Philosophers tell us of Conatus. It is a concept that defines the seat for life, to stay alive. According to them, all living things have a greater or lesser extent, Conatus. As the herons fleeing lion, the frog's mouth twitching a snake. But in humans, this "seat" takes on monstrous proportions, since we are thinking beings, and therefore we think. We see our death. We know that one day it will happen and therefore our Conatus, and instinctive, it is also rational.
The religion is the most obvious manifestations (or consequences) of Conatus in humans. Hunger for permanence and eternal existence. The spirits, life after death, doom and all that.
And sometimes, all these concepts can hide in their essence, both escape as coping.
I say this without seeking paradox, because any confrontation carries some kind of escape, and brings along all escape an inevitable confrontation. Nothing is output. The stones are everywhere.
When someone decides to run away from life by spreading your brains on a roadside toilet or the rooftop of a building, that person may also feel facing death. And maybe even. Perhaps only the spirit to become suicidal because, as they choose how to "disappear," entailing a "stay." A conatus. The gesture becomes immortal, since we can not.
For me, almost every suicide is a face to shame.
I say, almost all suicide is "determined" to face a great burden of shame. And do not say the shame of not having won, he failed to tame life. No. It's a shame a lot less rational. It is the shame of seeing his blood on the floor. To imagine that others collect your body, your rest, then you're more responsible than him. Equals you feel the shame of your shit, your sex, your piss, your sneezing, your farts, they also hide. When you decide to open your filthy body so that all people look, disgusted, and that after the sick, the people will remember you with pity or scorn, is required much courage. Very detachment.
In the end, everything always comes back to our body. He is what carries us, thanks to him exist. No, Liege, I swear that this was not a joke. There
bodies and bodies, well you know, you should still remember. Bodies more beautiful, lined, trained bodies that reach almost to fly. Bodies that are prepared as springboards for the soul when the time comes of this jump skyward. Bodies such as yours. Dancing. Poster to the stage here tonight.
I arrived early for your presentation, but I was hiding in one of the urinals of the toilet, not wanting to cause you inconvenience. I prefer to let you finish your show, because I know that when I recognize in the crowd, you'll feel very embarrassed. Even if we both pretend to behave as if everything was okay. Commonplace. Even if you introduce me to his new friends with a touch of refinement and casual stripped. You probably got over these past years. On wheels for artists, intellectuals and aristocrats who you must have attended a lot. Artists, intellectuals and aristocrats.
Like them, whose voices I hear coming from the vent below the roof of the urinal. A couple. He, a deep voice and manly. She, a mezzo-soprano voice and melodious. They should be using, respectively, tuxedo dress and unique piece. He tells her that he enjoyed the last presentation of the City Ballet but who prefers to Sao Paulo. And she also says she thinks, but what she likes best are the operas. She comes over in ballet because of his mother, an old family tradition. Her daughter accompanied her mother on ballets. They laugh together. Maybe they have a romance, or maybe never be seen. Maybe they are your friends, Liege. Soon, when I rise, they are some of your new friends you present me, pretending he is very happy to see me again.
But deep down, deep down, you will avoid my eyes. And I'll be wondering how an embarrassment tonight that is so yours, among all these thy guests gala. Will be close to me, not for nostalgia and appreciation, but I did not make any faux pas. It will make room for me as if the room is a bomb waiting to explode. For thinking that if you give me some attention early on, I'll be gone soon. In fact, you'll think it's likely that I go away earlier. For people like me can not stay up later, is not it? We're like old people and children.
need someone, someone's always watching us. Not "be free". It is not "so easy". Go out and be happy. And when he is a loner like me, is even worse. One thousand and one worries about drivers, kids scrap, mechanical turners, used for everything that is possible.
These people who come to suck our blood, in the form of numbers unless the bank account. And you can never know if they are stringing you along or not. Sometimes it is better not know. It is better that they will not curl so you never know, because then at least you'll be able to plan your life always in sight of the worst. And by the way: oh, the worst! This may have been my fault, Liège When I saw only the stars with you by my side, and did not realize the hard ground, the ground that one day I dropped it.
not know where one began and another ended. In the rehearsal room, after all the school were leaving. Remember? The smell of cool, dry boardwalk where we danced and tradable whole night, alone with the lights on the gates of the old conservatory on. And then we felt the night from light by our bodies and seemed that we had not existed anywhere else out there, out of that room, out of those nights. Out of us.
may be that, because I'm now more desperate than ever, I'm confusing things too much and, indeed, they have never been. But what I can remember is that among our many conversations we had: to travel the world to study dance in Europe, and dream of being the greatest dancers from Brazil, we have our own school and et cetera ... We also we stayed for hours on end, upon the empty stage in the early hours, in comparison. Noting all the possibilities of union between my body and yours. Our bodies together in unity! I I remember you said we were one: not only in soul, like most enthusiasts, but also in body. At that time, I could still carry you on his lap. And I carried, and how! I remember (or want to remember!) That I was a superman, nor knew what death was when I held you, and little, in my arms. Was it anyway? Or am I, after all this time away from you (us) prefer to think that way?
Well, anyway, it was good while it lasted, and would (at least like) to see a bit of the old sparkle in your eyes (the one when you look me in love) when I meet you soon, at the end of your presentation.
But I know not. I know you'll look at me with a mixture of pity, anger and worry. Too bad, because it is not impossible. Look at me! Anger, for I come to ruin, once again, that your night. Your first night back in Brazil. Your first performance in Brazil, the European consecration why you fought so hard in recent years. The recognition that we have together dreamed ten years ago. And then I reappear as a ghost. You sure I can claim "miss", but of course you know not. What is much more than that. I still love you. And that leads, finally, concern. Because you do not want me to do part of your gift. I do not fit more in your present. Reappear just like that, with this love my old and obsolete. This love was just for me, for you and your newfound greatness does not fit him anymore. You will always find that I'm back, so why not forget you. Because I can not control what the longing that one day I went over you. And it's true. It is just that. I can not deny, because here I am. Most important: that the way I am! That way I have been in recent years. And in part, because of you, because it was you that left me.
hear a knock at the door nervous I'm in the urinal hidden and crack open. I open and I came across another wheelchair, looking at me was ugly.
"Hello, mate," he tells me, "Sorry to bother you, but that's the only bathroom for the disabled."
I think for him to say that I am not your "friend". Ten years ago, when I could still use my legs, I could give a grand jetée above your head!
"Sorry I'm in here a long time, even"
"Blame it on the Theatre," he answered, "they should put more seats for our condition, is not it?
I make a nod and go pushing the wheels of my chair through the bathroom door. The moment I leave the bathroom, get the applause for you, Liège
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