goodbye

Oh dear friend,

So long have our paths crossed.

Yet I feel it is the end,

Of our journey together.

I'll always hold you dear in my heart,

Despite everything to come.


Sometimes under the moon

My body shivers

Remembering you,

Even if it was long ago

My soul wonders what if

I found you around.



You've chosen a life

Of songs in stranger shores

In which I won't be sailing

With you no more

Your future is uncertain to me

But I wish you

All the happiness that can be.



I've been so blue for so long

Looking up at the stars

Waiting for you to arrive

But now is time I moved on

And explored what beauties

I choose to look for.


Unravelled mysteries

Lie in front of me

The world's just amazing

Whenever you choose to see!



I thank you for the joyful times

The sad ones too

For that's how life (is):

Collection of memories

Held captive in our minds

distorted, embellished

but still so life-like.


Adieu to you my love,

I've got to keep on going.

I've never learnt another way

rather than being on the road

and try not to be astray.

I wish you all the happiness

you could ever hope for.

I've got to go,

see you perhaps

on some stranger shore...

bright new day

Ever wondered what keeps us so down?

Stupid question. You most likely know the answer to that.

But, have you ever wondered why?

Why do we ever feel sad?

Is it the fear of losing something, of never getting it back?

I missed someone for SO LONG.

Everyday, or maybe every couple of days, I'd feel sad and lonely and thought that nothing could turn this situation around.

After some time I stopped to think: why do I feel sad at all?

Is it the longing to be with that person, with someone in general, or because he's happy and I'm not?

It's so funny and sometimes ironic that being sad is a chemical reaction on our brain.

We can't control it, but we can decide how much it will affect us and try to stop it having such a big effect on us.

It made so much sense to go back to old times and pretend to be happy. At the same time, something would not have been right. Like a tiny yet unfixable error.

The road to the future is usually busy and harder. We might trip along the way, but it is so worth it.

I do not pretend to forget the past. Lately, I've started to acknowledge that there are some things in life that will be with us forever. Even if their are almost imperceptible, they're still there.

I could not be more thankful to every person that has left a footprint or a brush of colour in my life. It is the very weaving that almost defines my being.

I'd like to think that I have some hidden threads tight on my back, so that I can add some designs on my own.

Without my own personal experiences own my own I would not be the strong woman I hope I'm becoming. Nevertheless, I can't forget that there are essential beings connected to me that have pulled me through darkness and exhaustion.

Therefore I thank all of you wherever you are.

les-mis-next-to-normal-hectic-remembrance-of-you

It's almost been a year since I last wrote. So many small notebooks, with nice hardcovers, each assigned to a different activity (Chinese, German, functional analysis, writing lists about lists...) and all of them have remained untouched for a while.

So much to tell, so little to say.

There are so many memories I'd like to hold close to me, yet my mind is constantly flashed with day-to-day shit  and they slip through the edges of my fingers. It doesn't seem to matter how hard I try to keep my fingers close to each other, lots of things are suddenly and irreparably lost.

We can't control everything.

However, when these cold days swing by again, I feel the chill down on my spine. And then, it struck me: I miss you. Miss your craziness all over the place, your thoughts on smoke drifting away who knows where...

You can't stay, and for now, I can't go. (I also miss the other, but that's another day story)

There's a story I'd like you to read, if you can:

I saw Les Mis performed by my students (they were amazing), and got tickets for the next day for the show Next to Normal. The idea of meeting the main character performer lingered on my mind. I have never been an artist follower wacko, but it would've so refreshing to meet him personally and that he might want to hang out sometime. (Anthropomorphic illusion does weird stuff to our brains, n'est-ce pas?)  As I went to my friend's house, the cold air made me sink further inside my coat and imagine what would such an encounter be like.

Saturday afternoon: I went to watch Les Mis again with two friends. Who was there? That same next to normal guy... I talked to him and no sparkle went off... I felt flat normal and he must have felt completely stalked. It was a loooooooong shot and at least I got to speak to him.

After that I felt such a teenager, I had to phone a friend and tell her. A sudden rush of red went all over my body and I could help but to move frantically so as to diminish the excitement I had just felt.

Well, we didn't like me... but I kinda felt like my old-young-intrepid-fun-not-so-crazy-self.

I had been stolen away from me a couple of years ago, I've been numb for a while now.
I have kept myself for doing stuff for a long while... As I remembered you smoking on the piano, enjoying a good book or getting ticklish with a new idea for a poem, I remember who I wanted to be. I thank you.

Oh, world here I come!

numb.

To keep on writing about you would mean to acknowledge that I am hurt,
That I have the urge to smell your skin and to rub my nose against your special spot at the top of your neck. 
That I'd give up anything for endless chats about random staff, 
That I wouldn't mind to get stranded anywhere just with you,
That I miss our non-stop crazy passionate/ sauvage sex sessions, where pain is sweet and just a tiny part of all the pleasure we've shared and done to each other...


To keep on writing about you leaves me defenseless should you choose to attack me, but I now that you're gone for good. You've chosen another life in which I'm not included, at least not in the way I'd want to be.


You want me to be your friend. More accurately, you say you don't wanna lose me as a person.
But you've already made your choice, and it was not me. 


How can you expect me to keep on talking to you as if nothing had happened?
Would you say it's normal to just talk about half of the things that are going on in your life?

She obviously doesn't know you talked to me, would you put me in the position to hide me?

It is clear to me that I'm worth nothing to you. I've never been, and it aches so deeply.

I just wish for the strength to keep on moving.
I just wish I didn't need you so badly.


My friend, my boyfriend, my teacher in life, my love, you're gone.
I need to get this words out of my body, before they sink in so deeply.
I need to shout to the world that I can, because I do.
I do want to move on. To be free. To be myself again.

Stolen words...

I just read this, somewhere over the internet. It's not quite what I would've written, but it's kinda nice...


I share it with all of you who haven't read it yet.

Recién lei esto, en algún rincón de internet. No es exactamente lo que hubiera escrito, pero es simpático. 


Lo comparto con aquellos que no lo hayan leído todavía.


You may not be her first, her last, or her only. She loved before she may love again. She's not perfect - you aren't either, and the two of you may never be perfect together but if she can make you laugh, cause you to think twice, and admit to being human and making mistakes, hold onto her and give her the most you can. She may not be thinking about you every second of the day, but she will give you a part of her that she knows you can break - her heart. So don't hurt her, don't change her, don't analyze and don't expect more than she can give. Smile when she makes you happy, let her know when she makes you mad, and miss her when she's not there.”

para un patán de por ahí...

Tanto tiempo esperé para escribirte...
Tantas cosas para decir,

Empiezo a escribir en este blog por una ruptura, un cambio.
Por sentir un dolor tan inmenso que las únicas cosas que pueden remediarlo son el tiempo y la escritura.

Ahora se viene la vorágine de palabras: A-GA-RRA-TE

Tengo una bola de colores en mi garganta, que se anudan cada vez más. No puedo hablar, me agito.
Necesito desenmarañar ese quilombo de sensaciones, pensamientos a medias, recuerdos que me queman el cuerpo y la cabeza.

Acá viene la pregunta clave: Cuánto puede darte o quitarte una persona?

Esta persona sobre la que, principalmente, voy a empezar a escribir en el blog me dio muchísimo y me sacó aún más.

Soy un contorno, no tengo relleno. Soy una sombra que deambula sin poder tornarme en algo definido.
Intento despegarme de esta patética figura, volver a ser quien era: rubia y feliz.
Elegiste irte lejos en el corazón, pero te quedaste cerca para torturarme.

Quiero crecer, ser más y tu recuerdo no me deja.

Quiero que sepas que te amé, y mucho.