"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)

Dear diary…

Dear diary… 

Tonight I had another great date with the prince… he is just great… what can I say... he is like, so beautifully flawed… he shared with me, like I’m sure he shares with others, I was just so glad to be included. He has of course more experience than I do… I feel 13 again… I said horrible things… I said beautiful things… he spoke… pretty lies, real truths… I took advantage and stared at his boxers while he checked the pc on my room… I was like… oh my god, is this hot ass is in MY room?! …so unsexy for someone so beautiful…. we didn’t have sex, we didn’t kiss, we didn’t even held hands… we just hugged… and again I thought it had been a good hug… we just talked and that was great… he went through my things... looking for something interesting… I think I disappointed him… my lameness… however I did felt sort of… innocent… no, that’s not the word…

I felt inexperienced… in a good way... like maybe he could show me stuff… -emotionally stuff I mean (you dirty minded people) … well maybe a little bit of physically stuff too. -

God he is so loveable… two dates… and I feel I could fall in love with him… it’s like… god I come out so desperate… things scare me… Daniel… this guy he knows… seems like he has really moved him forward, that he helps him do stuff he would never do with me… I still don’t know how on earth I’m good for him… I said the word wedgie, more than it was appropriate…

Will I ever be his prince? He held me in his arms… it was so sincere... or so it felt…

Then… I asked him for a hug goodbye… he refused… and there, right there, I was with my worst date ever again… right now I don’t think we will ever kiss, or hold hands or anything… maybe we are just going to be good friends…

The last few entries… are the worst side of me…

The last few entries… are the worst side of me… I hate me… I want to sit still forever and ever, and ever… I don’t want to write ever again… I don’t want to speak ever again… I don’t want to get dressed, or straighten my hair… or sit on a chair… why are chairs so uncomfortable? Why it is while I write all this things… everything in stupid journal… the world keeps revolving around me… I’m waiting for it, to stop and change… that why I did everything… I just genuinely thought, that if I wrote my life would change… it won’t… its stupid, like expecting ritual chants to cure diseases... or car horns to make traffic lights change faster… My pathetic excuse for existence it’s coming to an end… at least to you… I’m not genuinely mad… I’m just tired… just too tired to carry on… not tired like I’m tired eventually… I’m just giving up… for real… tonight, I’m going to give up, on myself. I know this is probably not in the secret, but it’s all I can do… I come from a family of quitters… from a country of losers, from an education of conformists… I’m going to do all I can really do… quit… take the notebook I use for my book out of my notebook and leave it home. Pack up my justice league toys… give away my comics to recycle… and stop using English… stop fighting to get fit in the system, stop trying get good grades with no effort… I will stop hurting people, which I try so hard to do, to get recognized by them… I will stop smiling… I will stop reading… needless to say… I will stop this, drawing, and or doing vids … all together … I don’t want to yell ever again… I don’t even want to ever listen to music ever again… I just quit… I quit, not defeated, just too tired, to sad, to dead inside to carry on… let’s just see… if this is something I will succeed at…

I received another message today that said: "just BE happy"

I received another message today that said:  "just BE happy" yup, just like that… it is a bit like telling someone with cancer "just cure yourself", he tells me to go out to the world, and to just be happy... 

This is irritating for a number of reasons.

One, I have to constantly explain to him or whoever says it tome, how sucky my life is and the pathetic personality I have that gets in the way of everything that’s good and worthwhile in this world. 

Two, I’m afraid to try alone... and learn to be happy alone and stay alone forever...

I met Joshua... I’ve had a crave for this name since I went to England years ago. It was the name of one of my roommates, he was blonde and gorgeous, and I was never brave enough to talk to him... last time I saw him he was shirtless in the beach. Ten years later comes another Joshua ... Him I was brave enough to talk to, well he reached me first for some reason, but unlike the 1st he I will probably never actually meet.

I sometimes treat him, like I did Obsidian back in school, and I enjoy it the same way, he is also, like Elektra in some ways, when we get passionate discussing... I don’t remember being so passionate online with anyone else beside him and Elektra... 

He is also very different to anyone I’ve met in many ways... he speaks like the kind of person I always wanted to talk to, he actually speaks so beautifully, that I can’t seem to get myself together and talk back... and I can talk a lot, I study social communications for crying out loud...

He is however reckless when he speaks and acts, which I find at the same time repulsive and attractive... I can’t really seem to grasp he is so young or that I’m actually this old... talking to him makes me wonder what the fuck did I do in my teens? Where did they go?

But today I did something so stupid, there is this really hot, really smart, girl in my Ethics class... she talked to me!!! And I talked back... and we actually got along!!! Amazed I was, I stated trying to well... make myself interesting... and yes... I screwed up... I was going to say it was nightmare to be bi... but when I thought in my mind, the word bisexual sounded so... ugh pathetic... and I actually said I was ameinian!!! Now of course... Lost all chances of being with this cute, really hot smart girl (completely out of my league) and messed it up again by speaking of guys.... I just hate myself....

(13 days late)

There’s no reason to live, but there’s no reason to die, either.

“There’s no reason to live, but there’s no reason to die, either. The only way we can still show our contempt for life is to accept it. Life is not worth the bother of leaving it. Out of charity, one might spare a few individuals the trouble of living, but what about oneself? Despair, indifference, betrayal, fidelity, solitude, the family, freedom, weight, money, poverty, love, absence of love, syphilis, health, sleep, insomnia, desire, impotence, platitudes, art, honesty, dishonor, mediocrity, intelligence – nothing there to make a fuss about. We know only too well what those things are made of, no point in watching for them.”

“God is growing bitter, He envies man his mortality.”

— Jacques Rigaut

All and all, I’m tired of asking questions...

All and all, I’m tired of asking questions... always, the same questions over and over again. Questions that wear out the soul... stain it.

Why do I hate myself so much? When will it end? Will I die tomorrow? What should I do next? Why can’t I do what I want to do? Why am I not happy? Where am I? Is this the right choice? Where did all go wrong? How could I have made a difference? What if I was someone else? Who am I? How did I let myself fail?

I now see failure not as a persistent fear, not as threatening menace... but as the bleak reality. 

THIS IS IT.

How do you react to failure... well most people will say, you should learn form you mistakes and start over again till you do it right. 

I don’t think I can start over again... and believe me I find myself now staring at the ceiling for hours at a time thinking how would I have lived in a better way, and how I’d give to go back and do it all over again.

Wasteful thoughts indeed.

Now I find myself writing this journal, almost convinced that this will be the only thing I’ll ever write.

This dear reader. Is a story of failing, the story people are too afraid to tell, the story people hate to hear. The story a loser, a depressive freak... my story. The story of accomplishing nothing, losing friends and alienating people.

(4 days late)

There are some perks to living in a warzone...

There are some perks to living in a warzone... first you develop the ability of sleeping through almost anything; Gunshots and minor explosions for example. You get to see the dark side of life since forever, you learn to live in a truly rotten society (you guys think your health care is broken? here is basically inexistent!). You learn the rules to live in no man’s land, to not expect anything from your government and that the answer to most (if not all) problems is definitely money.

You learn to look beyond the general moral rules of good and evil. The values system is different, it does not hurt at all that fellow citizens dies in a massacre, it doesn’t hurt that children are starving, that your maid, the woman who babysit you your whole life, prepared your meals, and washed your underwear kidnapped children of others people for ransom in her spare time.

You learn that one block away there is a center for prostitution and drugs (not to consume... but to export of course). You learn that politics are corrupt to the bone, and that the downside of that matter is not to be in it... 

You also learn to objectively look at a situation no matter the amount of casualties. You look beyond the massacre to see whose fault is it really is, not only here but anywhere else, being Iraq or Vietnam, it does not matter the time or space.

But most importantly you find that problems cannot be solved, at least not without extreme radical change (and that unfortunately means taking the rough decisions)... so where does this leaves this image that Colombian is passion? That Colombia is a better land for tomorrow... where does this leave all our goodness and expectations...

Well today the country was indeed paralyzed for an hour, where everybody just halted to show the terrorist that we had enough. Now, I'm very critical of my country's situation, but I must admit I had not experienced this ever, and god knows there have been marches, manifestations and all sorts of crap during my lifetime. Yet, today was something Huge. Why I say that? Because I was involved me... it reached me, I live on a part of the city that is pretty much excluded from what happens and it even got here... it was something... an hour where you wear a white shirt and say: "yes we can still dream of something better"

Non-sense

Non-sense, bad grammar and terrible syntax...

I feel can do more, so much more and somehow I just don’t. This feeling of constant auto sabotage is wearing me out... tearing my soul apart.

While I’ve managed to convince myself to stay alive, I find now that during a lot of time I’ve just accomplished this by getting myself stuck, sinking deeper and deeper in the mud until I’m not moving at all.

So many plans... and somehow they just never happened. And I know I shouldn’t complain... but damn, that’s pretty much all I can do for myself right now, it just seems wiser to get an overall look at my life and cry, than just keep on living numb to the situation. Now self-pity won’t solve any problem, I know that... what I don’t know is exactly what the problem is...

This guy offered me the chance to be in one of his clips, I kind of avoided him all week... firstly because I’ve felt really monstrous and I wasn’t  in mood of being in front of a camera, but besides that there was my recurrent fear that will somehow let down people once they know me.

I manage to spend my time imagining, day dreaming nonsense, obsessing over meaningless maters...

I've deleted so many people from my contact list... somehow I stopped emailing with all the people I was emailing with.

I am broke, and with that all that comes with it. Secondly I’m unemployed yet I’m working my ass of doing favors for absolutely nothing in return.

I’m worried my mail is not reaching me, but living in Colombia it shouldn’t be a surprise...

Gruesome news lately 11 deputies murdered by the FARC... they were probably corrupt to the bone, but still. 

Days are passing so quickly and I’m doing anything... 

(29 days late)

I feel like if someone had tripped me, and I tumbled over...

I feel like if someone had tripped me, and I tumbled over...

I just don’t know who?

Probably myself...

I don’t really know what to do next... I don’t even know what I am going to do the next hour... go to class or go home... I don’t know if I should remove illustrations, or videos... I hate them all so much... I don’t know if should publish my journal entries or not...

I don’t know, if I should keep on writing or give up already and try something else, I don’t know if should cut my hair or leave it as it is... I don’t know if I should keep on trying photography, or devote myself to manga.

I don’t know if should delete some of my contacts, I don’t know if I should date girls or boys... or stop dating at all... I don’t know if I should just lock myself at home alone... Should I get job, or try and make it on my own... should in stick to my dreams, or accept my life as it is and move ahead with it... I don’t know I f a should still believe in love... or in god... or in magic... or in anything at all

(29 days late)

Liar

Liar

You are a liar, a fake phony false human being... if you can call yourself human. Deception disappointment, in everything you do and say, nothing is real, nothing is true, nothing is authentic.

Liar. Masks all over yourself, makeup... actor, pretender, wannabe...

The truth is I can’t do it, the truth is, and I’m incapable. The truth is I sabotage myself constantly, which part of me is real?

(14 days late)

I’m so going to hell

I’m so going to hell. Because this boy… . There   one I have lied about everything… sometimes I feel like I should rescue him, like if I should make him my prince… sometimes I hate him with all my being.

He brought up in the conversation his parents will be off next weekend, but never actually made the invitation. This left me a bit disappointed. I can’t believe I’m saying this… it feels wrong, because he is way younger then me…

God, it kills me that I can’t afford anything right now. Stupid college student budget.

I get about 8 dollars a week, for lunch, books, and transport. So I get to save about a dollar a week… form unused change.

(6 days late)

My love, Today I woke up and there it was again…

My love,

Today I woke up and there it was again... that sick, ugly and talentless being... the monster on the mirror.

I wait for you to come, like spring after a deadly cold winter even though I know it doesn’t snow here in hell...

I’m in hell my dear. I’m in hell, and I can’t escape because everyone says I am the one that condemned me here... I don’t understand that.

I’m empty my dear... I’m empty of you, I can’t see you, I can’t feel you... I can’t even dream of you. Where did you go?

I don’t know how else I can say I rather die than wake up tomorrow...

I don’t know how can I express anymore the feeling of absolute emptiness my life is.

I don’t know how I am strong enough to breathe right now…

(18 days late)

Today I’ve realized the word "friend" turns me.

Today I’ve realized the word "friend" turns me.

I’m tired of talking about me, I’m tired of writing, I’m tired of reflecting, of contemplating, of analyzing, of pondering, of distinguishing, and most of all, I’m tired of explaining; I don’t want to explain anything to anyone anymore. I can’t stand one more justification on any subject. It seems like my whole existence is focused on justifying myself in every single aspect. Every meaningless conversation becomes an act of validation of why I do or not do something, why I am or I am not something, why I like or don’t like something. But if I take those actions away then there is just nothing left to talk about… we are all just doing monologues about us and our lives.

I have a really long homework for Tuesday…. Really long tedious work to do… and yet I went out shopping and to watch a movie 

Sighs*

I have no doubt I failed, I failed at everything you can fail at life. God… I think I’ve failed in death too, or otherwise I would be dead already.

Finally I got someone to help me out with a vid…

Finally I got someone to help me out with a vid… in the rain! Got thoroughly soaked. It was silly and fun, I really enjoyed it.

(7 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)

We are born crying, we live complaining, and we die disappointed.

We are born crying, we live complaining, and we die disappointed.

I had to stand 6 hours of torture yesterday during my sis birthday family reunion... I hate seeing my family... it’s a great family...but I feel so gritty, so gross around them... I feel judged, pitied... life if I had disappointed everyone. They hate me... I hate them...

(6 days late)

Suicide Incorporated

"You’re the twenty-eight. And hey -- that’s fine; you post an opening for an editor of suicide notes, you kinda anticipate an eclectic applicant pool. But I don’t need someone coming to an interview dressed in goth..."

from SUICIDE, INCORPORATED
a play by Andrew Hinderaker

This is my boy

Wanting To Die

Wanting To Die
Poem by Anne Sexton

Since you ask, most days I cannot remember.
I walk in my clothing, unmarked by that voyage.
Then the almost unnameable lust returns. 

Even then I have nothing against life.
I know well the grass blades you mention,
the furniture you have placed under the sun. 

But suicides have a special language.
Like carpenters they want to know which tools.
They never ask why build. 

Twice I have so simply declared myself,
have possessed the enemy, eaten the enemy,
have taken on his craft, his magic. 

In this way, heavy and thoughtful,
warmer than oil or water,
I have rested, drooling at the mouth-hole. 

I did not think of my body at needle point.
Even the cornea and the leftover urine were gone.
Suicides have already betrayed the body. 

Still-born, they don't always die,
but dazzled, they can't forget a drug so sweet
that even children would look on and smile. 

To thrust all that life under your tongue!-
that, all by itself, becomes a passion.
Death's a sad Bone; bruised, you'd say, 

and yet she waits for me, year after year,
to so delicately undo an old wound,
to empty my breath from its bad prison. 

Balanced there, suicides sometimes meet,
raging at the fruit, a pumped-up moon,
leaving the bread they mistook for a kiss, 

leaving the page of the book carelessly open,
something unsaid, the phone off the hook
and the love, whatever it was, an infection.

One day like any other, October 4, 1974, Anne returned home, (she had already said goodbye to her friends), and devoted herself to drinking vodka, at some point she got up, with the vodka in hand, went to her car, turned on the radio, started the engine and waited ...

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.