Bad habit

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

(20 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)

I'm tired of pretending to be something I am not

I'm tired of pretending to be something I am not, I am not an artist no matter how mush I’d like to be one.... I don't have the knack for it, the eye to it... I lack education in it... I am destined to be file clerk... it doesn't particularly bother me as login as I get a nice apartment and cable TV...

I can be content.

I am willing to... no grandeur, no glory... no art; just life where I can be lazy and comfortable.

Pride is killing me... art is so pretentious... and I'm already lazy to be that pretentious. I need just one capital sin to define me, having two is exhausting... oh so exhausting...

... I have this feeling....

Something is wrong, something I can’t precisely put my finger on...

It happened again today.

I was eating lunch, and all the sudden I started crying, this is not healthy.

but I don't really know why is it, I don't know what's going through my mind except this feeling of frustrated dreams... some sort of exhaustion from creation that leads nowhere...

(6 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)

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

Alone now

Ok, I’m alone now, me with me and me……….

……….… I feel if my blog was a real space… it would be like a cathedral a huge empty cathedral with scattered paper on the floor… and now it’s deserted… I feel I could hear my echoes…….

ECHO!!!

………………………… (Echo!!)

……………………………………………….. (Echo!)

………………………………………………………………… (…echo…)

I’ve been bleeding through my nose all afternoon… he asked me what do you need… what can I do?, should I cut myself?, should I get wet?… 

(1 day late)

I'm angry right nowa lot has happened, but the reason I'm angry is because today happened something I knew it was going to happen someday. I crashed. I crashed because the lack of money.Today, they called from college saying that I couldn't get the scholarship I always get for working there, because they wouldn't give any scholarship to any 1st to 10th semester student. Shit! I asked like a thousand times! "Is there any problem with that?", "-no", they said. They even gave me the discount "ticket”, but they had to void it so it cause any problems...fuck!That means that everything I did during this semester was worth nothing. N*O*T*H*I*N*G. I stayed, even when I didn't have to stay, just because I was committed to my work. I got sick by delivering magazines at 8PM, I stayed up until night with the design guys to have the magazine look pretty, and I did what I had to do, do what I wasn't supposed to do. GOD! I'm even editing articles for a damn magazine that's to come in December. That’s SO not...It was worth shit.The worst case scenario would be that they couldn't count that work as an internship...they have AT LEAST to do that...I don't even know what makes me angrier, the fact that I worked my ass off for nothing or the fact that the lack of that scholarship would possibly mean that I won't be able to study next year. I mean, that's my parent's business, they told me not to worry about it but, c'mon! How are you supposed to pay for that??!! I hate being poor...why did my dad had to go bankrupt? why aren't we moved on since then?, why don't my parents ask their families for help. I know people with lots of uncles, cousins and aunts, and it all kind of works, they help each other...But no, we have to be the rebels, we don't need uncles and stuff...well, look mom, that's where your rebellion took you. You keep telling your son you can help him fulfill his dreams when you know you can't by yourself. Damn! I can´t blame you, I love you...but, Shit! It sucks...Is everything falling apart? Yes...it is...will I be in pain for this? Of course, but....I don’t know...something will happen I guess, I’ll figure it out...there's loans and stuff...what a shitty crisis! GOD...For moments I thought. "damn, now I won't be able to study, I'm condemned", " I should join Xag on his suicide"...I feel like I want to die right now...I want to cry...I'm not used to feeling this bad...I wish I don't have to worry about this. Well, actually I don't...I won’t'. I mean, I haven't even told my mom...something will happen...what is it that makes me SO angry? I mean, no. I'll study, there's no way I can't...we'll work something out...I know I'll be studying...Then, is this frustration. Yeah, I'm angry because I worked for nothing!!!...There was such a relieve in my mom's face when I told her I could get the scholarship for the next career...that's what hurts me..."mom, they voided the scholarship"...damn! It’s not fair. I heard her making bills and arrangements...this totally blows everything up. That's what hurts me, because I know she's going to be worried sick when I tell her...It's not me...I'll be fine, I can even get a job if something goes wrong, or ask Rosario (my crazy boss) for help, its others (my mom) that worries me.I'll be fine...I know...this is nothing, I saw this coming, so...ahhh...no big deal...I won't make a movie out of it...I'll keep trying I guess...I'm not that angry anymore...Fuck those messy scholarship mechanisms, it's Rhina's fault...how didn't she verify?! What was she thinking?!!...She should have said: "look, you can't be a monitor this semester because, you won't be getting any scholarship"....Did I have to tell her that? It’s her fucking job!!!...I know what I'm going to do, I'm going to make a complaint...It's nobody’s fault...but it’s time to make a statement. I NEVER, EVER ask for recognition or brag of what I've done. But they're going to know...it's time for they to know that I didn't even have a workplace, that I had to come to my own PC, make my sister and mom wait for their turn because I had to correct articles; that I had to spend my free time delivering magazines and carrying heavy(HEAVY) boxes that I didn't have to carry!!; that I spent hours sitting next to 35 year olds who can't write, telling them how to write a fucking article!!!; that I've burnt my eyes trying the magazine to come up without any mistakes only to find that because she was hurried, my boss turned blind eye on several very bad written articles; that I show up even when I have nothing to do to see if they need any help; that every time I can I make entries for the Webpage even when I think that it shouldn't be my job, because there's 3 other people (monitors as well) that the only thing they do is post weekly entries in the student's blog...the ironic thing is that they're getting a scholarship for doing that and I'm not; they're going to know that I had to take a cab, pay it from my own money, to go to the printer's center to check if the magenta levels were right; that the other day I stayed until 10 p.m. with the designer trying to make him get the damn borders straight!!...GOD!!!!!!!!!!!!!...This is not what a monitor should do!!! AT ALL....the other ones just stand in the computers room and say: "you can pass", others just attend calls....A monitor it's not supposed to do what I've done...and I knew it, but I did it because I knew there was a reward...now there's no reward and I feel like the most stupid person in the earth...Does it matter that I did all that? Is my boss coming to comfort me right known? Is that lazy ass Rhina coming out and stay with me as I did when she begged me for help to write her shitty article? NO!, they don’t' care, the don’t' give a damn about me...my time was shit for them...like nothing...Well now FUCK OFF!, you're not going to find another asshole that does what I've done, you used me motherfuckers!!! and everyone's going to know it....just waitSo not fair......I'm kind of cool right now...but god!....I'll take it easy, there's no way this is going to stay this way. I have everyone on my side...someone will fight for me, or I'll fight myself....I'm going to address a polite complaint. That'll make me happy...as for money, that's not my business; as for my mom, she'll figure something out; as for college, they will listen to me; as for me, I'm fine, a little teary eyed and frustrated but fine...I'll sleepI'll be just fine 

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.

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. 

Intended adaptive capacity

I came from schools... where being smart comes from being... good at numbers... good at having a decent handwriting, good at solving equations... my music teacher systematically shut me down from it... my English teachers were always sending me to remedial...my art teacher strongly advised me against art... I would stay for recovery week... for chemistry physics and P.E. I would only shine in English class... and that was when my English teacher didn’t made a fool out of myself when I slipped up... he would actually tell the class what my mistake had been... he loved to torture me... when I told my Spanish teacher I was studying social communications... he was very quiet... I saw in his eyes he didn’t believe I was that good...

I was never raised as a smart kid. My sisters were and are the brilliant ones... the talented ones... they were oh so perfect... they had friends, thy cared for their looks, they had established relationships, the traveled to other countries to meet those they loved... they got to rebel with clothes and music.... I think I was left to be the sane one.... the uninteresting one... one who would have to do makeup work of school... I was left to listen non-strident music... I was left to inherit my cousin’s clothes... I was left to be the son that was not so mad in love that he would just go halfway around the world for it...

I know how to let someone win... I just need to break...

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.

But why am I paralyzed waiting?

But why am I paralyzed waiting?

 Why don’t I move...? 

I’m broken, paralyzed from the waist down. I can’t move, I’m in the floor trying to do what’s impossible... but above all, I’m terrorized. I’m so horrified by my situation... the fear is so deep so intense... my mind is shredding to pieces.

One little rejection and I stumble... one small misunderstanding and I crumble.

I feel my mind like a soap bubble... floating... recklessly through the streets, unnoticed... just waiting to burst when it runs into something...

Why do I hate my words so much? 

Why do my actions seem so repulsive when I see them as mine...? 

Why do I hate myself so deeply, I feel nauseous every morning in the mirror?

 My will power is rotten; the fear has corroded it with time.

As I can barely function, I’ve become separated from the world. people walk, go places, stay home, work, study, fall in love, out of love, hate, marry, have kids, make poor decisions, love, become rich, fall in bankruptcy, start their lives over, go back to live with their moms, go to art classes, have orgies in foreign cities. They kiss, spit, hug and vomit. They all have lives.

As time passes I feel my behavior becoming more and more erratic... I am unable to say basic things... make my sentences coherent... but I’m not aware... only the other night as went to the bathroom to cut myself... I sank. In exhaustion. I am losing my mind, my emotions are toxic, and my gods are delusions... I even doubted if the prince was real or not... could have I made him up? I’m crossing the line into madness... slowly...

This is what happens to minds that are in world they don’t belong. A world lacking of experiences of life, of beauty, of sanity.

(1 day late)

It’s some sort of emotional stupidity..

It’s some sort of emotional stupidity... why can’t I just fall in denial? Don’t be hurt by who I am? Like the prince does (in a very special way)... like everyone else does...

This is what it has come to isn’t it? Maybe I don’t wish I was normal... I just wish I could blend in... In the beautiful life everyone sees... I’m sick and tired of being ink spots... I’m sick of being cuts on my skin...

I’m sick and tired of being that person people always wonder... "What’s wrong with him?"

My mask... the best mask... is damaged... I forgot to put it on, my mom saw it... and I saw myself, a hypocrite a liar... a wreck... a mean human being... someone who is not only ugly on the outside is ugly on the inside...

(1 day late)

I got a half liter of pesticide poison seating in the kitchen... screaming “drink me”. I just have to figure out what kind of poison it is really, so I know the lethal dose -surviving with no esophagus does not sound appealing at all- 

I just don’t know who to ask, without seeming suspicious… mmm… ill figure it out. It’s just weird, because… it’s a long weekend, so I’ll have the time to do it. Everything has come together to just do it… it’s so easy…. of course it makes me wonder… 

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…

Dream Damn It, Dream!!

Not just try to dream... don’t attempt to dream... just dream...

How do you build dreams? I’ve done this before... I just need... inspiration...

What’s a dream really? Idealization of a future that’s not going to come? 

No… 

Dreams are a force of life, its potential of free will, it’s how we can make choices... they do not determine our choices, dreams fuel them...

Let’s start with an easier exercise... what were my dreams?

I wanted to have magical powers when I turned 16 

I wanted to have a Gameboy and play all Pokémon games...

I wanted to own the 1984 hall of justice from Kenner

I wanted to study abroad

I wanted to get some time off studying

I wanted to write my book

I wanted to finish my book

I wanted to have friends at least two

I wanted to collect the JLU/SuperPowers action figures

I wanted to go backpacking to Europe

I’m crying over this... which is so strange because I haven’t really written much... I just wanted to be so much better to what I am now...

And all of these dreams I never accomplished... and they should have been accomplished by now... because honestly... 

I just don’t see any of it... I don’t want to get older... every time I think that far ahead for real, there are the words "he committed suicide 5 or 10 year ago¨ 

You would think

You would think that I would write pages and pages about my date with the prince... I could, there’s so much to say, so many stupid details that acquire such a big importance, so many amazing realities that I swear make my heart jump.... so many little truths and so many big ideas.... however I just want to tell all of this to him and just to him. I just can’t get over the fact that he is... real.

(1 day late)

Right now...

Right now... I have to calm down... my heart is beating... I got my first date with the prince tomorrow ;)