Post-carta de la mujer al hombre de su vida.

I feel certain I am going mad again. I feel we can’t go through another of those terrible times. And I shan’t recover this time. I begin to hear voices, and I can’t concentrate. So I am doing what seems the best thing to do. You have given me the greatest possible happiness. You have been in every way all that anyone could be. I don’t think two people could have been happier till this terrible disease came. I can’t fight any longer. I know that I am spoiling your life, that without me you could work. And you will I know. You see I can’t even write properly. I can’t read. What I want to say is I owe all the happiness of my life to you. You have been entirely patient with me and incredibly good. I want to say that everybody knows it. If anybody could have saved me it would have been you. Everything has gone from me but the certainty of your goodness. I can’t go on spoiling your life any longer. I don’t think two people could have been happier than we have been. -V. W.

Translation:

Siento que voy a enloquecer de nuevo. Creo que no podemos pasar otra vez por una de esas épocas terribles. Y no puedo recuperarme esta vez. Comienzo a oír voces, y no puedo concentrarme. Así que hago lo que me parece lo mejor que puedo hacer. Tú me has dado la máxima felicidad posible. Has sido en todos los sentidos todo lo que cualquiera podría ser. Creo que dos personas no pueden ser más felices hasta que vino esta terrible enfermedad. No puedo luchar más. Sé que estoy arruinando tu vida, que sin mí tú podrás trabajar. Lo harás, lo sé. Ya ves que no puedo ni siquiera escribir esto adecuadamente. No puedo leer. Lo que quiero decir es que debo toda la felicidad de mi vida a ti. Has sido totalmente paciente conmigo e increíblemente bueno. Quiero decirlo —todo el mundo lo sabe. Si alguien podía haberme salvado habrías sido tú. Todo lo he perdido excepto la certeza de tu bondad. No puedo seguir arruinando tu vida durante más tiempo. No creo que dos personas pudieran ser más felices que lo que hemos sido tú y yo. V.

For No One

The day breaks, your mind aches
You find that all her words of kindness linger on
When she no longer needs you

She wakes up, she makes up
She takes her time and doesn’t feel she has to hurry
She no longer needs you

And in her eyes you see nothing
No sign of love behind her tears
Cried for no one
A love that should have lasted years

You want her, you need her
And yet you don’t believe her when she says her love is dead
You think she needs you

And in her eyes you see nothing
No sign of love behind the tears
Cried for no one
A love that should have lasted years

You stay home, she goes out
She says that long ago she knew someone but now he’s gone
She doesn’t need him

Your day breaks, your mind aches
There will be times when all the things she said will fill your head
You won’t forget her

And in her eyes you see nothing
No sign of love behind her tears
Cried for no one
A love that should have lasted years

Important Note: My love is NOT Dead, I’m just frightened.

This is how my defense mechanism works, my invisible readers.

Irony

The same minute,

as i was learning a far far friend had a baby, i was learning as well that another not that close friend had died.

I didn’t know what to feel, Life and Death have a twisted sense of humor called irony. Neither of those news made me feel happy, but i had a lot of mixed feelings.

Cheers for the new human being, born only 2 weeks ago

and may She rest in peace.

…

My dear invisible readers

I’m not Tired

I’m NOT

+

I just miss calm days…

Tercera Parte

III.

“I fucking hate sundays”

So, there was this little baby dog. I found him on the door way at 2 o’clock in the morning when i opened the door to receive someone else. I saw him, he was sleeping there on the door’s red carpet, and then i shut the door itself.

On the tuesday morning i remembered the whole last week, it had been full with signals i did not care to see, i didn’t pay attention, ’cause we wasn’t paranoiac about fatality since 1994, it was so unexpected now, but it was always there. I though this year would be different, i thought it was going to be good, turned out it wasn’t going to be that way.

…

Sunday at noon,
i just closed my eyes full of tears,
i wanted to explote,
trade places,
let it be me.
He couldn’t, but he did.

I denied myself to believed it

…

Monday afternoon, it was all gone, he took our hearts and lets us just these rotten bodies. He just had to check out.

…

So, here we had this little baby dog who appeared to the door one Monday afternoon. Who had a rotten face, i dare to say he was dead for a few days. I called him Omar, because of and old funny anecdote, he just stared at us while we used alcohol and white dust to try to clean him up. He didn’t said a word, not one. He just listened and stared trying to find out if everyone was fine, alive, so he would rest in peace, once and for all, he just had to make sure. And then it was us who, on a tuesday night, who made him take the cab for the second time.

He left when he was needed the most.

Twice.

…

…

..

.

“I feel like everything’s rotten. I… I’m just broken hearted”

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2666 (Parte de los crímenes) a la décima potencia

Me da miedo vivir aquí.

Me quiero ir a vivir a un lugar más tranquilo, con el mismo número de problemas, pero sin ajustes de cuentas.

Esto ha rebasado la ficción por mucho, es inaudito, se me ha abierto una úlcera en el corazón.

Hay demasiados proyectiles rodando, y los accidentes pueden ser de a gratis, sufriría horrores si algún amigo o familiar le tocara el destino con su mano negra.

Estoy al borde del llanto, esta situación no puede seguir así.

Y los medios cada vez más gráficos.

Ya no quiero vivir aquí, no quiero, no quiero, no quiero.

Se han destapado demasiadas coladeras que tenían cajitas de Pandora adentro.

Tengo miedo, tengo miedo… No, no tengo miedo, estoy aterrada.

La misantropía y la agorafobia podrían llegar a ser mi salvación, pero eso quiere decir que esta situación me está dañando más de lo que debería.

Here: My psychosis

Got to See!

http://manipulator.com/

Think Again

Think.

Is not what you are supposed to see, it’s what you may feel trying to see it.

It is not the thing itself, it’s the whole process of execution and the intrigue of desesperation at the edge of uncertainty.

It’s not just the pencil and paper on the wall, it’s the agressiveness of a changing tantrum of lights manipulated by the whim of spectator.

It’s the light that blinds you after passing thru a tunnel wrapped in shadows.

Think

Think Again.

Segunda Parte

II

When i was a kid, i used to walk. A Lot.

I was always looking at people’s faces thinking what they may be thinking to themselves, some of them were very angry or at least had very hard faces, some of them would smile at me cuz’ i kept staring. People was always running, walking fast in suits and high heels.

But then on a hot summer sunday, we went out to walk from side to side of Lafayette avenue, i didn’t like sundays back then, as i do not like them now, but this in particular, made me feel fabbergasted. I will always remember the feeling of being immersed on this mob of people, very glamorous all of them walking as kings and queens and surrounded by the most beautiful buldings i had ever seen (i was four). And then coming out of nowhere at the end of the road this lady wearing as shoes six boys. There was a little ‘o’ in the middle of my childish face.

We turned around, i was always holding mom and dad’s hands, and suddenly i looked the faces of the kids that had been removed a few meters out of the fashion way, kids as little as me, although the had the look of a ten year old in their eyes… See, when i was four, i thought ten was the biggest and the very last number of the count, all the grown ups would have ten years old, even very wrinkled grannys. My world was that little, and i was happy…

Until that moment

A bit later, i would try to speak english, only talking gibberish, but that would be my secret language to communicate the pain i felt to see these kids my age, begging for money and doing all kinds of things to get it. I secretly cried in the back seat of the car on the way home, i knew my parents would not understand if i go to them for comfort.

And i stopped walking.

’till i was sixteen.

Au Contraire, Mon Ami…

I’ve became a good listener, indeed.

No need for me to talk, i’m comfortable inside my bubbly cocoon.

Don’t get me wrong, it’s just words are overrated, and the eyes can lie sometimes.

I’m glad everything went fine. I felt like shit thought, for a minute there.

 

green apples up in the sky were my highlight.

How accurate timing is

“La amistad, como el diluvio universal, es un fenómeno del que todo el mundo habla, pero que nadie ha visto con sus ojos.”

Enrique Jardiel Poncela

…

me quiero borrar al carajo.

…

* Prioridad: encontrar un trabajo como bibliotecaria y no volver a pensar en nada más. que los libros sean mis amigos, sé que ellos no me dejaran atrás y yo no podré decepcionarlos a ellos.