This is a text I wrote some time ago, and it turned to be the name of this blog and my recently published book. I decided to translate it, so that my non portuguese-speaking friends could read it as well. I have my own critics about the style and quality of writing (as well as the translation), since I changed and learned a lot in all this time, but it's a passionate text. Leave your comments below!
One of these days I’ll leave. I’ll walk around, kicking stones on the street and ask “What? Is there a problem?” I’ll walk down the streets and won’t smile to anyone; no good evening, good morning, no hello-how-are-you-fine-thanks. Because nothing will be fine when I walk around like this. One of these days I’ll yell at you, I’ll tell you to go fuck yourself, because sometimes it feels good. One of these days I’ll walk in the middle of the street, not worried about cars, they’ll turn away from me! It’ll start to rain and I’m not going to hide; I’ll sing all night long until you come and embrace me, because sometimes it feels good, alright?
One of these days I’ll leave, knock on your door and take you with me. We’ll go away from here and will never come back. Or will, if we want to. Come on, hurry up! The ship is waiting and the moon is full. One day I’ll stop the clock of life and all the time of the world will be ours. Don’t worry, there won’t be work, boss, deadlines, phones, family, neighbors. One of these days it’ll be only the two of us. Me and you. You and me. If it’s only me, it doesn’t work. So get ready, because one of these days I’ll take you with me. There will be no other way, you’ll be mine forever. One of these days.
One of these days I’ll leave and take a bus. I’ll cry and laugh at the same time and it’s none of nobody’s business! I’ll stop somewhere I’ve never been or seen, but that I’m sure it’s my place. And I’ll be alone, because that place is mine and mine only. I’ll paint my lips and nails red, to match the wine. I’ll go out and watch the sun rise inside of me. The view is so beautiful from up here! But you won’t be with me, because you were afraid.
One day… maybe tomorrow… or the day after… I’ll eat a pot of ice cream by myself, thinking about you. I’ll explode and in every corner there will be a little piece of me. Looking for you. It will be easier, right? One of these days, you’ll leave and never come back. Because you found me. One of these days… not today.
(Ana Elisa Miranda)