Marginalidad

Otro tiempo, otras palabras. Otros pensamientos, otras ideas. Investigaciones y teorías sobre un personaje histórico, pilar de la cultura occidental sugieren que en su entorno original era marginado. Y esa palabra, pero más que nada, su sentido, su significado, resonaron dentro de mi al grado de orillarme en este momento a escribir al respecto. No pude menos que realizar una pequeña recapitulación de mis recuerdos, en los cuales dicha palabra aparecia, o describia ese momento captado dentro de mi cabeza. Marginal: al margen, lejos del centro, no importante, secundario. Fuera de la norma quizás sea otro sinónimo, o parte de la connotación de esa palabra. Connotación que es coloquialmente negativa. Que conlleva a una situación de no normalidad. ¿Hasta que punto es eso bueno o conveniente en un mundo como este? Mi experiencia me dice que no demasiado. O tal vez si es bueno, pero no conveniente, porque resulta que el resto no son buenos.  Que ser diferente significa tener un "destino" algo más cruel en un mundo como este. Marginalidad al extremo, marginal dentro de cada categoría o grupo en el que se podría clasificar la existencia que lleva el autor de estas letras. En fin. La coherencia para escribir termino por hoy.

Horas y kilómetros después.

Horas y kilómetros después. Cielos extraños, vientos sofocantes. Humo y polvo. El tiempo sigue corriendo y tengo que cumplir con las obligaciones (realmente lo son) o quizás con los horarios de las actividades estructuradas. Escuchar con atención debiera ser siempre la consigna y hacerlo debiera ser un placer. Pero no siempre es así. La disposición es algo extraño. Los nervios y el stress se hacen presentes en la primera hora. El miedo a no ser lo suficientemente bueno (cuando en tu mente "suficientemente bueno" significa ser absolutamente el mejor), a no saber lo suficiente, a no poseer el entendimiento y, sobre todo, a fracasar en aquello que creo es lo único para lo que valgo. El miedo es más grande cuando ese pensamiento cruza por la mente. Los siguientes minutos transcurren entre extrañezas, entre alzar la ceja ante una didáctica que juzgo ineficiente y entre ideas que a pesar de su solidez no resuenan demasiado. Las preocupaciones habituales en mi van y vienen a lo largo del día, atentando contra la supuesta concentración que debiera tener en lo que estoy realizando. Miedo a lo inevitable, al destino de todos humanos. Todos sabemos que ocurrirá, más no sabemos la hora. Y es como este juego cruel de alguna entidad que la biología y la fisiología intuyen esta relacionada con mi cerebro y sus sustancias químicas, que me estruja con sus cadenas, atándome al tiempo que no es, a las cosas que han de suceder a mi familia, pero de lo que no tengo certeza real (quién rayos pasa una parte de su tiempo diario preocupándose por ello, esa es mi anormalidad). Una mala película me hace lanzar palabras agudas y nefastas, tener un semblante más sombrío o indiferente de lo normal y pensar una y otra vez el porque de la existencia de películas tristes,  que reafirman lo que ya sabemos y acentúan lo que ya sentimos. Interacciones poco significativas durante varias horas en un espacio común donde supuestamente aprender debe ser el objetivo y es hora de volver al refugio. Paso por un comercio donde, con receta en mano, solicito una cura mágica. Recibo la caja, entrego el dinero. Píldoras para la modernidad...píldoras para algo que antes no existia, ignoro la causa. Tal vez sea solo parte de una gran conspiración, como muchos afirman. Igual las consumire, porque a pesar de todo tengo esperanza. Si no fuera así, ni me tomaría la molestia. Quisiera que nada me importara y vivir una vida carente de esas extrañas necesidades afectivas, de realización, de interacción con todos esos tus. Es ahora, cuando empiezo a perder la coherencia, que me doy cuenta que es hora de dormir y seguir tratando de escapar.

Lo intenté.

Así es, este pasado sábado 14 de febrero intenté realmente procurar que el día pasase como lo que era: un día común, tan común como cualquier otro. Caminando por la calle, riendo irónicamente al pasar por las florerías, mirando como las personas se apiñaban buscando un arreglo, un ramo, una flor; junto a las tiendas de regalos, mientras compradores buscaban una tarjeta, un muñeco, o uno de esos artículos llamados "detalles" cuya razón de existir es, al parecer, ser un desperdicio de dinero y recursos que acaba en algún estante acumulando polvo y estorbando, mientras camaleónicamente se funde con el entorno de nuestra habitación hasta pasar desapercibido. Si, orgullosamente caminaba esa tarde por las calles de mi ciudad (o pueblo) natal observando el movimiento a mi alrededor, sustraído en apariencia de la realidad anímica y temporal de los demás. Evidentemente, había logrado mi cometido, escapando del remolino consumista y mercadológico de estos dias. Pero sobre todo, de mi propio sentimiento, el cual, presionado por el exterior, era vulnerable. Incluso tenía expectativas positivas, ya desde que llegara a mi casa el día anterior, potenciadas por mi sesión de terapia de ese día (terapia en 14 de febrero... debiera ser el negocio de la época). En fin, despues de mi caminata y demás asuntos, mientras me encontraba ya en mi habitación, "planeando" de un modo u otro las horas que habrían de suceder inmediatamente, el peso de la realidad que prima desde hace tiempo en mi vida se hizo presente. La soledad. Y de ese modo en rabia y soledad habrían de transcurrir esas horas, mirando inútilmente los monitores de la computadora y el teléfono celular, levantándome, sentándome, abriendo y cerrando páginas y aplicaciones, deseando estar en cualquier otro lugar, o mejor dicho, deseando no estar y cuestionándome, tal como me cuestiono cada día los qués, los por qués, los comos... tratando de escapar cuando ya tarde y perdida la ilusión de una noche mejor, miraba la televisión, donde 70 y tantos canales no tienen nada que pueda llenar el vacío. ¿Qué queda? tratar de conciliar el sueño en una madrugada que no tenía, igual que el día que la precedió, nada de especial. Para comenzar con un amanecer que no ví, porque el embotamiento era grande, y la sensación...vuelve apenas llega la conciencia.

Really?

Really... I was thinkin' about writing the last few days and a title wandered in my head: Being crazy. Was going to write about being crazy, how does it feels, what do crazy people think of, what they do, how crazy people goes through life. 

And then a little issue came up: there isn't a type of  "crazyness". Every crazy people is different and feels different in their own particular crazyness...or madness, don't know which word fits best. So, I posposed this post because I thought it wouldn't be relevant or significant, that it wouldn't have any purpose or meaning and it wouldn't be interesting, even for me.

But the origin of the idea was to explain other my crazyness. I often find myself inquired about the things that I think and feel in my crazyness (well, not that often, but sometimes it happen). What can I say? It's not something that I call for. Isn't neither something that I can get rid off so easily. Does the flu goes away with the solely thought? Don't think so. Neither this. Hey, postmodernity, is there a pill for that? Don't think so either. Are pills magic? Nop, they're not.  There is always hope. That is something hard to lose. Fortunately.

A question in mind.

Peace is a word often used, but rarely understood. Hapiness, a term that is frequently confused.  And somehow, my mind just related both, tried to make a fusion, in an effort to find something to ease the turmoil of  my toughts. Finding a calm inner place, where things aren't found clashing in the speed of anxiety. Where the need to talk is fulfilled without restrains or fears. Are things solved talking? I don't know. It is said that in fact problems can be addressed that way, or at least, the feelings that problems create can be relieved speaking. I haven't speaked. It seems I have forgotten how to do it. Not in the way of creating sounds with my mouth and tongue, but in the way of letting them go out of my mind. The chains of silence are heavy, and seem to condemn you to loneliness...

Chains of silence...

Just because I'm losing.....

Doesn't mean I'm lost...

Meanings...

Or...what's the point of these? Thinking might be a dangerous activity before the eyes of the people, to the eyes (in a figurative way) of God, even to our own view. Because thinking took me to this idea: What's the point of living? What is the meaning of life?. I just see one thing: suffering. Feared, avoided, but inevitable. Then why to suffer if it can be avoided? How? Stopping the life. Is it really necesary to go through all these? What drives people? Some would say love? That's debatable. Some of us just know the painful side of it...the unrequited, the cruel. Anothers would say wealth. Too hard when you can barely survive, even if you work with all your strenght. Very unlikely. Health? Impossible to guarantee. Eventually sickness will catch you and render your body and mind useless. Loneliness, poverty, pain, anxiety, fear. The list could go on...But  I kinda made my point. Is really necesary to live this...years of pain in exchange for incredibly brief moments of happiness?.

Again I don't want to write this...but I hardly think so. 

I used to rule the world...seas would rise when I gave the word..

But now, and I won't say suddenly, because it wasn't, but in a sutile way I became a slave. Sometimes I forgot that I have an evil master whose will I am bent to. Not always...lately its will became more and more evident. Everywhere I turn, when I sleep, when I'm awake, when I try to laugh, when I try to run, even when I try to enjoy. I just turned my eyes to the stars and hoped things were like they were before this. When looking at the stars brought me joy, when life was not the hallway of sorrow (and to sorrow). I just missed that time. I want to look at the stars. I want to look at the sky. I want to break free again. I want to live. But there it is...the evil  master that keeps me chained...I don't know its name. Sometimes I call it fear. Or uncertainty. Maybe anguish...anxiety...despair. I just don't know...how did it came from the depts of  my soul to its throne in my life....

Hermenéutica de la letra de las canciones (o que diablos quisieron decir con eso).

Así es. Cada rato nos encontramos tarareando o cantando a grito pelado (o discretamente, dependiendo del grado de vergüenza que tengan) la letra de alguna canción que nos gusta, esta de moda, tuvimos la desgracia de escuchar y se quedo cincelada en nuestro cerebro, en fin multitud de ocasiones. Pero ¿realmente le hemos puesto atención a la letra? ¿tiene algún sentido lo que dice? ¿lo comprendemos? ¿o después de escucharlo solo parece un monton de frases extrañas?. No sé, pero a mi si me ha sucedido frecuentemente. Más aún si la canción es en otro idioma por lo general el inglés. Por algún ejemplo puedo pensar en Viva la Vida, de Coldplay. Poniéndole atención realmente llego a una conclusión: me gusta...pero no entiendo. ¿algún ejemplo en español?

Odio a la gente....

.....que hace la estupidez de comentar en algún foro o blog escribiendo sandeces tales como: primero, primis, first, numero uno....

¡Y es todo lo que comentan! No dudo que ni siquiera lean lo escrito y solo se conecten para ver cada cuando se actualiza un blog o foro para poner esos comentarios imbéciles. ¿Eso los hace mejores en algún sentido? SI. En el sentido estúpido. O tonto. ¿Qué caso tiene? Ninguno, tal vez solo reforzar su idea de ego en la que se dan alguna importancia por ser los primeros en escribir una o dos palabras que realmente no aportan nada a la comunicación entre los lectores y el autor del blog, no dan lugar a una discusión interesante, no opinan nada. Son como los "trolls" solo que un poco más carentes de imaginación.

Bueno, ya despotrique contra una de las plagas que agobian esta edad de oro de internet (mientras aún lo sea, si es que aún lo es).

Unlock

I need some rest...

Rest of what?... Guess that I need rest of me. To rest from my thoughts and obsessions. To rest from my endless guilt, procrastination, negativeness. To rest from my lack of hope and joy. To rest from the dark visions and nightmares, to rest from my fears and impatientness. To rest from my negation of people...don't know....Just want to sleep...

What can I say?

What can I say when nothing seems to work, when the means that I have to try to achieve a certain goal: a better life, aren't working? I just don't know. Try to don't fall into despair. Not fall into sadness. Trying to be positive, as I was sayin' before. But not...over and over, all the things that I have done are marked with failure. What is the point on being good, what's is the point on listening to your parents and elders, to do what is supossed to be "right"?. Everyday in my life, yesterday, today, I see that pointless and fruitless...

Testing.

Naa, just kidding. I am waiting for my next class and I have some time to write. Do we think this blog is a little too negative?? LOLOLOLOLOLOL. Or ROFL ROFL ROFL. Or maybe ROFLMAO.  I have a lot of ideas about topics to write, but suddenly when I put my hands on the keyboard all my ideas dissappear like a pear (that was a joke, just for the record). Instead of that I am trying to overcome my overall inactivity and also trying to be positive. Yeah, I'm fuckin trying, believe it or not their readers. Despite the death of my iPod, the partial losing of my photo camera, the incapacity of my PDA touchscreen to do something at being touched actually.

Oh, it's class time. Go to go.

Going on,moving along, raining and such.

And also watching the rain. Rain falls. It seems obvious, but also seems to be obvious that lightning falls upon the ground during a storm, and that is not true (it goes up to the sky, actually). 

These days have been odd, as usual. At the moment, I am just waiting for the rain to stop or at least for the chance to run to my house.

Seems to be that weekends are pretty much bad for my mental and physical health. It also seems to be that people will always do what they pledged not to do. Yes, that is how the f%·&% people is. 

Nevermind... i think that is all for today. 

Everything may go to HELL.

Yes, damnation to all of you, damnation to everyone. (mmm this is too drastic). Ok a little bit drastic, but somehow, this is how I feel today, after my weekly trip to this city, and surviving the headache and nausea that I had last night. Nausea....a lot of philosophers talk about it... I just remember Sartre and Heidegger. Existencialism. Yeah, to exist cause me nausea, I need a cure... Nevermind. Just finished my homework. Philosophy is a kind of relief. Til next post.

Some lacks....

Lack of lessons, lack of fun, lack of entertainment....among other things. Besides a stream of so called negative thoughts come and flow in the most unspeakable ways (well, maybe that's an exaggeration, in fact it is). The things are speakable, writeable and such. But the feelings are those. Well, being honest there was one day of inner peace, no stress, no anxiety, all good and beautiful with rainbows, ponies, flowers blooming everywhere, and houses made of cake and cookies (got the sarcasm?). 

Well, it was a good day, but it is now so fuckin' over and now there is this almost permanent discontent feeling, and also the inhability to express it in proper ways or in a proper time. 

At this point I am supposed to be able to characterize a problem and bring a friggin' solution. Well none of it. Everything seems a damn problem. So, that's why I say now: Damnation!!!.

¡¡¡HA VUELTO!!!

El horroróscopo está de vuelta.

Shake, shake, shake señora, jump in the line!!!

Y me cago en internet en prodigy y en carlos slim (que de slim no tiene nada). Todo este dia ha sido extraño en cuanto al internet. ¿Y el resto de los dias? Extraños al respecto de todo. Pasando desde una tranquilidad que hace mucho no sentia, a sensaciones extrañas y vaivenes a nerviosismos y tal vez algo de síndrome de abstinencia. Eso me pasa por no seguir las recomendaciones de aquellos que busco para ayudar a mi mente trastornada ¡Mantente ocupado maldita sea! (lo último lo digo yo). Quizás todo sea producto de una constipación mental, un cuello de botella virtual que no tiene salidas propias o prudentes o productivas, situaciones del carácter de las cuales no estoy nada orgulloso. Parece que en estas situaciones de intranquilidad la música es un alivio bastante efectivo. Tengo que hacer malestas en este momento. Salgo de viaje y me estresa, ¿por qué? no lo sé. O tal vez si lo se y me hago pendejo. O de nuevo, tal vez solo sea el síndrome de abstinencia jajaja.

O quizás que por estas fechas hace un año las cosas empezaron a ser extrañas para mi. (Insistencia en que la mente se debe de ocupar y el cuerpo de una vez). Bueno, no extrañas, increiblemente tristes más que nada....y aún no puedo evitar seguir recordando y aferrandome a algo que ya no existe, aún dolido, aún rencoroso, quizás sin razón pero francamente dudo que los sentimientos tengan una razón en si.

Mañana me voy, no estoy seguro de querer ir, solo se que quiero disfrutarlo y lo hare. Tratare de bailar al ritmo del calipso para intentar calmar el ansia inquieta.

The fabric of reality and society.

I made an analogy of the reality, or, well, a part of it, the part that I can have access to, like a fabric. All threads uniform. And there is something diferent. What does people usually do when they find something like that in their clothes? Rip it off. Seems to be that society works that way to. And at that point, the problem becames my problem. I am the different thread that doesn't seems to fit at any part of this reality fabric. Even when I try to do so, it doesn't work for me. It can be ok in the outside, but inside, is another story. Even in my differences I'm still different, and can't find my place. Awkwardness is the way in which I drive myself through life, surviving the contact with other beings, contact that will inevitable lead to suffering...in any form. And still I yearn for that contact and desire it. Neverending conflict. This is what I have to battle in my life. And I'm getting tired of it.

Back in you head....

Necesito poner el Horroróscopo de nuevo para atraer a las masas hacia el otro blog. Por mientras pondre esta canción aqui:

The Balance of Light and Shadow

Fades

Yeah, inspiration come and fades. Mind is odd. Night is short. So good night.

Misundastood!!!!

Or something like that, it seems to be !!!!!

In a situation.

In a situation when you don't like someone...you leave.

What can you do, if the person you don't like, who makes you feel discomfort is none other than yourself.....?

¿Qué buscaba?

Respuestas... Y así fue que comenzó. Primero preguntando. Las respuestas se agotaron rápidamente. Luego observando, lo cual condujó a más dudas, más y mas, como lluvia incesante cayó la duda una y otra vez, aumentando su cauce. Y entonces una luz.

Los libros.

Página tras página, volumen tras volumen, uno nuevo, otro más. Pero la duda seguía creciendo. Y en efecto, cada día era una nueva duda. Muchas se olvidaron con la pregunta ¿para qué?.

Respuestas. Pensamientos. Uno tras otro. Años pasaron y las dudas empezaron a abarcar cada vez más aspectos de la existencia.

Buscando respuestas....

¿Respuestas a que?

"Lo más complicado de un problema es plantearlo"

La respuesta esta en la pregunta.

¡Eso lo explica todo!

En cierto artículo leí el modo en el que se debe de escribir en internet para mantener "cautiva" la atención de los lectores. Entre estos consejos puedo mencionar:

• Utilizar listas.
• Escribir en párrafos cortos.
• No recuerdo que mas.

Porque maldita sea, perdí el enlace (lo perdí en mi cerebro, o sea, nunca guarde el enlace, la inquisición de los bloggers me perseguirá).

Pero volviendo a lo primordial ¡ESO LO EXPLICA TODO! considerando que este blog tiene 90% de quejumbre y herrumbe escrita como una novela, no me debería sorprender nada.

En fin, continuamos con algo no relacionado en otro momento.

Unbreakable Will.

Will unbreakable, faith unshakable. A strenght underlying in the spirit itself. What can someone possibly do to tap on the power of this?. Is it meditation, religion, praying, pleasure, work, discipline? What?

Certainly I don't know. And someone doesn't know me either, as I have been said "I didn't believe that of you".

But it's true as it seems all of us are capable of the greatest deeds. But also the oposite. Nevertheless, I can say that almost everyone is in the middle. 

I am saying crazyness again!!!. 

I'll stop right now.

G. Night.

Higiene mental.

Si, parte de la higiene mental fue borrar el anterior post. Toda esta tarde la he pasado estudiando lógica, pruebas formales de validez de un argumento. Y no puedo dejar de pensar en las palabras de mi profesor acerca de aquel estado casi "nirvanico" de higiene mental. Sobre todo considerando la poca higiene mental que pueda tener el autor de este blog. Pero lo he comprobado. En los momentos que dedique a mi estudio, no hubo pensamientos o sentimientos de desagrado, temor, desesperanza. Absolutamente nada. Solo yo, el papel y el lápiz, y mi mente trabajando, resolviendo problemas. Y siguió resonando en mi cabeza, una vez que tome un descanso "higiene mental". Considerando los extraños sueños y sucesos de estas últimas 48 horas y de las anteriores semanas, más bien pareciera que dicho estudio ha sido para mi el descanso en si. Realmente extrañare esta clase. Creo que esto ha de ser un proceso análogo a la meditación, solo que en vez de poner en blanco la mente, consistió en concentrarla en un único fin, en el único momento presente. Podría decir que ambas prácticas han de perseguir lo mismo, basado en lo poco que se acerca de la meditación y en mi reciente experiencia. Y el post anterior, ¿por qué ha sido borrado?. No lo sé. Es tal vez parte de un lado oscuro que me persigue. Lo acepto, sin la luz no habría oscuridad. Pero tal vez lo contrario no tiene porque ser contradictorio. O tal vez simplemente no era yo, o no es lo que yo quiero ser y lanzar desde mis entrañas hasta este universo. Tal vez solo era víctima de la entropía mental (si, esa idea también viene de mi maravillosa clase de lógica). Tal vez solo fueron sentimientos que cumplieron su función al salir por medio de este blog y no son necesarios ahora. Momento presente: escribo, cierto un leve malestar producto de algunos excesos cometidos, y lentamente los recuerdos, así como la memoria de los extraños sueños gotean dentro del vaso de mi conciencia. Y tengo hambre así que por el momento es todo. 

Bitterness.

So, bitterness that's it. A way of life. A train of thoughts. Which train of thoughts lead us to this point? In which point I became a zoo animal that someone wants to visit anytime he wants. Well, at least people like animals from the zoo. I feel sometimes more like a street dog. But there is no point. Those life has a point, a meaning, an object anyway? My hate against human kind grows stronger everyday, as far as I can see. Everyday I feel more useless. Is it something anything worse than failing at the things that you were suppose to do? The mission of the life, if there is such thing, if there is a meaning? Well, I'm catching the meaning. Loneliness. Being dumped like trash, no matter how stronger your feelings are. No matter how strong are your beliefs, or your faith. Hopeless is this world. Tainted are the things. False are the ideas.

"Be living in the kingdom of the good and true"...

Well, that delusion is coming to an end. I am aware that some of this ideas have no logic. But I feel this way today. I've been feeling that way a long time ago. I don't know why. Maybe the karma is truth and I was terrible in the past. But so far, I think that I overpayed this. But anyhow, nothing matters.

In this swirling vortex....

Yes, a swirling vortex of enthropy...no, that's not mine, but nevermind. Writing from this torn life, between two geographical places, a lot of existencial places. Torn is the word. Yeah, just like that old (now IS OLD) song: "nothing's fine I'm torn, I'm all out of faith... this is how I feel..." and yes, the rest of the song is well known. Torn in pieces, torn in peace, torn torn torn. And every second going tear apart more and more.... Good luck, good night.. I'm done for now.

Is the time coming? Or is it going?...

And after hearing about a bunch of stuff that could be just described as "interpretation" then I start to write this, an interpretation of what I'm being, what happens, what comes to me in a sort of diferent ways. I am listening to a song, but no device is on. My media player is shut down, 'cause I am on a public area. And I don't want to disturb all this mother fuckers. Just watching the branches of trees being blowed and moved by the wind through the window that is right in front of me, well, if you don't count the obstacles of human bodies, tables and computers.... Nevermind. Is the time coming, or is it going..? Don't know, if it were for me, I would stop everything. So I could be in peace. Tired of listening about good things and bad things. About love and jealousy, about friendships that leave to never come back. About that feeling of neverending pain that is underneath, even when you're laughing. THe laugh lasts a second. The pain is forever. Tired of remember a hug that somebody gave me one year ago. Somebody that now I hate with no real reason. But love doesn't have reasons. Neither hate. Hate is more easy to spread. Who cares, who knows?. My head has a strange aching. I am thinking in the future and the past. Again, failing to do what I have. Live the present. But it's just seems so griefing. Two more days, and a conventional mark is going to remember me, even if I don't want to, that times is coming and going. Times like these, in which I just think why. Times when I remember that I was better. I guess I was happy and I didn't realized. Times in which I would like to cease the existence. Why?. Because I am tired of fighting against everything. But mostly, against me. Tired of dreaming of things that aren't going to happen. Tired of feeling that loneliness is the only thing that is left, tired of think about damnation, my damnation, tired of realizing that nothing can fulfill the emptiness that I have. I'm just tired. I want to surrender. I want to rest....

It's so strange.

Yes, it's so strange, but I didn't wanted to look at my blog. It was like watching a wound somehow. I was distant from it, or maybe distant from myself, because this is one of the few paths that I have to reach myself. Kinda strange, isn't it?. But it's true I guess. Writing and putting the soul in its place. I am not as fluent as I used to be. And I am refering to typing, writing, and putting my thoughts in this language ( I don't know what I do this!!!). Nevermind. This was going to be, again, one of my usual claims of misanthropy. But now, I am not sure about it. I was very difficult to start writing. And it's very difficult to write right now. All about feelings and thoughts. Because those are the centerpieces of my life. Maybe that's my problem. I might need some action. Anyway. I write this, from the loneliness of a library. Full of death people that no one knows if they really existed. People who wrote about any kind of things, for any kind of reason, but, most of them, tried to find a meaning (if there is such thing). From the loneliness of my life, that seems to be more lonely every day. Am I accustomed to that? No. I felt that way before and it hurts just as the first time. That's all for today.

Flash, video.

Yesterday I saw a video. It was extremely well maked. It had beautiful graphics, beautiful colors, excelent timing, great music. But it was just so freakin' sad. Fortunately, I don't have the link, but sadly, it is frozen now in my mind. I hated it. Why did I hated it. Because it was just a reminding of what life is, or at least, what my life is. Just trying to find a connection with the people that I care of, and, when you achieved it at last, lose everything. Why? Just 'cause. As I said, I don't have the link, and I don't want to have it. I don't want to be reminded in my spare time of the things that I have to suffer every fuckin' day. I am trying to forget that.

A few days ago....

A few days ago I was trying to write something here, but since I am now addicted to a time consuming game, and also had some work to do at school , I couldn't. Besides, the feelings that I had came at the worst moment, because I don't have a permanent internet connection now. (besides, I am also a fuckin' addict to the fuckin' internet). Even my schoolmates noticed that I was not right, and that's kinda scary. I cannot hide my feelings as I used to do it before. Are you sad was the question. No, I am not, just tired was my answer. But the truth is that I was actually sad. Right now I feel strange. I feel I belong to nowhere. I cannot find peace anywhere. I like what I am studying right now. I am fortunate 'cause I have the chance to do so. I overcame my fears. Then, why do I feel this? Why do I feel that existence is futile, and worthless? Why do I feel that I shouldn't exist? Why do I feel that this have no sense, no purpose, living???. Every time I try to relate to a human being there is fear, uncertainty, there will be always deceiving, loneliness, pain, deception. I also feel strange, because the last year I had a great lost. The year before I had a greater lost. This year I feel that I am having loses. And I am actually feeling loses. And I am angry with this fuckin world and situation, angry with myself for not being good enough to the people that I love and care of. Angry for being envious and stupid, for building a pit of loneliness. I would like to jump off a cliff and soar. But I guess If I do that I would just do a stupid thing. Or maybe not. Maybe I would stop the pain. Not just my pain, but the pain of the people around me. As usual, just bothering and doing stupid things,saying things that have no sense. But hey, it's the way that I have to release this pain that courses me. This pain that every day reminds me that I am not as good as I am supposed to be, and because of that I am cursed to loneliness, even when there is people that do worst things than me, that betrays, lies, gave themselves to the vice of alcohol, sex, drugs, no, I am cursed in this fuckin' unfair life, in which every relation that I made with human beings is condemned to have feelings of dispair.

Thanks

Thanks M4st3r-X for the .pandawesome banner.

misanthropy

Why?, I'd rather say, why not?. Maybe it's the day, maybe it's me, maybe it's just that the way it is, but this is how I feel right now. I shouldn't? Don't know. I just find things so annoying, everything so annoying, breathing so annoying that I want everything to come to an end. Just burst in rage and anger, no matter what, no caring about consequences. I just think that things are that way and I feel angry about that. Why? I don't fuckin' know. Maybe because I feel that something is going wrong, that life is not fair, that I feel more abandoned every day even when I am ashamed of admitting it, because I need to express what I feel but I don't want to be judged, nor that awful person to read this. Well, who knows, and who cares. I don't think anyone. I don't think nobody. Everybody sucks and that's true. Everybody deserves nothing.

Forlorn...that's the word

Affliction, curses, shadow...

Curses. That is what these days were. At least for me. Sometimes, the things that are meant to put the people together are the things that separate us. A step ahead someone says. A step, well, a lot of steps behind say I. Everything unbond by a dream, or, better said, a nightmare. The peace is gone. There is no such thing in my mind, or in my soul. The fear is ever present. And I cannot forget...I cannot forget that person. About six months and I still have the thoughts, the feelings, and the hate. And also, a strange wave of bad luck and sickness. Somehow, I realize the reason of this situation. That's why I cannot be with the people. Steppen wolf. Human kind is not my kind, and is  not kind also. Today, I don't want to know anything, of anyone. I just want to sleep. In a dream that help me to scape of this thoughts. My virtues don't make up the other things...

There are things that I cannot tell, I don't know where to go. Maybe it's a punishment for all the hate, for being this way, or maybe God just hates me and hates everyone. The envy consumes me, the anger hurts me, the loneliness fades me into nothing....

I don't know where I'm going...just know that tomorrow I am heading somewhere...but there in my loneliness, nobody would know if I do not come back....

Hace tanto tiempo.

So it is. A long time ago since the last time that I wrote something here. A lot of changes and feelings as usual. Huge changes I guess, but I think I tend to overreact about them. Sometimes I feel that I am doing wrong, but at this point, I don't know what would I do, instead of what I am doing now. I cannot go back. And I am afraid to go forward. Jajajaja pretty hilarious isn't it. So, basically, I'm kind of trapped. Because I don't want to go back to a reality in which I will just grow old and wish for something better. But I am not sure of what I am doing now. But at least, I've managed to do it for about a week. Is this the right way? I don't know for sure. Well, now I know that I do not know anything for sure. I'm just here, riskin' just like it is supposed to be, even when I think that I am too old for that, that I should stop playing around and get a life. But, hey, this is my life. I don't want to live it in function of what other people says that is good or right. I don't want to be a stereotype, or live my life because somebody told me "hey, you should to that because it is what you're supposed to do". Just because. But it's difficult. Difficult in my mind, and in my heart. But I think that I am risking for the right causes. Even if I fail, it wouldn't matter, I failed a lot in the past, but at least I am trying to live what I want to live, and to believe in me, although sometimes I don't feel that way. 

Well, guess that's all right now. But I am still here , in this glorious and schizophrenic blog jajajaja. 

Los árboles...antes de la Edad del Sol y la Luna.

...Entonces Yavanna se incorporó y se irguió sobre Ezellohar, el montículo verde, pero estaba desnudo ahora, y negro; y puso las manos sobre los árboles, pero estos estaban muertos y oscuros, y cada rama que tocaba se quebraba y caía marchita a sus pies. Entoces muchas voces se alzaron en lamentaciones; y les parecio a los que se apesadumbraban que habían bebido hasta las heces la copa de dolor que Melkor habia escanciado para ellos. Pero no era así.

Yavanna habló ante los Valar diciendo: - La luz de los Árboles se ha ido, y ahora solo vive en los Silmarils de Fëanor. ¡Previsor ha sido! Aún para los más poderosos bajo la égida de Iluvatar hay una obra que solo pueden llevar a cabo una única vez. Di ser a la Luz de los Árboles, y en los confines de Eä nunca más podre hacerlo. Sin embargo, si yo dispusiese de un poco de esa luz, podría devolver la vida a los Árboles antes de que las raíces se corrompieran; y entonces nuestras heridas tendrían remedio, y la malicia de Melkor quedaría confundida...

El Silmarillion.

Este pasaje ha venido mucho a mi cabeza. Solo una vez. Una vez fue la creación, según la tradición. Una vez. Una vez las grandes maravillas. Pero solo hoy, que releí el pasaje, repare en la última parte. Un poco de esa luz. ¿Será que existe tal luz, o es solo una ilusión extraña?

Mighty forces.

Mighty forces struggle inside me. And many forces flow outside. But at the end, everything seems to be related. This year, somehow, I managed to quiet all the noise and listen to my inner voice, and also, to the voice of God, who is always speaking, even when we doesn't pay attention. Even when I don't always believe, or when I think that everything is like a conspiracy from the universe against me. But right now, I will use my favorite phrase: "I don't know". But suddenly, a burst of things came out. Better said, a burst of feelings. In one hand I feel deep fear and uncertainty, nostalgia, sorrow. Then I feel rage, too much rage and anger, wrath. Then I feel anxious. Then, I feel good, I feel and spread love, joy, hapiness. So strange. So many changes, a new life, and I am afraid. But ready.

Yes, even the last post.

Even the last post is true I guess. Even for me, for everyone, as I have been left behind many times for many people, family and friends included, and it goes on. And that's how I am losing faith in people and this world, that is only a bunch of crap. Or as just as  manic. Was fine this afternoon. I'm like shit now. Was fine last week, I was like shit on friday. But how? How does this thing work. I don't really know. Even the new horizons in my life seem meaningless when I feel this way. When the only thing that I wish is death. When I start to hurting myself again. Swallowing my screams and my tears and trying to yell Why? With no answer. And it comes all over me. Envy, sadness, anger. I know that I shouldn't feel this way. But I feel this way. And it is horrible. And I know that everyone is tired of me. I am no good enough. I am bad. I am wrong. And I just want my liefe to come to an end. To stop worrying my mother, my sister, my friends if I keep any. To stop bothering that person that I offered my love, my affection, my loyalty. All for going to waste. But that's how life is, I've just learned. And it doesn't worth it. It doesn't worth all my tears, all the suffering. Even my friends leave me behind. As i said, if i have friends. But I don't blame them. They have they lives. I don't blame them if they don't want me around, if they used to hang out with me in weekends... If I am boring and depressing. It doesn't surprise me that I am alone. Everyone has their one lifes. It's not my fault that my life is a crap. Or it is? It's because I am a bad person? It's because I'm too stupid? It's because I am selfish and mean? Really I am??

Why I am not death now?

Why?

I deserve it

I want it......

$@%che gente

Si, $@%che gente +#&era todos valen *&%ga. TODOS

Cementerio de blogs perdidos.

Así es, esta noche rindo tributo a los caídos. Aunque igual, en este caso solo es necesaria la voluntad para la resurrección de los mismos.

La Madriguera del Cine.

La Madriguera del Perezoso.

Geek Crew.

Pregúntolo.

Hidalgo del Parral

Lo interesante del asunto es que en al menos 4 de estos blogs esta la mano de PerseoX, al cual pueden visitar actualmente en su guarida.

Unrequited.

The word of the week. The word of the last days. Things have been pretty well until today. Well, maybe I just need to get use to this constant ups and downs. Though, I don't think that is normal. But suddenly I am realizing that there is no such thing as "normal". Maybe just "common" or "usual", "popular". Or maybe it is just that something is happening to me, maybe I am like Budha when he started to look at the things that were lying outside the walls of his father's palace. Of course that I am far away of a thing such illumination, but sometimes I feel that way. Like that Keane song "Is it any wonder", one of the verses says: " I always thought that I knew, I'd always have the right to, be living in the kingdom of the good and true".

But to the topic. Unrequited. I came to this word looking at Wikipedia. I didn't know the meaning. Then I started to search and realized in the words that I read, that the meaning was in me, because I was sort of living one of the common uses of that word. Unrequited love. I don't know why do I call this feeling love. Maybe because it is overwhelming. It has been that way this last four months. But my words have been here since then. At least some of them. But, as usual, I found some interesting phrases that say pretty much how I felt:

"Unrequited love feels like death. In fact, there are times when death would seem preferable to the unrelenting pain and frustration".

"I don't think there is any other pain quite like that of unrequited love, especially when rejection is involved, although that might even be preferable to being strung along with hopes and dashed with punishing regularity"

" How can a person deal with unrequited love? Being in love with someone who doesn't love them back, or even care to know how much you love them? As we don't fall in love by choice, is there any way to overcome this curse?"

"Unrequited love is like cancer. It eats your insides up and makes you feel depressed, lost and suicidal. You experience feelings of loneliness, sadness, hopelessness, anger and pain every night and day. You just loose interest in life." 

Or just as Wikipedia says:

"Unrequited love is a love that is not reciprocated, even though reciprocation is usually deeply desired. The beloved may not even be aware of this person's deep feelings for them. This can lead to feelings such as depression, low self-steem, anxiety, and rapid mood swings between depression and euphoria.  In extreme cases, it might even lead to suicide. 

And so on. From love to hate. From infatuation to despise. 

Now, the question. How the fuck do I get over it. I really want to. I want to see that person and do not feel. Feel nothing. But instead of that... I feel deep hate. Mixed anger and hate. Justified hate and deceive. For the lies, the hipocrisy, the treason to the friendship. Unjustified. Because of the feelings that are not reciprocate. 

I want to get rid of these. Because I don't want to hate you. I don't want to wish you the worse things. I don't want you to wish you a horrible life, full of sickness, disease, treason and a painfull and slow death.

That's not me. 

Incoherence...

Uncertainty and other stuff. Things that are broken and cannot be mend. Loneliness that prevails. Fear that goes on and on. Envy, hate, anger. Things that run through my mind tonight. Night of boring and loneliness... I should really go to sleep...

Rain falls

Inside....Because outside there is no thing such rain. After a couple of days of not so badness, it comes a sudden mix of feelings of anger, sadness, envy and uncertainty. I don't want the future, nor the past...I WANT THE PRESENT, THIS PRESENT....and I feel so angry for that that I am going to stop writing this right fuckin' now

This could be...

Oh simple thing...where have you gone...I'm getting old and I need something to rely on...

This could be the end of everything.....

At the edge...

Of this time, why I hate weekend?

It makes me more anxious

more sad

more lonely

more rejected

more lost

more gloomy

whatsoever

I've got to work tomorrow....

¿Por qué será que no me extraña?

El Noveno nivel del infierno, según Dante. El más terrible, en presencia del mismisimo demonio. 

Nivel 9 - Cocytus.

Este es el más profundo nivel del infierno, donde reside Satan, el ángel caído. Sus alas aletean eternamente, produciendo fríos vientos que congelan el grueso hielo que se encuentra en Cocytus. Los tres rostros de Satan, negro, amarillo y rojo, pueden ser vistos con una espuma sanguinolenta escurriendo de sus bocas, y con sus ojos, por siempre llorando, mientras mastican a los tres traidores, Judas, Brutus y Casssius. Es este el lugar más alejado de toda luz y calor. Los pecadores son aquí congelados profundamente en el hielo, cara hacia afuera, ojos y boca cerrados por el frio. Los traidores contra Dios, país, familia, amigos y benefactores lamentan sus pecados en este frio pozo de desesperación.

Conozco a alguién que acabará ahi... se lo merece realmente

Another crappy weekend

So it is. I haven't uploaded a series of photographs that, by suggestion of someone, are going to be called "Road through madness". I haven't uploaded them because I cannot find the fuckin' cable of the camera, and I lend my card reader. So, my pictures are isolated in the camera right now. But I don't even know for sure if those pictures are there. Or even If I want to look at them and remember those days that haven't ended yet, for I can see, I still feel odd about it. I want to be over Tokyo. 

Cause there's no memories over Tokyo...

And there's no hurting over Tokyo...

And so goes on the song (Over Tokyo, Collective Soul). So that's it. A bit of loneliness and songs for the loneliness. Or what did I expected? I don't know. People always says that expectations are no good. That you shouldn't have expectations about anything. But I don't know anyone who doesn't have them. So that's it, it's all crap. And that expectations are going to screw me up  (even more if it is possible). 

Last days I was thinking that I was starting to doing fine, that my senses were coming again to me and that I was starting to function, function. Suddenly, it is not true. 

But here I am (like somebody else use to say) with envy and anger growing,  a pain in the neck (literally) and wanting to shout and punch everything. 

So, after all these non-sense writing I understand why everybody hates me and rejects me.  Or at least I think. I must be far away.

Testing Horroroscope...

Saturday, November 10th, 2007.

Aries: 

You have been left behind 5 times in the same day, thing that confirms how pathetic you  are. That and your really bad luck in finding twice a fuckin'  stinky person on the same day are the result on a conjunction of Jupiter and Mars, or maybe, you're just miserable. Maybe that's why you are lonely writing this crap on a saturday night. Maybe nobody likes you at all, I wouldn't either 'cause you're always whining for the same crap. 

Strange week.

In which strange things happened. But the most important thing. M4st3r-X- is perfectly fine. I thank God (yes, the God who I unleash my anger sometimes seems to be doing good things actually) for that.

But what else happened? Well, I had the flu. It was very unpleasant, actually. And also, I was isolated from almost everyone I care of. Isolation...ostracism? Well, certainly not ostracism, tough it was a "voluntary" act. I put between inverted commas voluntary because although I was conscious of what I was doing, I couldn't stop it. Some inner force or inner voice (no I'm not hallucinating) was making me doing so. Why do I say it was not voluntary? Because I don't want to be alone. Is one of the things that I suffer the most. That cause me the greatest emotional pains and lead me to a kind of dispair, of not knowing what to do or how to fix it.

But I was doing exactly the opposite. Paradoxic.

Isolation. One of the things that I am trying to avoid. The things that I am trying to escape of. And the things that I do. But why? Why is not possible to relieve or let out this feelings of me.? Or, If it is possible, why I am not able to make it?. Why I struggle every day with an anger and a rage that comes and goes and every day is getting stronger. With a sadness that doesn't want to leave out. With an envy and a hate that drains my energy. With an eternal "Why" on my lips and on my mind.

In what I have become?...
I haven't laughed in days. I barely smile. This cannot be good (doh!) But I just don't know how to fix it... and it's just like my friend Phoenicoperus said: "Es fácil hablar de la carga, cuando tu no la estas cargando" or "It's easy to talk about the load, when you are not carrying it" I just don't want to lose the hope that I keep. The hope that I would be able to make through this situations and stop causing so much stress, worries and annoyance to the people that I love, to the point of abandon.

Anyway...is getting late.
I want this posts to become so less frequent....

Considerando el estado fisico y mental...

Debería haber pensado más publicar este video...sin embargo, esta música, estas letras....

I'm so alone...and I feel just like somebody else....

Well this place is old
It feels just like a beat up truck
I turn the engine, but the engine doesn't turn
Well it smells of cheap wine & cigarettes
This place is always such a mess
Sometimes I think I'd like to watch it burn
I'm so alone, and I feel just like somebody else
Man, I ain't changed, but I know I ain't the same
But somewhere here in between the city walls of dyin' dreams
I think her death it must be killin' me

Anxiety

(...)"Según el psicólogo cognitivo Ricardo Ros, la ansiedad está directamente relacionada con el miedo al futuro y está basada en pensamientos relacionados con frases que empiezan con "¿y si...?" ("¿y si me mareo?", "¿y si tengo alguna enfermedad?", "¿y si pierdo el control?", etc) Para este psicólogo, el tratamiento de la ansiedad se tiene que basar en una recodificación de este tipo de pensamientos que permita a la persona vivir en el presente. La persona que tiene ansiedad, dice, siente el futuro como si fuera real, cuando la realidad es que en el presente, que es lo único que existe, no hay ningún motivo para que se genere ansiedad. Cuando la persona vuelve a recuperar su contacto con el presente, la ansiedad desaparece."(...)

(...) Sin embargo, en las sociedades avanzadas modernas, esta característica innata del hombre se ha desarrollado de forma patológica conformando, en algunos casos, cuadros sintomáticos que constituyen los Trastornos de Ansiedad, que tienen consecuencias negativas y muy desagradables para las personas que los padecen. Entre los Trastornos de Ansiedad se encuentran las fobias, el trastorno obsesivo-compulsivo, el trastorno de pánico, la agorafobia, el trastorno por estrés post-traumático, el trastorno de ansiedad generalizada, etc.(...)

Wikipedia en Español. Artículo: Ansiedad

Sigue Marx

y si nuestras condiciones de vida nos permiten elegir cualquier profesión que queramos, podemos adoptar aquélla que nos asegure el mayor bien, un bien basado en ideas de cuya verdad estemos por completo convencidos, que nos ofrezca el abanico más amplio desde el que trabajar para la humanidad, y que nos permita acercarnos verdaderamente al propósito general para el que toda profesión no es más que un medio –la perfección.

Bien es aquello que más eleva a un hombre, aquello que imprime la más alta nobleza a sus acciones y a sus empresas, aquello que lo hace invulnerable, admirado por la multitud y elevado por encima de ella.
Pero el bien sólo puede garantizarlo una profesión en la cual no seamos herramientas serviles, una profesión en la que actuemos independientemente dentro de nuestra esfera. Sólo puede garantizarlo una profesión que no exija actos reprensibles, incluso aunque sean reprensibles sólo en apariencia, una profesión que los mejores puedan ejercer con noble orgullo. Una profesión que garantice esto en su más alto nivel no siempre es la más elevada, pero sí es siempre preferible.

Pero igual que una profesión que no nos garantiza el bien nos degrada, una profesión basada en ideas que más tarde reconocemos como falsas nos hará sucumbir bajo su carga.Y en ese caso no nos queda otro recurso que el auto-desprecio, ¡y qué desesperada salvación la del autoengaño!

Aquellas profesiones no implicadas de lleno en la vida, sino relacionadas con ideas abstractas, son las más peligrosas para los jóvenes cuyos principios y convicciones no son aún firmes, fuertes e indestructibles.

Al mismo tiempo, esas profesiones pueden parecer las más exaltadas si sus raíces se hunden profundamente en nuestros corazones y si somos capaces de sacrificar nuestras vidas y empresas por las ideas que prevalecen en ellas.

Pueden proporcionar la felicidad al hombre que tenga vocación para ellas, pero también pueden destruir a quien las adopta apresuradamente, sin reflexionar, cediendo al impulso del momento.

Marx...

(...) si hemos elegido una profesión para la que no tenemos talento jamas podremos ejercela bien, y pronot nos daremos cuenta con vergüenza de nuestra incapacidad y nos diremos que somos unos inútiles, que somos incapaces de satisfacer nuestra vocación. Entonces, la consecuencia más natural es el autodesprecio, ¿y qué sentimiento es más doloros y más difícil de compensar a pesar de todo lo que el mundo exterior pueda ofrecernos? El autodesprecio es como una serpiente que mordisquea nuestro pecho, absorbiéndonos la sangre del corazón y mezclándola con el veneno de la misantropía y la desesperación. (...)

Blog Action Day.

Interesante iniciativa a la cual me he decidido sumar. Aun para comunicar a mis 4 o 5 lectores algo que probablemente ya sepan, pero igual, he ya hice mi elección. Curiosamente, estos días se entrego el premio Nobel de la Paz y el acreedor a este fue el exvicepresidente de los Estados Unidos, Al Gore. A pesar de la polémica que ha surgido en torno al calentamiento global y el cambio climático, sobre si es cierto o no, hay  un punto muy importante. La contaminación daña al planeta. Al planeta como sistema y todos sus subsistemas, clima, procesos biológicos, seres vivientes. Independientemente del hecho de que se discuta o no el cambio climático, es un hecho que los procesos de contaminación conllevan a una degradación progresiva de la que nadie se salva. O mejor dicho, de la que nadie nos salvamos. Porque invariablemente, cualquier afectación a los sistemas y subsistemas de la naturaleza, independientemente de su magnitud aparente, terminará por afectarnos a nosotros como individuos y especies. ¿O es que acaso, los que vivimos en el hemisferio norte, no es hora ya de que empiece el frío de otoño que aún hace pocos años sentíamos?.

Nosotros, como únicos seres concientes y capaces de modificar el entorno, somos entonces, bajo esa definición, los únicos seres capaces de protegerlo y de restaurar en la medida de lo posible el daño hecho. Y no es necesario que vayamos a atarnos a un árbol a la selva del amazonas. Tampoco es necesarío ir a manifestarnos al polo norte. No, el gran poder que poseemos radica en acciones tan sencillas como apagar las luces que no necesitamos, utilizar hojas de papel reciclado, o reciclar nosotros mismos.

Acciones como estas son determinantes y bien podríamos recordar el famoso proverbio chino que siempre es mencionado cuando se hace referencia a la teoría del caos: "el aleteo de las alas de una mariposa se puede sentir al otro lado del mundo". Tal vez estas pequeñas acciones sean así, aleteos de mariposa...

Blogged with Flock

A thousand kilometers, one tooth less and a few days later.

I'm still here. These days the necessary things didn't let space or time to the important. Or is the necessary the same as the important? Maybe. Maybe not. Still confused, but going on. The trip that I've made was a good break. But still, there are things that aren't fixed yet. Or situations that are not working properly. Doubts to be cleared. Work that hasn't been done. Or work that wasn't supposed to be done. But what is to be done? Am I in the right place? I don't feel it. But where to go? What to do? That's the question.

11 de Octubre

Dia 11 de Octubre...

Dos años de sueño....

Sueño del mapache.... Setecientos treinta dias y ciento cincuenta y un entradas hasta hoy...

Alone.

This night I am alone. Nobody home. Friends away. Sitting in the couch. I feel alone, even when I know (or at least I think) that I am not alone. But these days I've learned that knowing and feeling are two different things, that often not related. The feelings and the thoughts are together inside oneself, but are not the same, and treating them the same way often lead us to confusion. I have been told that I must be with myself to stop feeling lonely and abandoned. A lot of things I have read these days. Also the power of forgiveness. And also, a lot of songs that have helped me. To feel. Suddenly, for someone as rational as I am, feeling has become a very important part of my life. But is hard. Containing all of these feelings as long as I have led me to a difficult task. Now it's hard to manage them. Specially the strong feelings. Specially the rage and the anger. But also I am trying to express my feelings to the people I love and care. Because it has no use to keep it all. Like a force field. Nothing comes in. But nothing comes out. I know it is not easy. And it is also painful. Even now, I feel pain for things that happened one and a half month ago. And for things that happened years before. I know that I am not perfect. And also try to understand. I must have committed mistakes, even when I don't want to, and that's one of my greatest defects. The seek of perfection. Trying to do everything perfect. Humans are not perfects. So, I cannot do that, do perfect things. But here I am. Looking forward. With hope, even among the darkness and despair.

Thursday, almost friday...

And the feelings going on... I was trying to change the topics of this blog, but who knows, maybe it need a complete revamp. I want to do it. Sadly, I do not have the kind of abilities needed to do that, even though I want to do so.

Today the leak in my dam opened even more. I couldn't hold my rage. Well, at least, I couldn't at the degree that I used to. I don't know if I should be happy, of if I should be worried about that. I don't swallow my feelings. But it was strange. This weeks have been that way. I am no longer the tender person that I used to be...now, people began to see my fangs.

And the need to be good at everything. A feeling that doesn't let me enjoy things, just because I am afraid of not doing them well.

Don't hold on your emotions. Let them go. Well. It's kinda scary. But maybe it's true that if I keep everything it will hurt me. Just as I commented in Ahora andá y viví.

Specially when all of them come around together. Specially those which make me struggle harder: loneliness and envy.



They confuse me, make me think more than I want to. And make me feel guilty. Why do I feel envy? Why am  i lonely?

Is it like that travis song "why does it always rain on me, it's because I lied when I was seventheen?"

But now. I don't know. I always look to the past, and asj why? why did I do that? Do I deserve this?

Am I lonely because it's a punishment?

It was a punishment that the last greatest friend that I had......nevertheless.

I think I must go on.

And let me make mistakes.

Blogged with Flock

It might not be.

But hello there. A week ago and things look different. Stress is ahead in work, but seems to be that I can handle it without falling down. So, I can write a little right now. As time goes by, I start to open my eyes to the world again. It's not so fuckin' easy but somebody told me that if every important thing would be easy, then anyone would do it. I really don't like that phrase, but it seems to be that is adequate in this occasion. It's so hard not to see the past (which is done and over) or look to the future (which doesn't exist at all), and focus on the present. But I really want to try it on.

Now, it's thursday. Almost weekend. And I am afraid of it. (See!) Why? Weekend is supposed to be the time of rest, of fun, of relaxation. For me, it is anxiety. "What am I gonna do?", "Am I going out?". A lot of time and a free and twisted mind. That sound like trouble. And even when I hang out with my friends I am involved on my thoughts, even when I try to avoid that. If somebody tolds an anecdote, it makes me thing of all the things I didn't do, because I didn't know, because I was afraid, because I though it was bad. And it's so difficult to carry with all that emotional baggage. And as usual I think, even in that situations "why I am so lonely?, Why do I feel this way? So awkward, feeling that I don't fit".

Well. Those are the fears. But I'm also trying to go on. Trying to enjoy, even if I don't make it, but I want to. Try to take pictures, to learn new things, to go on things that I like and I dropped, try to express myself in new ways. I cannot do all that stuff everytime, but there are in my mind, and starting to go out of me.

The way is still ahead, and even fallen, I start to look ahead...

And there is also, these feelings that make me shake and tremble....feelings that I would like to disappear. Mostly, HATE, RESENTMENT. Things that I would like to forget. But there are still in me. Everyday. I don't want to feel that. I don't want to see that person, to think in that person, and feel like my blood is boiling in rage and violence. Just want to be totally indifferent. Indifferent... To forget things that people that I love did to me, but didn't meant to hurt. To forget complexes. Just to drop off all of these. Unnecessary baggage that I shouldn't carry. Permission to fail, permission to fall, permission to make a lot of mistakes. But also, permission to be happy.

This is it right now. 'Til later.

Blogged with Flock

¡Ah, claro!

Por supuesto. Es tan jodidamente fácil. ¿por qué no se me habrá ocurrido antes?

When you feel on the edge....

Your head will collapse...

And you ask yourself...

Where is my mind?

I would rather prefer not having mind at all. Of feelings. Because living in a constant anger, guilt, sadness, envy it's pointless. It doesnt't worth it. Everyday I feel like I am getting closer of my limit. Everyday I am getting closer of the thought "that's it, I can't take it anymore".

It's killing me. I don't know why I am living. It's practically, a waste. People that could do better use of my life is struggling and suffering... People that could give a better use to my eyes, my heart, my bone marrow, my immune system, my vitallity, my knees. If I could, I would give everything away. Not my lungs. I cannot breathe well, I am always feeling short of breath (asthma ).

But that's the thing. An entire life to waste. I was afraid of a lot of things. And now, well, now it's too late. And also I live in a constant fear...And I know that it is stupid. That my problems are not that serious. I can see. I can walk. I do not have cancer, or AIDS, or anything like that. My mother lives, my sister lives. But I just don't want to be here. Forgive me if I am selfish but I cannot deal with this anymore. Every fuckin day I fear of the death of my beloved ones. Family and friends. I cannot work. I cannot laugh freely. I loved to do so many things and I liked to do a lot. And I never did. I am afraid of what is going to happen for sure. The agony of my grandfather. And there is no escape. I could be....but I was not. I just don't know, why didn't I was like everyone else. Not to think too much. Just go by. But no. I dreamed a lot of things that were not meant for me. And this anger, this hate that I've never felt. It is going to kill me....

One thirty A.M.

And here I am. Struggling with my feelings. Trying to keep myself awake. Feeling bad for being who I am, and feeling this way. Guilty for overwhelming my friends, who have their own, and worse troubles, with my sillyness. Is God sending me signals? Or does he still hate me? Or he hates me and sends me signals. I don't know. I just know that I feel to weary. To tired. And I can still find no peace. I cannot help me, nobody can help me. In who can I rely for a minute at least? Who can save me from this dispair and loneliness? I've been told. You can rely on yourself. I don't think so. I am broken. Inside me, nothing has sense.

Blogged with Flock

Deep anger.

Deep anger and hate is what I feel. And it is extending to everything. Yes, I hate pretty much everything. And just as always. I am alone and by myself. I might need to stop worrying about other people. Because at the end, it's just me. Even the people I loved left me eventually. And fool of me, I am always there. Go to hell everybody then. And also, the good boy of me is over.

Blogged with Flock

Agosto y 2007

Se llevan el premio hasta el momento de mayor numero de entradas en este blog. Lo malo del asunto es que no son entradas que disfrute escribiendo. Fueron más bien, un suceso desesperado. Que aún sigue. Francamente quisiera olvidarme de todo, borrar mi mente, pero sin embargo, en mi cuerpo y en mi alma aun mana la sangre de las heridas. En momentos siento que pierdo la razón y a pesar de que la lógica me dice que eso no tiene sentido, no puedo dejar de sentirlo. La razón tiene poca injerencia en estos asuntos. No hay fotos. Solo algunas que tome en momentos desesperados, y algunas espontáneas que hice en compañía de M4st3r-X-. Y luego empiezo a escuchar a Sigur Rós simbolo indefectible de la melancolía... Quién nunca los haya escuchado, lo recomiendo. Su música es espectacular. La letra también aunque necesitarán algo de ayuda para comprender el islandés (o tal vez no). Tal vez sea solo por mi estado que relacionó su música con la melancolía. Tal vez de otro modo sería alegre, pacífico, relajante para mí. Pero estos días la música es un arma de dos filos. A veces es como una nube de flechas que yo mismo lancé contra mí, esperando otro resultado. Mi cuerpo me duele... me lástima. Mi alma también. Aún. Treinta y tres días hasta este momento...

Actualizacion (08/09/2007). En esta entrada, un video de Sigur Ros

Blogged with Flock

Day 28.

Four weeks have passed. And I think everyday that this feeling is going to kill me. It's so hard to define. At the moment I woke, the sadness came in, like a wave. Then the pain. Then the nausea. I cannot laugh. I'm hungry, but food taste like cardboard. I am weary, but I cannot sleep. I forgot the joy I once had. But I didn't had joy since months ago.

It's so sick. I am with that person, and between my pain, I feel relieved. At least for a moment. I look at that person, and I get a mixture of feeling. A strange happiness, a terrible sadness, a strong pain. And it's killing me. Days go by, so my life. I have wasted 25 years. I haven't taken pictures, I cannot walk in the streets, because my mind assaults me, and every step is painful. Every place that I know that person have been, it's like taking a knife. Words are useless to describe this feelings.

I think that it happened. I tried to stop feeling everything for twenty five years. Now, I cannot stop it.

And you, yes you asked me: "Why? Why do you feel like that, If there wasn't anything between us?

I know. I know a lot of things. Maybe I am naive. But is not your physical. It's not likeness. If it was just that, this would be a lot easier.

Why do I say that God hates me? Well, maybe he doesn't hate me, maybe he hates all the people. Because I fought, I risked, I tried, and didn't achieved. And sometimes I think my dark aura is hurting the people I love.

At this time I just want to runaway. I know that is not the solution. But I just want to scape, I cannot stand this suffering anymore, I cannot bear this pain. It's killing me, and I just can't tell. It's unbearable. I don't know if I am just a stupid and I am overacting, but that's how I feel. It's a pain that doesn't stop, no matter what I do, no matter what I say, no matter how much I pray, no matter how much I punch, no matter how much I cry. It just doesn't go away, but comes again, slicing me......

And here I am. So much affection, so much love to give, but as usual, maybe it's too late for me. Or maybe I am not normal, or not made to this world.

P.D. I shouldn't be doing this, but I am just listening to that old song: Runaway - Real McCoy

Day after day...time after time

Ok, here we go again with this blog, that has become into a soap opera more or less cheap, or maybe classy, or progresist. But here it is again. The neverending story of a crush, infatuation, falling in love (I'll risk to say that last thing). The neverending story of complete jealousy, things that I haven't felt this strong since now, EVER, understood? EVER.

And since there is no solution to my issues, and supposedly God hates me, there is no remedy but write. It's good that you, my two, three, four readers have the right to choose to read or not to read if you get bored.

I have been reading this blog: Mal de Amores and it has been of some help. I even wrote to the author, Dra. Yvonne, and I have been answered. Is one of those situations in where, no matter what people says, no matter you perfectly know what happen, it doesn't help, because all rational thinking cannot stand against the feelings.

Here are some of the writings that I found there:

"Mal de amores: esa condición terrible de estar enamorado pero con despecho, loco pero sin ser correspondido. Superar esta traga maluca no es fácil, no lo sueñes."

also:

Secretos del corazón: El mal de amores es wertheriano. Es una máquina narrativa dolorosa, con final infeliz, entre un narcisista y un obsesivo. El objeto amado se escabulle, se esconde, juega a la indiferencia, aparece y desaparece en un horizonte imposible. Es impenetrable y hermoso. Irreal, como la ruina tibetana. Mientras, del otro lado, la otra pieza de esa máquina asfixiante, yo sufro, yo lloro, yo me afeo, yo me muero.

So, that's, again, how I feel, my dearest readers.

See you until the next chapter of this soap opera.

Blogged with Flock

Exactly how I feel....

Coldplay - Fix You...

When you try your best but you don't succeed
When you get what you want but not what you need
When you feel so tired but you can't sleep
Stuck in reverse.

When the tears come streaming down your face
When you lose something you can't replace
When you love someone but it goes to waste
Could it be worse?

Lights will guide you home
And ignite your bones
And I will try to fix you

And high up above or down below
When you're too in love to let it go
But if you never try you'll never know
"Just what your worth"

Lights will guide you home
And ignite your bones
And I will try to fix you

Tears stream, down your face
When you lose something you cannot replace
Tears stream down your face
And I..

Tears stream, down your face
I promise you I will learn from my mistakes
Tears stream down your face
And I..

Lights will guide you home
And ignite your bones
And I will try to fix you.

Sadly, I don't have nobody to fix me.... I'm just broken...

Blogged with Flock

Podcast, episodio 01

powered by ODEO

Parecen dos blogs...

Pero es solo un autor....

Does anybody?

Have some glue, needle, thread, staples, duct tape, a chewing gum maybe....?


And some analgesic or anesthetic could be of use right now.

¿QUE QUE?

Originalmente el título de este post iba a ser: cable de última hora, Dios me odia. Realmente me odia. Me odia porque me hace sentir cosas que no quisiera sentir en un momento dado. Bueno, realmente todo eso no era el título. Solo lo de Dios me odia. Me senté frente a la computadora y pense lo que iba a escribir. Como lo iba a escribir. Que iba a escribir. A tratar de buscar respuestas a mis preguntas. Un alivio al dolor que siento. Una ayuda, una respuesta, un desahogo más, porque tal como dije a un amigo, parezco tubería rota, regando todo por todas partes y aun así siento algo atrapado en mi interior.

Lo que hoy salió me hizo bien. Creo que fue lo mejor que pude hacer en un momento dado. Al menos no morí. O al menos eso creo. Jajaja poco probable. De estar muerto no sentiría. Nada. Nothing at all. Eso tal vez sea una buena señal.

El post anterior es parte de lo que sigue saliendo. El background que diría un amigo. No sé. Esa tendencia que tengo a ser dejado de lado. Y seguir ahí a pesar de ello. ¿por qué lo hago? Buena pregunta.

Tal vez no sea correcto que yo lo diga. Tal vez soy el menos indicado para escribir. Pero no sé. Es quizás un sentimiento más fuerte que el resentimiento y que la ira. Y que espero que siga vivo en mí. Una ética que me hace apartar ese rencor y quizás una lealtad que me obliga a ayudar a quién quiero y a veces a quién no. Insisto, tal vez no sea el indicado para escribir de esto, más esto es lo que pienso y siento. Es difícil, lo ha sido, pero así lo he hecho. Y creo que así seguiré siendo. Porque es algo de lo bueno que hay en mi. Esa lealtad, ese estar ahí para cuando sea necesario, cuando alguien me necesite, cuando yo pueda dar algo de mi ser, hacia los demás. De eso bueno que pienso, aun vive en mi interior. De esa parte de mi alma que esta ahí, que es parte de lo que deseo ser. De esa esencia puramente buena, puramente honesta que vive dentro de esta coraza de miedos.

Pero también necesito ocuparme de mí. Y no sé cómo. En estos difíciles días me estoy dando cuenta de que estoy menos solo de lo que pienso. Y es en esos momentos cuando pienso que tal vez Dios no me odie...al menos no tanto.

Porque ha pesar de que me ha vapuleado miserablemente estos días. Porque a pesar de que gritó ¿por qué? sin obtener respuestas.

Porque a pesar de todo eso, hoy, me quede menos solo. Hoy me tendieron la mano y me abrazaron, a pesar de estar a mil kilómetros o más de distancia. O a pesar de estar a cientos de metros, estar de noche y ocupados, pero también fui confortado.

Aun así pienso que Dios me odia. Solo que tal vez no tanto.

Direct attack, fruit of my anger.

What a jerk would I say. But I guess that was the point with my other posts. At least the ones that have a comic (garfield or the other one).

Anger.

Why?
Why should always stay for everyone? If somebody need me? Should I be always there? Even when people make me aside to go for their issues?

I don't know.

I don't even know what am I going to do right now....

I don't even know why do I have the need to open up my heart to those persons.

But I will do it.

I don't know why.....'cause I am fuckin' afraid.

But may God Help me.

Or finish me.

Oh, for all Heavens.

This night I am realizing that I am so screwed and fucked-up....

How was it?

How did it happen?

How did I become in this?

Another day, and its night.

Full of questions that were made to me. But not as full of answers. This day was better than yesterday, and the day before yesterday, and the day before the day....Ok, knock it off. Affection. Give and take. Confusion. Sadness. Worries. Decisions. I've been thinkin' about all of these. I also was thinking about other stuff, but it seems that those thoughts were not attached to the reality. Or at least, that's why I think. Maybe I am getting better. I really want to be in control right now. Try to heal my wounds and go on. Go on living. Pretty ironical that I read that blog so often and don't do that.

But now, I am at a point that, at least, I can go to rest and start focusing on work and trying to help my body. My mind, well, I'm in treatment, and I think it's working. Even though some people think terapy doesn't help.

But I know that is because people worry. Specially when you wrote things like the ones in this blog jajaja.

I still feel awkard. Confused, angered, sad. But I feel relieved, because I know my friends are there to help me, and I know when I'm ok I will help them, or even if I am not ok, I will help them when they need me. I feel relieved, because I people I care of, is now awakening to a new life.

I just hope I can be the person that I want to be...not just this weeping puppet.

I will finish this post with a psalm, that was the only that I remembered when I needed to. I don't know if it is a message from God, or just a casualty. If it's just a hope, or maybe a wrong idea. If everything is going to be ok for me, or the next week is going to be worst. I don't know what I am going to do. But here it is. I feel like I want to write it down...

Salmo 121.

Levanto mis ojos a las montañas:
¿de dónde me vendrá la ayuda?

La ayuda me viene del Señor,
que hizo el cielo y la tierra.

Él no dejará que resbale tu pie:
¡tu guardián no duerme!

No, no duerme ni dormita
él guardián de Israel.

El Señor es tu guardián,
es la sombra protectora a tu derecha:
de día, no te dañará el sol,
ni la luna de noche.

El Señor te protegerá de todo mal
y cuidará tu vida.

Él te protegerá en la partida y el regreso,
ahora y para siempre.

One night like any other.

At least like any other in this month. I guess this is becoming kind of boring. Just writing about the same crap over and over again. But hey, nobody has the obligation to read it. You are free to leave whenever you want, even not coming by if you don't want to. But I am here. I am at home and I didn't wanted to. Why did I stay? I don't know it for sure. Fear is the most adequate reason. I cannot sleep. I feel weary. Maybe it's like that phrase "no peace for the weary". Day before yesterday I walked and walked. At home, I saw me at the mirror. My face was dirty, my eyes were red, my skin was burned. I really don't know how to put this to an end. This is becoming just too much for me to handle. I saw me at the mirror and I felt sad for looking at me...

And I really don't know how to put this to an end, without causing a greater suffering. But nevertheless. It doesn't matter. They say that nothing last forever... But there has been too many years, crowned by these last months and weeks.....

Las circunstancias.

Los eventos, lo que sucede... En este momento parece que el dolor se va, el miedo disminuye, no lo sé. Solo espero que no lleguen de nuevo y aun más en desbandada. Pero no se. Por una parte me siento tranquilo. Por otra, débil, vulnerable y a merced de mis viejos fantasmas dentro de mi. Y si, un poco de miedo. Pero en fin, es por mí....

Se va la tristeza...

Pero queda la melancolía.....

UPDATE 15:09. Pain is back

El dia que la vida o Dios me jodió, nos jodió, jodió.

Así es. Estoy en el trabajo. Debería estar trabajando. I should... But not. I am here wasting my time trying to survive. Or something. Haven't slept well last nights. Seems to be that I will have no peace. Yesterday, I thought it could be possible. But seems to be that those assumptions are not but pipe dreams. Hopes are fading more and more. And even when I'm trying to go up, seems to be that God and the Universe are trying the opposite. Maybe I, they, we are just the diversions of the immortal.....

UPDATE: Or maybe not but I just don't know...just feel weak...

At this moment....

I don't know if the rage or the sadness are inside me. And I don't know why. I don't know why life turns so complicated every fuckin' day. And it's something that I cannot understand. I cannot understand why people is always repressing life and it makes me anger. I don't know If I could sleep tonight. Because I feel I feel and I feel. And still feeling, and everythings turns out to be more confusing. If I could I will explode, but I can't. I can't even tell my closests friends what's going on with me, 'cause I am afraid to hurt them, or to displease them. It's like if showing them the real me the things that I do and feel, the thoughts and everything else could make me more vulnerable. To be hurted again... And I still feel anger and rage against the stupid people. And also feel like if something was trapped in my chest. Everything started to hurt, everything seemed to be wrong.

And then the sadness again. Why God, why. I can't understand. Why I can't just cry wherever I want, whenever I want. But it is not OK to cry. So, I cannot even runaway to any place. I cannot find relief. And I ask again and raise my hand against God. And ask...why. But I cannot cry...it's wrong, I don't have a place to do so.....

And everything goes so complicated again and again and again. Why didn't I ran away when I could?

Why
Why

The eternal question in my life.
Why....

Tmb pasa...it's sad too

La tristeza y la furia.

En un reino encantado donde los hombres nunca pueden llegar, o quizás donde los hombres transitan eternamente sin darse cuenta...
En un reino mágico, donde las cosas no tangibles, se vuelven concretas...
Había una vez... un estanque maravilloso.
Era una laguna de agua cristalina y pura donde nadaban peces de todos los colores existentes y donde todas las tonalidades del verde se reflejaban permanentemente...

Hasta ese estanque mágico y transparente se acercaron a bañarse haciéndose mutua compañía, la tristeza y la furia.
Las dos se quitaron sus vestimentas y desnudas las dos entraron al estanque.
La furia, apurada (como siempre esta la furia), urgida -sin saber por qué- se baño rápidamente y mas rápidamente aun, salió del agua...
Pero la furia es ciega, o por lo menos no distingue claramente la realidad, así que, desnuda y apurada, se puso, al salir, la primera ropa que encontró...
Y sucedió que esa ropa no era la suya, sino la de la tristeza...
Y así vestida de tristeza, la furia se fue.

Muy calma, y muy serena, dispuesta como siempre a quedarse en el lugar donde está, la tristeza terminó su baño y sin ningún apuro (o mejor dicho, sin conciencia del paso del tiempo), con pereza y lentamente, salió del estanque.
En la orilla se encontró con que su ropa ya no estaba.
Como todos sabemos, si hay algo que a la tristeza no le gusta es quedar al desnudo, así que se puso la única ropa que había junto al estanque, la ropa de la furia.

Cuentan que desde entonces, muchas veces uno se encuentra con la furia, ciega, cruel, terrible y enfadada, pero si nos damos el tiempo de mirar bien, encontramos que esta furia que vemos es sólo un disfraz, y que detrás del disfraz de la furia, en realidad... está escondida la tristeza.

Jorge Bucay

¿Será?

Les jours tristes.

I want to do a lot of things, I have to do a lot of things, I must (I guess) to do a lot of things. But I don't do much. But writing, transforming this space into a weeping scroll, writing in english. I was thinking about it, why do I write in english. Because it is less painful. It is like if someone else was writing, instead of me, but I know that is me. I know it sounds weird, but common people do a lot of weird things. Yesterday some things happened at work that still annoy me. Well it's kinda normal, but still bothers me, along with the other stuff that is hurting me right now. Well, but I have to say thank you. Thanks to my to beloved friends for helping me and listening to me. Sometimes I complain about that I am a closed, kinda lonely person. That I do not have many friends. But at least the few I have are the greatest. But it scares me too much when the moment that they will walk away come. It is irrational and stupid to worry about that, but, as I said, for a person like me...

As things goes on I feel a sudden anxiety of what is coming. For example, tonight. I always think that for some reason I don't fit in life in common stuff, common diversions. That tends to make me angry. On the other side, I like to spend time with the people I care, make bond stronger and also giving me the opportunity to know other people.

Maybe it's a fear of not being good enough or interesting enough. Maybe....

But for now I shall leave, because this mixture of anger, sadness, and other feelings tends to overwhelm me.

Maybe later I'll post a story that I've heard sometimes. Just to ask for an opinion.

Que estén bien.

I think...

That sometimes phisical pain is more bearable than emotional...(of course, if they're not related)....

After the storm...

I'm still putting this image. It represents very well how I felt (or feel) sometimes.

Probably.

A lizard in my window.

But it doesn't have nothing to do with the things that I am going to write. But it seemed a good title.

Sometimes I do not know why the past tends to tie us so much. In my mind a lot of thoughts fly and crash every time. Why this? Why that?

And I just keep asking why? And saying that is too late. At least, my recent experience of trying to take a new way in my proffesional life tells me that. One year, three failures. For a little time, I thought that I could make it. But I was wrong I guess. And I still remember people asking me Why? Why didn't you do that before? Why are you doing this?. Before, before, before.

That could be easy for them. But not for me. I failed in my decisitions years ago and now I struggle...and fail.

Be strong. It's just in your mind. Make an effort. I hear that a lot too. When I talked to my friends of an anxiety crisis that I had to years ago, of the fears that I had and have, people just stare at me like if I was crazy. May be I am.

People seems to be very annoying...It's just like a relationship, there is always one person who loves more or gives more. I gave more, received less. Or maybe just was foolish, naive, stupid, pendejo, imbécil, don't know.

Yes, I know this is becoming stupid, depressing, boring, that I should not be putting things like these in my blog, but again

IT'S FUCKIN' MINE

So, after this intervention, I may continue with my blabbering. I also get infatuated, fall in love, obsesse or fix I don't know exactly what it is, on people that is not possible to relate with, in that way.

Be strong....I heard that too.

How can someone like me, social inept, sporty incapable, romantic failure, academic wannabe be possibly strong.

I don't know.

WHERE IS MY MIND?

When tomorrow came two days later.

But is even better than ten years later.

My tongue is tied. My fingers don't write too much either. And there is still the confusion. It is so hard to be myself and to share it with the people I want to. I don't even know what I am, so, it's difficult.

I really don't feel like I must be writing right now. My eyes hurt a little. I'm supposed to sleep or something.

Silence leads to pain.

Pain leads to dispair.

Another Post in this Blog

So it is. Here am I, everyday less anonymous thanks to a very good blog, from a great person (you know who you are). I really thought about killing this, but after all, it seemed like if I was killing a part of myself, so I don't know, it's one of my scape valves, even when I doesn't want to know nothing about the world, when I feel lonely, even when I guess just few people read it.

So, here am I, just telling a few thing.

THIS IS MY FUCKIN' BLOG AND I CAN WRITE WHATEVER THE FUCK I WANT ON IT.

So now, It's hard to start writing. It is almost painful. It's like every word came out like a tear, like a drop of blood, like a needle that comes through the skin.

But is more painful to get all the stuff inside, hurting you directly.

Why do I do this? Because I can.

Because there are too many few ways in which I can say how much I hate, how much anger lies inside me, how much fear, how much sadness, but also, hoy much hope, love, joy, lies inside, and cannot go out either.

Last days I tried something that I thought it was going to be the best for me. I think I've failed, and that only made my anger grew up, so my sadness.

why did I do it? I don't know for sure, or maybe, as somebody said to me, "it's too painful for you to tell".

Might be. But those only lead to confusion. And an old pain. The old pain of an incorrect path, a deep shame of doing something wrong, and be struggling right now to find the correct way, without success.

And It's a deep shame. I don't really know what is worse, admitting it, or hearing the people asking you "why you don't do that before" or "do something else". The thing is that it seems that I've failed, so I am strugglin' here with this.

Later comes the confusion of being myself, the fear of talking, the anger of feeling lonely, the envy and other feelings that struggle inside me...

Nevertheless, it's hurting. I will continue tomorrow I guess.
I promise.

There is nothing

There has been nothing here, and it won't be anything here in some time. It can be tomorrow, it can be in a month or maybe a year or never, who knows...