The pain and delight of being a complex person

Haddock Lobo, 1164, apartment 53, year 2015, Thursday, 10:30 pm. Dim light from the lamp illuminating the large and “unfurnished” room. Near the window, the congregation of bar table theories confabulating about life in general and about relationships.

M. says he likes his job in SP, that he loves the city and its possibilities. But she says he would also like to live somewhere else, do other things. She doesn’t know what she wants, but she thinks he knows what he doesn’t want. She believes that love exists, but she has nothing to do with that soap opera or movie thing. And she gets sad when she notices that most of the couples around her are unhappy and are only together for convenience.

A. is in crisis, because he changed his profession. Why changed? She doesn’t know either, she just knows that she felt it wasn’t what she should do for the rest of her life. A. believes that no one was born to be just one thing. He finds it sad that we have to summarize ourselves in this way when choosing a profession. A. thinks that love relationships were made to go wrong, but that, as there is chaos theory, there are also lasting and happy relationships. He gets sad when he notices couples sitting without talking in bars and restaurants.

D. listens only. Professionally and in relation to the city, he feels good. What has bothered her a little lately is the end of her relationship with F. She broke up. They were living together, but she wasn’t sure if this was the kind of relationship she wanted, if he was the man for her. She was afraid that she would spend her life conforming and not falling in love. Think of Chico’s song: Lilly Brown. “No more romance, never, never more happy.” Would getting married be killing passion?

M., D., A. Complex people. As they spoke of their crises, theories, possibilities, they realized with happiness and astonishment how similar they were in their frustrations and expectations. In your dreams and in your fears. In your anxieties and insecurities.

Complex people rarely know what they want, but they often know what they don’t want. It’s the kind of people who don’t know how to eat life by the edges and already stick the spoon, with everything, in the middle of the soup. They risk burning their tongue, because they know that if it burns, it will pass. No one dies from a burnt tongue, just as no one dies from a broken heart, a sore elbow, or frustration.

Complex people cannot look at the world and simply accept it. They question themselves all the time. Boring? Maybe, but it’s just that they can’t exist otherwise.

M., D. and A. are tired of the predictable little world, of people who are so square, of the small possibilities that the world offers them. It is true that life barely serves us, we already know that. But for a complex person it is death to make life accommodate. Doing things because it will be more comfortable or socially approved. It’s not about rebellion or originality. It’s just that a complex heart beats arrhythmically, it has a different pace, which often mixes with the uneven pace of the world and of life.

Complex people don’t believe that happiness is a car of the year, a “one per floor” apartment or a penthouse. They don’t think expensive clothes make you prettier. They don’t think it’s cool to go to the trendy ballad or do what everyone else does.

They wonder about relationships, about marriages. They want to get married, they want to have a relationship, but it has to be real. It has to be with that someone who sees them from the inside, who is there with their whole body, all present, ready to bend over the other. Ready to make life a discovery, an adventure, a place without yesterday and without tomorrow. They don’t need status. They don’t know if fidelity is the most important part. They believe in loyalty, above all.

These complex people hate bureaucratic matters, bureaucratic relations, protocols, social rules, saying what is convenient. They are sincere from the hair strand to the tip of the toe. They do not dissemble and detest pettiness.

Complex people believe in life. Have faith in love and human relationships. They look at the world and see its limitations, but also its charms.

They have no prejudice. They are open to the new. They like to experience flavors, colors, loves, shapes, contents, ways, people, theories. They’re organic. They are recyclable. They are sustainable.

Complex people believe that people are what they say, what they think, what they feel. Nobody is what they have. By the way, complex people hate subjects like: the house I bought on the beach, my salary of R$ 15 thousand, my new car, etc.

They like art, people, music, travel. They love freedom and don’t know how to live without it.
Respect each other’s space. They preserve the freedom of the other. They love the possibilities of the other.
They don’t want people to be like them. They are traumatized by a society that does not understand them and therefore do not demand anything from others other than what they have to offer.

They like to get excited about life and the world. They never get used to seeing people living on the street, children asking for money at traffic lights. They cry with certain scenes of life and fight for the world to be a fairer, more welcoming place, with more opportunities for everyone.
They make small revolutions every day.

They love to know new places to form new memories. Meeting new people, to build new stories. However, they carry the past, with its teachings and unforgettable moments, always together.

They recognize themselves in places and love to walk in groups. They stay together talking about complex subjects or nonsense. But sincere nonsense, good things. If they speak ill of something, it’s only Globo Network, Big Brother, certain politicians, in short, those who deserve it.

They think that life is just one, without rehearsal and without after. Thus, they live each day as if it were the only one, as if it were the last.

They are sensitive people, who seek to extract its essence from life and who want to chart their own destiny. They believe in building happiness and they believe that happiness is not in the bank account, nor in a husband or wife waiting for them at home, nor in a child, but in each one of us.

Complex people have a poet’s soul even when they never wrote even a verse.

Article published in Brasilpost.com.br