What I am

I am the toys that I played with, the slang I used to say, I am the nerves skin deep for the college test, I am the secrets I kept with myself...
I am my  favorite beaches: Leblon, Barra, Jericoacoara... 
I am the reborn one who escaped after the assault... 
I am that stunned  love I have felt so hard... 
I am the serious conversation I had with my father one day...
I am what I remember...

I am the longing I feel for my late dad, my late husband...
I am the dream shattered when "whoever 4ever" vanished and the pain for our relationship not having worked , and for the words I told him and I regret... 
I am the childhood I remember...
I am what was amputated in my past...
I am the thrill of a page of a book...
I am the scene of a street that made me cry,  I am what I cry...

I am the unexpected hug... 
The support given to the friend who needed me... 
I am  my arms skin bristling for just thinking about you...
I am the sensitivity screaming, the affection that barters...
I am the spoken words that helps, the shouts unlocked from my throat, the pieces of myself that I have joined...
I am the orgasm, the laughter, the kiss, I am what I bare.

I am the anger for not having achieved what I wished...
I am the failure for not being able to change... 
I am the disregard for the others lies, the disappointment with the government, the hate I feel for all this... 
I am the one paddling all the time, but that never gives up even getting tired... 
I am the indignation when I see somebody throwing garbage in the streets from the window car... 
I am the sting of the revolt, I am what I burn...

I am what I claim, what I can generate through my truth and my struggle, I am the rights that I have, and the duties I undertake...
I am the road that I run after, where I snake, bypass, search... 

I am not only what I eat and what I wear... 
I am  what I require, what I rookie, what I scribble, what I swallow, what I enjoy, what I read... 
But actually I am...what nobody sees.