marcella mattar

escritora. o resto é pura indecisão.


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Dezenove anos

Dezenove anos

Cabelos lisos e compridos

Vesti o melhor vestido

E fui à festa

 

Dezenove anos

Bebi um pouco a mais

Como faz qualquer menina

 

Dezenove anos

Uma menina

Sozinha numa festa

Minha amiga onde estava?

 

Dezenove anos

Sozinha

Porque estava sozinha, bebi mais

Um cara olhou para mim

Eu olhei para ele

 

Dezenove anos

Acordei e me deparei com o pior

Só consegui olhar para o chão

Onde a roupa estava rasgada

 

Minha vagina sangrava

 

Minha amiga onde estava?

 

A memória apagada

Mas algo lembrava

Colocada num táxi, o resto da noite drogada

No sofá, tentava dizer que não

Ele me dava mais

 

Dezenove anos

Era dia

Onze da manhã

Acordei numa casa qualquer

Minha vagina sangrava

Tinha que ir embora

E fui

Calada

O sangue por dentro das pernas

Mas não era só isso que sangrava

 

Eu sangro até hoje

 

Todos os dias

 

Cinco anos calada

 

Quando tentei dizer alguma coisa

Disseram

Não foi nada o que aconteceu com você

Me calei mais ainda

Sangrei um pouco mais

Me fechei cada vez mais

 

E o sangue se conteve

Por anos

 

Hoje

Ouço palavras sobre estupro

Vindas do presidente do meu país

 

Dezenove anos

Cinco anos calada

Mas todos os anos sangrando

 

Ouço palavras sobre mulher

Do presidente do meu país

 

Ouço ameaças e vejo tudo acontecendo de novo

Vivo o mesmo dia todos os dias

Cabelos compridos e lisos

O melhor vestido para ir à festa

Olhei para um cara

Ele olhou para mim

 

Todos os dias tenho dezenove anos

Hoje eu sangro mais que nunca.

Anúncios


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Segundo Turno

E se nós pudéssemos parar o tempo? Encolhida no meu sofá, segura, a solidão o menor dos problemas. E se nós pudéssemos congelar o tempo e impedir o que vai acontecer a seguir? Acho que vi animes demais. E se tudo permanecesse assim, como está, nada mais a vir, nada mais a temer, eu fico aqui com esse vazio e apago as luzes e finjo que pode ser verdade, que não há por que ter medo agora.

A terra podia parar de girar nesse dia doze de outubro e nada do que vem logo mais se concretizaria; algo muito louco no mundo dos astros poderia mudar a forma como dia após dia vemos nossa realidade mudar com fenômenos incontroláveis.

E não há como voltar atrás, não, eu não quero voltar atrás, só que tudo fique parado. Eu não quero o dia vinte e oito de outubro, eu não quero fazer aniversário esse ano.

Eu queria que tudo parasse de se mover, como mágica, como nos animes.

Eu ficaria aqui, segura, sem ver tudo o que ainda vou ver. Já perdemos o suficiente.


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Vinte Milhões

Tem 20 milhões de pessoas nessa cidade. Do meu sofá, vejo pelo menos cinquenta prédios. Ouço o barulho dos vizinhos – um tosse, outro está dando uma festa e a música está alta. Hip Hop. Mas não alta o suficiente para incomodar. Do meu sofá, eu acabo de acordar para o que é o mundo: encerro uma sequência de meditação. Ordens médicas. Mas eu estou chorando, e o choro não para só porque eu quero. Minha vizinha continua tossindo, agora pela voz consigo perceber que é uma mulher. No prédio da frente uma menina da minha idade está arrumada para sair. Ela fecha as cortinas e eu não vejo mais nada. No meu prédio a festa continua. O mundo não vai parar só porque eu estou chorando. Tem 20 milhões de pessoas nessa cidade. Mas a única que me interessa eu não posso ter.

20 milhões


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The world of two moons

 

We met at the beach. I was looking for shells in the sand and he asked me if I had lost something. I wanted to say yes – I did feel as I had something missing, like an unfulfilled gap – but I said I was just looking for shells. I was obsessed about collecting them since I was a kid. He laughed at me and I felt stupid. I thought out loud: This is Rio de Janeiro. Of course there are no shells.

 

He took me for a drink and I had ice cream. He ordered a beer, like the English pints he was used to. I just wanted ice cream and didn’t mind if I seemed like a child and completely immature. Maybe I should have realized how out of place I looked. He told me about his travels and I completely forgot about the shells. I thought he had beautiful eyes, but didn’t say it. I decided to smoke to have a place for silence. I wasn’t nervous, it was just another guy. There has always been too many guys. It was always the same story, they think I’m pretty, they want to take me out again, I feel empty, I feel inadequate, I get depressed but force myself to be there. Except this time it wasn’t.

 

I don’t know how it wasn’t, but it was not like before. It was like we had entered a different dimension, like in the Murakami’s stories we were so enthusiastic about. It was like we were in the world with two moons now. The world as I used to know had failed to exist. I thought I knew everything about myself and about guys. I thought dating was supposed to be exhausting and psychologically damaging. I thought you were supposed to feel like shit after it and that was ok. I learned I was wrong.

 

My mind was peaceful. As an introvert, I hated socializing because it was like putting on a mask. But I didn’t feel the need to fake it. So I didn’t. I remembered the two moons. I dreamt about the shells. Life doesn’t have to be so painful. I saw the ocean and remembered all the tears I dropped for nothing. Yes, there will always be darkness. It is okay to fear solitude. But I was just there – and this new dimension was opening itself to me very fast.

 

I thought he wouldn’t kiss me. I was sure he wouldn’t kiss me. Because I’m so shy and insecure, I love to pretend I’m this really powerful confident feminist girl. So I kissed him. I thought I would melt, I was so dizzy. That couldn’t be the same world I was living in. That was something else.

 

The other day, we went to the bookstore and I told him I thought something had changed. Have you looked at the sky, I asked. You’re kidding me, he said. Seriously, I couldn’t believe how different life felt now. It was like someone had taken my body and replaced my soul for another one. My mind felt normal, for the first time my stomach didn’t hurt, I wasn’t panicking with anxiety. I forgot what depression felt like.

 

Do you take any meds? I asked. He said architecture was his remedy. He explained to me how everything made sense – how society has developed into the building of the cities as it is now, why the visual image of everything we see is the way it is. I thought the world was a mess and a hostile place. To him, thought, the world was comprehensible in terms of diagrams and drawings. He had so much passion for it I felt jealous. But that longing I had was almost inexistent now, once again I mentioned I was sure we were inhabiting the world of two moons.

 

The whole time he was there, I could see the two moons in the skies. I could see the shells. I saw all the drawings and buildings and sky scrapers through his eyes. Let’s stay here, I thought. I don’t know if I could survive if I ever had to go back.

 

He texted me when he went back to Europe. All of the buildings disappeared. There was no moon in the sky. This is me, I thought. Are you looking for something? I remembered his first words. No, I said. But I should have said yes.

 

It’s too late now. Remember the two moons and the shells? Like in all Murakami’s stories, in the end the two worlds collapse into only one universe, one big nothing. Let’s just stay here, I should have said.


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She sees the beach through the glass window and notices it rains. It is a cold afternoon in February, even though it was summer. Facing the melancholy from which she’s always tried to run away, feeling it deeply inside herself, with no more doubts or fear, everything is relieved. She feels the fluidity of those hours, the inconstancy of life. As if there was also an ocean inside, a current about to break like the waves, a wild impulse to move on, towards the bottom of it – but the bottom of what, my God? And the fact that there was nothing she could predict, no guaranty of where she could end up at! God, what God? Still far from God and any truth, seeing her life as an empty and endless road – now without fearing the blank pages that had always brought her anguish, she accepts her future is null, clean as a desert. Vitória looks at the beach, the waves breaking in the clear sand; this renews her with some reborn type of hope. There was something being buried in her, leaving behind the hurt and helplessness. She felt strong. Yes, it was the same image as in her childhood, the same house where she grew up, but it did not seem like the same place. All that fear of suffering, for what? Death as an ally, for what? She misses her city, but no longer misses anyone. There, alone behind the walls, she didn’t think of anyone. In that minute, the moment was her whole life, the whole universe was the beach.


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A kite in the nightsky

I lost you

Like a child loses her favorite toy

And I saw you

Fading away

A kite in the nightsky

All dark, all empty

Drifting slowly.

You said you liked your freedom

I pretended I liked mine

We were like two scared teens

Willing to lose it all

But unlike the kite holder

I have no control over the direction

You are going to follow

I lost you

To my imagination

You live in a world of fantasy now

You’re part of fiction

Like you were never once real.

A character,

A blurred memory

Nothing seems to last

It’s all doomed to disappear

I know I lost you

To fear

But I’ve once found you

In spite of fear.

And now I find you

In this confusing place

My mind keeps coming back to you

Even when it shouldn’t do

You’re still there, but not for long

Like a fish struggling to survive in land

Or footsteps in the snow.


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Um poema em francês

(Escrevi esse poema quando voltei da França e resolvi me experimentar no idioma. Deve estar cheio de problemas, mas deu pra fazer rimas legais. Quando escrevo alguma coisa num idioma que não é o meu, geralmente é para mandar para uma pessoa. Óbvio que no final acabei não mandando. Meu namorado da época nem gostava de poesia e só ia rir da minha cara).

Pendant que j’écris

tu es dejà au lit

sans moi

 

Pendant que tu dors

mon coeur veut être dehors

avec toi

 

Au tant que ça dure

Je vois tout obscure

en quelque endroit

 

Il est comme voire les étoiles

au fonde, loin

 

Il est comme trouver de l’eau

quand l’on a soif

et pouvoir pas le boire

 

Il est comme si le monde

fondre

Mon corps fondre

La vie est brume

Dans ma tête

Je te vois dormir

Je te vois tranquil

et ta main gentil

est encore ouvert

 

J’essaye de dormir

et ma main aussi

cherche pour toi

 

Je sais que tu es là

Mais je te vois si loin

et je n’ai plus de voix

pour te demander

de rester avec moi.