And that’s when I realized my days there were over. I started cleaning my gym locker and putting all my objects inside a plastic bag, I closed the old red gym locker’s door, and tears started rolling down my face, I couldn’t hold it anymore, the tears were unstoppable, I had to just sit down and let them go, before I could walk down the hallway towards the car to go home. before this, the idea of leaving my host country, of ending this brand new enriching experience was very unreal to me, but as soon as I closed the locker’s door, everything started to make sense: IT WAS COMING TO AN END! and the chances of it all happening again, are 0%. I couldn’t have asked God for a better life back there, I had a little bit of everything which was already enough to make me wanna go back again and do it all over!

And that’s when I realized my days there were over. I started cleaning my gym locker and putting all my objects inside a plastic bag, I closed the old red gym locker’s door, and tears started rolling down my face, I couldn’t hold it anymore, the tears were unstoppable, I had to just sit down and let them go, before I could walk down the hallway towards the car to go home. before this, the idea of leaving my host country, of ending this brand new enriching experience was very unreal to me, but as soon as I closed the locker’s door, everything started to make sense: IT WAS COMING TO AN END! and the chances of it all happening again, are 0%. I couldn’t have asked God for a better life back there, I had a little bit of everything which was already enough to make me wanna go back again and do it all over!

Sou viciada mesmo é na calmaria de uma conchinha. Num abraço de bom dia seguido de um “que-bom-que-você-tá-aqui”. Na saudade antes mesmo de partir. No sexos de amor, e não de reconciliação. Na sensação de poder se jogar com a certeza de que o outro vai te segurar. No cafuné na cabeça com colo macio depois de um dia áspero. Nas madrugadas de conversa que passam sem ver – e que só acabam quando o sol vem te lembrar que é hora de dormir. No encaixe dos corpos sem que só faíscam de tanto amor. Na troca de elogios. No descompasso do coração – de paixão, e não de ódio. Na sensação de entregar o coração na mão do outro e ter certeza de que ele vai cuidar tão bem como se fosse o dele. Nas declarações de amor deixadas no espelho. No desafio de se reapaixonar todos os dias – e ter a certeza de que é possível.

E no fundo acho mesmo que quem diz que gosta de amores turbulentos é porque nunca viveu a delícia de um amor facinho. Porque de guerra, o mundo já está cheio.