THE #LOVE IN THE #COLOR

Pain doesn't ask for understanding, it asks for respect. Do not leave the chair,
stay seated in the position where it is most acute.

I see men who don't have the courage to end the relationship. That don't clarify
that it's over. Who let others understand what they want to understand. Who prefer
to escape the shack and the punched hug. They leave quietly, explaining that it's
better this way: don't say anything, don't explain, it happens to everyone.

They close the door of their house (they don't lock it) and leave for another life.

It's not better this way. There's no way to muffle the crying noises. The body is
not a pillow. Dries with the hiccups.

It's not better this way. There will be screaming, fighting, damage. It's like drinking
medicine, without pushing the spoon away or frowning. It's swallowing the bad taste of
the mouth, enduring the heartbreak of missing the kiss.

It would be stupid to recite Vinicius de Moraes: "may it be infinite while it lasts".
Farewell is no place for poetry.

There will be a strange compassion for the past, the tongue collecting tears, the face
turned inside out. There will be your wife beating your chest, asking, "Why did you do
this to me?"

There will be indignation as the last hope.

There will be hesitation between consoling and fighting, between returning the cut and
supporting.

I see men who only find the strength to seduce a woman, not to distance themselves from her.

To start a story, they are not afraid, they are not afraid to speak.

In closing, they are elusive, oblique, false. Send messengers.

They don't collect your belongings on time. They will come back a new day to get their
things.

They do not tolerate resolving despair and dating memories. They save their hysterical
laughter for Sunday far away.

.
But being there is what man needs. Don't turn your back. Closing a story is maintaining
the dignity of a raised face, listening to what you don't want to hear. Amazed at what
he had become for the woman he loved. Because what she says is also true. Even if it's dishonest.

Unfortunately, there are more deserters than men in the world.

They should look outside themselves. To observe, for example, the pain of a mother who
loses her child in childbirth.

The doctor will place the dead child on the mother's lap. It's cruel and - at the same time
- necessary. So that you understand that he died. So that she sees him and gives up looking
for him. So that she realizes that the nine months were not an invention, that the pregnancy
was not madness. That the little one really existed, that the contractions really existed, that
she tried to bring him out. May you step away from the promise of a lifetime, imagine your scent
and baptize your face for a moment.

To discover the unbearable and delicate memory that had an end, not a happy ending. Even if the
pain breaks, it's still better this way.

text by Fabricio Carpinejar - Research: Vitor hugo Lizardi Leonardi

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