Devoided

Devoided of any inspiration or creativity, I'm still trying to find some kind of stability that will take me to new waves and forms of compatibility with the world. Needless to say... no new deviation.

... I feel deep hatred towards those who I once loved.

Is it Christmas approaching that makes the sublime smell of deep dark Tartarus so irresistible?

me, the winter lover, lives now in contradiction; for as my most natural and defining event of the year nears closer (the winter solstice) I find more and more hatred towards me and those around me.

My nature contradicts the artificial environment I've been placed. Either that or I am really helium's strayed disciple...

Has the sun and summer really been my home all along?

Can’t help but admit that I have always wondered about the light in long blonde hair and the look and taste of wet bare skin.

If summer is my real nature, I can’t help but say that my true nature in fact makes out of me feel most alien within my surroundings; for I have not felt more inadequate than under the light and heat of our systems central star.

For now I can only say that as days grow shorter, my despise of those around gets bigger... and I yearn for loneliness, snow, and northern lights almost unbearable.

I hope hell is cold, for is where I most desire to go... since in the warmth of heaven I would just feel like a smashed cockroach on the wall... disgusting, out of place, hated... and still moving my little antennas, keeping the attention of those who have murdered me, all in awe and puzzled with the mystery of how was it that without any part or limb working, I managed to keep on holding to my fragile sense... smell..

I smell the sublime dead heavy fog from Tartarus calling on to me... yet I see no entrance, or way to say good bye to those once loved and are now hated...

I repeat myself. 

(40 days late)

Yunalesca - A public love letter

Sometimes, I have this feeling... you all know how hard is for me to know exactly what I'm feeling. I get this feeling for someone, that I can’t precisely put a name on it. It’s a sense... of vastness... the same sense of vastness that is produced by suddenly lying down on the floor and looking up to the immense celestial vault. It’s all so big; it’s all so magnificent... so out of grasp.

A careful study of scientist through history will result in many of them, if not all of them, reaching to out god when they found themselves at the very edge of their knowledge... they all at some point called upon god, because their understanding of the world was limited... there must be some divine, greater than life, force behind it.

Now, of course it’s easy, if not common, to get this feeling when looking at the stars, the movement of the planets, the tide and waves of the ocean. All of these things... of course produce this overwhelming, tear filling emotion.

However, I dare now say I have found it somewhere else.... and odd place.

Sometime around winter 2007 I went online to a certain forum and search for Yunalesca there. 88 messages he had posted since 2003, a fact that I had quickly forgotten. Almost a year later, I had fallen in love with this very Yunalesca. I fell, in love with the sweet prince. And in certain occasions I had felt this vertiginous feeling I'm talking about inside me when thinking too much about him, or talking to him... yet I think I never dared faced my fear and looked straight at it. I had always took a deep breath and recoiled.

But something happened a week ago. An emotion this big, so vast had been approaching for almost a week.

I know... this sound insane, but I swear I have been having the feeling I'm going to feel something... But that's how it was... I knew it was coming,

When my heart broke oh so very easily with silence... I wondered if I had gone insane. Then, when later something like picking up the phone felt like being spit on the face... I knew it was probably the very end of emotions that was coming near.

Then after almost 12 hours together and not talking and hating and fighting, a single hug erased it all and fixed it all... then when he jumped excited after seeing the batman toys on burger king and when he joined me to buy superwoman... and listened carefully for a story that did not make much sense. Then... I knew it was something spectacular.

I should have seen it coming... when while I was going for a coke while he waited for the sandwich it seemed like an awful distance to be apart from. Should’ve seen it coming, when he and I agreed we wanted the same thing on the food court XD or when we were looking for an exotic dish... and it turned out to be a panzerotti... (I think I cannot think about that situation and smile with all my heart.)

I probably should have known I was going to miss him 24/7 without rest or sleep... when I saw him getting drenched in the park, or how he laughed at me falling down in the fountain (I really did fall down unintentionally) and how incredibly hot he looked switching pants on the Emo store.

I was sure I was going to explode emotionally soon when I was looking straight into his eyes at night, like I did on the ride back home and when you chuckled every time I lost my wallet. And with the surprised eyes you stared at me because I was oh so drunk... and how comfortable his lap was while he played videogames.

And when you looked down to the floor when I saw you wearing you Ben10 boxers in the shower.

Today I went back to this forum... and looked at the 88 messages he had written there. And it hit me.

He. Exists.

He was there before me.

He is there without me...

He is unreachable.

All this messages written long before he came into my life... they are his. Yet I don't know the person who wrote them. I can’t turn back time and meet him... I can’t figure out what was on his head... did he suffer? Was he joyful? Was he happy? Even oddly enough... why do I feel love and care for the words of this being that I did not know back then and do not know right now as he is now only the one I do know.

I once said... it takes a lifetime. To know someone. But it’s not true... it takes more. Not even in all my lifetime will I ever get to know that Yunalesca that wrote and spoke so few before me. It comforts me that I believe in more than one lifetime to know that there will be another one where I can know him completely.

This is probably the weirdest love letter I've ever written. And I say love letter, because of all feelings only love could measure up and proclaim this one I own.

And this is probably a very long dull love letter for everyone indeed, but us. But I don't think I could bear speak to him right now... I don’t think I could lose the knot in my throat, or get a hold of my tears...

On his presence, all so big... so sacred, so divine

What kind of love letter would this be if I didn't say what all love letters attempt to convey?

I love you. 

(10 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)

Fear of Bliss

Not a new thought... to be terrified of being happy, to be loved... to be cherished...to be me.

Fear of colors. It’s safe to be gray.

How to overcome this fear?

How to embrace bliss...

How to not push away love...

All I can’t think... Is to press the re-start button.

Like in a video game... just push restart and do it all over. Everything. Just do it all over. Be wise, be happy, be content, accept, explore... enjoy.

I can’t press the reset button.

I just have to make a phone call. 

(16 days late)

It’s in the rain

Today I have just been smiling for no reason.

Bubble gum, chocolate and strawberry ice cream on my banana split: P he thought it was sweet... I thought we were bordering a diabetic coma. His brownie was yummy... and besides that mocha. I guess that added to one the best nights in my life. No kidding. They say eating chocolate releases serotonin, it’s in a way like having sex... add chocolate to actual sex; it’s bound to be orgasmic.

I've been doing... pretty much nothing all day... procrastinating... I hate homework....mainly reviving what happened Friday.... six months since I met the Prince Rabbit. It’s odd, how we celebrate the day we met and not the day I actually asked him to be my boyfriend. I guess I asked too late... I was already way to in love with him... you see, I loved him before I met him. Meeting him is what's important...

Right now, I'm so scared; feel like just cuddling inside my bed, and sleep. Because I don't know if I can feel this happy without getting seriously hurt. I'm doing well in school, I have Len, cool people I talk to, hot Emo boys adding me on MySpace, a decent visit ration YouTube, the batman movie is coming, and I lost weight... I can lose more... I need to exercise.

I'm just so really tired... and I've been trying to write this entry for three days... I wanted to convey how magical it was, how erotic, how amazing... how perfect... Maybe it because I'm tired, that feel like not seeing the prince again... what's left besides that? 

You see... there a big part of love that seems to consist of pushing, giving little nudges and dragging along... just kind of forcing someone into doing crazy, but memorable things... that you know, they will treasure after... then again... 

So we went on to buy boxers as a celebration... we bought the cutest pink and purple ones XD ((pix will be coming soon))

We walked for a good while talking, by the time it was already dark, there was this tiny little fountain besides... we got soaked! It was so much fun! The chilling water... the shiny jeans, sparkling. It was in a way the best way to say good bye to my wet love. Nothing can top that. It’s just a shame there wasn't camera we could use... because god, it was amazing.

It hurts that my suicide thoughts are not gone after all of what's happened... they might never really disappear until I am finally done with it. That's my cross to bear. I am better than suicide... or so I try to be.

(29 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)

A night in the other realm

A night in the other realm. We didn't sleep.

I guess I was just too scared someone would walk in...I don't think I had ever been so attend to the sound of someone climbing the stairs... to the shadows that might be creeping on the hall...

I saw part of him I loved... he was in charge, he took the initiative, he was amazing... and talked and he shared... and he was so close...

And he gave me the key.

The key.

He couldn't have argued rationally... it was impossible....so he gave me instead of a rational argument... an emotional one.

And what can I say...

He won.

For the record. I am truly happy right now. 

(7 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)

Lock up

I feel, this pressure on the chest, like, of such fear that he is not around... and that I actually don’t know where he is... I don’t think function properly with the prince... his confidence; his detachment... maybe true love is like that. Not this constant yearning, heart wrecking, constant feeling...

I am not that much of an Emo... I do not cry in public... I cry a lot, but I do not cry in public... my prince... you are the only who has seen my cry. Of all my traumas... if you look closely... I cry alone...

I need to feel less... how do I feel less? I was watching this documentary 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...

On this blog... I used to talk about sex... which was virtually inexistent... but... if this is my diary... why am I not writing? About it.

This Journal... must and will have to remain, password protected. So you will have to get to guess the password, from the hint. Or just leave it.

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... I have accomplished it... like... a few pair of times... I doubt there are more than a five (OMG)... It was so rare and so unique I didn’t count them as masturbation till very recently... when I met Daniel... maybe later...

(I need to speak about Daniel. He has acquired such dimensions... I think it was a lie... he has grown into this figure in my life... he doesn’t deserve it)

Then... I met Emma, and I don’t know... why he made masturbation with your hands look so fucking hot... the way he wrote in his journal about it... and once I tried it... and it was awesome... because I could cum... So easily... and now I masturbate till me cum much more easily... and much more quickly... and much more often...

And... Now sex... has come... too late... because I haven’t cummed during sex... I need to cum in front of the prince... I need to make him cum so much. I need him to have an orgasm... I think... that... would be the end of my virginity... getting someone to an orgasm... I need to fucking, fuck him...

I keep thinking, maybe I just need to get drunk off my ass to do it... but god... I have such an alcohol aversion... it’s such a turnoff... its cheating... lying... and I don’t want that... or maybe I do? Maybe only I could get drunk... but he would have to stay sober... one of us has to remember...

Gosh... and when he talks about sex he is so vague... I wish he would just use words to describe me why is it so hot...but I understand... finding words it’s so hard to talk about sex... he keeps promising shoat, but this is the day.. He hasn’t sent me anything... I had this story to share back... it’s like the only story of his type I’ve read... though to be honest I did skip some of the just plain sex parts.. 

He is so selfish... I asked him as politely as I could what happened if he got the chance to travel again for sex... and I so desperately wanted him to tell me, "I’d make you come with me... because I’m sure you have fun"... but no... I don’t think if I’ve told him enough how much I envy his sex, how much I’d like to experience an orgy... even though yeah... its cares me like hell. He just refuses to share... how much I would love to be in his art lessons... but he hasn’t invited me... how much I’d like to be like him... and be better for him... but he just doesn’t invite me to... he has never sent a song... or shared a picture... or like done anything I haven’t asked before... I know that he gives when he is asked. He just doesn’t offer... he just doesn’t push... I shouldn’t have been the one to ask him out on the first date... maybe then I would be sure he wants me around...

I could think one of these things... either he is in love with someone as broken as I am and just doesn’t want me to evolve and come back to life... or... he just doesn’t love me enough... or maybe he just is that selfish everything needs to be asked... though when he does give... he gives generously... I fucking ripped his boxer’s god!!!!

Am I asexual?!!! asexual people do not hit on Emo boys on MySpace.... do not ask girls on msn to have virtual sex... do not bang 17 year olds in collage facilities... maybe I’m not asexual at al... Just some closeted homosexual... who just doesn’t dream of fucking boys... I’m so screwed... I right now, just want to fuck him.  the prince... just let him do whatever he wants to do... he want me to fuck him... fuck him real hard... he wants me to cum inside him... god... he wants that... someone actually wants that from me... I want to do it... but I don’t want to cheat at it... I want it to be ME fucking, I want him to just arghh... ask me this... this way... plead to me for it.... maybe while he is wearing a collar... maybe after I have just ripped his boxers off... then I fuck him, and fuck him really hard... cum with him...

Right now, I’m turned on... by this words...of having him deliciously naked, over me, his skin, against my skin, his cock against my cock. His smell... he has this smell... I haven’t managed to describe it... it has a sweetness... a raw sweetness... nah that’s not the word... it just smells, like I have been touched by a prince... by love... that there’s someone that cares about me.... he smells like I’m not alone anymore... like there’s someone I can put my arms around to... how can something smell like that? But it does... it does to me... it smells like: God I want this!!!

As corny as it sounds... I don’t want to always have sex, or do my things with the prince...

I’m starting to think that I do not love the prince like he loves me. I think he loves me more... and here comes the dilemma... should I tell him... god... prince... I don’t love you the way you love me...

I haven’t told him, how really fucking scared I am to tell my mom about him... and that I do think, that my relationship can be... scarred... that I wish I could hug him in public oh so often I didn’t feel the need bringing him home... that I feel... that I just don’t belong with him ever... if we are alone, it’s the window... or the time, my family will come back...

Love is about honesty... and here I’m honest with him.... either that or an act of self-sabotage... I’m going to lock up this journal... from now till forever… 

(4 days late)

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 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..

I was waiting for you to tell you I don’t want to talk to you.

I have been waiting all my life for me to fall in love... to painfully realize that I really suck at it.

What was the use of all the daydreaming? Of all the waiting? Yearning... if in the end my ability to love is so helplessly handicapped.

what was the use of my pain, of my loneliness... what was the use of my art, of every wasted breath and word... if in the end… there is someone I love telling me they have been waiting online to tell me they are not going to speak.

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.

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... 

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)

He tasted like humans do...

He tasted like humans do...

Like love, like experience, like truth, like mind, body and spirit. He tasted like, the sweet warmth of home, like the heat of adventure. He tasted like reality. I had dreamt and fantasized so much about a kiss, I had imagined a flavor... a weak fantasy lie flavor. But it was sublime, raw... a taste so marvelous, so grounding, you feel you have touched the essence of life.

I read true kisses were dreamlike states, where the soul melts and consciousness disappears... they let out half of it. Kisses are conscious half of the time. The states shift so fast, so marvelous, so quickly... the body barely has time to catch up; the words barely have time to come out.

I was so aware of us, his taste his smell, the trees... me, a sloppy kisser I am sure, immature, waiting to be directed. I smiled. I always thought I would cry after a kiss... but I didn’t, I smiled.

I was so ridiculously happy... it was so ridiculously wonderful. I had my fist kiss... and it was... worth the wait...

We kissed in a park bench... by the moonlight, besides a calm river. An old couple saw... us... ... we inspired them... they kissed later!!! We moved to the wall, where we stood up for almost an hour... I spoke... my heart my mind... I held him so tight... so close... I was so relieved, comforted, pleased, excited, and happy, saved, loved, read, listened, tasted, and smelled.

We were against the wall... on the city; there was graffiti besides us... it read: KISS. The band of course. 

Everything was so me my phone rang, the lord of the rings ringtone, my Spiderman boxers, my superman hoodie, my cuts in my arms, my heat, my nails... and him... he was so.. Him. He smiled with me. He was turned on; he was listening to me... who wouldn’t stop blabbing... I spoke about superman... who is him when he wakes up? He said... Xag, I’m not your savior... then I realize I didn’t want him to be... I just wanted him.

“Death is at most… a change”-Siddhartha 

If I was to change tomorrow… would anyone miss who I am today? … The person, the ugly un-kissable person I was… the person I’ve been all my life… doesn’t not exist anymore. He died my prince… you killed him. And I’m in some way deeply thankful for that… thanks to you I’m not the ugly duckling anymore.