Repostar é viver... parte 2

Este é um dos textos mais sensíveis e doces que já achei na internet até hoje...
tudo bem, eu sei que já o postei aqui 2 vezes, e tb já o postei no Casa Torta, mas eu posto novamente agora pois eu gostaria MESMO que vocês o lessem...

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This is how it ends:
You meet up with her at your neighborhood bar. Things have been said; goodbyes have been attempted and aborted. You are there to "talk" and maybe save your friendship. She is your best friend, but she is much more than that. She is the girl you love. You have tried everything. You worked yourself to death. You went to therapy. You fucked every girl within reach. You pretended to like some of them. Nothing worked. She is the girl you love. You can't stop.


You drink a couple beers together. Talk about why things didn't work out in the first place. Oh, right. Right. All those things are true. And you were a kid; kids make mistakes. These were small ones. "Sorry your friends didn't like me." Sorry, but... The problem was, she never told you there was a problem. Until it was too late. Oh well.


More beer. Now you are sitting in a booth. The beer has gone to your head. You wax poetic. Way before Nicholson, you tell her that she was always an unspoken challenge for you to be a better person. She didn't know it but she set a standard worth striving for. And even if her self-doubt prevented her from seeing it, you never once stopped believing in her. The person she was, the person she was going to become. You couldn't wait for ten years, twenty years to pass, so enough time would have elapsed to justify how close you felt to her. She was a friend for the ages, you say.


She reaches across the table and takes your hands. "I love you," she says.


You have to try hard to make yourself heard over the legions of angels thunderously belting out the "Hallelujah Chorus" over your heads in this grimy hipster bar. The other patrons look over in annoyance and then turn back to their drinks.


"I love you, too," you say. Now you are kissing, deep and soft and so, so tender.


You sit back. "I don't know what to do," you say. "I'd take you home with me right now, but it would probably kill me." Your hands are still clasped with hers across the table.


"Look," you say. "We should try again. It's so obvious there are still such strong feelings between us. I've changed so much... I won't make the same mistakes. Now that I know what went wrong..." You are embarrassed to hear yourself.


"I know you've changed," she says.


You are quiet for a moment. You are at a loss. Then you say, "Listen to me. You know how I feel about you. If you know that you're never going to be able to return those feelings, tell me now. Just say it. Otherwise I'm always going to think it's a possibility. And I'll never get over it."


Still she is silent. Then she says, "I'm not going to cry." But she is crying. Big round drops on her eyelashes as she looks at the table, then at the ceiling.


Ok. Not going well. What did you expect? But you have to try. You take a breath. You are still holding hands. You say, "I don't understand. You love me, you want to sleep with me... what's holding you back?"


"Well..." she says. "I'm seeing someone."


Oh. Oh, right. That guy. Here's one torment that Bosch missed: meet your ex-girlfriend that you are still in love with at a party where everyone has done X. Only hers is kicking in late. The party is breaking up, and she is tripped-out and anxious. Will you please walk her home? Ok. Walk her home. You hug for a long time and start kissing. She starts crying. What? Now come the Furies' whips: sit on her steps for a couple hours in the dawn chill and listen to her talk about how much she loves this guy who is too broken to love her back; now she understands what you have gone through. Hold her as she cries and feel your guts twist so hard they threaten to leap up through your esophagus and throttle you both in turn. And be brave. Be noble. Be the friend she needs.


So she got her second chance with him. Good for her. But now, sitting here in the punk rock ghetto, maybe you have been all the friend you can be. There isn't anything else to talk about.


"I guess I'm going to get going," you say.


You walk outside with her. You pause for a moment, not saying anything. You hug goodbye. Then you try to kiss her, even though you know it is futile.


"No," she says, and pushes you gently away.


You watch her walk down 16th street. You can see her for four blocks or more. And you stand and watch. Not too many moments in life are so perfectly cinematic, so wonderfully framed. And you know you are going to watch this one play again and again, maybe forever. So you stand still and let the moment be.


Then she turns the corner, and it's time for you to go home, too.


Love, good stories and Understanding to all my sweet angels-to-be and the fallen ones...