monotony

I just wanted to be a part of something greater besides just the group of people who know there’s something greater. I just wanted to be a part of something bigger than myself, something bigger than us. Because sometimes my desires don’t seem interesting enough, and my passion abandons its place to hide beneath the doubts and insecurities of whether do I really want this, or am I just trying to convince myself I do. Sometimes I’d rather have stuff going on around me, so I can focus on them instead of focusing on this feeling inside of me, the never-ending feeling of dissatisfaction, monotony. I’ve been trying to stay busy on these stuff, fix these other things, trying to convince myself that they matter somehow. But the world doesn’t move fast enough for me. Sometimes, I wish that stuff happened a little sooner, a little quicker. I have waited, I have waited and yet I feel like nothing happens. I feel that this love we had, this passion we shared is slowly fading away. Because even if –and when- I obtain what I so desperately wait for, I feel like I will never be satisfied. What do I do with this awareness, then? Do I stop fighting for what I want, knowing that nothing will really fulfill me? Or do I keep waiting, working, improving, accomplishing, so I can distract myself from this knowledge, from this emptiness? I feel there’s no escape. I feel like even when I obtain what I’ve been so impatiently waiting for, there will be something –else- that I will begin wanting. Always something else, something better, something new. Something that distracts me for a while, until the distraction is not possible anymore, and the feeling comes back again, and again, and again. I wonder what keeps people moving. I wonder if it’s just the routine, the responsibilities, the expectations. I wonder if it’s their passion, their motivations, their goals. I wonder what keeps me moving, too. Maybe it’s just this small, yet hopeful thought that my true happiness will come someday. But I know happiness is not a matter of what you have, what you get, what you make. On the opposite, happiness exists on the inside of your true convictions.   (…)

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Escritos variados: XVII.

Las mentiras están en todos lados,
y la verdad está junto a ti.

[Guíame hacia la verdad
y te seguiré con toda mi vida].

Más que tus ojos, me gusta tu mirada.
Más que tus labios, me gusta tu sonrisa.
Y más que a mi vida, te quiero a ti.

ya no sé si
tu ausencia es lo único presente
o si
tu presencia es lo único ausente

te quiero
donde quiera que estés,
pero te quiero más
a mi lado.

Ni yo te he perdido,
ni me has perdido tú a mí.
La realidad, cariño,
radica en que nos hemos perdido
el uno al otro.

Guíame hacia las olas de tu voz,
pues
más que complacida estaría de
hundirme en tus palabras.

Por todo lo que somos,
fuimos
y seremos:
yo sueño.

Amor es decir ‘cariño’
‘querido’
en lugar de ‘mi amor’
‘mi vida’.

El tiempo es tan corto para nosotros,
cariño.
Ojalá lo supieras.

Contigo estaba teniendo los mejores días de mi vida
y no lo sabía.

Dame todo de ti para hacerte feliz
y te daré todo de mí para así ser feliz yo.

En un intento de encontrarte me perdí a mí misma,
y en un intento de encontrarme… te perdí.

Me pregunto qué hago yo extrañándote,
y qué haces tú que no me extrañas.

Escritos variados: XVI.

-No quieres ser como los demás ¿cierto?
-Cierto.
-Claro. Por eso intentas desesperadamente ser diferente ¿no? Justo como los demás lo hacen.
-El detalle está en que ellos fallan. Y yo no.

Para seguir me faltan razones.
Para mantenerme, sentimientos.

Todos mis demonios se parecen a ti
y es por eso que no quiero luchar contra ellos.

No debo ser la única en extrañar
pero sí debo ser la única en demostrarlo.

Por favor, devuélveme la vida o devuélveme a ti, que es lo mismo.

….y ese torrente de sangre en tus mejillas
forma mi sonrisa más sincera.

Toda persona fuerte tiene su debilidad.
Pero yo, que soy débil, tengo mi fortaleza
y esa eres tú.

A veces pienso que todo está mal, pero la verdad es que lo único que está realmente mal es que tú no estás aquí. Porque si lo estuvieras, de repente todo estaría bien.

Soy sincera y con toda la sinceridad del mundo puedo decirte que sólo a ti te quiero así.

Me gusta pensar que el destino nos unirá muy pronto.

La peor parte de haber perdido
es el hecho de que eres tú a quien pierdo.

Dame amor como nunca
para quererte como siempre.

Sé que la única persona en extrañarme…
soy yo.

Sabemos lo inmensa que es nuestra Madre Tierra,
más no sabemos lo inmensos que podemos llegar a ser nosotros.

me alimento de sueños
y mis bebidas son las esperanzas.

nueva rutina

Necesito un cambio de rutina, para entender que mi vida no depende de esto
De obedecer unas órdenes, de seguir a la multitud, de ignorar mi propio criterio
Necesito un cambio de rutina, para confirmar mi ferviente deseo de hacer y deshacer a mi tiempo
De ser yo mi propia dueña, ama y guía de mis pasatiempos.
Necesito un cambio de rutina, para entender que siempre hay oportunidad de renovarse
De cambiar de rumbo, de elegir otro camino, de decidir algo diferente, volver a empezar…
Necesito un cambio de rutina, para volver a encontrarme con los gustos ya olvidados
Volver a hacer para mí, por mí, siguiéndome a mí y nadie más
Porque a la hora de la verdad, en este ambiente a nadie le importa realmente tu bienestar.
Necesito un cambio de rutina, para sentirme más fresca, liberada, independiente
Para recordar que nadie es dueño de mis elecciones ni circunstancias, sólo yo
Y yo decido hacer con mi tiempo lo que quiera: leer, aprender, estudiar, reubicarme…
Necesito un cambio de rutina, para convencerme y empaparme de mi libre albedrío
Y entender que nadie es capaz de quitármelo, a menos que yo, involuntaria o voluntariamente, se lo entregue.
Necesito un cambio de rutina, porque sí, porque lo quiero, porque me da la gana, y ya.
A nadie le debo respuestas, a nadie le debo explicaciones, y qué libre me siento.
Qué alivio y qué lindo saber que siempre tendré una segunda oportunidad,
Siempre podré volver a decidir,
A simplemente alejarme de todo esto, de todo lo que me atasca,
Porque no estoy atada a nada ni nadie, a ningún compromiso, a ninguna persona.
Sólo atada a mí.

Past is past

“I wish you would’ve remembered me a little longer.”
Those were his last few words before I turned around to go back to where I came from. At that time, I wished I had the strength enough to contradict his words. I wish I still cared enough to answer back. But I didn’t anymore, and for that reason I let it be as it was. I wanted him to know I never truly forgot him, and I would never be able to stop remembering him. But I let it be. I let it be, because at this point, fighting back was pointless.
He wasn’t my first true love. He wouldn’t be my last true love, either. I had already met someone else by the time we were still friendly. We would talk on the phone until late hours at night, and see each other’s faces thanks to the miracle of video calling. He would sing me songs and play his guitar for me, and I would hide the tears I cried hoping he could be a little closer. But he never got closer. It was just a matter of destiny; and what was destined for us was the distance.
Then all of a sudden, someone else. Someone disposed to take me places, take me out of my shell and get to know me better. Someone older, someone wiser, someone close. Then little by little, the distance –even more- with whom I’d shared so many beautiful moments ever since we had “met” more than two years prior –more than five years now. The video calling turned to simple phone calling, then just text messages, and then just silence. It’s been just silence for a while. Surprisingly, it didn’t hurt at all to let it go. I followed a new path, as well as him. We tried to stay friends but there was nothing there to keep us bonding.
Until… Until. Until vacations with my new lover led us to visit his country. It wasn’t planned for at all –the meeting him, I mean- and it was a total surprise when I recognized him walking down the dock. He was talking to a girl, and it was as if my eyes had called him in silence because, as soon as I recognized him, he locked his eyes with mine. Both of us stayed completely motionless, as well as his companion and mine who, of course, didn’t know what was going on. I told my lover to stay there for a little while, and so did him to his. I started walking towards him; he started walking towards me. Both of our companions walked away, on different directions, completely confused and unaware.
It was the moment I dreamed of for so many months, and even years. It was the moment I had written about so many times… Except this time, there was nothing. Not love, not desire, not longing. It was just the miracle of finally getting to know each other, even when we hadn’t talked to each other in months. And in that exact moment, I remembered the promises we made to each other more than once. We promised we would never stop talking to each other, we promised we’d meet in person someday. And only one of those promises was kept, unintentionally, as fate gathered us together on that exact moment, at that precise spot. The other promise was forgotten or maybe, simply, lost its importance with time. We stopped talking, not so harshly, but yes definitively.
We said hi to each other and hugged each other shily. I didn’t know how to act, and I could notice he didn’t know how to act either. We talked for a while about what I was doing there, and we laughed, astonished, at the curiousness of life. When we loved each other so deeply, it was impossible for us to meet. And now that each of us had created a new life for themselves, it’s almost as if the world wanted us to come back together, completely ignorant to our own desires. He wasn’t my desire anymore, and I knew that since many months before, I wasn’t his desire either.
And yet, we talked. We talked for a while, probably for a long time, but in reality, it only felt like five minutes. Each of our companions were looking towards us, probably asking themselves what was going on. I was about to call my lover to introduce him to my previous love, in the hope that he would introduce his lover too, just to keep the friendliness. Yet before I could call him, my estranged friend interrupted my thoughts.
“I wish you would’ve remembered me a little longer.”
And on that moment, I noticed a hidden, unwanted desire that was still living inside of me, even though I’d ignored it so many times before. I wished he would’ve remembered me a little longer, too. But there was no time for the past anymore, and so I decided there was no reason to keep being friendly. And so I decided to go back to where I came from.

Isn’t it funny? One day, you swear you’re going to die of love, die of sadness, die of hatred only thanks to this boy you don’t even know… Some years later, you laugh at yourself, as you read what you used to write for him, wishing you could go back in time to tell yourself: “don’t worry, my darling, you will be okay someday”.

and you, what do you call yourself?

I call myself a writer because I feel alive while translating feelings into words. I call myself a writer because I love being able of creating new stories and bring them into life, or at least on a piece of paper. I call myself a writer because, while writing, I’m capable of turning into a whole new person, with new feelings and new points of view. I call myself a writer because I really think words can change the world and we can communicate with them in a good way, turning ideas into speeches tan can move masses and influence people. I call myself a writer because I feel words can both join feelings together and create new feelings. I call myself a writer because I believe a good story can serve for the benefit of society. I call myself a writer because I love when everything is silent around me and I can only hear my thoughts while I write. I call myself a writer because writing is my passion.

cualquier cosa

sin importar cuán claras pueda tener mis metas,
de un momento a otro empiezo a sentirme estancada.
la inspiración no me llega, y sufro en el intento de
crear algo que valga la pena,
que llene esta nada.
sin importar cuánto intente convencerme de lo mejor que estaría sin ti,
sollozo de sólo pensar en que puedas olvidarme.
y aunque de ti me siento ajena,
a veces tu compañía es lo único que puede completarme,
aunque a medias,
como una pieza de rompecabezas que no encaja.
sin importar cuánto planee con minuciosidad el futuro,
el control de yo misma se me escapa de las manos.
y lo trato y lo intento pero todo en vano,
como intentando escalar un inexistente muro,
viéndolo todo tan vacío y lejano.
aunque sepa que puedo vivir sin ti,
es como si desee esta dependencia que agita,
me afecta, me hiere, me abusa, me grita,
me olvido de ellos, me olvido de mí.