Bad habit

I think vomiting when thinking about your own existence is a bad habit. 

(20 days late)

"My heart is finally content... but my art will suffer"

I need to feel less... how do I feel less? I was watching these documentaries on emotions... people who act on their emotions are even more addicted to the... People, who express their rage openly, are more addicted to it...

I do not express my rage... I bottle it up inside, till I want to die... and then... I cut myself...

I don’t know how to scream... or yell... I have never yelled at anyone...

I talked to Emma today... well we just said hi... and he reminded me of something... a year ago... I did not masturbate...

Cumming with only wedgies and water is really hard... like really hard in some cases it can take... hours... 

(20 days late)

Where I grew up

I grew up in a home where for some reason I was embarrassed to do anything. Everything I did, everything I said, everything I thought was a secret. It still is.

I was incredibly embarrassed of keeping this diary. I had to wait till it has late at night, to sneak around and write without anyone noticing. I was embarrassed to paint, so I had to do it at school. I was embarrassed to watch TV so I never used the TV remote... I always wanted to walk around in my underwear at home; I've always felt embarrassed...

I don't come from a home where I am free to be myself. Judged, questioned... made uncomfortable. Everything is I was embarrassed to ask for the clothes I like. I still am. I was embarrassed to get the haircut I liked. I was embarrassed to bring my friends home or speak about home... or even have my parents come to school for grades.

I think from there came much of my urge to lie as a kid. I didn't like where I came from.

I know now, my mom was severely depressed most of the time... and contemplated suicide a lot. I know she didn't’ got married out of love. My dad is never around in any of my childhood memories... except to watch if I brushed my teeth... which was a traumatic experience.

my parents lacked taste.... they were always behind in any sense of fashion... you ask around my childhood could have very well taken place in the 80's ... plus they never cared much about how the place looked, or how we dressed... most of my clothes where inherited by my older cousins anyway, so they were always old fashioned... we didn't have cable, so we watched a lot of local TV, Peruvian channels mostly...the TV I watched was never in sync with the TV people I met. Watched.

I remember I played some games with my sisters, we had an Intellivision that never worked, and board games got so boring after a while, so we used our toys and made up storyline that were actually part of the TV roast of our own imaginary TV channel: happy channel, and each game we played was an episode of a show we had there. It was all pretty cool actually.

But most of the time my sisters hated me. They said I was little fag every time they could and were so embarrassed I was their brother. They however have each other for better or for worse. So I was forever excluded from, games, conversations, TV shows, friends, visits... They were pretty much geniuses on their own right, I was always left as the dumb old brother. The queer.

I can’t honestly remember my mom or my dad caring for us at all... like, being concerned about a school, or our happiness, or our wellbeing. I only remembered one time my parents were called by a teacher at school or something... and they asked me about it. And I told them that this girl on the bus was calling me names and bullying me.

I was the ugliest kid in school, I remember the girls saying I had like this huge head... which I found so painful (because it was true) I think I became oversensitive to criticism... and kind of forgot to talk to people.

Hence... I looked even more as a moron. I remember once, we went to the Francesa with the school... and most of my friends found it came and went on be themselves, leaving me alone. And there that there was this sign on top of a comic shelve.

"Pay for one... takes two"

And I didn't quite understand it.

"I pay for one... and I get two more? That two awesome to be true!!! I got to ask!"

I know.... I was kind of hardheaded. So I asked this lady about it. And she said something like ¿are you a moron or what?

I told her some lie about being in the hospital... but since then, I never ever asked for help in store... or to the police or anything. The sense of utter stupidity was just too much.

I remember being so lonely and stupid that time... and I kind of punished myself for years for it. I was a moron. An idiot who couldn't read a sign.

I lived with this moron complex, for years and years... I remember it wasn't till second semester in collage. A girl in my photography class asked, actually asked me if I had some mental disability... that I realized how amazingly stupid I appear to people.

School sucked for me... there were some few scarce memories that I cherish... but they are so few and feeble.

Tilatá was a nightmare... I remember never being able to make a stupid friend there. Like... never. I think there were few recesses I spent with people... and it was rare...

I remember I was psychology most of the time in my first school... then..., well they stopped caring. I never spoke much in my therapy sessions either... it must have been frustrating to everyone. I was just sad. By the end of my time there... I was such an outcast... I felt so stupid... I was glad...

then my second school... was, well at least different... co I kind of made friends with the most un cool people... which lasted about a year... and then it was again loneliness... being mediocre in all my classes. I don't think I excelled at anything... besides design and arts which weren't even considered in my school...

God I hate my school. I find it... unbearably boring...

When I think about it, I just have this urge of screaming... like just really screaming so loud I cry. I just never screamed... there were so many things I kept to myself, so many things unsaid, so many things undone, so many wrongs ignored... I was the kind of kid that would take a shotgun to school and kill people. I fantasized with it, on endless times. There is just such a sense of frustration about everything. About not being recognized there as... something special.

I just wanted to say deeply... "You are wrong, you are so wrong... and I am right."

Nausea... from what that school meant... nausea ...with some really bright colors that showed occasionally in the gray mist...

Now I'm home again. Term is over. And I'm alone... feeling stupid. 

(12 days late)

He called!

He called!I was waiting on him.....Never, ever have I felt so alone...so sick....so damaged, so unloved...I wanted to sleep; I wanted to stop thinking for a moment...I pictured him on my mind...his bright eyes looking at me...he looks down and then stares at me again, he smiles...I start to cry...I start to miss him like I've haven't seen him in a million years....his face starts to become blurred.....what are you doing right now? you have to be in pain, you miss me as much as I miss you?...I begin to see me a few years from now...I'm devastated, depressed, ugly...sick....then, someone tells me he saw him on the street...."where?" I ask, and start to cry harder....I put up the volume on the TV so none could hear me cry...I won't sleep, I know I won't be able to sleep tonight....I miss him, how can I live without him now.....My boy, I'm here for you, I don't have definitive answers, I don't have a magic stick...all I have is my body and soul for you to take, to join you; not to take you there, but to take the ride with you...god I miss you....your voice, your creamy, sweet voice....I see him again on my mind, we're completely wet...god the rain...how can I be on the rain again?...we take our pants off...he smiles again, and looks at me....I cry even more....the phone rings.....I jump....my heart is racing, so hard I think I'll spit it out....please, please, please, God, be you, please....it rings again....I grab the phone..."Te amo" he saysI'm frozen....is his voice...his beautiful voice, is talking to me...and he loves me...Oh god! Thank you....I breathe heavily; it takes me a second to understand that I'm not dreaming..."Yo tambièn" I say...he hangs up...I smile...he called....he cares...he loves me....I lie up in my bed...thinking on him...I really miss him tonight...I'm so tired of crying....I start to fall asleep...one hour passes, two hours....I'm fighting the dream....I'm asleep...A car crashes just outside the street...I hear the noise, but I can't see the accident from my window...I jumpeverything’s' dark, everyone went to sleep....can only think on one thing...I call him...it's like 3am...his phone is off....I call again, I leave a message...."Te amo...te extraño" I whisper...and make myself to believe that he's dreaming with me.... 

(3 days late)

Get wet out in the rain . . . bad idea

So I take one Last chance and get him to get wet out in the rain . . . bad idea. 

I’m tired of pushing so I'm seeing my boyfriend, once a week, tops. So what do I do? Convince myself. When he is not around, that we just aren't meant to be together.

I'm even avoiding him. Didn’t let him join me for TV class, or see him on Saturday when he is sick.

He seems Un-aware of this.

We haven't discussed batman or the music I Shared with him. Or Peter Pan. Or my script for my new video, or wedgies or slime, or mud. Or him coming out to his Sister. Or my childhood traumas or his comics.

(27 days late)

I thought... love would cure it... I think we all did...

I thought... love would cure it... I think we all did...

I did everything in my power to become emotionally stable, to find a cure and a fix... I confessed my darkest secrets in a park... I cried on his shoulder... my traumas, I read out loud my suicide letters, and I shared my work, my thoughts... I draw on him... I made love to him... I did all and everything I could ever think of to gain my sanity, for myself, for him... I really tried... I swear to god... I searched for  that cathartic moment where I knew I would never ever let go... because I knew I was... if not happy... at least content... that I wouldn't be seeking suicide in every corner... in every thought… 

(4 days late)

And I almost ran out of faith...

And I almost ran out of faith... and I almost ran out of love.

The year I took a bus, the year I had sex, the year I fell in love, The year of Len, of josh... and the Prince, the year harry potter ended, the year of the golden compass, the year of my suicide...

I was going to join him and his guys as they have a drink at the Francesa... and it turned out that I not being with them was a relief...

I was going to wait for the prince to teach me about Paul Klee, Andy Warhol, and Marcel Duchamp... I don’t think he really wants me to know... maybe he just think I’m too dumb to understand...

I was going to Play Final Fantasy VII, Zelda... I apparently I’m also to dumb undisciplined for this...

I was going to get him, gunged and slimed....

I was going to go out with him... Daniel and Aiacos, watch them fight... I ruined this... by being myself... he will never let me see them again... god... I was surrounded by people like them my entire school... and never enjoyed it... I wanted to... I just never knew how... I wanted him to teach me how.... I so wanted to have friends... and not feel old... I want to be reckless and immature... tell them about my wedgies, my fetishes... tell them about our sex... I want to fight you in the mud my prince... or at least watch them... but no.... it’s too late and I wrecked it... now they think only awful things about me...

I was going to wait and see if we draw together... he was going to teach me... and I feel I can’t draw anymore...

He was going to explain me about the Surrealist Revolution...

He was going to teach me French, Japanese and Hebrew from him... I don’t even know how was this ever going to happen...

He was going to introduce me to Natalia as she introduced him her new girlfriend... but I somehow convinced him I just don’t know how to have fun... and maybe I don’t...

He was going to teach me about indie rock... He doesn’t share his music... my fault... for handing back a headphone.

We were going to watch shotacon together... and I turned out to be a fucking asexual... uncomfortable to be around with....

We were going to go out and get wet in the rain: he doesn’t enjoy it... he just feels ugly and uncomfortable... I felt old...

We were going to have proper sex... and I apparently have the sexual age of an 8 year old... I don’t watch porn...

We were going to see the golden compass... he hated going to the movies with me...

We were going to play board games with my sisters... he hates playing games...

We were going to take glamour pictures of us... I’m an awful photographer... I disappointed him so badly last time...

We were going to go and see Adolf... I will feel ugly while doing so...

So what exactly the New Year holds for me?

Getting kidnapped to Sweden

Getting a double grad program in Spain

Getting a summer job in the us

This is one of the miracles of love: It gives a power of seeing through its own enchantments and yet not being disenchanted

New plans to make and disappoint him... new ways of do self-sabotage... All this is product of me missing him... I miss him to much... it’s starting to hurt me... maybe he just doesn’t love me enough to send me a text message on the cellphone... maybe he doesn’t love me enough to let me be with him on his birthday... maybe he doesn’t love me enough to comment on MySpace... maybe he doesn’t love me enough to want me to join him to wherever he goes... maybe he just doesn’t love me enough to answer my emails (its only polite)... maybe he doesn’t love me enough to push me... and teach me how to enjoy the things he enjoys...

What I really want with this entry is to make all of the said above to happen... not plant it and force it to happen... but just tell the universe... I want this to happen!!! I need this... because I don’t feel like killing myself anymore... I feel like wanting to live... just a little bit...

In wonderland

It’s not a whim...

It not... I'm not... little boy that whines, because life sucks, because no one understands him...

I am losing my mind...

I don't think it’s my secret desire to be special... to feel special , it’s not I'm pretending to be something I'm not.... I'm truly losing my mid... It just stops making sense sometimes, like, if my train of thoughts started going in circles...

it been going on for some times... its stare with me wondering around the house, just walking... people in school used to mention I spoke to myself, this was never intentional, I am never aware of this... but I do. My little sister notices sometimes... she finds it funny...

Lately, it’s been getting worse.

I'm dropping things all over the place... I was the neatest guy ever, it was psychotic... my room now... is a disaster... peopled asks me for things, I hand them something else... I can’t seem to keep a pen with me over a week... I forget to do homework's... I literally forgot the face of my teacher...

I never remember to put the milk back in the fridge... everyone snaps at me.

I find myself asking myself... what I was thinking. What am I doing? What am I saying?

Today the creepiest thing happened... I called the prince on the phone... I just forgot, what I was going to tell him... it took me a while before I started making any sense... he noticed...

Not having the cell phone at hand... also relieves me from the remorse of not calling anyone to say good bye...

I failed again... I know...

but I'm not planning months ahead, it’s just a week... soon it will be days... the I will be planning for tomorrow... and then... then I will make it...

I can kill myself, I can do it....

I can, I can... I can...

See... I'm spinning again? Maybe this is why I can‘t writes a lineal story any more... my book... I can’t seem to focus and tell the story form beginning to end... neither on video... things is becoming increasingly abstract...

I was a very reserved person... now I'm telling the entire class that I'm suicidal, now, I'm showing my half naked boyfriend to the world... I say the most inappropriate things in the library....

I'm so... anguished... so....

I've been writing this entry for a week...

(59 days late)

I don't know how to play

 I suck a football or any other pseudo sport. I sucked at magic, at D&D… I was the worst video game player in history. I was basically the boy who just doesn’t know how to have fun. I’ve been in an endless… and rather fruitless, search for people who have with me common interests… hoping there would be kids that would enjoy, rather adult hobbies… and when I do like kids’ stuff… there just isn’t anyone around to share… My friends only liked to get wet riding a bike… I do not know how to ride one. My friends loved going to the pool… but would never take my shirt off and wait in a bench nearby. My friends loved Pokémon... I never got my own Gameboy. My friends would rather read Spiderman than superman, daredevil than batman… My friends enjoy playing video games in silence… while I desperately wanted to talk.

… my activities are just there for me to enjoy alone… collecting action figures, reading comics, watching anime series, movies, listening to music… designing websites, drawing crappy anime… writing my book. I want to learn how to play… I need to learn to not think I’m wasting my time with people who are not interested in what I am interested in… I need to stop thinking about adulthood and childhood. Somehow I have become this creature that feels 1000 years old… that feels that has lived all and learned it all. 

I should be enjoying the here and the now… I shouldn’t be thinking of the future and my career and my spiritual growth… especially because when I think of spiritual growth, I think of a boy…. I see Xag as boy… not a grown man. Maybe I just go backwards maybe just trying to acquire that childhood vision of the world… 

I am in desperately needed of hugs.

(1 day late)

Coming out.

I like told my mom about The Prince Rabbit, and was pretty much uneventful. She actually was kind of … I don’t know… but we haven’t talked about it yet… I’m afraid the prince might become a taboo subject, especially now since I really need to get out and buy him a Xmas/Birthday present and I am like totally broke… and will probably have to ask her for money. Mm… I need money for my bf, you know the one I told you about and you said I should kiss when no one is around…

[2 days late]

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

A Xag-less week

A Xag-less week and I'm not feeling good.My face is still swollen and it hurts...yesterday I got a fever; they almost take me to urgencies. I may have an infection. I had to lie down yesterday...If don't improve; they're going to have to take to the hospital...I miss Xag terribly...I feel SO alone without him...what are you doing?What are you planning?What are you thinking?How are you feeling?Now that I think about it... December 23d seems SO far away....very, very far...I already feel like I stop seeing him for a month...time's funnyNot reading his blog is going to be the toughest test ever...I don't know if I can make it...we were supposed to do a lot of things...take a shower again, have sex, go and get wet in the rain, take glamour pictures of us, go and see Adolf, we were going to see Beowulf, he was going to join me to get a haircut, he was going to explain me how to dye my hair, I was going to spend the night at his house, we were going to go out with my friends, go out with his friends....I practically made my whole holiday vacation thinking I was going to do all that stuff with him. It seems so awkwardly interrupted...like in the first month I got suspended from seeing him...I miss him alreadyThis "break up" it’s so unnecessary...when I became his boyfriend (even before that) I assumed all his problems, his traumas, his videos...I love him that way, he's not hurting me with the way he is. I even accepted the fact that he's going to die someday, I listened to his motivations and I'm trying to harvest the sad and cruel idea that he's going to kill himself someday...but even with that, I love him...I like him the way he is...all of him...If you have problems I'll be there to help you, If you're crying you can have my shoulder, If you're alone I'm here to hug you, If you're hurt I'll lick your wounds, If you're dry you can kiss me, If you're cold you can have my body, If your soul is broken you can have mine...I'm here, I'm here for you.I'm not josh...I'm old enough to know the consequences...I won't cut myself in front of you...I know we need to be together, doesn't matter how hurt or "broken" you are...I need you. I just want to see you one more time...I LOVE YOUI LOVE YOU XAGwhat are you doing Hun?

I'm in love

I'm in love I don't know how it happened, but today I knew it more than ever....I felt it more than ever...I've never EVER cried like that...for love...I just keep revisiting my romantic life trying to remember a moment that resembles the profound and powerful feeling I felt today when Xag broke up with me.I cried when Maria Camilla said I was ugly and I dressed bad on 4th grade (I was 9)I cried when, very dramatically, Chajín revealed that I was "gay" and that I liked Nicolas (Nicolas was there, I was 12) I cried of regret when I realized I hurt a naive 11/12 year old making him believe a hot older girl was in love with him(14)I cried when I realized I was old and ugly enough to make the prettiest boy in school, declare his love for me(16)Today I cried for love...because I'm truly in love with Xag. There wasn't a random tear like the other times...I felt something inside, something that made me...feel...I'm still crying and it hurts...but GOD, I'm crying for love...(cheesiest thing I've ever said) but what the HELL its true!, I'm in love bitches! And it feels amazing...Today, Xag made the noblest thing someone could ever do. It's so amazing I can't even believe it...Let's suppose that I'm as good as he says I am....He was willing to give up the "most precious thing in the whole wide world" just because he didn't feel he deserved it...how come? he thought that he would make me suffer, that I'll be better off with him...now tell me what person in the world is willing to sacrifice the most precious thing in the world just because the sake of it?...I have no words...Hun, I feel humble in front of you, and I feel I'm the happiest person on earth because I found you.god...crying makes you feel tired and sleepy...my face is all sticky and I have Goosebumps...every time I try to show Xag something about me, there's problems....either because he can't believe it and becomes overwhelmed or because he discovers that I want something else...What do I have to show him to believe me...I'm not making a charity job...I don't feel sorry about him...I LOVE HIM DAMN IT....as I've never loved someone before...I have flaws...my mistake maybe was not showing myself to him when I was most hurt on Monday...It was for my sanity...for my mental health...I´ll try to use this blog to expose my traumas...I think I've said them all but I'll try and dig deep into them, and show Xag that they don't hurt anymorethere's so many things I'd like to say right now....but I just can't I'm so tired....I still have to cry a little more...I miss him so much right nowI'll complete this entry later, don't take it’s finished..

December starts

December starts, people are celebrating… the prince and I are crossing the bridge, the light reflected on the smooth water… fireworks are going off… all colors, they are awesome, some in shape of hearts…. the price says: look Xag… look where we are going. The air was moist, it was going to rain soon and the street is damp from rain earlier… Xmas lights from all the houses nearby and their reflection on the dark damp streets. Suddenly, there’s this need… this scene… someone has to kiss there, it just makes sense. I stop dry, turn him around, and go for it. We kissed. I need to remember this; I need to write it, not looking for beautiful words, just stating the facts for my broken memory. Because it actually happened. Things like this actually happen… and I replay them out. Then I read him my love letter, most of it was rambling, but well that’s what love letter are… rambling on and on for what are just three damn words… I love you. 

I love you my prince. Just as you are, I don’t know if my love letter was clear on that point… I love you with the prince costume, the costume that shows who you really are. I’m finally in vacations; it’s sort of a relief… to know I can just sleep for hours and hours on end… I am depressed. The prince once asked and I said no. but I am my prince… I think I’ve always been.

I was born crying, lived crying… and probably die to let someone else to cry. I was born in a small little country in one farfetched corner of the world… a place devastated by war… where no one really does anything. 

I know what my role in the prince’s life is. I… am the angel of death. He knows it… I break his soul… “Xag… you are killing me” he says.

My prince, what were you doing today? Did you breathe? Did you blink? Did your blood pulse through your veins? Then everything is ok.

Chaos at the end of the sidewalk

Yesterday... I experienced a lot... I learned a lot... I felt a lot... I liked it a lot. Suddenly I realize that there really is a whole other person in my life. A person so deep in thought, emotions and history... everything in ONE big mess... its chaotic... it’s like... All there... there are no ages, no changes no organization of any kind... it’s overwhelming...

The prince’s lair... he lives at the end of the sidewalk... when he starts I’m finished... he is just kid in Bogotá, that lives yes... of all the places in Bogotá... I would have never thought of finding love there... at the end of the sidewalk... in an ugly place (like he said)... industrial zone... exactly the kind of place I just wouldn’t like to live. Too much chaos, too many elements that would make you feel: hey... I want more... he of course doesn’t feel like that because he is nice and pure...

I’m starting to believe his ability to wish is tempered by his lies, the ones he tells and believes... how awfully tedious his existence must be at times... but then again... does he even notice? Do you save someone when they are happy the way they are? Do you save someone from being happy?

I’m starting to feel what is like to be him... that close are we starting to get... I’m starting to hate his eternal cough... I’m starting to hate his: it’s just sex attitude...

I haven’t been able to sleep tonight not more than two hours straight... I dream about him... it making me sick...I had a fever... my shirt was all sweaty and soaked... I’m losing my mind yes. I no longer doubt that. I’m just going to be one of those people that belong in a mental institute and no one notices... I sort of wish they did... I need help... imposed help, I need drugs, and I need so many kinds of drugs... I guess I just want my sanity... I want to make my emotions stop being toxic to me...

I left his realm kind of wishing he had not touched me so deep... I hadn’t been so wowed and terrorized... wishing I have not cared that much... wishing I did not love him that much... but I do... 

Princes don't need Princes

Princes don't need Princes God, now I hate writing...I never said Xag was one of those "stray souls"...I was just trying to analyze what Natalia said to me in the light of my relationship with Xag. I was just wondering if Xag could become one of those "cases"...I was just trying to say that I always end up being the "sane" person...that's all.Yesterday, everything changed.Yes, I wanted to be his savior. I loved the idea of come flying and rescue him from his misery, I loved the idea that with the power of a hug I would heal his wounds, that a kiss would erase his pain, that my breath in his ear would make him love to be alive; I wanted to teach him how beautiful the sun is, the clouds shining in the daylight, the moon watching us from the distance; how wonderful, comforting and trusting are the city lights; I wanted to teach him how beautiful is air, the mountains; the amazing gentleness of the wind; the beautiful music that noise makes...I wanted to teach him how wonderful he is, how gorgeous he looks when he opens the door of his house and he lets a sweet, almost soundless "hola" escape from a colossal smile; teach him how comforting is his presence when the elevator door opens and his body watches me with relief, despite that I'm 2 hours late; teach him how much I wanted to kiss him in our first date in that cold bench when his broken eyes looked at the floor during an awkward silence; tell him how I blush in the bus when I remember our shower; I wanted to make him realize how wonderful his existence is; how much the world needs him, how much I love to watch him move, not move, talk about comics, how much I love his silences, his whiny, girly voice; how much I love his drawings, his writing, GOD!, his body, always eager for a hug, I love his room, I love his eyes, I love his neck, I love his arms, I love his clothes, his family, I love his home, his cat; I love how he walks, how he cries, I love his blog, I love how he thinks, I love what he thinks, his nails, his smelly socks...GOD, I love the most beautiful boy ever!But apparently, as always, I'm too late, too late to be a savior.Yesterday, I understood what means to be a suicidal. Suddenly, it all made sense. I couldn't tell him anything, I couldn't refuse him, I understood why he doesn't want to be in this world, I understood his frustration...and I couldn't help but to tell him that he is right. That he won that war, way, way, way before that war existed...I told my boyfriend that he should commit suicide...Now I'm thinking I'm going to regret all my life for having said that, but now I love him SO much that if he thinks that dying is the only way he'll be free from his pain, I have to say that I support him.The problem is that I love him...and I don't want him to leave...My plan is getting used to the idea that he's going to leave someday...(I'm a girl now!, I'm crying) but God!...please...let's wait...Don't break up with me...I don't need a Prince...I don't want a damn Prince...I want you damn it! YOU!I wish he wouldn't make a movie out of everything, that he believed the lies of the world, that he tried to be a little more like a zombie...I can't believe I surrendered...so quickly...I can't be his savior...he's already broken. 

I came to that realization early this year...It was my motto. I picked it from an Art history class; my teacher said that it was one of Andy Warhol's catchphrases. To understand Warhol is to understand contemporary culture, consumes, the culture of the image. "He was a very vulnerable person" my teacher said. "That's why he used a hairpiece and speak funny", added. Warhol is the incarnation of "pop"; he made a celebrity out of himself, a lie that everyone was comfortable with. Just like those prefabricated boy bands, contemporary divas, sodas and products.In a moment, I realized I was just like any of those. "The Prince" is the smartest boy in college, he is so noble, so pure, well behaved, gentle, responsible, talented...That's the way most people see me. That's my "alternate" identity.I started questioning myself after a huge creative dry I had at the beginning of the year. I didn't feel smart, talented, responsible...The idea of "The Prince" collapsed...well, at least just for me. But at some point, I stopped caring about it. Do I have to live up to that idea? Why it is wrong that people sees you in a way that you're not? Who’s the real one? I always say: as long as none gets hurt, there's no problem with it.It's not like I act out...or tell lies...When I was at genius school they said that intelligence is an "intended adaptive capacity" and I think I've taken that definition to build my relationships with the world. It works for me...Now that I remember, it was that Warhol period one of the main reasons I ended up in vampire freaks, to create an idea of myself, to make the pictures say something for me that I can't say. I am SO not being fake with Xag, but I'm just not used to open up to other people. I'm just afraid that after discovering me, they have me at their hands...and that way they have a right to reject me. Something like it happened with my female friends at college I told them some of my most important things, I told one of them that I am BL, but at the next day...it was like nothing...they didn't deserve to know, I'm regret. (Bitches)More than anyone on this earth, Xag deserves to know how I am... 

For some reason I feel I have more skills drawing than writing; I think I'm more eloquent that way. When I have something to say or express I think I'm not very good with words. But I'm going to try this time because I think I need to. Not only now I have things to say, but I want to say them, and now I may have someone to listen. 

I'm in a war. A war I have to win.

If I win he lives and I'm happy

If HE wins...he dies...

Things are not being easy; my rival has been prepared to win long time before he was my rival. He has his entire weaponry ready, his army, and is determined to win. I think I may have damaged his defenses a little bit, but I still feel I'm not winning.

Xag...he says he knows how his story is going to end...he dies, he says. But I have a problem with that, in my story, he doesn't. He wants to forget who he is, to start all over again...he is not happy with himself...

Every time he talks there's a deep, profound feeling of sadness, frustration, and desperation. His voice is like a little cry that brakes inside his throat and turns into words. It’s just tears my soul carving into his insides and discover all that pain he's been carrying and not being able to do something to cure it.

I just want to tell him that everything is going to be okay, that everything will be fine...and I have, but it just doesn't seem enough for him. He's decided. He's been so used to feel pain for so long that seeing another way seems impossible for him. I think he's afraid of not feeling it, afraid to lose his pain...I don’t know...He has made his mind.

It makes me so sad...because I want him...I need him. He doesn't realize how much, but I do, I DO need him. He keeps thinking I'm some kind of superman, a "Prince", and that keeps him away from me...I think he knows that I'm not any of those things...that I'm just a kid...a 6 year old that shit his pants in first grade, a 9 year old rejected for being ugly, a shy 11 year old being teased at for being girly, a fragile 12 year old that cries in front of everyone for having revealed that he likes boys, a 14 year old that's expelled from a school of weirdoes for being weirder than the rest of them, a frustrated 16 year old want to be artist, a 19 year who's frustrated for not being young enough...

We're not that different...actually, I think we have very similar experiences. I DON’T KNOW, maybe he has made up his mind already, maybe he's meant to leave...he just doesn't want to admit it so he won't hurt me...I just don't want that to happen. He's so cute, lovable, smart, funny, creative...God, please no...Don’t take him away....what do you need Xag? What can I do to make you happy? Just surrender and let me win...

Let me fall

I asked the prince... who were you before me?

He didn’t remember...

I for one, I feel I am still my past, my present and my future, I feel like that same 5 year old I that broke his best friends little pony...that little 6 year old that shit his pants in 1st grade... like the suicidal 10 year old that sunk his nails on an obnoxious blonde girl... the 12 year old that couldn’t bear to take his shirt off in the swimming pool... the 14 year old that was systematically rejected in school and discussed openly in class... the 16 year old that sat fat and ugly in front of the most hideous sea... I’m still the irresponsible 18 year old that was too weak to know what he really wanted out of life and chose the wrong major... 

You my prince... you are kid at being conscious... I remember... I am still all of who I ever been... all my ups and downs, all my glory and all my despair, I am all... you said you started to rebuild yourself. I’ve been rebuilding myself since forever; always constantly... no matter how I rebuild the outcome is this. Utter ugliness... I am still that same kid that puked every morning in the bus to school; I am still the teenager whose friends were the eternal losers... I am still the one who has to take out the only girl left at the table... I am still so embarrassed by my very existence I have to ask for forgiveness every time I see the only person that seems to care for the dirt bag I am...

you... you... you are still... conscious about society... your place in it... you homophobia... this is too ameinian... this too straight... and it inhibits your actions... see you are still living separate lives at home and at school, and with your friends... all separate worlds and realities... you don’t even act the same with the other people you have been intimate with... you are still getting drunk and getting laid... I’m feel I’m so over that... I’m so over from hiding from my family... I’m so over speaking to people differently because of social rules... from seeking physical love... I guess... I just... gave up on myself... it’s been too long,... too much... it’s just,... not going to go anywhere... maybe not even with my prince... you are to late... you are a cosmic coincidence that just arrived too late...

Ok... I’m crying now... why do I feel the need of just state the fact I’m crying now? I don’t believe my words are strong enough

I never went for a kiss...

I never went for a kiss... I wanted to kiss girls, and a boy, then another couple of boys, and then more girls and a boy... I don’t know why I am so obsessed with girls, if I don’t even know them... I wish I was ameinian, like so fucking completely ameinian.

Now... my virgin days are close to being over... I feel like yelling. 

I’ve written so many times the final entry for my journal, it’s just absurd... how long will I keep this up?

I have million things to do and books to read, things to finish... I have book that needs to be read... I barely have started doing all those things god told me to do.

I had my first talk with the Marquis de Sade girl (whose name is actually Jessica)... it had to last like 6 minutes... and she like completely shared herself with me. Out of nowhere. I found her... brilliant... broken, but brilliant... sincerely wowed.

Life... is an addiction

Life... is an addiction.

Doomed if I do doomed if I don’t

My mom is convinced that cutting is an addiction... she should know she is a psychologist... I didn’t think so... until... the prince asked me to never do it again.

I couldn’t make such promise! What if 5 years from now I cut again? THEN I would be an addict for not being able to keep my promise...

But... if I can’t make the promise.... I’m obviously an addict.

Where the hell is my free will?

And not only cutting... but everything... life for example...

People want me to stop being sad...

Am I addicted to my sadness?

It’s the only emotion... I think I’m familiar with... it’s that emotion... suicidal sadness I can handle... heartbreak, doom... I can handle that...

I can’t handle sex...I can’t handle having fun... I can’t handle being loved, loving someone... I can’t handle a relationship...

I took a look... around me...

My childhood... my adolescence... they have all passed... uneventful... empty... wasted

The prince... could I become addicted to the prince. I know I already am in a way. Like being addicted to a chocolate bar, to gum, to sparkies... I just like him too much.