16/12/25

Yesterday was genuinely happy.

Since the breakup, I’ve been thinking the “romantic” part of me might be dead.

But of course that’s impossible.

I still get touched by romance in life: a tiny flower, a hike, the simple joy of being fully present with friends, the taste of mango, a dog by the roadside, the look a mother gives her child, a couple stealing a kiss, a meal I cooked, a performance at the theatre that hits you right in the chest…

All of it makes my heart whisper, quietly: How beautiful.

But when it comes to intimacy: flirting, desiring and being desired, romance between me and another person, I feel… numb, or blocked.

Numb isn’t quite the word.

More like there’s a soft wall inside me.

Yesterday I went to the gym with a new friend, she’s also my neighbor.

After that we went to the beach, and when she left, I stayed and lay alone on the sand.

Some people came over to chat or flirt, which is normal in Rio, and also normal in my life. They were all friendly and kind, but I didn’t give anyone my contact.

Then a Serbian guy showed up.

He was so funny, super straightforward, really amusing, a bit silly, a bit socially awkward, and I couldn’t help laughing out loud.

Later he said, “Shikin, may I take you for a drink?”

I said, “I don’t drink.”

Instantly awkward (not for me).

It was kind of hilarious.

Then he goes, “Can you write down my phone number in your phone?”

And I was like, “Huh? I thought you were asking for my contact.”

And he said, “Yes, but I came to the beach without my phone.”

I said, “I don’t care.”

He laughed and went, “Okay, old school then. Do you have a pen? I want to write your contact down.”

And I said, “Sure.”

I don’t think I will see him again, just this tiny conversation felt so easy, funny, pressure-free, and cute.

But what I remember even more is just lying there alone, listening to the waves, looking up and seeing a group of Brazilian birds flying across the sky (I forgot their name), watching people come and go, and suddenly realizing how insanely beautiful Rio is.

Rio is all vibrant colors and energy: light, laughter, art, nature, music.

I’m still not totally sure about the food though.

Every time I eat out, I come home and drink like a whole liter of water. Everything is soooo salty. Maybe I just haven’t found the right places yet. But açaí puro: no syrup, no sugar, is officially my new favorite thing.

And don’t even get me started on mango…

My blood sugar is probably going crazy because I’ve been eating way too many.

And I realized I’ve truly become more carioca: no matter what I do during the day, my bag is always packed with bikini, coconut oil and some nuts, like I’m always ready.

Always ready to end up at the beach.

With the sunshine, and everything else around me here in Rio, I keep thinking about how lucky I am.

After the breakup, I somehow met so many new, beautiful friends.

Different people, but so many of them carry the same kind of qualities I’ve been craving in my life: artistic souls, deep in self-discovery, honest about both their light and their shadow, a little whimsical, emotionally intelligent, genuinely caring for their mind and body, open-hearted… people who share similar interests, who know how to be present.

I told my therapist, “I’m so lucky.”

And she said, “It is beautiful indeed. But you also need to know this: you’re meeting these people because you are this kind of person too. You attract what you are. So thank yourself as well.”

Then she added, gently, “And try to judge yourself less, okay? Every person is made of yin and yang, light and shadow, love and pain. I can see your pain, your shadow… and I can also see your brightness and your love.”

My tears just fell.

“Thank you,” I whispered. “I’m really moved.”

I was about to write the story between me and Oaxaca, and then Dust in the Wind suddenly started playing in my headphones.

And instantly I was taken back to Buenos Aires two years ago.

That day I was with my friend Anna and a few other friends at an asado festival. For some reason, I suddenly thought of this song, so I put it on.

It was raining, we were all holding asado in our hands, and I got so emotional.

I looked at them and said, “I’m really glad that I met you. Having you guys in my life means so much to me.”

And then I started crying.

The three of them looked at each other, probably thinking,

“Quê???”

But they still came in and hugged me anyway.

Anna couldn't help but burst out laughing though, and went, “This is sooo cringe, Shikin!”

Right now, I’m at a café in Rio, remembering that scene, and I started dying laughing.

And then, I started tearing up again.

I miss Anna, and my friends in BA.

So lucky to have met them in my life.

I still look at our photos and videos sometimes. I remember this beautiful, adorable, goofy, loving Beans, and I end up laughing out loud, and then the tears follow.

But they don’t feel purely painful anymore.

They feel… happy and grateful.

Like, I’m genuinely glad our paths crossed.

And right now, in this moment, I feel healthy, full of love, and beauty.

The sand holds me, the wind moves through me, and the waves dance me.

Everything feels exactly right.

When the sky got dark, I rinsed the sand off with fresh water, and then I went to dance tango.

I honestly can’t imagine a better Monday night.

I really love Rio.

Sometimes, when I look back on everything I’ve been through, the whole road that brought me here, I feel so touched by my own journey, by how much I’ve grown.

I suddenly felt so moved I almost wanted to cry.

And suddenly I realized: I’m truly happy.