[Carlos, a shepherd from the city of Colatina, eastern Brazil, once wrote a letter to his cousin, talking about Brida, the love of his life. I found it in a locker that contained a bunch of letters written by him. And I am excited to put it out here for you.
The love story of Carlos and Brida is known to very few. People have always been curious, and this letter provides at least something to feed the curiosity.]
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| A picture found in Carlos's locker |
Dear Cousin,
I am good. I hope you are the same.
I find myself constantly thinking about Brida. We came a long way, and today I am happy I have already been kicked out of there. My mind cannot help but brood deeply about how beautiful it was and how painful it is now. Part of me still knows how it all could have been had she not come in my life, an unwelcome girl ever since the beginning. Part of me still regrets making all those selfless decisions just to know it all backfired heavily. I am stunned how a small decision that seemed worthless in those days of teenage ecstasies—days full of childish love in the morning and captivating dreams at night, and everything in-between—would cause so much harm that I would find myself cursing myself even after ages.
However, what I am more amazed at is how I never left even after a series of unpredictable blasts that ended only after Brida kicked me out — I strongly reckon I would still have been engrossed in dealing with all that mess had I been with her, and in turn, ruined myself to death. The thought makes my stomach churn. It was a long journey, a really long one. A whole movie about my life—a life that saw nothing but beautiful sunrises and sunsets until love came in, and brought with it, horrid eclipses and storms and tsunamis and everything that ended it all. It was not love. It was a trick, a trick played on a happy-go-lucky child that got trapped in it and got so far that he forgot his way back home; and now, his life that was initially filled with nothing but happiness, success, real love, charm and joy shattered to pieces. And now he can do nothing but collect them all, with a hope to have it all placed just like it was before. However, he is hardly certain it is realistic.
I have seen how love, that is actually a trick in disguise, can destroy a man. I was captured and dragged to every corner of hell it had to show me. I have seen the highs it got me into only to throw me into deep lows, from where nobody could ever come back. I had been innocent all along, believing that was how it should be. Maybe, it was how love tested man’s limits, I thought. Today when I look back, I am shocked how in the world I got myself into that state of mind.
I would certainly be one of the first men to curse themselves of being loyal. I still think had I been a bit more concerned about my priorities, I would have saved myself from falling into that abyss. What demon had possessed me that I behaved so well!
I saw how we and the person we are closest with share emotions. An exchange of energies and virtues takes place when we decide to give our all to someone, and that is the most real phenomenon I have witnessed. I used to be vibrating with a lot of positive energy, and vigor, and vitality. It was a few years back, when I was free and out of the clutches of faux love. Over the many years I spent with Brida, I found myself losing it all and her, gaining it all. I was drawn to something. I still don’t know what that was, but that consumed me like nothing else. I had gone totally unconscious of my own life. I did not care whether I would fail the life’s race. I did not care whether I would have all my talents wasted. I did not care a hang whether I would be beaten to death. All my thoughts, all my energies, all my actions were centered on one person. Every single cell in my body started vibrating with life, this time, of somebody else’s. I had forgotten I had been given my own beautiful life to create and live. My entire energy was exploited in building that one person, in creating love within and without and in forgetting the world outside. I was not aware I was exploiting myself for the wrong cause. The center of my focus had shifted one hundred and eighty degrees, to something that held no value. I woke up and thought of love (by love, I mean my upcoming death). I went to bed and thought of love. I acted in the name of love. I was full of it. I had forgotten why I was living. I had forgotten my true purpose. My entire life was centered on that one person. This is it, I thought, this is love and I have found it; I have created it with my sweat and blood and, it is beautiful. I cut myself away from the world. I do not remember having met and talked to a good friend after getting trapped in it. For me, the world consisted of nothing but Brida, the love of my life. Little did I know I was being used.
That is a law of power: If you want to extract something extraordinary from a person, it is not wise to go and ask straightaway. You would only get disappointed. The trick is to act in such a way that they start believing you are selflessly dedicated to them. And once they have put their unwavering trust on you, get the thing you want. And I was experimented brutally for the same. What Brida wanted, she would never have gotten out of any other man. She wanted a great deal of something, a humungous volume. So she pretended to shower just the same amount of love. The world began to curse me for getting improper with her. Be good to her, she is rare, they would tell me. They thought no girl would love a man as deeply as Brida did me. They were unaware that she had an interest. She wanted something in return. Her love was not selfless or unconditional. She had an utterly selfish interest in mind. She was greedy of my energy and once she found me selflessly exploiting myself for her, she used it to overcome all her troubles (mind you, those were pretty disastrous). And once I was empty, she kicked me like a stone in her away and got along some other guy she had gotten attracted to.
But the world knows only half the story. The world only knows that she showered love upon me, selflessly. Nobody knows it was not in the least unconditional. Nobody knows she had a selfish motive. Nobody knows I loved her just as much, and unlike hers, my love was unconditional and as true as it could be. Nobody knows how she exploited me to deal with her pain. Nobody knows I never said no to her, never left no matter what intolerable truths she unfolded with time, no matter how many blasts she caused in my life, therefore. I just remained there, helping her cope with it and keep faith. Despite anything, I wanted her to believe that I was by her side. I did all I could to make her stand on her feet. And that worked wonders. She did gain herself back. The world started to acknowledge her again. She began to get praises for her so-called bravery. But nobody knew who was behind it. She never let anyone know of it. Nobody could ever know how she recollected herself. I was there and only I knew it. She did not want the world to know that she was dependent. When she betrayed me for another guy, in turn, showing her real colors, she managed never to let anyone know of it, the reason behind our separation. The world could only think I was the reason, because I was cheap, I was worthless. Nobody knew the reality. Nobody asked where all my energy had gone and how I became so messed-up. They just guessed it was not her and me, and told her I wasn’t the right guy. That witch kept it a secret. The world still blames me, and I don’t care. Because I expect nothing good on her part.
When you put a frog into boiling water, it will jump out. But when you put it in lukewarm water and then, slowly turn up the heat, it will stay there and end up getting boiled to death. There is so much truth in this when I look at my own life with regard to the faux love I was trapped into. A series of blasts culminated, but I never left it. It was like, I witnessed an explosion, felt the shivers, shocks and cools run up and down my body, and then, waited until it had all gone away and I was back to normal. So the things that attacked my heart a year ago did not hurt me anymore, because I would force myself to be okay with it. That is how love is, I would think. Then followed a couple of huge eruptions that left deep cuts here and there, bruising my entire body, and nonetheless, I had made peace with each, believing that is how love is. I never denied assistance, never was reluctant about a wrongdoing. Even if I would be initially, the circumstances would persuade me to make peace. That is how love is, that is how love is, that is how love is, I would repeat to myself. And then, the D-day came—the lukewarm water I was put into got hotter and hotter and hotter, with me adjusting to the increasing heat every time , until it came to the boiling point—and I was gone. The frog finally succumbed to the unbearable heat. What a beautiful death it was, unknowing, unpredictable and mysterious! Only a witch could know how to kill a man this way.
I have to start over. All my walls are broken now. I am starting it all over again. When I think how she used me, took what she wanted and went her way, I am inclined to curse myself for being so selfless. I should have known what a brutal witch she was. When I see people appreciating her, I want them to know who was behind it all. I even imagine myself talking to all her well-wishers, people who think she is all good. I imagine myself narrating the whole story so they could know what a man I was to her. I want them to know how she played a game in the pretext of love. I want them to know she had a dirty mind filled with nothing but trash and selfish intentions. I want people to know she sucked my blood like a vampire, sucking all of me and leaving me with nothing but her mess. I want them to know she loves only who she needs. If she needs you, she will love you, and if the need is fulfilled, she will kick you away just the way she did me.
But my narrative is not going to make a change. I should learn to be okay with it. What had to happen has happened. I cannot do anything about it. She sucked me off and walked away and that is the end of it. So now I have made a fresh start. I am forgetting the past and heading towards a better life, when she was not around. I am getting back to my old self. It is difficult but I have to do it. I feel used up. I feel molested. But that’s all okay. Those who have done me wrong will pay the price for it. I loved no matter what. And I remained the only lover till the end. That is all okay, is that not?
A good friend once told me, ‘The real character of a person is determined not by how they begin a relationship but how they end one.’
Thank you for being such an amazing supporter throughout all this. I promise to always share all my secrets with you.
I hope rest is alright. Send my love to Paulo.
With love,
Carlos
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