The dream

I had the dream I had wished for, for years … I dreamt that I woke up from the dream my life was. At first I was watching a singer perform at the MTV movie awards, her microphone failed… she was lip singing. It was so humiliating, I ran into Daniel, this kid I met online, I asked him if he wanted to go tour around Germany (that apparently was where we were), he refused my invitation, I was so mad, how often I’m in Germany?.

Then a fat bald woman with a beard and in a white coat with goggles introduced me to “reality” a place similar to my home, but with the walls painted in bright white and red. She explained I apparently suffered from a disease, and I hadn’t waked up in years, been dreaming and assuming my dream was real. I was relieved, so relieved… my life wasn’t real.

I lingered, thinking, about what wasn’t real, my room, was similar to how it was organized when I was a kid. Then I felt sleepy. I felt pressure over my body, keeping me lying on my bed; I couldn’t move… like if I could feel the whole weight of “sleep” just pressing against me. I was falling asleep again… and who knows when I would wake up.

Today it’s my birthday... it’s the first time I forgot about it. Happy Birthday... You little piece of shit. August 30th, 2006 (8 days late)

I was crossing the street the other day rather recklessly, a car almost hit me a bystander gasped in horror.

I kept on walking, thinking I was idiot not looking before crossing, ten-year olds know that batter than me, It was people like me that make this fucking country the fucking shit it is, waste of skin, that risked what probably was a careful driver to being responsible for an accident a selfish bastard, mediocre loser, cancerogenous ulcer in life… etc.

Pretty harsh huh? I thought so too... and I wondered "wow is that me, saying those things?"

Silence.

It wasn’t me, the voice came from my head but it wasn’t me talking. Is that how people hear voices?

No, crazy people don’t know they are crazy But even if I’m not, keep thinking it can't be healthy... and I’m sick of thinking there might be something wrong with me, something wrong in what I think, in how I feel... I how I act... pretty much everything I am.

Today it’s my birthday... it’s the first time I forgot about it. Happy Birthday...  You little piece of shit.

(8 days late)

I had a panic attack

I had a panic attack, and afterwards I cut my hair.

I just looked in the mirror and hated what I saw... so I just had to cut it off. It’s now really short, compared to how I’ve had it through the last two years. people around me must think I’m losing it... they read a lot from my hair, first, red, then blonde the bluefish black now all unevenly chopped down.. Like if I had just been locked up in a mental institute...

On other subject, last Saturday, we had family reunion, about 4 hours of hell... and on the way home; we hit a guy with the car... blood, drama... I think those were 2 very hectic hours. I felt so useless, what bothered me was that to everyone I was one of the kids in the car, they didn’t let me get out and talk or say anything... not that I was jumping to do it, but still... I could have been 12 and would have made no difference.

(15 days late)

Tell me

"Tell me what kind of questions you ask, and what your answers are. Tell me who are your friends, and where do you spend your time, tell me what do you do in your free time, what do you expect of the future and how do you remember your past. All this things tell me who you are"

Those were words of my philosophy teacher today.... I didn’t like my answers to most of those questions.

(10 days late)

I failed at being blonde...

I failed at being blonde... 

I caught my little sister crying the other day, and she said to me "I just can’t do anything". I feel the same way; I can’t really do anything... I can’t even pull off being blonde. I can’t have a proper website; I can’t even finish a notebook, before I lose it in a classroom. I haven’t finished my sketchbook, or my JLU collection. I haven’t finished the first chapters of my book, or writing the Mikey's torment script. Whatever it is I haven’t finished it, I can’t really do anything.

My hair I bluefish black now... but it doesn’t look good without the makeup and black nails... but I feel I left that stage so far behind, wasted, and now I’m too old and it would look stupid to do it.

I know I’ll eventually go back to walking all over sunshine.

(29 days late)

Judgment

Judgment

Happening,

Steps back

From the gallows,

Assassin's hands

Without enough blood,

A warm body

And at his feet the tables of pleasure.

The lips of this street

Learn fast:

Gestures

Crossing windows

The heart awakens

Listening to heritage

Left hands together,

It is not easy to choose,

Not to choose,

Drop the gun ...

On time.

Luís Alejandro Galvis

Suaita (Santander - Colombia) 1973 - Socorro (Santander - Colombia) 2004. Suicide at 31, by ingesting 2 cyanide pills.