#Ataques cardíacos

[lasdietashoy]

Nuevo Post: Descubre la sorprendente fuente de los ataques cardíacos que nunca consideraste

Nuevo Posten https://lasdietassaludables.com/descubre-la-sorprendente-fuente-de-los-ataques-cardiacos-que-nunca-consideraste/

Descubre la sorprendente fuente de los ataques cardíacos que nunca consideraste

En este artículo, exploraremos una conexión sorprendente y a menudo pasada por alto: la relación entre el estrés, el azúcar y los ataques cardíacos. Descubrirás cómo el estrés crónico y el consumo excesivo de azúcar pueden afectar negativamente la salud de tu corazón, aumentando el riesgo de sufrir un ataque cardíaco. Te invitamos a adentrarte en este fascinante tema y Descubre la fuente de los ataques cardíacos y cómo prevenir estos problemas cardiovasculares. ¡Tu bienestar cardíaco está en juego!

Introducción

Los ataques cardíacos son una de las principales causas de muerte en todo el mundo. Sin embargo, existe una fuente oculta de estos ataques que rara vez se discute pero que es bastante común. En este artículo, exploraremos esta fuente de los ataques cardíacos y cómo puede afectar la salud cardiovascular. Comprender esta conexión puede ser crucial para prevenir futuros ataques cardíacos y mantener un corazón saludable.

1. El Corazón: Un Músculo Especial

El corazón es un órgano vital que late constantemente, sin descanso. A diferencia de los músculos esqueléticos, el corazón no tiene la oportunidad de relajarse por completo y recuperarse. Esta peculiaridad del músculo cardíaco lo expone a ciertos riesgos y desafíos únicos.

1.1 El Papel del Músculo Cardíaco

El músculo cardíaco es responsable de bombear sangre y suministrar oxígeno y nutrientes a todo el cuerpo. Cuando ocurre un ataque cardíaco, es el propio músculo cardíaco el que deja de contraerse y relajarse adecuadamente, lo que lleva a una serie de complicaciones graves.

2. La Importancia del Oxígeno para el Corazón

El oxígeno desempeña un papel vital en el funcionamiento del corazón. Sin un suministro adecuado de oxígeno, el músculo cardíaco sufre hipoxia o isquemia, lo que puede llevar a disfunciones graves e incluso a la muerte.

2.1 El Impacto de la Hipoxia

La hipoxia es el resultado de una falta de flujo sanguíneo y, por lo tanto, de oxígeno hacia el músculo cardíaco. Esto puede ocurrir debido a una arteria bloqueada que impide el flujo sanguíneo normal. Sin embargo, es importante tener en cuenta que la muerte por ataque cardíaco no es causada directamente por la arteria bloqueada, sino por el mal funcionamiento del músculo cardíaco debido a la falta de oxígeno.

3. El Papel de la Acidosis Láctica

La acidosis láctica es un fenómeno que puede ocurrir en el cuerpo, especialmente en situaciones de hipoxia. La acidosis láctica se produce cuando hay un exceso de ácido láctico en el cuerpo. El ácido láctico se forma a partir del lactato, que a su vez proviene de la glucosa.

3.1 El Papel de la Glucosa y el Azúcar

La glucosa, también conocida como azúcar, es una fuente de energía para el cuerpo. Sin embargo, el consumo excesivo de azúcar puede tener efectos perjudiciales para el corazón. El consumo elevado de azúcar puede elevar los niveles de triglicéridos y LDL, también conocido como colesterol «malo». Además, el azúcar puede aumentar la producción de lactato, lo que a su vez puede conducir a la acidosis láctica y a la hipoxia.

3.2 El Impacto del Estrés y la Adrenalina

El estrés crónico puede desencadenar la liberación de adrenalina en el cuerpo. La adrenalina es una hormona que puede aumentar los niveles de glucosa en el organismo. Cuando se está bajo estrés constante, los niveles elevados de adrenalina pueden generar un exceso de glucosa, lo que lleva a la formación de lactato y, eventualmente, a la acidosis láctica y a la hipoxia.

4. Otros Factores que Afectan los Niveles de Lactato

Además del estrés y el consumo excesivo de azúcar, existen otros factores que pueden influir en los niveles de lactato y contribuir a la hipoxia.

4.1 Fumar y Vapear

El vapeo y el tabaquismo pueden aumentar la producción de lactato debido a los productos químicos presentes en el humo y los vaporizadores. El propilenglicol, uno de los ingredientes comunes en los líquidos de vapeo, puede aumentar los niveles de lactato cuando se calienta y vaporiza. Además, la nicotina presente en el tabaco puede aumentar los niveles de adrenalina, lo que a su vez afecta el metabolismo de la glucosa.

4.2 Otras Causas de Hipoxia y Acidosis Láctica

Otras condiciones médicas y situaciones pueden aumentar los niveles de lactato y provocar hipoxia y acidosis láctica. Estas incluyen la intoxicación por acetaminofén (paracetamol), la inflamación, la diabetes y deficiencias de vitaminas B1 y B12.

Conclusiones

La hipoxia y la acidosis láctica son factores que pueden contribuir a los ataques cardíacos. El estrés crónico, el consumo excesivo de azúcar, el tabaquismo, el vapeo y otras condiciones médicas pueden aumentar los niveles de lactato en el cuerpo y afectar negativamente la salud del corazón.

Para prevenir los ataques cardíacos y promover un corazón saludable, es importante reducir los factores desencadenantes del estrés, mantener una alimentación equilibrada baja en azúcares y buscar formas de relajación y descanso. Además, se recomienda evitar el consumo de tabaco y vapeo.

Recuerda que cuidar de tu corazón es fundamental para una vida saludable y activa.

Preguntas frecuentes sobre la fuente de los ataques cardíacos

1. ¿Cuál es el papel del oxígeno en el corazón? El oxígeno es esencial para el funcionamiento adecuado del músculo cardíaco. Sin oxígeno suficiente, el corazón puede sufrir hipoxia y disfunciones graves.

2. ¿Qué es la acidosis láctica? La acidosis láctica es un desequilibrio químico en el cuerpo causado por niveles elevados de ácido láctico. Esto puede ocurrir en situaciones de hipoxia y puede afectar negativamente el funcionamiento del corazón.

3. ¿Cómo puedo reducir el estrés en mi vida diaria? Existen varias técnicas para reducir el estrés, como practicar ejercicios de respiración, meditación, hacer actividades relajantes como caminar en la naturaleza o dedicar tiempo a hobbies y actividades placenteras.

4. ¿Debo preocuparme por mi consumo de azúcar? El consumo excesivo de azúcar puede tener efectos negativos en la salud cardiovascular. Se recomienda moderar el consumo de azúcar y optar por una dieta equilibrada y saludable.

5. ¿Existen suplementos que puedan ayudar a mantener un corazón saludable? Sí, ciertos suplementos como tocatrinoles (una forma de vitamina E) pueden ayudar a mejorar el flujo de oxígeno en el músculo cardíaco. Sin embargo, siempre es recomendable consultar a un profesional de la salud antes de iniciar cualquier suplementación.

Recuerda que cuidar de tu corazón es esencial para mantener una vida larga y saludable. No dudes en buscar asesoramiento médico si tienes preocupaciones sobre tu salud cardiovascular y ten en cuenta esta fuente de los ataques cardíacos

Hipoxia y Acidosis Láctica

PERPLEXITY

La hipoxia es una condición en la cual los tejidos del cuerpo no reciben suficiente oxígeno. La acidosis láctica es una afección en la cual se acumula ácido láctico en el torrente sanguíneo. A continuación se presentan algunos puntos clave sobre la relación entre la hipoxia y la acidosis láctica:

La hipoxia es una causa común de la acidosis láctica. Cuando los niveles de oxígeno disminuyen en las células dentro de las áreas del cuerpo en las que se lleva a cabo el metabolismo, se produce ácido láctico.

La acidosis láctica también puede ser causada por enfermedades graves en las que la presión arterial es baja y llega muy poco oxígeno a los tejidos del cuerpo, así como por el ejercicio intenso o las convulsiones.

Algunas enfermedades también pueden causar acidosis láctica, incluyendo el SIDA, el alcoholismo, el cáncer, la cirrosis, el envenenamiento por cianuro, la insuficiencia renal, la insuficiencia respiratoria y la sepsis (infección grave).

La acidosis láctica se produce como resultado de una acumulación de lactato en la sangre. La prueba de diagnóstico de tolerancia a la glucosa puede ayudar a identificar la acidosis láctica.

El tratamiento principal para la acidosis láctica es corregir el problema de salud que causa esta afección. En algunos casos, se puede requerir hemofiltración (purificación de la sangre) temporalmente.

La hipoxia es una causa común de la acidosis láctica de tipo A, que se produce cuando un consumo/distribución de oxígeno no coincide, lo que resulta en la glucólisis anaeróbica. 1 2 3 4

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Lo que le sucede a tu cuerpo cuando comes comida rápida y procesada

[teeth-of-the-unknown]

DEATH 💀 BABY

[malkaviian]

also, aunque intentaba camuflarlo lo mejor posible, golden absolutamente no se comportó normal el resto del embarazo de fox cuando se enteró de que el bebé era suyo lmao

[yangnaseon]

[TEXT] - you’re gonna laugh, but can you pick me up at the police station?

rir realmente foi a última coisa que se passou pela cabeça de naseon quando viu a mensagem. primeiro se viu nervoso com as possibilidades do que poderia ter acontecido, se haejin tinha sofrido algum perigo ou se ele tinha sido só inconsequente. a cabeça doía pelo nervosismo e ele levou os dedos até às têmporas fazendo uma massagem tentando se acalmar ainda que não tivesse funcionado bem e ele precisou segurar uma almofada contra o rosto pra gritar de forma abafada, ver os vizinhos acrescentar a fama de louco não faria muita diferença mas ele não queria que alguém que se importava consigo ficasse preocupado e acabasse tendo que explicar que só estava tendo um surto porque haejin tinha mandado uma mensagem questionável.

📱 message to love to hate to love : ok, tô indo.

📱message to love to hate to love : vai precisar de um advogado?

enviou as mensagens de texto em resposta porque se fizesse um áudio a voz sairia falha demais pelo nervosismo, o que não ajudaria em nada na situação. não esperou por uma resposta saindo com apartamento com a chave da moto entre os dedos trêmulos. caso haejin precisa-se mandaria mensagem pra um conhecido ir até a delegacia também, de qualquer forma sentia que era melhor estar ao lado dele logo, talvez fosse de novo o sentimento de proteção falando mais alto mas naseon realmente achava que haejin precisava de si.

[bat-the-misfit]

Gente plmdds me digam que isso não é fake. Mds do céu. Me digam que isso não é piada de Primeiro de Abril. Plmdds. Ai mds. Minha nossa senhora. Jesus Cristo. Santa Rita. Mds. Ai meu coração. Ai meu pâncreas. Ai meu fígado.

[cenaindie]

Ataque Cardíaco – Ao Vivo – Festival Maionese https://cenaindie.com/album/ataque-cardiaco-ao-vivo-festival-maionese/

[thedeacanedous]

[emagrecerto]

Como um legista determina um ataque cardíaco?

Como um legista determina um ataque cardíaco?

Quando um legista precisa investigar o que causou a morte de uma pessoa, eles geralmente examinam o histórico médico dessa pessoa e os resultados da autópsia. Então, como eles decidem que um ataque cardíaco, também conhecido como infarto do miocárdio, é a provável causa da morte? “Um ataque cardíaco ocorre quando um coágulo sanguíneo se forma dentro de uma das artérias coronárias – estes são os…

[travazap]

Eu acredito

[astroboots]

EVERY YOU EVERY ME: ISSUE #4

Pairing: Miguel O'Hara x female reader

Summary: Miguel O'Hara saves you from falling off the Chrysler building for a second time, and he's not very happy about it.

Word count: 4,400 words.

Content: Slow burn so slow we're getting a reverse speeding ticket, Spidey-boy has a lot of emotions and really needs therapy, he also swears a lot, tiny speck of angst.

Astroboot’s Masterlist | Series Masterlist | Spiderverse Masterlist

[Previous] [Next]

It's shocking how fast the ground approaches from a height of 72 stories. You always imagined it would take longer given the distance. In movies, the freefall is always captured in a hypnotizing slow motion, but real gravity is brutal and unforgiving.

This time, as you fall through the sky, you don’t see the New York concrete grow wider or nearer. All you see is the vast gap between you and the crystal blue sky rapidly pulling away from you. The buildings looming higher with every second. The blinding sun reflected in the thousands and thousands of glaring windows towering above.

You can't feel your heartbeat or the wind beating against your face. There should be panic. But at the sight of familiar inky-blue piercing through your view, an eerie calm takes over until a comforting numb spreads through your limbs.

Call it misguided naivety. No one should ever place this much trust with their life on a stranger they don't even know to come and save them.

But misguided or not, there's no fear in you this time around. You don't think about how you are plummeting down to your death. Not when you see him speeding after you. Diving head-first into the vast empty space as he closes the distance between you, hand outstretched, reaching for you.

His hand catches around your wrist in mid-air. It's a firm grip like he never means to let go. He reels you in until you're defying gravity, gliding up through the air to meet him until he can wrap his arms around you.

Everything decelerates. The reflection of the rows and rows of windows no longer flashing by. It's a gentle descent as the breeze flows pleasantly through your hair, and if you don't think too hard about how you can't control the direction of movement, you can almost believe you’re flying.

The landing is gentle. He sets you on your feet with such great care that it takes you a second to adjust to the feeling of firm concrete beneath your soles.

Once again, you find yourself standing face to face with the masked superhero who has saved your life more times than you can count on both hands.

You crane your neck to meet his gaze, head tilting upwards until your neck strains, and it strikes you that you've forgotten how tall he was. His head tips down, the dark outline of his masked eyes staring down at you, and it makes the hair on the nape of your neck prickle.

Say something. 

You rack your brain, trying to remember all the questions you had meticulously written down in the notepad hidden in your desk as you planned for this very moment. But they’re missing, wiped cleanly from your mind now that he's here in front of you. Your mouth parts, trying to remember how to use your vocal cords again.

Before you find it, the blue fabric recedes until it reveals his face again. You're met with cutting eyes that glow an otherworldly crimson and the bared sharp canine teeth of a predator as he growls at you. 

"What the hell were you thinking?!" 

The low rumble of his words scrapes down your spine and locks you in a fight or flight response. Except you're doing neither. Fixed in place, unable to move.

One of his hands reaches up to pull at his hair in frustration, as he starts to mumble to himself. He's tugging it so hard you think he's going to yank them out by the roots.

"I can’t believe you! Me estás matando. Casi me da un ataque cardíaco–"

You blink up at him dimly, confused until you realize that he's broken into Spanish. But he's speaking too low and too fast. You can only make out about half of it.

"–No puedo más! I am dying of stress. You're impossible! I turn away for one second…” 

One sentence flows directly into the next without stopping for a single breath, and you're surprised he doesn't go lightheaded from lack of oxygen with how long he goes on.

You raise your hand slightly, reminiscent of a gesture you used to pull in school when you wanted to get the teacher's attention to ask a question. But he doesn't notice. Doesn’t even throw a glance in your direction.

“... and you go Anna Karenina on me. I can't with you, I can't, I can't–"

You try to follow along, looking for an appropriate break in his rant to get a word in edgewise. But like the line of tourists lining up for the Statue of liberty, there doesn't seem to be an end in sight. As rude as it is, the only thing you can think of is clearing your throat, loudly, trying to draw attention to yourself, but that's soundly ignored as well.

"Me vas a sacar canas verdes–-"

One broad hand covers his face as if he's trying to scrub away the beginnings of a migraine, and he keeps going.

Listening to him makes you feel like a child on the receiving end of a scolding by an exasperated parent. Any lingering thread of fear or intimidation gives way to irritation at this man who is so subsumed by his tirade that he doesn't even seem to be aware of your presence, not three feet away from him.

"–Siempre haces esto, una y otra y otra vez–"

You don't know exactly how long he’s been going on for by now, but you know that it's long. You could even swear the shadow by your feet has shifted to the opposite end of the patch of concrete at your feet in the time he’s been talking.

"Well? Aren't you going to say anything?" he asks, apparently finally done. He stands there, arms crossed, with a condescending set to his jaw as he looks down on you.

And god, where to even start with this man? You have enough material about his difficult and avoidant behavior to make a powerpoint presentation out of it. You should block out the boardroom for three whole hours and hold a Q&A after.

How, if he had just spoken to you after you left him not one, not two, but several requests to meet with him, then things could have ended up a lot more civilized.

How, if he hadn't been hiding from you this whole time—gaslighting you— you wouldn't have had to spend over $200 on budget DIY spy crap (in this economy!) on an utterly wasted attempt to catch him. And, to add insult to injury, you’re sure you are never going to use any of that stuff ever again!

How, if he hadn't been talking non-stop and had the self-awareness to take a second to observe others, he'd have realized that you had plenty of things to say to him, if only he had paused long enough to let you.

But somehow in the face of his expectant expression, all that comes out of your mouth is, "I don't know what you want me to say."

His face falls. There's a split second of disappointment, raw and anguished, that flitters across his face. Then it's gone as quickly as it appeared, and he turns away from you. Whatever he was expecting from you, that was obviously not it.

When he speaks again, his voice has turned calm and quiet. He almost sounds resigned.

"Yeah. I don't know either." 

There's a sluggish, awkward silence that lingers on the three feet of concrete stretched between the two of you. The echo of traffic below, the cab horns and chatter swarms the space. After everything that’s happened, it all feels very anti-climatic somehow.

"Can you take me back to my apartment and we can talk? I have coffee. Cake too," you say, trying to break the silence.

"I don't drink coffee." His tone is curt, severing the olive branch you were trying to extend with a sharp snap, and your shoulders sag in defeat and disappointment. But then his face tips back in your direction and meets your eyes. The line of his mouth twitches as if he’s war with himself. 

"But I'll have some cake," he concedes. 

Had you known that a superhero was coming over for a visit, you'd probably have done a better job of cleaning up and making the place presentable.

You would have put away the heap of unfolded, wrinkly laundry that's piled up on your bed, granny panties in full sight. Would have washed the dirty dishes stacked up in your sink like a dangerous game of porcelain Jenga. Or at least cleared out the sad looking take out box where your half-eaten pizza is still resting in a greased up spot on the table.

Still, you're not sure how impressed he would be even if you had. Your studio apartment is a standard size for NYC, meaning in most other places it would be classified as a closet. With his height, he has to duck to make it through the threshold of your door and can barely stand upright without banging his head against the ceiling. It’s ironic that the window entrance is probably less hazardous for him.

You get him a plate of cake and set it on the table in front of him, delicately placing the dessert fork on the side.

"Sorry, I don't have any cookies for you today, just coffee cake."

The sight of him sitting hunched over your Ingatorp IKEA dining table is slightly comical. The table looks like a miniature doll set against his broad frame, and as he picks up the small dessert fork in his large hand, that only adds to the absurdity of the situation. He looks like he’s playing at having a tea party with a child’s play tea set. 

You sit down across from him, watching him intently, trying to gather the nerve to ask the questions you've been dying to ask since this all started. But you're hesitant and fumbling, stumbling on your words like an idiot, "Uhm, so I wanted to ask if you– if you knew why all of this is happening to–"

"No."

You frown at his interruption. "You didn't let me finish," you protest.

He leans back against his chair, waving away your protests dismissively into the air. "I didn't need you to. The answer is no. Next question."

You bite down on your lip to stave off the curse stuck in your throat, trying to force its way out. You hold it. Stemming the tide, as you focus on the task at hand.

"Who are you?"

His head tilts to the side at your question, as his hand draws up and gestures vaguely over the spider emblem of his costume draped over his chest. "Isn't it obvious?" he snarkily responds, "I'm Spiderman"

Great, he's a rude and sassy superhero. You narrow your eyes at him

"You're not the Spiderman I know of."

He doesn't respond to that. Just glares down at the cake as he pierces it with a sharp stab of the fork, making the porcelain underneath clank. Then he scoops a large spoonful and shovels it into his mouth.

God, who eats cake so angrily?

"Why did you save–" you start, but he holds up one finger, motioning for you to pause. 

He cleaves off another piece of cake and shoves it into his mouth, chewing slowly. You watch as he beats the Guinness record of slowest chewer across the table from you, before you finally get to repeat your question.

"Why do you keep saving me?"

"I'm a superhero. I save people. It's what I do."

Bright irritation pings through you at his sarcastic attitude. 

This is like playing the world's shittiest game of 20 Questions, except here the whole goal of the game is to see whose sanity cracks first.

Naively, you had thought that being able to sit down with him in person would mean you could finally start getting some answers. You hadn't been expecting the need to deploy strategic maneuvers, and you pause, taking your time before you speak. 

You need to pick a question he won't be able to evade. You think back at the footage of the nanny-cam, that time he carried you to bed. The worry when you weren't where he expected you to be. The over-familiarity that seeps out of his every action with you as if he already knows you and that the last thing you heard as you fell off the ledge was his voice calling out your name.

"How did you know my name?" you finally ask him.

His back stiffens at the question, jaw grinding down until the small muscle there flexes with irritation.

"I don't."

Liar.

"You called my name when I fell," you remind him.

This time instead of answering, he slides the now empty plate at you across the table.

"Can I have another slice?"

You frown. It's an obvious ploy to buy himself some time to avoid answering your question. But you can't deny his request either.

With a sigh, you push away your chair to bring the plate to the counter. You cut up an obscenely big slice so that he won't be able to use this as an excuse a second time.

Turning back around, you find that the gluttonous self-proclaimed Spiderman is pinching the bridge of his nose. He looks a little worse for wear, a pained expression etched into those tightly knitted brows.

"Are you okay?" you ask, concerned.

"No. I–" He breaks off, his broad palm gripping the back of the chair, and you notice a slight tremor in his fingers. "Something’s wrong." 

He pushes the chair back, trying to get to his feet, but to your surprise, he stumbles and sways. 

He seems just as surprised as you are at his newfound lack of coordination. 

"What the–" He looks down on his feet with concentrated effort. Then he takes another step. It's wobblier than the one before, his knee giving way, and his arm shoots out to grip at the edge of your table for balance.

Alarm bells start to go off in your head. You don't understand what's happening, but he's definitely right, something is wrong. A man that can gracefully scale down the Chrysler building from 72 floors down shouldn't be struggling this much just to take two steps back in your living room.

"Maybe you should sit back down," you suggest, looking up at him. There’s a slight sheen of perspiration that's settled on his forehead. The beginnings of a rosy flush tinting his cheeks. "Do you have any food allergies?"

"No. I don't. No. Super metabolism kind of cuts down on that sort of–” he’s stumbling over his words, each syllable slurred on his tongue, as he shakes his head at you. “No, no allergies. No food sensitivities of any kind except...."

He glares around wildly and his eyes land on the remaining slice of cake perched on your kitchen counter. 

"Did you put fucking coffee in that cake?!?!"

“"Yes?” You whip around, and look at the cake on your counter, not understanding the relevance of his question. “I mean... It's a coffee cake? I told you that!" 

You push aside your growing panic as you try to remember if the EpiPen stored away in your kitchen cupboard is past its expiration.

"You didn't tell me there was coffee in it!"

Is he serious?

"I said ‘coffee cake’! What else would be in there? It's in the name," you snap. 

And god, you can't believe this is what you're arguing with him about at this moment.

"Okay, yeah," he concedes testily, "but coffee cake is its own thing too! Isn’t coffee cake just… cake... that you, like... serve with coffee? It doesn't have coffee in it! Why the fuck does it have coffee in it?"

Does the man even hear himself? You're trying to figure out if you need to call an ambulance, and he is arguing with you on the technicalities of what constitutes coffee cake.

"Okay, wait, but are you dying?" you ask, trying to stay calm despite the pandemonium of panic ringing in your head. 

"No! I'm just intoxitac– intocita– intoshica– I'm just fucking drunk okay!?" he spits out.

Your brain stalls at his statement. Intoxicated!? When did he have time to drink? He seemed fine just a few minutes ago, but now he's slurring and about to topple over.

"You're drunk? How–"

"Spiders get drunk on coffee," he interrupts, and the flush on his cheek deepens to a deep alarming red. If you didn't know better, you'd almost think he was blushing.

"Okay, let's sit you down." You rush over, rounding your dining table as you reach for him.

At the sight of your extended hands, his eyes widen in alarm, He steps back from you, eyeing you like you're something dangerous.

"No. No, I'm–" he takes another step backwards, flinging himself away from your touch, but loses his footing in the process. He tilts over, hand grappling for the edge of the table as he goes, but instead of the edge he manages to take the cake plate with him on the way down.

There's a clank of shattered porcelain, followed by the loud thud of his body hitting the ground.

With the large size of him in your tiny studio apartment and the breaking of porcelain left and right, this feels like the idiom of a bull running wild in a China shop, come to life.

You reach out your hand to help him get up, but he doesn't acknowledge it, anchoring his elbow to the floor for leverage, only to wobble and fall flat against his back again with an angry curse.

Why is he so goddamned stubborn? 

You glance down at him, this gigantic man that is lying sprawled out on the floor with the gravitas of a turtle trapped on its back. He's so huge that he's eating up half of the floor space of your entire home. If he doesn’t get up, you won't be able to take two steps without accidentally stepping on him.

Shaking your head in disbelief at the ridiculousness of the situation, you hunch down on your knees beside him.

There's hesitation etched in those otherworldly crimson eyes as you come near. But as much as he's scowling at you, baring his fangs and trying to look scary, there isn't much he can do from the floor.

"Let me help you," you insist, "let's get you in bed until it wears off. I can't have you passed out on my floor like this."

He takes your outstretched hand, and you pull backwards, trying to bring him up with you. Between the two of you, you manage to get him on his feet again. Barely. 

Whoa.

You crane your head up, up, up til you meet his eyes. Yup, the man is still huge. Must be damn near 7 feet tall and heavy, and you quickly realize there's not much you can do but try to steer so that he falls in the direction of your bed.

Somehow you manage to shepherd him in the right direction, until his knees hit the edges of your bed. He lands with a dramatic thud and you hear your bed frame groan in protest. 

“Do you need anything?” you ask, but he doesn’t answer you. His broad arm drapes over his eyes, blocking you out. 

You sigh, turning on your heels to clean up the mess of coffee cake and broken plates off your floor.

You barely manage to finish sweeping up the floor before you hear soft snoring filling your home.

Knock-off Spiderman is sound asleep, his large shape curled up on your mattress, entirely still.

You settle yourself back at the dining table, eating the leftover coffee cake as you pull up a book on your phone and wait for him to wake.

This was not how you had imagined your first extended interaction would turn out.

Honestly, you can't make sense of any of your interactions with him. How he's constantly avoiding you, yet can't seem to stay away and routinely checks in on you.

How he acts overly familiar in one instance and excessively rude and put off by you the next.

Maybe you remind him of someone else... Maybe even an ex? It feels weird to speculate, but it would explain a lot of things. His belligerent attitude towards you. The way he looks at you with eyes full of resentment, even as he's saving you from certain death. That look in his eyes like he knows you, even though you've never met him.

It doesn't explain how he knows your name though.

From the bed, you can hear him stir, shifting against the mattress with a quiet groan muffled into your pillow. He's softly murmuring something that you can't quite make out, and then he turns in his sleep again, making a pained noise that makes worry squeeze tight in your chest.

Maybe letting him sleep it off wasn't the brightest idea you've had. You probably should've called for the ambulance as soon as he showed physical signs of distress.

You're not a biologist. You don't know how a hybrid spider-human’s physiology works.

What if he's not just drunk? Whoever heard of coffee making someone drunk! And how could it affect him so quickly? There was barely a minute between him stuffing his face and falling all over the place. Some quick, panicked googling confirms that coffee makes spiders a kind of drunk, but it doesn’t say if it’s outright toxic to them.

Oh fuck, what if he's dying!? Oh god, what if a superhero dies in your bed? How will you explain this to your landlord? Or the police! “I fed him coffee cake, and it killed him, officer.” Right, that’s going to go over like a lead balloon! It’ll probably look like you poisoned him. TMZ will be swarming the place. You'll be classified as a supervillain.

Setting down the book, you make your way over to sit on the edge of your bed. You lean over his sleeping form and peer down at him, checking for any signs of physical distress.

That red flush from earlier is still riding high on his cheeks, looking like the beginnings of a fever. You reach out your hand to rest it on his forehead to check his temperature.

Warm.

He stirs at the touch, turning his face and practically nuzzles into your palm. It’s almost endearing as he buries his sharp nose into your wrist.

You hold your breath, worried that exhaling would be loud enough to wake him as you gaze down on him. Up close like this, when he's not being rude, and stubborn and defensive, he's... quite attractive.

He has the kind of sculpted face that Hollywood dreams are made of, angular jaw and a prominent nose that makes him look regal. Not to mention those chiselled cheeks of his are a fucking marvel to look at. But more than that, curled up asleep in your bed, there’s a gentle softness to his features that hadn’t been noticeable when he was awake.  

Now that  he’s not frowning down at you and the line of his mouth isn’t pulled into an angry snarl, you can see that his lips are full and luscious, delicate even. His heavy brows look less intimidating now that his face has relaxed from its perpetual scowl. 

He looks... soft, somehow.

There's a spark of something heated in your veins that has you feeling flushed and warm. You have to turn your eyes, shaking your head and tutting at yourself, because you’re creeping on the drunk guy passed out on your bed, and it’s not a good look on you. 

The commotion makes him stir, his eyes blink softly open. He looks up at you, with half-lidded eyes, and it's different from how he's looked at you up until now. His gaze is still so…. soft.

"Nena," he says quietly.

Your cheeks warm at the warmth in his voice , and you gently pull your hand away from his forehead.

"Sorry, I was just checking if you were okay," you explain awkwardly as you start to back away from him, sliding your knee along the mattress to climb off the bed.

At your movement, he darts upright into a seated position and pulls you to him, clinging onto every inch of you as he buries his face to your side. 

“Don't go,” he murmurs into your neck. His voice is trembling, and you can feel the panic radiating from him as the grip he has on you tightens until it’s bruising.  

"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry," he says, keeps repeating it. You don’t know what he’s apologizing for but the guilt and sadness in his voice tugs at something deep inside your chest. 

Nena, he said, and you realize that even though you're the one he's holding in this moment, he's not talking to you. He thinks you're someone else.

"Please don't leave me again. I-I can't–" he chokes out the words into the hollow of your throat where he's pressed his face tight into your skin. You can't help but notice the damp wetness that gathers there. "I'm trying, but I can't– I don't know how to do this without you."

The words are raw in his throat, and despite your confusion, your chest squeezes tight with a sympathetic ache at the man's obvious heartbreak.

You don't know what's going on here or who he thinks you are. The only thing you know is that you want to make him feel better. To make his hurt a little less painful. To make the consuming guilt you can hear in his voice a little bit smaller. 

"It's okay," you say. 

What the it refers to, you have no idea. But the least you can do is to give the man who has saved your life over and over, a tiny crumb of comfort.

You return his embrace, circling an arm around his shoulder, matching the tightness with which he’s holding you. Your other hand slides into his hair and he shivers at the touch, face burying deeper into your neck.

"I'll protect you,” he murmurs into your skin, “I can do better this time. Keep you safe. I promise.”

"It's okay. It’s okay. I’m already safe," you reassure him, giving him the only truth you know for sure in this moment, "You saved me."

~ Next Issue

Dedication & Credits: as always to my collaborator on this series, who helps me brainstorm, write, edit and beta-read and everything in between and over with this series. This exists because of her, and I am so grateful to her. The hours I spend shouting into her DMs and bother her on the daily since this series infected my mind. You guys don't know what I put poor @thirstworldproblemss through.

Also to @guruan who was kind enough to read through this and steer me in the right way with the spanish, but also for giving me porn that has kept my brain buzzing for days!!!

Please follow both of these insanely lovely, kind and talented people.

Author's note: the Spanish in this chapter has been left untranslated on purpose, so that it's left ambiguous whether reader speak/understand Spanish. The idea is that if you as a reader understand it, then so does the reader, and vice versa 🥰

I don’t have a tag list but please follow me on astroboots-writes and turn on notifications to be notified when I post something new!

[bat-the-misfit]

não meu olha essas imagens e me diz se Reflexos e Sombras não é basicamente a versão gibi de Reflexos do Medo

[asimpathetic]

— spidey boyfriend. .ᐟ

par romântico. spiderman!mark

gênero. fluff

sinopse. onde seu namorado te faz uma surpresa no meio da noite

w.c. 782

avisos. mark malandro mansinho todo bobinho

notes. primeira vez escrevendo pro mark 😕 não sei se consegui pegar realmente a essência dele 😖 eu to obcecada pelo spiderman!mark e to com mais coisa planejada pra ele então me aguardem 😈

spidey boyfriend 2

um toc toc na sua janela te chamou a atenção, tirando os olhos da mesa que tinha alguns papéis espalhados de forma bagunçada, você passou a visão para o vidro que era pouco escondido por cortinas clarinhas, e não vendo nada mais que o pequeno vislumbre do céu noturno, você levantou uma sobrancelha, super confusa com aquilo, de onde tinha vindo o barulho?

e por pura curiosidade, levantou da escrivaninha e seguiu até a janela, com a intenção de descobrir a origem do som que tinha ouvido, esperava que fosse só o gato fujão da sua vizinha, o pestinha tinha o hábito de sempre aparecer no seu quarto quando escapava de casa. até abriu a janela, o deslizar dela fazendo um rangido suave que cortou o silêncio calminho do quarto; olhou de um lado para o outro, quase com uma interrogação aparecendo em sua cabeça, não tinha absolutamente nada ali, isso até um cabeça aparecer no seu campo de visão, te fazendo recuar de volta para dentro do quarto na mesma hora.

o coração batendo a mil, os olhos arregalados em surpresa, nem tinha certeza do que tinha visto direito, o borrão de algo “pulando” no seu rosto assustando você de forma que achava que fosse morrer com um ataque cardíaco. que caralhos era aquilo?

o medo pareceu sumir bem quando escutou uma risadinha muito familiar, a tal figura aparecendo na sua janela por completo, dessa vez sem ser de cabeça para baixo, você estreitou os olhos com a visão de um mark muito risonho, satisfeito em ter te assustado com sucesso, ele entrou no quarto todo sorrisinhos, fechando a janela atrás de si depois que passou por ela, e virando o maldito rostinho bonito dele em sua direção, aqueles olhinhos brilhantes estupidos te olhando da forma mais apaixonante que ele sabia fazer.

“oi, linda.” ele disse, todo mansinho chegando pertinho de você, pé por pé, sabendo muito bem que você estava — falsamente — irritada com ele por causa do susto.

“quê que cê tá fazendo aqui, mark?” ele quase se encolheu com seu tom de voz, te dando um sorrisinho nervoso enquanto tirava a mochila das costas e a abria procurando por algo.

“vim ver minha namorada, não posso, não?” de forma espertinha, ele puxou da mochila uma caixinha de bombom, ela estava meio amassada, com uma das pontas meio rasgada, indicando que o rapaz tinha batido em algum lugar no caminho até seu apartamento. “e eu trouxe seu chocolate favorito, mereço pelo menos um beijinho, né?”

o maldito sorrisinho fofo de olhinhos brilhante que ele te lançou foi o suficiente para te desmontar, não resistindo e segurando o rostinho dele em mão para poder deixar beijinhos por toda a face dele.

“tudo bem, garoto aranha, tá desculpado.” os selares o tinham deixado atordoado o suficiente para nem se importar com o apelido, estava até inclinando a cabeça em sua direção de novo para poder te beijar mais, ato que foi impedido por você se afastando levando a caixa de doces consigo. “mas não pense que eu não estou brava com você por me assustar, eu quase morri, okay?!”

mark fez biquinho, indignado por você ter negado seus beijos a ele, poxa, ele não tinha feito por mal, isso não era justo com ele!

“mô… me desculpa, não faço mais, tá bom?” você e ele sabiam muito bem que ele faria novamente, mark adorava o pulinho fofo que você dava sempre que se assustava, e a carinha no seu rosto era a cereja do bolo, ele ficava todo bobinho com quão adorável você ficava.

ele chegou todo amuado perto de você novamente, passando os braços por seu corpo e te apertando contra ele, o rosto deitado no seu ombro, você jurou que ele até soltaria um chorinho em algum momento, o ato de garoto judiado caindo muito bem nele tentando ganhar seu carinho de volta. mark lee era um malandro!

“você é muito bobo, sabia?” virou a cabeça o dando um beijinho sobre os fios de cabelo, sentindo o sorriso dele na sua pele, e revirando os olhos com a ação dele, você tentou empurrar ele para longe, ato falho, tinha esquecido que namorava alguém que facilmente poderia levantar toneladas se tentasse. “que tal a gente ficar deitadinho, agarradinho na cama? assim a gente mata a saudade e eu como meus docinhos, pode ser?”

ele concordou rapidinho, te arrastando em direção a cama, deitando com você e ficando grudado no seu lado, com o rostinho escondido no seu pescoço, todo encolhidinho, nesses momentos até esquecia quão incrivelmente assustador mark poderia ser se não tivesse um coração tão doce e uma personalidade tão amavel, maldito namorado aranha e sua obsessão por contato fisico!

masterlist

[jazzer707]

Los Efectos Negativos del Consumo de Cannabis o Marihuana

La marihuana, a menudo percibida como una sustancia benigna o incluso beneficiosa, tiene un lado oscuro que con frecuencia se pasa por alto. Si bien su uso con fines medicinales y recreativos ha ganado una amplia aceptación, no se pueden ignorar los efectos negativos del consumo de marihuana.

Introducción

La legalización de la marihuana en varias regiones ha llevado a un aumento en su uso. Si bien los defensores argumentan a favor de sus beneficios medicinales y placer recreativo, es crucial examinar los efectos negativos menos publicitados del consumo de marihuana. Estos efectos van desde deficiencias físicas inmediatas hasta trastornos psicológicos a largo plazo, que afectan a las personas y a la sociedad en general.

Entendiendo los Efectos Negativos de la Marihuana

El consumo de marihuana, particularmente cuando es habitual, se ha relacionado con varios resultados negativos. Estos van desde deficiencias cognitivas hasta problemas respiratorios, con diversos grados de gravedad según la frecuencia y la cantidad de consumo.

Impacto en la salud mental

Una de las preocupaciones más importantes con respecto al consumo de marihuana es su impacto en la salud mental. Los estudios han demostrado que el consumo regular puede provocar una serie de problemas psicológicos, como ansiedad, depresión y psicosis. El riesgo es particularmente alto entre las personas que comienzan a consumir marihuana a una edad temprana.

Deterioro cognitivo y pérdida de memoria

La marihuana afecta la capacidad del cerebro para funcionar correctamente. Uno de los efectos más notables es el deterioro cognitivo. Los usuarios a menudo experimentan dificultades con la memoria, la atención y las habilidades para resolver problemas. Estos déficits cognitivos pueden persistir mucho después de que los efectos agudos de la droga hayan desaparecido.

Aumento de la ansiedad y la depresión

Si bien la marihuana a veces se usa para automedicarse para la ansiedad y la depresión, en realidad puede exacerbar estas afecciones a largo plazo. Los consumidores habituales pueden encontrar que sus síntomas empeoran con el tiempo, lo que lleva a un círculo vicioso de aumento del consumo y deterioro de la salud mental.

Riesgo de psicosis

El consumo excesivo de marihuana se ha relacionado con un mayor riesgo de psicosis, particularmente en personas con predisposición a trastornos de salud mental. La psicosis puede manifestarse como alucinaciones, delirios y desconexión de la realidad, lo que supone un grave riesgo para el bienestar y la seguridad del individuo.

Consecuencias para la salud física

Además de sus efectos en la salud mental, la marihuana también presenta varios riesgos para la salud física. Estos incluyen problemas respiratorios, problemas cardiovasculares y un mayor riesgo de ciertos tipos de cáncer.

Problemas respiratorios

Fumar marihuana puede dañar el sistema respiratorio, lo que provoca bronquitis crónica y otras afecciones pulmonares. El humo de la marihuana contiene muchas de las mismas sustancias químicas nocivas que el humo del tabaco, que pueden irritar los pulmones y provocar problemas de salud a largo plazo.

Riesgos cardiovasculares

El consumo de marihuana también puede afectar al sistema cardiovascular. Puede aumentar la frecuencia cardíaca y la presión arterial, lo que pone a los usuarios en riesgo de ataques cardíacos y accidentes cerebrovasculares, especialmente si tienen afecciones cardíacas preexistentes.

Riesgos de cáncer

Aunque la investigación aún está en curso, algunos estudios sugieren que el consumo de marihuana a largo plazo puede aumentar el riesgo de ciertos tipos de cáncer. Esto es particularmente cierto para los cánceres del tracto respiratorio, ya que la inhalación de humo introduce sustancias cancerígenas en el cuerpo.

Efectos en el rendimiento social y académico

Los efectos negativos de la marihuana se extienden más allá de la salud individual, impactando en las relaciones sociales y el rendimiento académico u ocupacional.

Disminución del rendimiento académico y ocupacional

Los estudiantes y profesionales que consumen marihuana con regularidad pueden experimentar una disminución en el rendimiento. Los deterioros cognitivos y los problemas motivacionales pueden conducir a malos resultados académicos y a una reducción de la productividad en el trabajo.

Aislamiento social

El consumo regular de marihuana puede conducir al aislamiento social. Los usuarios pueden retirarse de las actividades y relaciones sociales, prefiriendo pasar tiempo a solas o con otras personas que consumen la droga. Este aislamiento puede contribuir al empeoramiento de las condiciones de salud mental y afianzar aún más la dependencia de las drogas.

Consecuencias legales y financieras

A pesar de la legalización en algunas áreas, el consumo de marihuana aún puede conducir a problemas legales y financieros. Los usuarios pueden enfrentar sanciones por poseer, distribuir o usar marihuana en regiones donde sigue siendo ilegal.

Conclusión

Si bien la marihuana ha ganado popularidad por sus supuestos beneficios, es crucial reconocer y comprender los efectos negativos del consumo de marihuana. Desde problemas de salud mental hasta dolencias físicas y consecuencias sociales, los riesgos asociados con el consumo de marihuana son significativos y multifacéticos. La concientización y la educación son clave para mitigar estos riesgos y tomar decisiones informadas sobre el consumo de marihuana.

Preguntas frecuentes

¿Cuáles son los efectos a corto plazo del consumo de marihuana?

Los efectos a corto plazo incluyen deterioro de la memoria, alteración del juicio y problemas de coordinación, que pueden provocar accidentes y lesiones.

¿Puede el consumo de marihuana conducir a la adicción?

Sí, la marihuana puede ser adictiva, especialmente con el uso regular. Se puede desarrollar dependencia, lo que lleva a síntomas de abstinencia y dificultad para dejar de fumar.

¿Es seguro el consumo de marihuana para los adolescentes?

No, los adolescentes son particularmente vulnerables a los efectos negativos de la marihuana, incluido el deterioro cognitivo y un mayor riesgo de trastornos de salud mental.

¿Cómo afecta la marihuana a la capacidad de conducir?

La marihuana afecta la coordinación motora, el tiempo de reacción y el juicio, lo que aumenta significativamente el riesgo de accidentes mientras se conduce.

¿Existe algún riesgo para la salud física a largo plazo asociado con el consumo de marihuana?

Sí, el uso a largo plazo puede provocar problemas respiratorios, problemas cardiovasculares y un posible aumento del riesgo de cáncer.

¿Cuáles son las implicaciones legales del consumo de marihuana?

Las implicaciones legales varían según la región. En áreas donde la marihuana sigue siendo ilegal, los usuarios pueden enfrentar multas, encarcelamiento y antecedentes penales.

AlterNativa Centro de Tratamiento para las Adicciones 2150 SW 13th Ave. Miami, FL 33145 (786) 536-7525

[flouriculturie]

ㅤ 𝘪 ㅤ 𝑪𝑯𝑶𝑶𝑺𝑬 ㅤ 𝘺𝘰𝘶 ㅤ , ㅤ 𝘪 ㅤ 𝑳𝑶𝑽𝑬ㅤ  𝘺𝘰𝘶ㅤ  —ㅤ  𝘰𝘯ㅤ  𝑷𝑼𝑹𝑷𝑶𝑺𝑬ㅤ  .ㅤ  𝘢𝘯𝘥ㅤ   𝘪'𝘭𝘭 ㅤ   𝑲𝑬𝑬𝑷 ㅤ   𝑪𝑯𝑶𝑶𝑺𝑰𝑵𝑮ㅤ   𝒀𝑶𝑼ㅤ   ,ㅤ   𝘶𝘯𝘵𝘪𝘭 ㅤ   𝘮𝘺ㅤ   𝑳𝑨𝑺𝑻 ㅤ   𝘣𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘵𝘩 .

ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ 𝐒𝐀𝐕𝐄ㅤ  𝐓𝐇𝐄ㅤ  𝐃𝐀𝐓𝐄ㅤ  . ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ 𝑂𝐶𝑇𝑂𝐵𝐸𝑅 𝟾𝑇𝐻 ㅤ  .

                           não   havia   um   osso   sequer   em   seu   corpo   que   não   tremia   —   tecnicamente   ,   sabia   que   era   apenas   a   sensação   ,   uma   resposta   direta   ao   nervosismo   que   parecia   correr   por   sua   corrente   sanguínea   no   mesmo   volume   de   seu   sangue   .   mas   ,   oh   ,   como   callum   jung   -   wright   era   o   próprio   testamento   do   impossível   .   casado   ,   um   filho   ,   uma   família   .   quem   diria   ?!   certamente   não   o   desacreditado   callum   de   dezoito   anos   ,   e   não   porque   seu   amor   juvenil   por   saskia   fosse   uma   chama   que   logo   se   extinguiria   ,   ah   ,   sempre   esteve   disposto   a   lutar   por   aquela   garota   —   e   ele   iria   !   com   unhas   e   dentes   e   o   que   mais   fosse   preciso   .   mas   essa   era   a   maravilha   ,   não   era   ?   não   foi   preciso   .   no   fim   ,   o   que   pertencia   jamais   poderia   ser   separado   .

                           é   ali   mesmo   que   seus   joelhos   quase   falham   ,   as   primeiras   notas   da   música   clássica   escolhida   por   sua   mãe   e   os   passos   apressados   de   um   sorridente   castiel   tropeçando   pelo   caminho   florido   até   o   altar   .   e   se   estivesse   tendo   um   ataque   cardíaco   ?   era   possível   ,   sabia   bem   os   sintomas   e   podia   sentir   cada   um   deles   ;   o   coração   tão   inquieto   em   seu   peito   que   se   tornava   um   peso   ,   um   incômodo   que   só   é   aliviado   quando   ,   sim   ,   seus   joelhos   desistem   e   ele   recebe   seu   filho   em   seus   braços   ,   a   risada   doce   que   por   um   segundo   o   alivia   de   toda   a   náusea   que   parecia   lhe   impedir   de   pensar   direito      .   não   conseguia   entender   o   porquê   daquele   nervosismo   que   parecia   tirar   o   melhor   de   si   —   naquele   ponto   ,   todas   as   palavras   ensaiadas   incessantemente   nos   últimos   dias   corriam   e   se   embaralhavam   em   sua   mente   .   

                           mas   então   tudo   fez   sentido   ,   não   é   medo   ,   nervosismo   ,   ansiedade   .   porra   ,   já   havia   se   casado   uma   vez   …   era   tudo   expectativa   .   

                                                               era   um   sonho   .

                           um   que   flutuava   em   um   vestido   branco   em   sua   direção   como   se   aquilo   ,   aquele   momento   ,   fosse   o   que   havia   esperado   por   sua   vida   toda   .   ele   não   precisava   de   palavras   ,   eram   inúteis   de   qualquer   forma   !   tudo   que   ele   precisa   era   de   saskia   ao   seu   lado   e   ela   estava   cada   vez   mais   perto   .   suas   lágrimas   ?   ah   ,   era   simples   !   havia   tanta   felicidade   em   si   que   seu   corpo   não   era   capaz   de   conter   ,   então   extravasava   nas   lágrimas   pesadas   que   marcavam   suas   bochechas   e   o   suor   de   suas   mãos   .   

                                                      (   como   poderiam   pedir   à   um   homem   apaixonado   que   prestasse   atenção   à   qualquer   coisa   além   de   sua   esposa   ?   os   olhos   vidrados   nos   cabelos   saturados   e   olhos   mais   lindos   que   ele   já   viu   falham   em   perceber   a   movimentação   ,   em   como   apenas   um   terço   do   caminho   ao   altar   é   feito   pela   mulher   sozinha   ,   pois   não   existem   mãos   ágeis   o   suficiente   para   conterem   o   pequeno   furacão   que   era   castiel   henrik   jung   -   wright   quando   viu   a   mãe   .   então   se   junta   o   restante   da   família   ,   sua   mãe   do   lado   direito   ,   seu   pai   do   esquerdo   ,   por   que   como   poderiam   deixar   a   nova   filha   deles   ir   ao   altar   sozinha   ?   ela   nunca   mais   estaria   sozinha   .   )

                           seus   pés   então   o   levam   além   de   onde   havia   sido   instruído   pela   cerimonialista   ,   mas   não   se   importa   ;   ele   precisa   de   sua   esposa   .   o   sorriso   por   trás   das   lágrimas   evidencia   que   aquilo   era   apenas   emoção   .   toma   ambas   as   mãos   de   saskia   e   leva   ao   seu   rosto   ,   os   selares   leves   em   cada   um   dos   nós   dos   dedos   dela   e   então   o   seu   acalento   pessoal   ,   o   envolver   do   seu   rosto   pelas   palmas   que   tanto   ama   ,   por   um   mero   segundo   quase   coloca   tudo   a   perder   quando   avança   para   um   beijo   ,   rapidamente   impedido   pelo   chute   na   canela   ,   cortesia   de   sua   mãe   que   o   apressa   para   voltar   ao   altar   .

                           não   pode   ser   culpado   por   ,   a   partir   daquele   momento   ,   não   dedicar   sua   atenção   e   devoção   à   nada   além   de   saskia   ,   o   aperto   firme   na   mão   dela   que   o   impedia   de   tremer   como   estava   fazendo   até   aquele   momento   .   seu   sim   ,   sim   ,   sim   em   resposta   ao   padre   ,   suas   juras   feitas   com   toda   convicção   que   possuía   ,   pois   se   acreditava   em   algo   ,   era   no   amor   que   sentia   por   saskia   .

                      ❝     não   sou   um   homem   de   deus   ,   saskia   ,   sinto   muito   revelar   isso   agora   que   estamos   diante   d’ele   .   já   cheguei   a   duvidar   de   sua   existência   ,   mas   não   mais   .   eu   acredito   em   deus   agora   ,   porque   eu   consigo   entender   como   é   oferecer   aquilo   que   te   é   mais   precioso   por   quem   você   ama   .   e   por   você   ,   saskia   jung   -   wright   ,   eu   ofereço   minha   vida   .   todos   os   anos   que   virão   ,   e   mesmo   depois   disso   .   para   sempre   .   eu   amo   você   ,   minha   esposa   . ❞

[sudaca-swag]

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