domingo, 20 de octubre de 2013
miércoles, 2 de octubre de 2013
It's a question I face often enough, when my brain deems it acceptable to ask it, based on the circumstances. Most often than not it's in the aftermath of a loss, but sometimes in between too. More often than not it's after I forget too quickly, after I regain my positive carelessness too fast. Getting over someone after days of total absence, realizing you never loved someone, realizing it was all fake like orange tan. Sprayed on, flaking on the edges.
Where did all promises go? When did I stop caring? When did I stop thinking about what once set my world on fire?
I can, I know I can. Sometimes it's just too damn overwhelming, it burns me inside out and it's just passion, intense, terrifying. Other times it's soft, easy. And then there's the time when I just need to do it, I have forced myself into it times aplenty, but there's always this ability, this easy detachment, flying out of myself and suddenly nothing matters anymore. Happy smile on the face, but really there's nothing behind it. It's just the mask over the void.
It used to be spontaneous, but now it's more a trick I can trigger, like I can trigger anything else in my mind, and the pictures painted on my brain's walls mean nothing anymore. I can fall in and out of love with you on the same evening, week after week. Makes me wonder if I cling to things because I'm scared of realizing I don't need or want them at all. Will I miss you if you're gone?
And why is that scary? Because then all my dreams are moot, and if all my dreams are moot, and all I fight for is myself, and I can be gone too, what's the point at all? So I stay stuck here, sitting on the fence. Do I really have to choose?
martes, 23 de julio de 2013
I look at myself from above. Man, I look so pretty with the crimson skin and golden hair, almost like a Lannister cloak. I'm floating, floating, breath so shallow, smelling like vinegar and summer heat.
You see me from the outside, you see the real me. You say truth in the water, floating, floating, damn those crabs that try to get out. What was it that you said? "You love reading. You are creative. You don't allow yourself to be put down." She said "You are helpful. You have a natural ability to pull yourself out from a situation and look at it objectively, even when the situation is all about you. You are so open-minded and flexible."
Then it was the turn for the mistakes, the turn for the advices. I saw what he said, I saw what she said. I don't want to be that person anymore. I am not insecure, I'm just used to acting like that. I'm not a different person when I'm around strangers, I'm just used to acting like that. Othila inverted said don't stick to the old ways just because. They're not the right behaviour anymore, the situation has changed.
I'm ready to love myself, to see me from above. Head up when I come in the room, everybody's watching and I want to smile. I'm ready to be the best me.
Smoke comes in through the window, blue smoke, heady and strong.
jueves, 11 de julio de 2013
sábado, 1 de junio de 2013
Ni a dos metros de mí, y sin embargo tan lejos, pues el respeto me impedía acercarme e interrumpir el momento de dolor en el que yo no tenía cabida. Simplemente mi silencio y sus palabras en voz quebrada. "Me pasé 16 años maravillándome de que una mujer como ella se enamorara de mí, y ahora tengo que maravillarme porque no está."
Yo no sabía que decir. Escuchaba sus lágrimas y las sentía mías, abrumada quizá por la verdad que albergaban. Al final rompí el silencio:
"¿Qué pasó? Nunca me quedó claro," pregunté, a lo que él me respondió que ella se negó a curarse, y él se dejó engañar como un tonto, pensando que en realidad sí que lo hacía. "En verdad qué estúpido he sido, si no fuera porque es una tragedia, deberían escupirnos."
Y se culpa, como todos quizá cuando ya no queda nadie a quien señalar, aunque a veces no hay culpables. Y le atormenta pensar que en vida, ella pensaba que él no la quería, y que cuando discutían, el se iba con otras mujeres y pensaba que si ella se iba no sufriría, pero ahora que ella se ha ido para siempre, la busca en otros rostros y no la encuentra. Me dice que no piense en mañana, que aprenda de un hombre viejo, que ame hoy, sin reservas ni condiciones, y yo sé que está en lo cierto.
Al final no queda nada que decir más que decir que solo recuerda lo bueno, que los malos momentos se evaporan. Abrazada a mi almohada, cierro los ojos y espero, escuchando sus quedos sollozos, a que me atrape el sueño, pensando 'allá donde estés, mujer, que sepas que te quiere Sergio.'
lunes, 27 de mayo de 2013
I will burn myself, the fire's too close. I have done it before, it's not like I didn't know. My mind is yelling at me to get away, but I stay. And it sounds like a voice, little in the beginning, tiny little voice that speaks almost shy but all too clearly. And it has been here, silent all these years.
I might step into the woods, never come out. I might lie watching the snow fall on me from the clouds. It looks so enticing, a hideout, a safe haven I can run away to. But this little voice that's becoming bigger says I can make it. Says fire burns, but no dragon is afraid of fire. So I stay, take baby steps towards today.
"[...]The woods are lovely, dark and deep,
but I have promises to keep,
and miles to walk before I sleep,
And miles to walk before I sleep. "
miércoles, 15 de mayo de 2013
I think that it sucks a lot, because I love you more than I love him. I think you are smart, and funny and complicated, and I think that you're sometimes a stranger, but I admire you, I cherish you, I love you because you are who you are.
I think I love him too, and despite the things that separate us, I would kiss him if I could, but he's in love with someone else, and yet I think he loves me more than you do.
lunes, 8 de abril de 2013
And I aknowledge it, I will suffer. Unrequitted love, loss, maybe hunger and pain, who knows? But every single moment I live I know I have a purpose, I know which, and I have it engraved on my skin. For us is the world, for us I take it. Mornings in a haze of sleepy arrangements, water down my throat, scent of old paper and old stories, mint fresh in my healing hands. When things go down, I shall put my hands up, scream and enjoy the rollercoaster. With tunnel vision and a strange, new focus.
martes, 26 de marzo de 2013
lunes, 25 de marzo de 2013
Am I a modern Juliet again?
"O Romeo, Romeo! Wherefore art thou Romeo?"
domingo, 24 de febrero de 2013
I used to be a question too. At some point maybe I was a who, other times I was what, or why, or... really, I've been all and I've been none. There was something soothing about it, probably the certainty that I existed. You can never be sure of that, but if someone is asking questions about you, you must be real for sure, something stable in this shifting reality we live in. That 'never knowing for sure', well, it can be pretty terrifying; that everything one ever associated with the SELF may be naught but an illusion. But truth is, if I'm allowed to speak of the truth as I see it, there's no need for confirmation. One is.
Nothing at this moment belongs to me and I am the owner of the world. I can see the colors shifting. I can see the world around me, but it's alien to me. It's at this point that nothing matters. People, those I sometime knew, are strangers to me now. I don't really know who I am anymore, either, or if I am at all, so there's nothing unsettling about it. I, I, I... what does that mean? What am I? I acknowledge that there is a 'me' somewhere, but I don't think it belongs to this body. I think, now, that this 'me' is bigger than that, and it's trying to get out.
"Where's my love?" Katie asks through the speakers, drunk and in a haze, a question that this one I share my space with has asked one too many times, a question never to be asked again. It doesn't matter anyway. Katie keeps singing 'lilac wine'. Takes this brain back to a time when it thought life would be harder than this, when it believed everything had an expiration date. When 'I' needed answers for it all. It has all taken a V turn since then, maybe growing up did its part, and a full blown dissociation syndrome has helped too. Nothing can end, I realized. Not when nothing can start. Ends, starts, all a disturbance of the mind, our way to try and figure out a world in shades of color when the paint is all the same. There was a moment in time when there was huge light that we created, and somewhere that remains. I need no more than that.
You and I, we used to be the same, and I think we still are, I don't know for sure, I don't care. My soul speaks for my brain this time, and it says we are made of the same stardust, you with your bodyless voice and me with my voiceless body. Who needs voice when the eyes speak? Who needs a body when the soul can soar free?
Someone wonders if I'm ok. Of course I am. I have no real questions anymore, I seek no answers, I need none. Nothing bad can happen, because whatever happens is for the best, whether it keeps this body awake one night or not. I feel crazy, perhaps, in this meatsuit that's not mine anymore, breathing life and floating across the sky. I don't really know what I might have said that might have given the impression that I'm not fine. On the contrary, the fighting is over and the sun has come out again, to cast a light across the wounded and the healing, and a new cycle is bound to arrive. For the fight was within and not outside.
So who am I? Outside the battle, outside a body, outside the world and the universe, I am. There's no question of who, because I am me and I am you and I am everything in between. Bright burst of light or pure darkness, pure void. There's nothing to me but the eternal soul and that is the universe in itself, and everything beyond, and nothing. I am contradiction, I am terrifying. I am terrified. I am a whisper.
viernes, 22 de febrero de 2013
I used to believe we'd share the world, but now we try to rip it from each other's mouth -that is, when we don't try and rip each other's throat-, and soon there will be nothing left but ashes to share. And yet, I, ever the believer, want to create a space of peace in all this whirlwind that surrounds us, because still there are reasons why my heart skips a beat, there are things that make me swoon, even in the backseat of an old bus, even alone. I planted my roses and hoped against hope that they would grow roots strong. Am I mistaken for thinking there's still a chance we can be happy? Am I foolish?
lunes, 18 de febrero de 2013
I like that we can be in the moon together yet never touch. I like the way veiled comments can be tossed around and we can share loving words, while never admitting to our feelings. I like it because it's rare, because it's true.
viernes, 8 de febrero de 2013
lunes, 4 de febrero de 2013
martes, 29 de enero de 2013
Greener pastures on the other side of the sidewalk.
sábado, 26 de enero de 2013
It may not make sense, because nothing's written and nothing's forever, but in my dream there's life and love, and, dare I say? Will. There's a will, so there must be a way, somehow. Sooner or later, I'll get that, I'll get that place I know I deserve, that special place where no one else can fit. But maybe by then it's too late. By coincidence or by design.
lunes, 21 de enero de 2013
"You have to be kidding me. Again."
"No kidding. Marry me. I'll say it as many times as I have to."
Stuck in a catch-22, damned if I do, damned if I don't. Would love to say yes. Would love to love him. And maybe I like him, a lot. True friend and ever-present, he can be my platonic would-be, and I can dream all I want, it's fine. The feeling that something's got to give never comes, never the crash, never the fall.
"You're stuck with me for a long while."
Admirable, how he turns my world upside-down, how he makes my frowns become smiles, how unfair this is. Unfair because I'm still learning. He's learning, too. I'd love to kiss his hands, to set the both of us free. And maybe then we can eat cranberries like crazy while road-tripping through Lousiana all the way to the North Pole. We'd make a damn fine couple too.
So maybe I'm not marrying you... yet.
sábado, 12 de enero de 2013
For the time being, a trip to underland and welcoming arms in my dreams.
domingo, 6 de enero de 2013
sábado, 5 de enero de 2013
miércoles, 2 de enero de 2013
martes, 1 de enero de 2013
My family first, family meaning all those close to me that I can't and won't live without, those whose smile light up my days, those whose embrace fends off the dark of my darkest hour.
Then, art. I live off of artistic stimulation. Love, made true through notes, letters, ink, sand and whatever that will make my mind go numb with unadultered beauty. Fragile, aggressive, untouchable. Man-made or nature, for nature is the greatest artist.
So all in all, there is a conclusion to be reached. Love, in all its forms and shapes, is what I live for, what I would fight for, what I am.
What are you?