What's "share"?

What's "share"? 
We tried to have sex. We failed...but somehow...it didn't matter to me. Actually, I enjoyed the wedgie much better than our sex attempt. If someone would have told me a while ago that my partner would be asexual, I would feel frustrated, but with Xag I didn't...our relationship is much more than that. Though I still want to have "proper" sex with him, I'll try to go at his pace...I'm not hurry, as long as I can hold him in my arms, as long as I can kiss him...that's fine with me.We talkedHe tried to broke up with me again. I cried again...but, you know something? I didn't "hurt", I mean, of course I don't want to break up with him, but he tried to because he loves me...how can I be hurt when someone loves me that much...I cried, but I felt happy, joyful, glad to have him. I didn't cry because I was sad, I felt powerless...powerless because I couldn't make him see how much I love him, how wonderful he is how much I need him. He refuses to see it; He can't see it...that's why I told him he needs advice, professional advice. I think Xag needs someone who tells him that he has a distorted image of himself. How come he hasn't asked for professional help? I totally understand his reasons, his motivations; he says he is "sick", "broken" but it is psychologists and psychiatrist’s job to "cure", to "fix".He measures things very strictly: "this is good", "this is bad", "and this is ugly" "this is pretty" Though he has never explained to me what he uses to measure, he always puts himself in the "ugly", "bad" category. I do not see him in that way. Not at all. That makes him start questioning things about us, "what if...?", "what if not...", "would you...?", "why didn't you...', "why did you...?"...Hun, believe me I'm sure, I love you...I LOVE YOU.If you want to ask me something, if something's not clear, I want you to say it: "My Prince, I think you're selfish", "I think you're vague", "How come? I don't get it", "Explain it"...that's what I'm for.I admire him, I think sometimes I'm afraid to discuss with him because I don't have strong arguments... I'm so naive, I don't read, I don't think...I'm not intellectual as him. I just keep floating around in the world watching the clouds move by, staring at distant lights, kissing the wind that comes from the mountains, gazing at the reflection of the moonlight in wet asphalt, trying to understand the dance of the leaves in the trees....I don't know what love is, I don't know what Aristotle’s said about it, I haven't read The Marquis de Sade, I haven't read about antimatter, I don't know what Peter Pan is about...but God, I'm SO glad I have my Xag to explain it all to me...I was speaking about Xag with Marciano (Mauricio, my 17 year old best friend forever):" you know what I feel about him?I don't know how to say itHe's a thinking person...but inside the house(...)I'd like to meet him...and his sister(...)I imagine he's lived so little in the outside world that he doesn't have a happy image of his /video/"Ok, so please, don't puzzle yourself trying to understand this kid. I've hit the keyboard a la angry German kid trying to figure him out....I just want to let you know what he thinks of you.age...I don't know what to say...I'm in love....there wasn't a single second of this day that I wasn't thinking of him...I LOVE YOU XAG....what do I have to do to prove it to you?I have to share a little more....I just think: " I don't want to suffocate him" When he was watching my drawing the first time I thought: "Ok, that's enough, maybe he doesn't care that much" I know it's silly...but I'm not used to people care so much about me...when they do I make my "cool" face and that's it...It became an habit...I've thought of sending things to him, showing songs to him....but maybe he'll say: "that's an ugly song" He doesn't like my music, I know...it was clear when we were on the bus and he rejected the headphone. And I'm so weak...I'm afraid that if I show him a song he may not understand it...But hey, I planned to share a lot of things with him, I want to...it’s just...I'm so amazed by him right now...Xag, please remind me to show you the pdf. Of "Death in Venice", my favorite book. You, who like books, should read it that's the book that defines me.Please, let me teach about Paul Klee, Andy Warhol, and Marcel DuchampLet me explain you about the Surrealist RevolutionLet me tell you about indie rock...Play Final Fantasy VII (it’s in your house) Let me lend you Zelda: The Wind Waker and play a little bitLet me teach you French, Japanese and HebrewLet me teach you how to draw...lets draw togetherLets join my guys as they have a drink at the FrancesaLet’s go out with Daniel and Diego, lets watch them fightLet me introduce you to Natalia as she introduces me her new girlfriendLet's watch shotacon together....I want to do all those things with you...I'm just so thrilled learning about you that I forgot...to share, but you're right.I'm convinced I'm not good with words (English is killing me right now)...So my plan will be to post a drawing with a small caption...I'll see if its more "effective" or I’ll just try Spanish...somehow I feel I didn't make any point with this entry...Xag...you don't have to change...you don't have to be "better", but if you think you have to, let me help you...Natalia said that loving a lot someone is making an effort to be able to keep him with you...to be better for that person."Amar a alguien mucho es también esforzarse por pòderlo conservar a tu lado... por ser mejor para esa persona"I LOVE YOU XAG

One night at his room

One night at Sag’s room Lights went offIt was all dark, I just saw the contour of his toys, the outline of the furniture, the wooden roof...He pulled the curtains and let a blue light come in...It became creepysuddenly; I didn't recognized where I was...His kryptonite lamp looked like the arm of an evil robot that got stuck in the ceiling when trying to catch usHis action figures became an army of stone faceless guardians from an hostile planet with pink sandThe blue light of his laptop became an eerie distress call from a troubled boy from the year 3002The shelve above our heads became the kitchen floor of a cosmic fast food restaurant, with body parts of exotic monsters scrambled aroundThe pencils of his Crayola-themed sheets became knivesThe left end of his bed became the end of the world...it was intimidatingI was there....I felt his presence...so strong...so powerful...it was Xag...I could feel itHe was all around the place...in the air, in what I saw, in what I what I smelled, In what I touchedIt was XAG, I was inside himAs we spoke, I heard a whisper...It was the room..., his mattresshis demons? They were talking to me from under his bed...I think I heard a little boy crying...a boy asking himself questions he could not answer...a boy yelling at himself...a boy praying...a boy talking to God, a boy hitting the wall with his head...a boy asking for help...a little boy that was alone, a boy that felt rejected; I heard a boy talking to a webcam...a boy wondering; I heard a boy laughing, I heard a boy dreaming, I heard a boy happy to find an answer, I heard a boy's underwear ripping, I heard some liquid dripping on the floor, I heard the wet steps of a victorious boy that got away with his mischief, I heard the moan of a young boy collapsing on a dry orgasm, I heard the heavy breath of a boy that violently woke up from a nightmare, I heard a boy playing with his toys, making stories; I heard a boy writing on his notebook, typing on his PC; I heard an insomniac boy counting sheep, trying to get some rest; I heard a boy flipping pages with excitement, eager to know what's going to happen next...I was comfortable though, because when I turned my head right, I saw I boy smiling for having me by his side.He hugged me

This journal... is an addiction.

This journal... is an addiction.

And it’s hurting me.... I’m an emotional nympho... I’m a shameless punk...

I stop myself from being with the people that make me happy so I have time to write... I procrastinate; I even disclose private secret personal information from those around me... I hurt people.

This journal has to end.

I have a problem, that I can only confide in a machine... and then share everything with the world.

This is how it ends... in pain... in deceit... in utter disappointment... no pretty words... no dramatic metaphors... this is how it goes...

There is so much inside me bursting to get out

There is so much inside me bursting to get out. 

I've been not feeling well, I've been sick, I've been lying and lied to... don't know what to do, everything seems like this huge endless lie... but it isn't... or is it?... I've always considered myself a great liar... who in turn would make me also a great actor or, better yet, a great story teller.

Perhaps that’s why my life feels like a lie, I have this image of myself that is far from being any real sense... am I novelist' am I a writer?... it’s been months since I wrote anything for my novel.... there hasn't been a day I don't think about it, I think about it constantly, endlessly every detail, the whole plot, sometimes I think so much about it overwhelms me.

There is this contest... I could try to do something... however I know I won’t make it. I wake up with the thought that I have to straighten my hair if I want to feel good today... how empty is that? 

Then I spend the next 30 minutes looking at the guy in the mirror, who depending on the day, at random, is the most disgusting being on the planet or maybe not, so I stop, my hair half done, I look myself in the eyes and then I see it... the future, my future, I know how things will go, I know how everything will pan out, not in detail, but the overall plot.

I just keep thinking... Someone living my life should be happy…

(5 days late)

I’m scared

I’m scared, I’m scared of what I’m feeling, for some reason, I started to care for someone else, absurd I know… and then I thought someone wanted to love me when all he wanted was sex, and that’s why I’m heartbroken. 

Do I believe in sex between friends? Yeah. 

Do I believe in marriage? No.

Do I believe in boy/girlfriends? yeah

So of course I’m scared and dumb when it comes to relationships… I’ve never had one. I feel vulnerable because people tend to leave marks on me… a burn, a scar, something that will never go away… god I still remember people from when I was 10 y/o…. I’m insane, that’s it, and I’m totally and completely insane. 

How is it different a fling from a relationship… a fling is a kid of a relationship… yeah it’s constant, but without the compromise, or the exclusiveness, or the labels and responsibilities. There is something going on inside that I’m having trouble identifying… 

Do I want unconditional love? Yes… 

Do I want a lifelong partner? Yeah! 

Do I believe in sex with no compromises? No 

Oh my god… I don’t believe in sex without compromises.

Is that wrong? 

But I have put myself out there not expecting any compromises; I can have sex just to have sex. Not feeling hurt. It’s all very weird, it’s all very weird… 

David, David, what’s your problem… I’m bothered by your use bisexuality as a shield, like if it was less bad or something… Does it bother me because I use it as a shield? I don’t know… I don’t think I do, or I don’t want to, I believe I can love a man or a woman the same way romantically… actually if I’m not deceiving myself, I can have sex with both… right now I feel like I can be more open about what I like with a guy, but I’m sure a girl would understand… a girl like Elektra, I liked her… I really liked her. 

I need to… publish this… yeah… I need to, my diary it’s not over, I need it to continue or things will bottle up inside and become really confusing. And I don’t want to be confused.

(1 day late)

Writing a suicide letter is much more difficult than it sounds ...

 "Writing a suicide letter is much more difficult than it sounds ... I know this because I have written many."

FINAL from José Luis Montesinos. Director on Vimeo.

Smoke Cathedral

The tragedy is not that life has no meaning but that there is no meaning that is worth a life. 

-  La catedral de humo. 

Can't do it anymore; we have no strength, no health, no money

"We can't do it anymore; we have no strength, no health, no money. There was no other way out. Forgive us."

Igor & Lucile Bouryanime. Married couple that committed suicide via hanging in Paris on June 22 of 1970.  

via Les dossiers noirs du suicide by Denis Langlois

I just want to sit down and cry

I just want to sit down and cry, cry my eyes out, I want just to let myself fall on the floor and cry.

Help me.

I’m scarred by experiences and people, a scar so deep and visible I can’t forget it.

I’m so beaten I no longer wish death... because even that seem impossible for me, I’m giving up on everything and everyone around me, but specially I’m giving up on me. – 

Why do I write this?-

(3 days late)

As if things couldn’t be worse

As if things couldn’t be worse, my mom is depressed, and she doesn’t hide it. I’m depressed to, so all I can do is nod along we both just want to throw the towel, just lay on the floor stare to the sky and wait for the earth to devour us slowly and inexorably. I spend hours, that go from 5am to 7pm I haven’t accomplished anything and still feel tired and worn out. I am hopeless... I really don’t wish anything anymore, I don’t care about anything, I don’t want anything, and I don’t want to want... I just don’t care. I need nothingness, I need to fall and become nothing.

I know I have grown more beautiful, I hope it’s not narcissistic of me to say, but I think I am more attractive now, far more attractive than what I would have said I was 5 years ago..

(8 days late)

May my death be fruitful. And force the meditation. So that those who can, learn the lesson.

From the suicide letter of Miguel Ángel Quevedo. Cuban Editor, Shot himself while living in exile  in Venezuela. 

We were all guilty. Everyone. By action or omission. Old and young. Rich and poor. Black and white. Honored and thieves. Virtuous and sinners. Of course, we still had to learn the incredible and bitter lesson: that the most "virtuous" and the most "honored" were the poor.

I die disgusted. Alone. Outlaw. Exiled. And betrayed and abandoned by friends to whom I generously gave my moral and financial support in very difficult days. [...] All dehumanized and cold abandoned me in "the fall".

May my death be fruitful. And force the meditation. So that those who can, learn the lesson. [...]And for the people to reconsider and repudiate those spokesmen of hatred, whose fruits we have seen could not be more bitter.

We were a people blinded by hate. And we were all victims of that blindness. Our sins weighed more than our virtues. We forgot Nuñez de Arce when he said:

"When people forget their virtues, it's a tyrant in its own vices."

Bang bang!

 "depressed . . . without phone . . . money for rent . . . money for child support . . . money for debts . . . money!!! . . . I am haunted by the vivid memories of killings & corpses & anger & pain . . . of starving or wounded children, of trigger-happy madmen, often police, of killer executioners . . ."  - Kevin Carter 

Took his own sword and fell upon it.

4 Then Saul said to his armor-bearer, “Draw your sword, and thrust me through with it, lest these uncircumcised come and thrust me through, and mistreat me.” But his armor-bearer would not, for he feared greatly. Therefore Saul took his own sword and fell upon it. 5 And when his armor-bearer saw that Saul was dead, he also fell upon his sword and died with him.

Samuel 31:4-5

Rhyme Against Living

Rhyme Against Living
Poem by Dorothy

Parker If wild my breast and sore my pride,
I bask in dreams of suicide;
If cool my heart and high my head,
I think, 'How lucky are the dead!'

I know a hundred ways to die

I know a hundred ways to die.
I’ve often thought that I’d try one:
Lie down beneath a motor truck
Some day when standing by one.

Or throw myself from off a bridge—
Except such things must be
So hard upon the scavengers
And men that clean the sea.

I know some poison I could drink.
I’ve often thought I’d taste it.
But mother bought it for the sink,
And drinking it would waste it.

Edna St. Vincent Millay

Watching TV has become an addiction again

Watching TV has become an addiction again, I’m following like at least 12 different series, some already ended their run some are recent, but I just can’t stop myself. 

(12 days late)

Prayer

Prayer

No more dawns or customs,no more light, no more jobs, no more instants.Only earth, earth on the eyes,between the mouth and the ears;earth on the crushed down breasts;earth inside the dried up belly;earth pressed under the back;along the half-opened legs, earth;earth between the hands lying there.Earth and oblivion. 

After suffering a long depression, María Mercedes Carranza took her own life on July 11, 2003 in her Bogotá apartment after taking an overdose of antidepressant pills.

Next to her were her father's verses (Eduardo Carranza) and a letter for her daughter.

Sometimes I dream of her and I feel accompanied.
I leave here a
T
E
A
R
for her.

I found out that Xag is also a word in ancient Greek that means: - To go against the trend or to reverse course. -

I found out that Xag is also a word in ancient Greek that means:

- To go against the trend or to reverse course. -

(11 days late)

Leaping tiger gorge

The Naxi people in china...

"Couples used to plan their suicide well in advance, to take care of all the details ... [...] The lovers dressed in their best clothes and went to a nearby mountain, where they built a simple abode of branches and flowers: They spent their last moments drinking, singing and dancing. And then committed suicide by throwing themselves from the mountain, hanging themselves on a tree or ingesting poisonous substances. "

What happened to the world...

What happened to the world to become the most boring place in the universe? And is not fault of the world itself, it’s all been sculpt by humans (muggles might be a better term) ... beings completely devoid of happiness and sense of adventure. 

I find everything is very confusing and depressing ... I always wanted a life that is not perfect but happy, and for some reason I am not happy with my life as it is and it's far from perfect. All i need is just a little routine, a bearable one... that is occasionally accompanied by surprises.

The house now looks like a pigsty, my sisters do not pick up after themselves and Mintaka Is too young to understand she has to. If I wanted to change something right now, would be to just move, anywhere, it doesn't have to be a model home, just somewhere where everything is just in its place.

Who am I kidding? I know that wouldn’t be enough to make me happy, I would have to change schools again, make friends and so on. I would have to change particularly my look and hobbies, maybe dye my hair black... maybe finally buy some cool glasses. I always wanted a raincoat. 

But what if my life never changes? And if my life is still a disappointment a year from now? I'm afraid to grow up, be no one, each time I see my future I see more and more frustration... Because I can’t get what I want, be who I want.

Football, porn, drinks and sex all day long, everyday... I got stuck with the freaks, the ugly ones who would play D&D and belong to Christian groups.

All I ever wanted was friends... not boyfriends, just people to hang around with, have fun things to do with... I had them once... I lost them. Minos and Rhadamanthys.... They are before this journal, just before.

When I came to my new school after Tilatá, a place where... well, I never fit in. I came from being trouble and a concern to everyone, to being... just some other kid. From being someone to look out for, to being... someone... Anyone. 

When I arrived to this new school by the cemetery, I circled the social groups, I had to play soccer for a couple of times, and I bounced off from group to group... I found a pretty interesting one, the comic and Evangelion freaks but they told me quiite blatantly: you don’t belong here, you belong with them:.

The ugly group, were the Pokémon rejects... the poke group. I think I just did what I was told. Somehow I connected with them... they were immature... oh so immature. They were boys doing boyish things... I looked at that with envy... They had met each other their whole lives and I was the newbie.

Me being always quiet and numb, I never connected with the entire group. Just with those who saw classes with me... Minos and Rhadamanthys. The two sidekicks... they were intimate friends... they would buy Gameboys together, they would go out every weekend together... Minos would wedgie and tease Rhadamanthys all the time. I wanted that. I wanted to belong in a relationship like that... but they already had one.

So, then someone else came along... Aiacos... he just all of the sudden became my friend, the nice chubby guy everyone want to hang around. Loved by all. He decided to be my friend. He wasn’t boyish acting like the rest... he was reserved.... he just pushed me around a lot... I lied to him, I lied to him so much... just about everything, and I acted like someone else... I faked a tragic past... and distorted future... I was trouble boy to him.

Meanwhile... I still tried to fit in with Rhadamanthys and Minos. I was falling for them so much, so fast... I wanted to be their friend. I lied my way through... at some point... I asked Rhadamanthys for a shirtless pic of himself...

Then... something weird happened... they started sending my sisters some stupid letters... my sisters wrote back... it was weird... I became the mail man.

At one point I got tired of reckless boyish mess... I didn’t belong there... I never would. I stopped hanging out with them... I left with Aiacos... to find our own spot... we had our tree... we actually called it that... our tree... where we would go every recess.

Then... one day... we fought... Aiacos and I...

And I was left alone. And I couldn’t go back to Minos and Rhadamanthys... I was left to walk the halls alone... and... Then... only then... Minos and Rhadamanthys said: hey! We are your friends!! Come with us! Gosh... I still remember them when they said it that first time... in front of the copy shop... I was someone’s friend.

We had some sleepovers, we had fun...

One night, we talked about guys... I said I liked some kid... they were all. NO way! You are so straight!

Diego invited us all to this day at his club, it was amazing, and we had fun... they had fun... I was too scared to take my shirt off and join them in the pool and the sauna... so I waited alone... for them part of the day... we talked... I can’t remember what we talked about... I just know we had such an amazing time talking.... Minos was a great talker... I loved talking with them.

I never wanted sex... I just wanted a friend... a friendship... a lifelong friendship...

But, by now... Minos and Rhadamanthys group hated me... I and Aiacos were stealing them away... and I hated them... but Minos and Rhadamanthys were clear... we’re not going to leave our friends... they never did... till the very last day... they were inseparable...

However... it did not end like this... we saw classes together... we remained friends to some point...Aiacos, Minos and Rhadamanthys... and then... I messed up...

One day I came clean to them... I said... hey... I lied... about England... and I said... something about Cumming that bothered me... (I can’t remember well the conversation) it was gym class... boys in the grass in our shorts... and I told them things... truths and lies... I cried... and they... they said they understood.

I remember walking to the locker later... they fully understood me!!! I was so thankful to god!!! I was in heaven... I felt loved; I felt part of something...

And then...

One day... I wrote something in class... something about them... in my notebook... on a piece of paper... my teacher saw it, a confiscated it...

The next day... they wouldn’t speak to me...

They never did again...

My teacher said I was better off without them... I was from that moment on, always a loner... I took refuge in my books and my writing...

Then... that rejection... became hate... they pushed me every time they walk passed beside me... they would throw pieces of paper at me in class... they would yell stuff... they became mean... they hated me, they truly hated me... I think they stole my mp3 player the last day of class... and to this day I still wish I was part of them... once or twice they used sweet words to get what they wanted from me... and then they would hurt me more altogether...

One day... Aiacos came back... I showed him my journal... and we remained cordial till the very end... he is still the only guy from school I talk to... probably my only friend...

Aiacos... never told me what happened... why did they stop talking to me... what was in that piece of paper... I don’t remember... he likes to torture me... saying he will never tell me... I, once in a while, would ask him... I’ll ask him next time I see him... how did I mess up?

I caught Minos and Rhadamanthys jacking off in class... I was so... angry... I told everyone about it... I was an inquisitor... and tried to bring them down... what came next... was a series of rejects... Obsidian ... Moncada... people I shared nothing in common with... there I became a lonely bastard with a journal and books... and comics... 

This diary starts there... after this story... of one pathetic guy... who lost his friends again…

(2 days late)