix and two remotes.
Solo Travel? Solo travel is sightseeing with nobody to hold the camera.
Unexpected House Guests? My in-laws don’t visit—they invade.