Hace bastante tiempo no escribo en este blog, y hace bastante tiempo no escribo en español. La verdad, dudo alguien este leyendo en este momento. Hace varios años decidí escribir sobre ciertas personas que fueron parte de mi vida, y acumularon capítulos inconclusos, para ser más directa, comencé a escribir sobre cada hombre que ha inspirado uno o varios posts en este blog desde que comenzó en el 2005.

Cuando comencé a escribir aquel proyecto, mi furor por este blog era algo latente y las palabras fluían sin parar. No existían muchos filtros, más que lo críptico de mi estilo, y había bastante valentía en mis acciones. Pero con el pasar de los años, y como mi vida fue cambiando, mis visitas a aquel archivo se hicieron menos valientes, y eventualmente abandoné el proyecto por un largo rato.

Hoy sé que lo que pensé aquello sería nunca será, y si le debo honor a las palabras ya escritas, debo compartirlas de alguna forma para no dejar que mueran en un Google Doc al que solo Diana tiene acceso. Por lo que comenzaré a publicar los chunks más significativos acá, sabiendo que aún si ninguno de ellos (números que protagonizan este asunto) lea esto, al menos yo solté lo que quería soltar.

I can't seem to escape this place.
The need to feel this way is bigger than me.
I may be happier than I've ever been, but I still enjoy the blue corners.
I seem to play certain songs,
Draw certain lines,
Play with certain memories.

I can't seem to avoid this side of me.
The one that acknowledges the past,
Smiles at it, and comes back to a blog to write a few lines.

Because, why not?

For a long time I judged you for this sick version of new life. For a long time I thought you were weak but never said the words, because you needed me as a mirror and I felt my job was to be there for you, and to make your new life easy for you to deal with as I could. Like oil, as you once said.

I always thought you were weak, for wanting to go back to the old station and the old rides. I thought you were selfish for wanting a window to come and stare, a window that would allow you to see all that you left behind, just as you chose this new eternal and utopian joy.

For a long time I judge you, and saw you as a weak man... and I probably still do, just that I see myself in your ways of behaving and I finally understand where you came from.

Since the very beginning I've related my way of feeling, physically and emotionally, to our old ways and what I took from you when I did. The physical way of dealing with them, the discipline in the setting of boundaries and the early emotional resignation; all of it was always so familiar to your ways, and with no shame I say that I am glad I learned it all from you.

But I always firmly believed the one thing that separated us was that last piece, the looking back after achieving the goal. The need for venting or ideas of infatuations after gaining the golden ticket, I always judged you for needing to talk to me about other girls after being so happily in love.

The other night I came home to this book and a bottle of wine, and the sensation of an old song felt too familiar. The thought of you came to my head and I struggled with the idea of what you might have been going through this whole time; you missed the empty you, the always free you, the always in control you. And I understood, I finally understood what you meant all those years.

Your happiness wasn't part of that moment of melancholy, it was never about your current reality and the fact that you were actually happy and in the best moment of your life. It was always about the bitter sensation of not having that thing you always had, the emotional roller coaster and moment. I get it now.

This blog started with a very sad and heartbroken me, and for a reason I never understood until now, I find it harder and harder to write when I am truly happy. I am, just like in those other aspects, similar to your feeling, to your thinking; I also miss the sad and empty me.

Featuring Valeria

We've been shaped too many times,
Like a song that defines a moment.

They've come through us like falling rain,
Showering us with their magic and charming presence.

We've been momentarily tamed by their ideas,
Like a puzzle falling together under warm sheets.

We've touched unknown feelings,
Burning through every discovered inch.

They've stopped being a light for us,
We've learned how to walk in the darkness.

They've taken parts of us with themselves,
As they've left not to return.

We take those moments and wave them goodbye,
They will never see us as we were by their side.

One empty space to transform,
To embrace the magic in the constant movement
And the truth in the flow of our sensations... the only time I feel safe.

~ Featuring Anais ~

Trying hurts
How did I end up trying to prove something to you?
When did I put myself in this position again?
Like I need to win you over somehow?
This is wrong.

It has nothing to do with ego, but it is the ego who warns me
Forcing myself to believe again, hurts
Doing it all by myself, hurts
I have nothing to prove.

There's no doubt of where my heart is
But my thoughts can't be at peace while doing this
I see myself creating these ideas that hurt
When all I should be doing is seeing what you offer

Trying hurts
Why am I doing this?
The calendar must see its pages fall
But it won't see myself waiting

There is fear beyond you and me
Tonight I realized that what I fear includes you,
But that this fear can't be me right now.