Above all else, guard your heart

“Above all else, guard your heart, for everything you do flows from it.” Proverbs [4:23]

Love. According to someone who WANTS to be loved. Yet doesn’t know how, where… or when.

What does man desire? Certainly I no longer know what a woman desires;

Or rather, I do: Something OTHER than what I AM.

…

It all started with the illusion;

At 17, realizing there was no match for me in this world, I created one: A soulmate;

“If I search and do not find, perhaps it is something truly difficult to be found!

“Something unique, perhaps. What is harder to find than the unique?”

Well then. A soulmate, it is; We come into the world in pairs!

How did I not see this before?”

All Cartesian dualism expressed in the poetry of the universe.

A machine so infinitely long and complex, yet still with balance.

It was beautiful. It made sense;

The battles against this illusion cost me dearly. They still do to this day.

…

A long time ago, i remember a conversation; A party at my house. The smoking area. That longtime friend whom I now see only rarely.

I asked him what he believed in:

If a soulmate existed, would she be?

1. Diametrically the same
2. Completely opposite
   

There was no middle option back then; We are talking about duality.

On that occasion, I remember the answer differing. I believed in sameness. He in difference;

This question still haunts me to this day.

The context.

She already said NO to me (ended the relationship) 2 other times.

The first time I gave everything. It wasn’t what she is seeking.

The second time, a trip made her realize I wasn’t who she was looking for.

The lack of a message, perhaps? Of affection? Of attention?

Or of approval?

The way it went was that by the second time, I had already given up.

So… Sails to the wind. Net to the sea.

And NOTHING. Calm waters. Something wasn’t right.

I reflected a lot on what happened.

Yet a little voice… deep down, whispered: “…what if.”

I always replied: “What do you want me to do?”

I left genuinely thinking I gave everything. I accepted what was out of my control. That’s it.

Something wasn’t right. The voice. The water. The wind. The fishs… what fishs?

I’ve been a sailor for a long time. I know the signs and the behavior of the universe.

I KNEW something was wrong.

Then came the first message. Asking how I was.

At first, I refused to answer. We had already put a period at the end.

And the phrase. The blessed phrase still lashed at me (i will talk about later).

She insisted.

So I agreed to talk. But it had to be in person. You know I don’t like chats over WhatsApp, right?

I confess I went with my mind prepared to say no. I even mentally rehearsed the conversation.

Then a conversation. Turns into a spark. A feeling.

From someone who never loved me… And who threw in my face that:

“She couldn’t create anything romantic with me.”

The phrase.

What a dagger. Multiple times uttered. Ad expresso of the Orient, where detective Poirot tries to solve a murder case with 12 stab wounds. Yet every time she spoke it, it was a different train ride.

It is incomprehensible the PAIN that phrase caused me.

The tone of voice. The echo. The pain.

Going back to the conversation. The feeling.

“What am I looking at?” I asked myself.

“If this isn’t something romantic. What is?”

The spark was enough to take us to bed. Not to light a bonfire. Much less to cause a fire.

“I can’t create anything romantic with you.” The phrase. The echo. The pain. Even the tone of voice.

There was one more lesson to be learned.

Water on the fire.

The easiest way to describe me is “demisexual.”

I know the truth. It is complex enough for a post of its own. It is directly related to the personalities that govern the concept of LOVE.

However, we will stick with demisexuality.

Even with nothing happening, a desire was growing once again.

Some conversations about WHAT IS LOVE? Doubts.

Doubts.

A manifestation of affection. An Instagram photo. I start believing again.

The realization and agreement that the lack of progress in the relationship is mostly HERS.

The trip.

And why do we travel after all? That one is clear. Not traveling is staying still. How long can you stand staying still?

Certainly, life is movement. Perhaps from staying still for so long, we decide to walk.

So few want to explore their own mind.

In the exact same way that happened at the end of the first breakup leading into the second attempt. She booked a trip.

Now to Africa! 40 days apart. A trial by fire.

In our last conversation, with tears in her eyes, she said she believed in US. That we could work out. That we could have something unique!

I spoke of the irrevocable condition “LOVE.” Demisexual, etc.;

And I made it VERY clear what was holding all of this back: EGO.

I won’t delve into the EGO. It’s an individual journey. That is the truth.

I will write a post just about the EGO, or at least about my history with it. I want LOVE. That is what I seek.

And I believed it.

The doubts

I’m not a fool. As much as it might seem.

What looks like a display of affection MIGHT just be manipulation. I always keep the doubt. Even she knows this.

Red flags for manipulation? There’s no shortage of them.

What is your interest after all?

She knows my potential. Now what does she see in me?

A future credit card? Her retirement?

The house?

These are questions that haven’t proven false.

Trust is one thing. Something I invest. The truth is another. The proof. The manifestation. The ACTION. That only comes with trust and time.

I know her tone of voice when she talks about my salary. When she talked about it for the first time, actually.

How she introduced me to her mother.

“I don’t even like sex that much.” “For me, sex once a month is fine.”

That hurts. Because I know it’s not true.

It’s an attempt to run away from a problem of ours. Sex.

Proof of that is, I invite her to sleep over the day before the trip;

“Too much work, things to sort out”…

She’s always tired.

Yeah. I’m tired too.

That both my leaving my job and MY emotional instability/depression were RED-FLAGs for her.

I’ll write it again. MY emotional instability is a RED-FLAG. MY OWN.

Should I do to her what she did to her EX? Did she feel superior and that’s why she dumped him? Could the universe be trying to pay her back?

They will NEVER manage to FOOL ME ABOUT WHAT LOVE IS. It’s like saying there’s a kilo of gold in my arms. When my hands are holding wind, or worse; are in my pockets.

Now, the sparkle in her eye when she asks me for a jacket…

All these doubts… They are DOUBTS.

They are what they are.

Doubts are not certainties.

Yet they are waiting for proof. That the answer is love. It is surrender.

The Limit

I am in a cathartic period. After leaving my job;

My days have been filled with silence and meditation.

In the first few days, we exchanged messages.

Could it not have been how she expected? How am I supposed to guess?

As much as I know the signs of the universe, it doesn’t mean I have a crystal ball or that I’m a clairvoyant.

So a day of intense meditation turns into a day without a reply.

The pressure comes.

A friend of mine told me the following after I told him the story:

“This business of status updates via WhatsApp. I’ve been on both sides. It’s pathognomonic.”

Pathognomonic: The word derives from the Greek pathognomonikós, where pathos means “disease” and gnomon means “indicator.” In essence, it means “that which reveals the disease.”

“When you think you’re messing up, the subconscious generates the alarm. Deep down, she wants to know if you’re doing the same thing. Looking for ethical comfort.”

One day without a reply turns into two.

Through Insta, I see that friends start showing up.

This is one of the great purposes of any trip. Meeting people!

The replies stop coming. I am not attached to messages. Therefore, I understood it as a moment of introspection.

The Colapse

Tuesday night. I run 10k. Best 10k so far. I go further than I ever have before.

The week was great. I started producing again. Studying and getting organized. An upward curve.

I get back from the run late and open Insta to keep up with my traveler.

A repost. Having lunch with a Brazilian guy.

She’s happy. Happy in a way she never shows with me. In a post she never made with me.

Her smile killed me inside.

How can that be?

Shock.

“Must just be a friend. She loves making friends.” ~ Fooling myself.

I went to investigate. Grabbed the Instagram from the post. Why did I do that? Mistake. Pain.

There she was. Happily walking through an art gallery. With him.

All the photos. Same outings. “How can she prefer a Brazilian, in AFRICA?”

“Traveling thousands of kilometers just to meet up with a Brazilian?”

I didn’t understand why she did that.

I even came to the conclusion that the post was intentional.

Maybe it wasn’t to affect me. Maybe it was for her ex, who still holds feelings. Or for her followers and friends. To show she’s accompanied. That she’s badass. That she’s wanted. Approval.

So she doesn’t care that much about my feelings.

What does he have that I don’t?

I know my worth. But like any other human being, I have doubts.

I look at the guy’s profile.

World traveler. In shape. Instaboy.

It’s a Match.

An adventurer. A traveler. I am a traveler of the mind. He of the earth. Of the real world.

I fall off the horse. The universe sent what she wants.

What do i feel ?

The first thing that comes to mind is Dostoevsky.

A video, the entire story: https://www.instagram.com/reels/DWwsC0TjOqZ/ (Scene from the film of the same name)

White Nights (1959) is a Soviet romantic drama based on a short story by Fyodor Dostoevsky. The story takes place in Saint Petersburg during the magical “white nights,” when the sun barely sets and the city feels like a dream.

It follows a lonely young man called the Dreamer. He lives quietly, spending most of his time immersed in his own thoughts and fantasies. One night, he meets Nastenka, a young woman who is also lonely and is waiting for the return of the man she loves. Over the course of four nights, they walk and talk, sharing their fears, dreams, and hidden feelings. Slowly, a deep connection develops between them.

The Dreamer falls in love, but soon realizes that Nastenka’s heart belongs to another. Even in his pain, he chooses kindness and helps her reunite with the man she was waiting for.

The film is a touching story about unrequited love, about detachment, and about brief moments of happiness that can transform us forever. It reminds us, in a delicate way, that some people enter our lives only briefly, but leave memories that stay with us for a lifetime.

This will be the cover of the article.

Pain. Of the highest order.

In the turmoil of feelings. I asked for help. Something I don’t normally do.

My psychologist asked me: And what are you feeling?

I tried to describe it.

I didn’t get a satisfactory answer. How could I?

His logical concepts were too shallow, what can you do with just 1 hour?

I don’t blame him. We connect through the intellect. It’s understandable that at the peak of my suffering, the cure is just like the others: logic;

Yet in the middle, something caught my attention. A phrase:

“She is being completely true to herself.”

PAIN. TO BE DECIPHERED.

If she is being true to herself, she is being false to me.

I put the PAIN in my pocket.

Truly feeling the loneliness, I messaged my friend Zolf.

“I don’t know what to say”… You do know. The TRUTH. The truth of not knowing what to say.

Of not being able to reach the suffering.

Yet, EVEN SO, trying and reaching out a hand.

There. That’s it.

Unfollowed her profile. I DON’T WANT TO SEE ANYTHING ANYMORE. It’s only going to make me suffer.

I gathered all her memories and shoved them into a plastic bag. Memories, gifts. Everything I could find. From dish towels to earrings. I came close to throwing it in the trash. Something stopped me.

Okay. I’ll leave it out here separately. I’ll return it when she gets back.

However, she will no longer be welcome at home. I’ll hand it over at the door. I’ll grab my things and embrace it.

My heart and mind are on a scale.

Friends

There was no shortage of people ready to offer advice this time either.

Some of them even judge me to be an idiot. Others, naive. I know more about glances and looks than people JUDGE to be possible.

Here is a compilation of phrases I jotted down (I don’t agree with all of them):

“She isn’t even healed within herself.”

“She doesn’t deserve your best.”

“What she said was VERY offensive. There wouldn’t even be a second chance with me.”

“You have no self-respect.”

“There is no way this can work out.”

“Respect is a demonstration of love. She has no respect for you. She doesn’t respect you.”

“She’s selling cast iron at the price of gold.”

“Whenever the choice is between you and dopamine, you lose.”

“When she needs help, you go. When you need it and give her the benefit of the doubt, she screws you over. That is not love.”

“You have to understand that she DOES NOT LOVE YOU. Because she DOES NOT PROTECT YOU WHEN she is absent.”

“She doesn’t love you, she’s using you as an emotional crutch.”

“Incompatible. You are carrying a piece of true love. She is bringing a different piece. It doesn’t fit.”

“Nobody gets into this to make a mess. Everyone gets in to make it work. Why did it go wrong?”

“She asked you for a vote of confidence. You gave it. What did she do with that vote? First opportunity? Threw it in the mud.”

“Tell her: Honestly. You need to heal. Don’t use me as an emotional painkiller.”

“And not only did she GIVE IT TO THE GUY. She went out, went to the museum. Walked around. Showed AFFECTION.”

What is LOVE ?

If you look in standard definitions, love is defined as the opposite of hate. I like to think that love is the opposite of Loneliness.

Loneliness is the void.

Love is the name we give to the object that fills that void. A void shared by both body and soul.

Imagine a Hole. A REALLY big hole. The Hole is loneliness;

Now imagine SOMETHING covering that hole. A platform. If it is shared between body and soul, then this platform has a DIVISION (Not visible to the naked eye, only to those who meditate).

That is why it is so complex. Therefore, the object is TWO-PART. Love without a soul is flesh. It is the touch of skin. The exchange of heat. Love without a body has so many names. How many? Infinite.

The quantity and manifestations of bodiless love are remarkable to the observer.

One of these types of love: Self-love.

And there is another type of love: Love for God. In my meditations, such connections and thoughts make my body shiver. Doses of adrenaline. Happiness. Hate. How can a love so vast transcend the soul and reach the body?

And thus the types FADE AWAY. Platonic loves, ephemeral loves. All mind.

You don’t need a soul to generate affection and desire; Just as you don’t need a body to generate affection and desire.

Both speak the same language. In different ways.

Love is a crossed bridge. A highway for some. Between two. IN-ternal.

Which I have not yet fully deciphered.

AND WHAT LOVE IS NOT?

It is NOT JUST a WhatsApp message

It is NOT JUST an Instagram post

It is NOT JUST a walk through a museum.

That is too little. Superficial.

Love is made of virtues.

And the one I value most is:

Caring about the other more than about oneself.

There was one more lesson to be learned.

Why did I attach myself to her AGAIN?

And once more the illusion takes over; Or rather, the projection. Different names, same story. Even though I begged her not to go down this path. The pain she causes me is the projection that I, in her place, would not do the same. I refuse to play with people’s feelings. I’ve done it in the past. I suffered when I realized the sadness I caused. In a way, I still suffer from it to this day, even knowing the people involved have moved on. Where does this desire to be loved come from? To share something? To be or not to be, that is the question? No. Am I just me, or just one more? Also no. Not entirely. The fear of solitude (I am just me) and of collectivity (I am just one more) are products of the mind; The body has in its program only 2 foundational pillars:

1. Suvival
2. Reproduction

That is the purpose of life FROM THE BODY’S POINT OF VIEW. And the two are united one way or another. For I eat TO reproduce and I reproduce so that (my species) may survive. Am I afraid of loneliness? No. I have lunched and dined on loneliness. I have been to its deepest well. Why do I settle for so little? Great question. Several friends and family members have asked me that. Including her. For settling is the control of attachment. I am complete on my own. So where did the pain continue to emanate from? From where?

~ Meditation ~ From her? Yes. But only a little. A word comes to mind. Betrayal. Yet BETRAYAL BY WHOM? I said we could stay in an open relationship.

Betrayal of her love?

Yes.

Only that?

No. Then from where? From the UNIVERSE. YES. That is where the pain comes from. Betrayal by the universe. How can it be? She gets what she’s looking for with so little effort. We came together only for me to feel more pain. Once again. A lifetime of pain. 33 years without knowing love. Betrayed by my parents. Betrayed by my brother. Betrayed by my friends. Betrayed by teachers, coworkers, scouts, and even criminals. Everyone I’ve ever known has stabbed me in the back. I’ve forgiven them all. With a great deal of time and strength. Now betrayed by myself. Once again. I WAS HEALING FROM THE LAST BETRAYAL BY MYSELF. AND NOW, ONCE AGAIN. The voices spoke loudly: DELIVERANCE.

Everything so obvious.

The voices grew louder;

The signs were clear;

What is she actually feeling? Is she mad at me? Is she thinking about it? Should I keep investing in someone who doesn’t care about what I feel? To the point of making decisions that benefit only herself? Where is the promised love? The spark? Was it fed?

Could these doubts be merely the fruit of a cowardly side of mine, one that doesn’t want to let go of what already exists?

Clearing the path for the new sounds promising. Yet it is ALWAYS frightening. ALWAYS. And if there is no fear, either there is naivety or it is not truly NEW.

Yet I had already opened myself to the new. At the second breakup, I truly understood her limits and accepted them. Moving forward.

What do you want to prove to me? What EXACTLY do you want to prove to me?

Yet the universe brought us back together.

There was one more lesson to be learned.

Would it be this one? This detachment? Or the confusion?

It seems to me it is the confusion. Because truly, upon breaking myself down and describing what I feel (as my friends asked me to), I see beyond.

Seeing beyond, the hate passes.

Once again, it is a decision that rests in her hands.

Hope. But for whom? Me, her, or the next attempt?

Conclusion

We are coming to the end. The end of a cycle. The beginning of another.

Now comes the video that decoded EVERYTHING.
https://www.instagram.com/p/DWkJ1LIkULV/

To decipher my pain and this moment, THIS was the key I received.

What was my request? What was I focusing on?

Growth, evolution.

What did I receive?

Precisely that. The opportunity to grow and evolve.

What is the reason for my frustration?

I didn’t receive true love.

Was that what I asked for?

NO

“U É”.

So I change my request. Now I understand.

I want A KICK-ASS LOVE. THE KICK-ASS-EST. THAT UNKNOWN ONE. UNIQUE.

I WANT MEAT AND BONE.

I CAN BE ANYTHING.

Live traveling (as I already have). Become an insta-boy. BE WHOEVER I WANT.

Anything, EXCEPT accept a WEAK love. Without purpose. Without building.

Without doing… without FIGHTING.

I didn’t try. Because trying doesn’t exist.

I FOUGHT.

And I will keep fighting for this love.

A love that is not tied to a person. But rather to a BOX 😉

FIGHT!

I WILL FIGHT NOW. And if my partner abandons me. I will keep FIGHTING. Until another appears and joins the FIGHT.

I WILL FIGHT TO THE DEATH!

IN A SCREAM. FROM THE THROAT. FROM THE DEPTHS OF MY BEING.

TO THE DEATH!

And it may be… that this love… doesn’t even exist.

However; Therein lies a death worth being… LIVED.

Only thus can something TRULY UNIQUE be born. Thus LOVE returns. Stronger. How can it be?

A Love Message

And then… and love…

How does it stand?

Does it still exist inside me?

Look at this post. Good or bad? BUT SOMETHING.

Something that hadn’t come in a long time.

The reflections I generated and how deep I went. Fantastic (maybe I couldn’t reproduce 1/10 of what I thought about these past few days).

I decided to date for the first time at 32 because I couldn’t bear the burden anymore.

Doing things on your own doesn’t lead a man to his maximum potential.

Something more is needed.

And for the first time in my entire life, I felt, even if just a little, that burden lessening.

The truth is that:

I keep evolving with you.

DAMN.

Even if it’s the end.

And is it the end?

Should I put a period at the end of all this?

There’s no shortage of friends and voices telling me to do just that.

Yet if I cared what others thought…. hahaha I wouldn’t be the madman I am.

However.

We are defined by what we GIVE. NOT what we receive.

You aren’t French fries. You ARE being French fries.

I saw in your eye that you CAN indeed create something for me. Even if small. And evolve. It’s not enough for me to Believe you can be kick-ass. You have to believe it. And be it.

I WANT KICK-ASS. I KNOW I’M GOING TO HAVE THIS.

Our story hangs by A THREAD. Imagine a school bus dangling off a bridge.

I threw it to the universe. Now with INTENTION;

From The Alchemist, I will never forget:

Three.

It’s the final ball.

She dropped it. I looked at you at the peak of my pain, and I am still extending my hand to you.

THIS is my final attempt. To walk away once more with my part done. With the genuine desire to help you.

Don’t try to fool me.

You don’t fool me;

You never have.

You only fool yourself.

Final story;

The only time I saw my father crying, I was already around 27. It was after a bad fight with my mother. She had gone to Espírito Santo. And he couldn’t take it anymore.

It was a time when I tried to return home after forgiving my parents and trying to understand them.

I remember walking into the barbecue area and seeing him sitting on a small stool, looking at the oven he had built. And barely used.

When he raised his head, I realized he was crying. And it was a shock.

He was startled himself. I don’t think he knew I was home.

He tried to explain himself. He told me what had happened.

He shared that he was thinking of selling the house. To put an end to it all once and for all. The memories. The bond. The pain.

I remember feeling a great deal of pity for my father. And the only thing I managed to say was:

“I support you in whatever you decide.

Just be careful, because problems and pains are like those old prison ankle shackles from old movies.

It’s no use moving. Running away, or TRAVELING.

They are chained to you.

And you are the one who has the key to solve this.”

The question is:

How much longer will you keep fooling yourself?

Will you decide that what you really want is just that? An insta-silly person to travel with. That your thing is traveling and that defines you. Why suffer?

Will you decide to Fight?

Face the suffering?

Or run for the easy way out?