Duque de Caxias, October 25, 2020.
Dear Luanda,
Health to you and yours.
I received your letter, which caused me such deep reflection. Unfortunately, I could only reply to it today, and I ask forgiveness for having left you waiting. I cannot express my feelings as clearly as you can, but I believe we are living through similar situations.
I've been facing a lot of fears over the past few months, and I need to focus more to make fewer mistakes. The problem is that, lately, even during my rare trips to supermarkets and any other place with a high number of people for a pandemic, these fears have been following me. I look around and, that emptiness in crowded places, all those people with such a shallow search for acceptance. When did we lose ourselves like this?
You must be wondering what I mean when I refer to "making fewer mistakes." Luanda, even today, living in better conditions, with money as a privilege, I still keep getting beaten down. By life. By the police. By my fears. By my doubts, by the guilt my skin carries. I notice that today I don't even pay attention to my mother anymore, nor do I remember my father. I think that, when I used to just stay inside my room, I was less absent. When was it that I stopped being so humble?
There are people who make demands on me for needs they've never experienced. And, if they have experienced them, they must know the pain that helplessness caused. I can't stand being compared to these people anymore, because I swear I'm not like them. I've needed more self-esteem and confidence, but I can't let that weigh on the scale. After all, what's the point of so much money if my jewels have also brought me paranoia? I need something to guide me down the right path, a light perhaps.
Please let the distancing be only social. Don't use as an example the time it took me to answer you. I need someone who reads me, not just my letters.
Hugs, see you soon.
Maria