At least I tried

There was a man. A man and he's suit. He would go to work everyday and come back home, always at the same time. Nothing was new, no change at all. He would sit on his couch and wonder. His life was so boring he didn't even remember how things had turned out for him to be that way. Alone. And sad. He had nothing to care about, and no one to care about him. He went unnoticed through life, thinking it was his purpose to just let it go by. He didn't really care for what was going around, and he didn't care about other people. He was so depressed he sometimes sat on the floor, in the darkness of his room, and think about the best way to escape from his miserable life, to find a way out.The only thing that was in the way was his fear. He was so afraid of losing this. What is "this"? Himself. He was so close to himself this way. He didn't really know who he was anymore, but he felt so comfortable with just himself. He didn't have to please anyone. He didn't have to expect anything from anyone. He didn't have to do anything that he didn't want to. He lived to please himself, depending on no one. Not having to excuse himself and not having to live under other people's prejudices.He liked that and he didn't want to lose it.But one day another part of his mind showed him a different light. Where he had a purpose. He would try to convince himself that he was happy this way, not needing anyone or anything. But it turns out that light showed him he was wrong. That light was fulfilling, it was making him feel the beauty of something else. Something different.It was making him feel like he could do something for someone else than him. And it thaught him that he could do so much better, overcome this sadness and loneliness.But it was so hard getting used to a new life... that he died trying.

What friendship means this year...

Every year has its differences. There's usually one or more things that define a year in particular. 2007 was the year I first travelled by myself. 2008 was the year I got a call center job that defined my professional life. 2009 was the year that I got promoted for the first time in my life. I'm not going to tell other things that happend other years, but I think I made my point.

This year is being very special... This year, my social life changed. I guess I can say that this year, I have friends.

I've always considered my previous friends... unreliable. They were just... there. Never showing any interest, never telling you if they care about you or if they don't. So, crearly stating that they didn't, having friends that do has made this year a whole new experience. I've learnt so much about them, like having friends for the first time.

I'm seriously considering that they might be my first friends ever. And, imagine this, when a kid has his first friend, he makes mistakes. Kids learn about friends all through their adolescence. They learn what's right and wrong according to the rules of friendship. What your friends expect of you and what you have to give in order to receive in exchange. You learn to love them as your family, to count on them and, most importantly, to trust.

Suddenly, I realized that I'm going through this process now. On my 22nd year of life. It's kind of late, isn't it? I'd say it's never too late, but the friends I've made have to go through this process with me. And it's hard, it really is.

At first, I didn't really know how they put up with it. But then I started thinking... "hey... they might actually be real good friends". The kind I never thought I'd get.

And now I KNOW for a fact that they're special. They haven't left me, and though I'm still learning and making mistakes, they've stated that they're not going anywhere.

I still have a little voice within, telling me that nothing lasts forever, and that there's a normal cycle for friendships. I have never heard of two best friends, REAL best friends, that lasted more than like... 20 years. I don't really think it's possible to maintain the same level of friendship through the years. I guess it fades away, it wears out. You can go back to what it was, but you know it will never be the same. Just because people change, and just like you get along with your partner, you get along with a friend. And just as you get tired of your partner, you might get tired of a friend too. I'm just saying, it happens. Everything happens. Shit happens.

I'm not going to get much into it, but I also don't want to let it behind. Something else happend to me this year. It didn't happen, it appeared to me, it shocked me. It blew me off my feet and showed me a whole different world. I guess I can say that I found love.

Geez, keep it to yourself!

Why is it that we always need to tell someone? I mean, if you don't do it when it happens, we all know you'll do it later. People just can't keep things to themselves. If you don't tell it, you write about it, you think about it so much that you always end up talking about it, even if you get to that subject unconsciously.

And if it was that way, it's because you really needed to get it out. And that's my question, why?

Do we need approval? Do we need an opinion? Do we need to feel that we trust someone? Do we really need them to know? Do we need to see their faces when we tell them?

Really, what is it? Because I can't figure it out, but I still can't keep it to myself, like everyone else. I try, I really do. I don't see the point to it.

I remember I spent some time without telling almost anything to anyone. That was the time that I used this blog more than ever. Because I still felt like I needed to get it out. Even if nobody reads it, or gives a comment, a suggestion. I knew nobody was reading it, and writing about it made me feel so much better.

And I know how sad it sounds, but when I went back and read it, it was like I was telling all that to myself, so I could think about it from another point of view. So at the end, it's like I DID tell someone. Me.

And of course, that's when the "blame" comes in. Because "why did I have to say it?". At least, when I told everything to myself, I didn't feel like I didn't care, because I did. But when I tell someone else, I KNOW for a fact that they don't care. Unless it affects them in any way. And when it gets away from me, I can't keep it in anymore and it gets out, I feel like I shouldn't have said anything, because it was pretty much pointless. The only thing I accomplished is my satisfaction, because at first I feel a little better that I could tell someone. But then I feel exposed, that someone else knows too much and that they didn't really care, so why did I waste their time? Now I made them think I'm even more annoying and irritating, and I make such an effort for them not to think that way...

There's something about Mary

Aprovechando el hecho de que mi mamá no lee este, mi amadísimo blog, voy a tomarme unos minutos para hablar de ella.

Mary es, en realidad, una mujer bastante común. Se preocupa mucho por sus hijos y sabe leerlos, entenderlos.

Cuando estoy mal, ella me cuida, me entiende. No siempre me da los consejos que quiero, pero generalmente son los mejores. Cuando estoy decepcionada, ella siempre está ahi, y saca mis más pesadas lágrimas con un abrazo y nada más.

Siempre me dice que si pudiese, ella me daría el mundo. Y yo estoy más que segura de que es así.

Pero como todo, tiene sus defectos. Mary es terca, y es orgullosa. La palabra "perdón" nunca va a salir de su boca. Y nunca se va a arrepentir de algo que hizo, porque si ella lo hizo así, es porque así piensa, y nadie puede cambiar eso.

Una palabra, que es bastante dura, pero que define toda su persona, es histeria. Para Mary todo es un gran problema. Un vaso roto puede ser el fin del mundo, y una mala decisión, el apocalipsis. Simplemente un comentario que no fue de su agrado, puede ponerla de mal humor.

Y Dios no quiera que tenga un día con mala suerte. Cuando pasa más de una, el mundo entero sufre las consecuencias. Con un día agitado para ella, siempre vamos a tener la culpa todos. Su nivel de histeria puede subir o bajar, dependiendo de la persona con la que habla, o de cómo quiere tomarlo ella. Porque sí, encima de todo, es ciclotímica.

Si tiene un día de mierda, y yo me mando una mínima cagada como un comentario fuera de lugar o una torpeza, simplemente muero. Pero si llama alguien con quien ella quería hablar (..), estamos salvados, porque con esas cosas su humor se recupera.

La peor parte de todo, y a resaltar, son las discusiones. Y sus gritos.

Cuando Mary empieza una (y estoy casi completamente convencida de que las disfruta intensamente), va tomando carrera con cada frase. Muy de a poco va llegando al tema del que ella en realidad quería hablar. Si la discusión era porque se ensució la cocina, por ejemplo, de a poco va a empezar con que siempre la ensucio yo, siempre que voy, que en realidad no es tanto, porque ya no voy seguido, porque ya no vivo con ella, porque ya no la quiero. Y así enganchando un eslabón de la cadenita con el otro, me partió el alma.

Porque cuando menos lo espero, cuando bajo la guardia porque para mi la discusión terminó, lanza la granada que tenía preparada. En la guerra, la tiraría y se taparía los oídos. En ésta guerra, la discusión, la tira y se queda esperando mi reacción.

Después de varios minutos de griterío y de no escucharme, yo me había dado por vencida. Los últimos minutos generalmente son de ella, para que termine de sacarse todo. Mi discusión son solo dos frases.

Entonces cuando tira esa bomba tan inesperada, yo la recibo de pecho. Me parte el alma en pedazos y quema lo que queda.

"Para qué habrás venido!", "para qué te pedí ayuda", "no venís nunca a visitarme porque allá tenés todo", "a mi no me das bola porque tenés todo allá", "siempre están todos contra mi", "ya vas a ver"... todas esas frases incoherentes y sin sentido para cualquiera. Porque realmente son incoherencias, y más en el estado en que las dice. Porque está enojada, me hace pensar que ella cree que nadie la escucha, pero sabe que estoy escuchando todo. Y cuando la tira, por más estúpida que sea, el llanto es inevitable. Como es de esperarse, a los dos minutos, mínimo, cuando tengo la cara más hinchada que un pomelo y los ojos y la nariz secos como una lija, Mary se olvidó de todo lo que acaba de pasar. Como si hubiesen venido los hombres de negro, la flashearon y se olvidó completamente de que acaba de matar a su hija por dentro.

Es una combinación de mi, siendo tan inconteniblemente maricona y sensible, y de ella siendo tan forra. Si, forra. Porque pareciera que lo hace a propósito. Que su única meta es hacer que me tire al piso y de rodillas le diga que tiene toda la razón y que lo siento en lo más profundo de mi ser.

Pero en realidad lo único que logra es una regresión. Porque cuando me insulta de esa manera, me trae todos los recuerdos de todas las veces que lo hizo. Y el sentimiento se me multiplica por mil.

Y me lo como una vez más. Porque si sigo discutiendo, la historia nunca tiene fin. Literalmente las discusiones con ella son interminables.

Y al no pedir perdón, jamás yo voy a poder estar satisfecha de al menos haberla hecho pensar. Ella jamás va a considerar las opiniones del resto, entonces para qué intentar?

Entonces una vez más me voy de su casa con el corazón partido a la mitad, pensando que no quiero ir más, porque siempre termino mal cuando la veo.

Y después me acuerdo de cuánto la necesito. Porque es mi mamá, y la amo con toda mi alma. Ella me entiende más que nadie en el mundo, y los pocos abrazos que me da son todo para mi. Saber que siempre va a estar ahí para mi es impagable, y lo valoro más que a nada.

Cuando me abraza y me dice "ya va a pasar, hija" yo siento que me exprime como un trapo mojado, y todo lo malo se me va transformado en líquido salado.

Son dos situaciones adversas, y los sentimientos son igual de fuertes. Es practicamente la persona más importante en mi vida, y a la vez, la que más mal me hace.

Everyone needs someone

Wouldn't it be great if we could have a special sensor that told us when someone, anyone, was thinking about us? With a short ringtone and a screen that says "your mom is thinking about you", "your friend misses you", "your cousin wants to see you"... Because people just don't know how to express their feelings, they're always afraid of the consequences.

They think "if I tell her I miss her, she's gonna think I'm needy" or stuff like that, we are so full of prejudices. And shit, but most of all, prejudices.

People just worry so much about what other people is going to think about them. And I say "people" because we're all in it, and it's so hard to get out, living in this society where everybody feels that way. We would have to create a whole new world (ha) to start acting different, because if only one person changes (and I'm more than sure that there's a lot of people that has made that change), all of the others discriminate, think that person is too honest, or mean, or stupid. If a person said only what he/she is thinking at that moment with all her honesty, that would always be the truth. And saying the truth all the time is not very well accepted. Everyone loves lies.

I guess that person would be happy on one hand, because she or he wouldn't have anything to hide, or anything to keep in his or her mind. But, on the other hand, that person would be completely miserable.

Because that person would never find someone else that truly understands him or her; at one point, saying the truth and everything that he or she is thinking at all times, would not be appreciated or understood.

And, let's face it, everyone needs someone.

NADA es para siempre

It's been a while since the last time I wrote in spanish, and I felt like telling a small story. Obviously, I have no idea why and no reason to do it, only that I felt like it. =) Él estiró el brazo y agarró su bolso. Ella supo que era el momento, la señal fue el millón de recuerdos que estaban pasando por su mente a velocidad luz. Lo había anticipado y pensó que se había preparado psicológicamente, pero cuando llegó ese instante, nada podría haberla preparado para aquella puntada en el estómago. Ese ardor en los ojos, el calentamiento de la cara. Estaba a punto de llorar, y contuvo la respiración para no denotarlo. Mientras él seguía guardando sus cosas, el tiempo pasaba más lento que nunca. Un escalofrío recorrió el largo de su cuerpo, y se dio cuenta de que había olvidado respirar. Sin mover la mirada y, prácticamente, sin pestañear, liberó al músculo de su mandíbula y dejó que sus labios temblaran mientras ingresaba la mayor cantidad de aire percibida jamás. Pareció que su cuerpo no estaba listo, y cortó esa respiración en partes, haciendo parecer que el aire también temblaba, y con él, todo su torso al inflarse. Cuando rebalsó de sus pulmones y llenó su ser, se soltó en forma de lágrimas que rodearon demasiado rápido los costados de su cara. Nada de gritos, suspiros o gemidos, simplemente agua salada saliendo de sus ojos y cayendo suavemente en su blusa. Y en medio de la cadena de pensamientos, de las lágrimas que seguían deslizándose por su rostro, él se giró para mirarla. Su bolso estaba completo y su vida juntos terminada. Él supo, como siempre lo hacía, todo lo que estaba pasando por la mente de su mujer. No podía dejarse llevar por la compasión porque sabía lo débil que ella era. Si daba un paso en falso, toda la situación podía empeorar en una milésima de segundo, por lo que tenía que simplemente seguir adelante. Se dio a sí el regalo de dos segundos más de admiración a su rostro, y a la vez, a su vida hasta ese momento. Recordó dar un suspiro, y comenzó su camino. Pasó a su lado sin pestañear, respirar o hacer un movimiento en falso. Abrió la puerta y salió al pasillo, y su corazón se partió en miles de pedazos.

What do you need? Me? Didn't think so.

Me pregunto porqué será que siempre hablo de suposiciones. Nunca digo cómo son las cosas, sino cómo serían las cosas en cierta situación. Será que no quiero afrontar la realidad? Que no quiero aceptar las cosas como son entonces prefieron imaginármelas de otra manera?

En fin, hoy vamos a suponer que estoy en uno de esos episodios de serie de FOX o de los simpsons en que muestran cómo sería la vida sin mi. Me parece una buena idea para comprobar qué tan satisfecho estás con tu vida. Además, el propósito de todos debería ser el de no ser inservible, reemplazable. Todos deberíamos querer dejar una marca, hacer un cambio. En realidad ahora que lo pienso, hay mucha gente que no. Esa es la forma de pensar que no me gusta mucho. Hay gente que solo quiere vivir la vida como es. Creerán que solo existimos por existir? Que creamos vidas solo para que siga el curso de la humanidad y listo?

A mi, en particular, me parece que no. La base de mis teorías es siempre hacer lo que a uno le satisface. Hay una cierta sensación de cuando nos sentimos "bien", de cuando estamos cómodos, a gusto, satisfechos. Cuando sentimos felicidad, cuando nos reímos. Esas son las emociones que uno busca, cierto? Cuando estamos conformes con otra persona, nos sentimos a gusto. Esos deberían ser nuestros objetivos en la vida, satisfacer nuestros sentimientos. Si por ejemplo, a alguien le gusta la adrenalina, va a intentar vivir experiencias extremas para alcanzar su más alto nivel de exaltación y así sentirse "completo".

Volviendo al tema, ésta es una idea bastante egoísta. En mi teoría, siempre intentaríamos satisfacernos y sentirnos bien nosotros. Y si lo que nos hace sentir bien es estar con una persona en particular, o hacerla feliz, en realidad la hacemos feliz para sentirnos bien nosotros. "There is no selfless good deed", creo que lo dije.

Entonces, teniendo en cuenta que somos bastante egoístas, hasta que no encontremos a esa persona que queremos hacer feliz, y que a su vez esté al nivel de querer hacenos sentir felices a nosotros, nunca vamos a estar completamente satisfechos.

Creo que no se entendió... A ver si puedo relacionarlo con mi primer hilo de pensamientos... Si estoy en el mundo solo para satisfacerme y hacerme feliz, a menos que haya alguien que quiera hacerme feliz a mi, no soy totalmente necesaria, cierto? Se podría decir entonces, que el grado de necesidad de mi que tiene que tener la otra persona, debería ser muy alto para que, si yo un día no estoy, esa persona no pueda seguir adelante sin mí.

En éste momento de mi vida, creo que estoy a ese nivel. Soy bastante prescindible.

my first REAL trip

This is just how it happened, I can't quite explain everything I felt, not yet. Maybe next time, because I NEED another chance to appreciate it a little bit more.

But these were the facts:

February 3rd, 2008. One day before my trip to Peru with my friend and all her family.

I was at my friend's house. Marcos and Natalia were there.

My most trustful friend said "I have a present for you, it's a way of saying goodbye for 22 days". And he shows me this... piece of cardboard. The smallest little piece of cardboard, with a weird picture in it. Like it had just been ripped off of it's other half.

Since, like I said, he's one of the people I trust the most, I took it without thinking about it that much, and listened to the instructions, already quite excited. We did everything exactly like he said, still with some doubts and all of the questions in our minds. We had no idea what was going to happen from that moment on. Like a friend said once, it's like giving your whole self to something. You have no idea what is about to happen, you deliver yourself to the unknown. The weird thing is that I'd do it for this, but I don't think I'd put my life in someone else's hands sometimes...

So, going back, we placed the little cardboards in our mouths and waited... and waited a little more. About 20 minutes after that, I ask my friend "so how long did you say it was gonna take?". And only at that moment, and not before that, I realized I was lying upside down, with my legs over the bed and my back on the cold floor. I was staring at the fan, going round and round. He just looked at me and laughed, said it was probably already on. And it sure was.

Where I was, I could see the fan turning, and since I was on the floor, I saw my friends dancing around me, and they were looking at me and laughing. They would come closer to my face, laugh, and keep dancing. They were literally driving me crazy, so I turned away and went back to losing myself in the fan. I moved my feet around it, this meaning, in the air. Like trying to cover it with my feet. It's hard to explain the game of shadows I could see...

An this is where time is hard to explain... I have absolutely no idea of how much time passed AT ALL.

So let's say... half an hour after that, my dad calls on my cell. Says I should be packing, since it was 11 pm the day before my trip, and I hadn't even separated my clothes. The plane was leaving at 6 am.

So I decide to head out to my house. What I had to do was the following: my friend's house was two blocks away from my mom's house, where I had to stop and get a suitcase, and then I had to go to my house to pack. All of this with a taxi waiting, cause I didn't have the car that day. The thing is, I hate making taxi drivers wait for me, I feel I'm losing money or whatever, I just don't like it. So I ask my friends to come with me, go by feet, and take the cab after I pick up the suitcase. They agree and we start the two blocks trip. Obviously, the longest EVER.

Some weird guys were hanging out on the corner, and since it's not the safer neighbourhood, we became pretty scared. It was already kind of late, about 11:30 pm supposedly, so I told my friends to wait for me downstairs so we wouldn't wake up my mom. They begged me to please hurry, cause they didn't want to be left alone on the street at that hour and, of course, being so fucked up and all.

So I go upstairs, also, the longest elevator trip EVER. I get into my house trying to be as quiet as possible, and grab the suitcase. When I'm starting to think "victory!" I listen to my mom.... "Sofia??" from her room.

I answer back and we start a small chat about the following day's trip. The situation was the craziest thing... I'm holding the suitcase in the dark of her room, she's talking to me (I'm still not sure about what) and all I could think of and all that was on my mind at that time was "she's gonna notice, idiot!!! she's gonna know what you did!! she already knows that thing you did!!!".

So I tried not to speak, and as soon as I could, I ran away. When I'm opening the door, the assholes rang the bell! My mom yells "who is that?!" and I had to explain that they had walked with me because we were scared or something like that, I don't really remember the conversation.

Whatever, I went downstairs as fast as I could. When I got down, my friends had left.

Yes, they had left. I couldn't believe they had left me by myself, I was pretty upset. And other things too, but mainly, upset. I raised my hand and (amazingly enough) I got a taxi, and got in. I opened the suitcase inside the cab, to make sure the bag that I had asked my mom to put inside, was there indeed.

Of course, it wasn't. It had shampoo and other things, so I really needed it.

I'll make this part short, because time was actually flying by, right in my face; I felt a constant noice of "shhhsjshssjhsshsghshs" in my ears, and all I wanted to do was to get home... But what happened is, I told the taxi to go back, I searched my house and the bag was not there. I called my friends and before I even asked them about them leaving, I asked for my bag. They started telling me the story of the monsters that had followed them on the street (?) and I finally got an answer, the bag wasn't there either. Meanwhile, I had told the taxi to turn around like two times and we surrounded the same block twice. I finally decided that I was going crazy, and I thought "to hell with the bag, I'll buy shampoo in Peru" and I told the taxi driver to just take me home.

Same story this time, my dad started talking to me, telling me how irresponsible I was for not having prepared my suitcase being so late (approximately 12 am now).

NOTE: those 2 hourse were like a century to me. All I could think of was how my face looked like (which was probably just normal, but I felt like my eyes were bigger and I was smiling all the time) and that everyone knew by now what I had done.

I finally got in my room, locked the door, left the suitcase on the floor and sat on my bed. I tried to breathe in and out very slowly, to calm myself down. I was just TOO excited. I couldn't control my thoughts and I couldn't stop thinking. Everything was going so fast, and I still had to put together a suitcase with clothes for 22 days.

I stayed sitting on my bed for some time, no idea how much of course, and then it hit me.

Marcos had told us some of the "side effects", some things that might happen without you realizing it. He had said that people usually felt uncomfortable with their clothes. I obviously thought that he was saying this because he was a guy with two girls and all he can think about is sex. So I didn't think it was possible, but there I was, sitting on the edge of my bed, only wearing my underwear. I couldn't remember taking my clothes off, but what the hell, I felt so much lighter that way, and fresh.

I decided I would calm down, take it easy, and enjoy it. I turned on my TV (HUGE MISTAKE!) and Mission: Impossible 3 was on.

Now I can definitely say that I LOVE that movie, and it's one of the best things that's ever happened to me. Tom Cruise's hair moving so slowly, the motorcycle tricks, their gestures in slow motion. It was almost at the end of the movie that I started watching it, so I saw the last part of it and decided I would start separating my clothes.

As soon as I open the suitcase wide open (and we all know this was bound the happen) there was my bag, with the shampoo, soap and everything else. I didn't really feel upset for going through that moment earlier that day, I just laughed at what I had done and just forgot about it.

This part I don't exactly remember, but in the blink of an eye, I was all packed.

I sat in the computer, admired my work, changed into my "traveling outfit" and waited. I didn't actually look at the clock to see how much time I had to wait, I just sat there and waited.

I started writing something completely senseless like always, and some time after that, I heard my dad's alarm. He came into my room, looked at me and said "you didn't sleep all night, did you?" and I said that I had, "I just woke up a couple of minutes ago". I don't really know WHY I lied, I just did.

We lost the elevator about 3 times since I kept forgetting things; first my passport, then my toothbrush, then my sanity...

Long story short (yeah right!), we got to the airport, and I had to go through the same situation AGAIN! My friend and part of her family were there, early in the morning, trying to start a relationship with this person they didn't know but had to spend 22 days with. I was just trying to calm down and go unnoticed. I was still in a whole different dimension and I didn't want everyone to notice! But at some point, my friend looked at me for a second, and she really knows me and gets me. She just stared at me for a minute, wondering and knowing that something weird was going on. Some time after this episode, she told me this, and after I told her the story, she just said "I knew you were on something... next time just share, don't make me guess". haha.

So for the following two hours I just stayed looking at this publicity sign in the airport, (it had like 40 colored pencils one next to the other, very cool), and pretended I was just tired.

(the faber castel sign went something like that, but that's not exactly the one)

The whole flight was incredible, with me realizing that we were ACTUALLY FLYING OVER THE COUNTRY. And from where I could see it, I was double-flying, double-high. I would look outside through the small airplane window and stare at the clouds, look back inside (with the face of an overly excited child) to my friend, say "isn't this AMAZING?!?!!!" and look outside again.

This went on for almost the whole flight, until I fell asleep. The longest and most uncomfortable nap-on-a-plane I've ever had.

Wrong again

I don't think that was it... Why can´t this be easier?

WTF?!?

This is REALLY weird, but I think I know what I need. And I'm not kidding, I just surprised myself thinking about it. I really don't want to face it, and I didn't want to face it before, that's why it didn't ever occured to me that THAT was what I needed, and what I wanted. Of course, I'm not sure, I'm just guessing. But it totally makes sense. And I feel so stupid I never thought about it. It's the most embarrasing thing ever, and I NEVER thought it could actually happen. I'm not kidding, I am so surprised I can't believe it. But I guess I have to try it, it's gonna kill me if I don't. It's just gonna be so hard to get it, and of course now that I really want it, it's gonna be even harder. I just... I don't think that's it, it can't be... On the other hand... It's always been there. Deep inside, waiting for me to find it. And I've fought against it so many times. Now it all kind of fits. But it's just never gonna happen.

Sophie The Third... or fourth, fifth... whatever

You know you shouldn't be there. But you just can't say anything. It feels so awkward, so uncomfortable. But nobody else will notice. Nobody is paying attention to you. Not that you really want it. It's not that you want them to know that you're there, you just don't want them to FORGET you're there. At least. Because if no one notices you, it's the same as not existing at all, isn't it? It's like that question that says "if nobody is there to hear the lightning, does it actually make any sound?" Or, if you lived in a world where NOBODY ELSE lives, and it's just you, would that be even possible? If nobody is there, nobody would know. And then who would care? So if nobody is there to see you or hear you or smell you or touch you, would you really be there? How could you be sure? Is this what it feels to be lonely? Someone has been making me think about myself lately, and it makes me analyze my thoughts, which I almost always do, but now from another point of view. Now I'm thinking "what would they say if they read this?". But again, nobody's there. Nobody cares really. And nobody would understand. It's not really that easy, it's understandable that you might be clueless of what I'm talking about. It's OK, you're not crazy. In fact, I think I am. But I like to think it's part of everyone of us. I guess I believe that all of us are equal, except we have different values and caracteristics more or less noticeable. For example, I believe ALL of us are selfish at some point. Some people are more selfish than others, but we are all selfish. And I also think that we are all jealous at one point of our lives. Maybe you're not know, but you've been, or you will be. It's just a matter of time. Because we can all be jealous when it comes to that something in particular that gets us. Right there in our soul, it hurts so much that we can't help it, and it becomes jelousy. And if you're not used to the feeling, you'll be surprised. But then you'll realize that you've always been a little bit jealous. Or a lot. The point is, going back to where I started, that I feel this excruciating pain again, and I don't know why. And I always start thinking that there's no one else that can understand it. Nobody ever told me a story where they felt just like I do. And when it comes to that, I remember how alone I am... And I try to find someone with the caracteristics of a person that could get me, but nobody does, and I'm getting tired and giving up. I don't see it happening, and I have too many requirements to become such a friend. If not, you'll never get a clear explanation from me. And believe me, I can make it clear. I could be a whole hour explaning. And I have. But somewhere in between, I lost that person, in the land of boredom I guess. My apologies.

I'm my own Sherlock Holmes right know. Trying to find the little detail. I have my magnifying glass right here. And I'm analysing everything that happened. But I just can't find it. I studied every move, every word and person. It didn't really happen much. I mean, I almost didn't do a thing. Only, that Friday night... it was disturbing. But I don't really think that's it, I've gone over and over it in my mind, and I don't see anything wrong with that. It was bound to happen, and it wasn't even that bad. It could have been so much worse. I mean, I didn't even get robbed. I ALMOST did. It was just a scare. A scare that I deserved by the way. I needed it. So it wasn't really that troubled. And I'm not traumatized about it. It has to be something else. There is something that's bothering me and I just can't see what it is. And I'm going inside myself, deeper and deeper. Like someone just opened my torax with a scalpel. And in we go. We start moving things from our way, just like in "Dear, I shrunk the kids!", because of course, I'm really tiny and getting in a huge body. And I'm making my way through it, with a spaceship, going directly (with nitro) to my memory. Yeah, I guess I'm not Sherlock Holmes anymore. So, I'm heading towards my mind, and I still can't find anything. Was it him? Was it that moment? Was it her? Is that it? Is it? I'm not sure. I'm never sure. ---------------------------------------------------------------------------------- I was just thinking... I'm like peeling an onion. Wow, I just realized what Donkey said, on Shrek. He said that Shrek was like an onion because he was all layers. Now I got it. So then, I'm an ogre. What a conclusion...

To share or not to share

If I had to count them, I'd say I probably have about 10 secrets. Only 2 or 3 are one of those really secret, that I would never be able to tell ANYONE. Those are the ones that you imagine yourself telling to others, to plan the different scenarios, depending on how they react. I don't think there could be a person that never thought of this. Everyone has secrets. And some people have secrets that they don't even want to face. It's such a huge secret, they don't even want to think about it. It's too embarrasing perhaps? Too evil? Cause, it could happen. This totally relates to another of my comments about how we never completely know ourselves. There's just some thoughts that we have, that make you think "WTF?! How can I even think something like this?!". And that's exactly the moment when that thought became a secret. Because, of course, if it's surprising for yourself, you could never tell someone else. But you will think about it. And picture the situation, how you would say it and how the other person would react. And we evaluate all of the odds, you end up thinking "of course I'm not gonna tell him anyway, I couldn't, what would he think about me?!". Well, here's the deal. He would probably think the same thing YOU are thinking. If it is actually an evil thought, they'll think you are evil. They will find out that you've always been evil and that you could kill them at any moment now... If you had a dirty thought, they'll just think you are weird. Usually, this ones are allowed, because everyone knows that everyone has dirty thoughts. But what if it was something really awefull? Something so disgusting, or so prohibited? Something that could never happen. Something that you don't really know how it makes you feel, you don't really understand why you're considering it. But it's there, it's in your mind. And it's stabbing little knives in your brain, screaming at the top of it's lungs "RELEASE ME!!!". And it tortures you everyday. The more you want to stop thinking about it, the more it hurts. You have to let it go, just tell someone. But why is it so hard to keep your own secrets? Why do you need to let them go? To get someone else's opinion? Just to see how they react? Maybe you just want to make sure you're not crazy. I mean, there has to be a reason why someone can't keep a freakin' secret!!

Nothing is impossible

A veces la gente se encapricha con las cosas más ilógicas. Es difícil pensar objetivamente la mayoría del tiempo, casi siempre vamos a necesitar a un tercero que nos ayude a ver las cosas de afuera. Si estás encaprichado, es todavía más difícil. Es una obsesión, algo que se necesita o se quiera hacer, no importan los riezgos o por lo que se tenga que pasar para lograrlo. Cuando nos ponemos una idea en la cabeza, no hay más alternativas. El problema es cuando no se puede cumplir. Uno va a hacer lo posible e imposible, pero a veces no se llega, y tenemos que pasar por sobre otras personas, lastimar a otras personas, convencerlas de que lo que queremos es lo que hay que hacer, o tener. Por más que otros digan que no, uno no ve otras opciones. Hay un solo camino, y es el que nosotros queremos. Si no podemos cumplir ese capricho, viene la decepción. Y encima de todo, la frustración y la impotencia. Maldita impotencia. Porque es la peor, nos hace pensar que TIENE que haber otra forma, pero cuando no la hay, queremos desatar la furia con algo, o alguien. Obviamente, el foco de desahogo siempre es el equivocado, porque se pierde el juicio. Echamos la culpa a cosas que no tienen nada que ver, porque nos volvemos ciegos. Si no alcanzamos lo que queremos, somos capaces de cualquier cosa. Pero al fin y al cabo, es un ciclo vicioso. Como todo. El problema es que todo se separa. Si intentacemos llegar a nuestra meta con pequeños objetivos, quizás todo sería más fácil. Pero, como dije, es tan complicado ser objetivo cuando estamos tan obsecionados. No vemos claro, confundimos sentimientos y motivos. Y todo vuelve a empezar. No pude lograr aquello, así que voy a tener que hacer lo otro. Porque, al fin y al cabo, todos tenemos una meta, un punto final al que queremos llegar. Un sueño. Por más tiempo que tenga que pasar, en el fondo sabemos que en algún momento lo vamos a alcanzar. Cueste lo que cueste, y haciendo lo que haya que hacer, todos llegamos en algún momento. O tendremos que conformarnos con lo que hay. Aburrida y triste conformidad.

¿..?

I really really want to know what I want. It's driving me fucking crazy. There HAS to be a way. I've said it before, but I think the easiest solution is a psychologist. Or maybe I wanna start writing another story. I'm kind of thinking about it, I don't really think I have what it takes, but it might keep me busy. It'll suck, that's for sure. But... who cares? It's just for my own good sake. And it won't be for long, since I'm starting school in a couple of weeks and I won't have any time for it. School... that sounds so boring. I don't really know if I wanna go. But, again, I don't know shit about what I want. Today I want to, tomorrow I won't. I'm so impulsive it's disgusting. What am I gonna do about it? I can't help it. And yet, when somebody else wants me to be impulsive, I'm so not. I'm only impulsive with such stupid things. And at the same time, I'm SO lazy. I hate it, but there's no way around it. I'm the laziest person I have EVER met. I admit it, I don't care. Well, I actually DO care, but I can't change it. Know what?... I don't really think I'm on the right path. And I know "it's never too late". But I'm SO lazy I don't think I have enough strength to change directions. Cause it's really not as easy as it sounds. I would have to change not one thing, but EVERYTHING. And everything is just so much...

Je ne sais pas

Hace varios días que tengo esta sensación... a ver si puedo explicarla, porque es re compleja. Y en realidad, si lo pienso, no lo tengo desde hace días sino desde siempre. Pero últimamente se está agravando... Es como si tuviera muchas cosas pendientes. Si todo el tiempo estuviese pensando en cosas que tengo que hacer. Y me frustro. Me recontra frustro. Estoy CONSTANTEMENTE pensando en responsabilidades, en lo que voy a hacer este año, lo que quiero hacer... son, fuera de joda, 800 cosas. Es increíble todas las que hay. Y me queman la cabeza, me termino quedando callada y colgada, la gente me mira. Pasan, pasan, pienso en una, me lleva a la otra, antes tengo que pensar en eso, pero también quiero eso, y tengo que hacer aquello. Es la muerte! Es un ciclo interminable que al final siempre me hace llorar de frustración. De impotencia! (que después voy a hablar más de ese, el peor sentimiento del mundo). Me hace sentir que nunca voy a poder hacerlas, y me nace la puta indesición. NO SÉ. No sé, no sé, no sé! No sé si lo quiero, no sé si lo haría, no sé cuándo, no sé cómo voy a hacerlo, no sé si decirlo o no, no séeeeeeeeeee!!! ... Y ahí es cuando se lo cuento a alguien. Porque digo "claro, si se lo cuento a alguien capaz me ayude, o me de una opinión que me ayude a decidir". Pobres las personas que ya me escucharon... En este momento están buscando en clasificados una máquina del tiempo para volver a ese momento y no haberme preguntado qué me pasaba. Se quieren matar. Y la peor parte es que nada me ayuda. Sigo sin decidirme, me frustro más porque a veces me entienden y tengo razón. O peor, me dan opiniones o consejos completamente estúpidos que no me servirían. Y creo que volví a hacer lo mismo, porque escribirlo es casi como contarlo. Y como antes, no está ayudando. Hacer la lista tampoco ayudó. Y ya se me acabaron las ideas, me estoy volviendo recontra ciclotímica, de repente me frustro y tengo el peor mal humor del planetario. En dos segundos me convierto en mi antítesis: la negatividad. Me sale todo mal, me enojo y, obviamente, no sé qué hacer. En fin, como todo esto no fue productivo en absoluto, seguiré pensandolo. Qué se yooo, no sé qué hacer! Será la respuesta "volvé a la psicóloga"?... Hmmm...

Just another weird analysis

What to do...? It's like your mind goes blank and suddenly you are more lost than you've ever been. You think "this is not the body I'm supposed to be in". Like everything was so new, in just one second you discovered where you were, and you felt the weight of your hands, your legs... Because just two seconds ago you were flying so high that you couldn't even feel anything. All of the "real you" was actually outside the body, just rambling through a world completely impossible to explain. Of course, I will still try. I'd love to call it Wonderland, but I guess that one's already taken, huh? Your own Fantasy Kingdom, when you are allowed to have all the kinds of thoughts you want. You can be in any place you are able to imagine, and anyone you want, can be there with you. The thing is, it only lasts a couple of seconds, maybe a minute or two, but not more. Be careful, you'll think it actually is more, but it's not, really. And then... you come back to this. Pretty sad, I'd say. But if you want it to last longer, you can't go on like this. You have to enjoy it, not hide it. And if you want more, so be it. Have more. What is the big deal?!