I think we all admire heroes for some reason...

I think we all admire heroes for some reason...Sometimes for their daring, sometimes for their bravery, sometimes for their goodness.But mostly we honor heroes because at one point or another, we all dream of being rescued.

So desperately, we read comics, watch westerns, get involved in politics, read biographies of long lost artists...

And then, we create these heroes out of the people we know, we make them out of our families... our lovers...

We . . . all look and expect for someone, to reach out, understand us, and save us...

The Question is... from what?

From fears that keep us from our dreams...

From loneliness. . .

From boredom...

From routine...

From our mistakes...

We hoped, once this hero knocked on our door...

Fear of speaking on the phone would disappear

The need to find company online would vanish...

We would create amazing things with watercolors any random day...

The vice of writing and prostituting our emotions and thoughts online would be overshadowed by sharing every cute thought and word with the one we loved...

We supposedly befriend and love others, because they make us better people

HOW AM I BETTER?

My fears have grown. . .

I don't have it in me to kiss someone on the street...

I fear not touching the right way the Person I love...

I dare not write another word for my book, I fear using paint and brush.

I am now bored at reading my beloved books,

I am now bored when watching TV

I am now bored on the pc

I am most bored when doing a vid

And I delve into new hideous routines

Routine where I speak of my relationships and dreams with others, instead of our own.

Routine of me bringing up suicide on the least opportune moments,

Of being disillusioned at every new attempt...

Of me rejecting every facet of his life when I get the chance...

And mistakes, I've made all the mistakes

The ones in every don’ts list and every in the do's list

I keep making my old mistakes

Self-sabotaging, shying, lying

And knowing all this, and saying it here, makes me feel ever more...

lonely... because that’s the reason I can’t trust... anyone... or I enjoy being a martyr or something... but right now, I feel like the loneliest being in the world, even when he is there by my side. Because don’t trust stuff. I don’t want to trust... because whatever he would say back would be so wrong... and the breach I established between us is now to big…

(4 days late)

Get wet out in the rain . . . bad idea

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

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

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

He seems Un-aware of this.

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

(27 days late)

I 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.

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... 

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...

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... 

This journal... is an addiction.

This journal... is an addiction.

And it’s hurting me.... I’m an emotional nympho... I’m a shameless punk...

I stop myself from being with the people that make me happy so I have time to write... I procrastinate; I even disclose private secret personal information from those around me... I hurt people.

This journal has to end.

I have a problem, that I can only confide in a machine... and then share everything with the world.

This is how it ends... in pain... in deceit... in utter disappointment... no pretty words... no dramatic metaphors... this is how it goes...

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)

I keep... screaming at you...

I keep... screaming to you... the universe... through comics; through stories, through the things you loved... everything.

Love is... Lois and Clark... Barbie and ken... They go through all kinds of incarnations, events, situations... just see each other, to meet each other, over and over and over again... because they love it so much.

Don’t expect the truth Xag.... don’t expect it to be revealed to you... you expect happiness... you expect nothingness... you expect, absolute and the divine... don’t expect. 

Choose... if you want those things you will have them, you can create them, you can choose them.

Don’t be stupid... don’t be an idiot! I know you like to hear the prince talk, let him teach you, but doesn’t pretend you don’t know… when you do. 

Sounds tough to hear it... but I speak so much to you... it hurts me you don’t listen. Yes gods can be hurt.

Ask the marquise de Sade girl out. Tell the prince first. He is amazing... you’ve seen him; you are getting to know him. 

Listen to Len. You’ve seen his wisdom too... his experience... yes its weird how many people choose to feel like you do... and yes you have chosen to do so.

You are free... you chose everything, everything in this moment, everything you have made, you have chosen.

Apologize.

Don’t let the world frighten you... you are beyond it. That’s what brings suffering to those you admire; they are frightened about the world. Don’t fear it, embrace it... I say this, because I know this is what you want. I know you think about suicide, I know you think about pain... but you are so desperately in search of life.

Publish that damn suicide letter… you are never going to use it.

Be smart... be conscious.... listen to people. Trust your instincts... don’t wait for someone to kiss you... Kiss someone.

Keep sharing yourself... you are in the right way, follow your own advise.... speak words that are true... think them carefully... do not fear silence.

Don’t expect immediate changes. Don’t expect your life to change after this, read it... re-read it.... re read your life... read this stupid diary! Read your book!

want to be suicidal... then be it... but be the kind of suicidal you wish to be... a happy one... want to cut yourself and be an addict... but then be the kind of addict you want to be... a sane one. Be who you want to be... doing expect to become, just be!

How do you do this?

By making choices, by doing the homework when you are supposed to be doing, it, by listening to other people. By asking them questions... people miss so much of each other by not asking simple questions... like... do you believe in god? Or... what do you feel when you taste candy?

Don’t be afraid to be intense, be cautious on when are you not being who you are.

Just read this words, because they are wise, you are wise, don’t analyze of they are true or not, if they are mine or not... just think about them, just read them again...print them out.

Xag. You are close to me. Xag, you are beautiful... I know you think its freaking lie, but I wouldn’t be saying it if you really didn’t to hear it. And it seems you need to hear it from me, because you won’t hear it from anyone else. You are beautiful and you do deserve someone you think is beautiful. Now Stop procrastinating and choose what you have to do.

(1 day late)

“Are you seeing the future now, or giving in to nothingness?” =

“Are you seeing the future now, or giving in to nothingness?”

 Life is unfair… the world is a cruel place… and love is dumb, blind, deaf and mute. 

How… just how is anyone claiming they are happy? Isn’t it just snobbish of them? It is not fair. 

(2 days late)

I feel like I’m a stained crystal boy…

I feel like I’m a stained crystal boy…. a relic on someone’s attic, stained by time… I feel you can see right through me and that you can let me fall and break me in such an easy way… I feel like I could be so valuable and then I look at me and see something so cheap… I feel so great because it seems like you see something of value in what used to be junk… like that comic book you talked about last night, yellowed with time, ruined by mice … if anyone is going to reject my hugs I rather have it be you than anyone else…

 Ana and my sanity tell me I shouldn’t ever ask for kiss a hug, a wedgie, a shower or anything ever again… I should never ask you out again… I should play hard to get. 

 I don’t lie anymore… I’m so surprised how brutally honest I come out sometimes, to the prince specially… I don’t know, how can I look at him in the eyes and say the things I say… sometimes I’m even surprised how bad a liar I am now… and I was brilliant at it…

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)

Sail Away

I had written this title for an entry long ago... and never knew what I would write in it... I had daydreamed it would be the entry where I announced triumphantly that I will be finally is going out of the country...

But no...The prince is the one that sails away in his happy boat... while I left to drown... we won’t talk again... ever... I know that... I feel it... it wouldn’t be so painful otherwise.

I ruined of course another chance for companionship, for friendship... maybe even love... and god he was so near... he is actually the brother of a girl I have class with!!! I could have actually bumped into him any day on my way to class...

there was a clause to our goodbye.... that after all of these cosmic coincidences... another one showed up... we would talk again... now the chances of another cosmic coincidence showing up, are one in a trillion...

Jump, Up and Away

The dream started with me being superman (I know how it sounds... but I don’t expect you to understand)...and I saved the day, I flew, kicked some ass and used heat vision to go through glass doors (I know... lame... but I love using heat vision in my dreams)

Then, of course the damsel in distress... gave me a post it so we would meet at night for a date... if you have ever read superman, then you knows he wouldn’t have accepted; he belongs to Lois. However, on the moment the date I came I was no longer superman, I was... well me... with superpowers but me... I did go to the date... I met with the girl, and I got her to fly...

I have dreamt about flying before, it’s always amazing, incredibly realistic, the feeling, the wind, the sightings... everything... it doesn’t happen often, but it does happen... there’s a vertigo that is so fulfilling. You jump.... but you don’t fall... you just fly...

As I flew with her, she asked me how far up I could go... I went up and up with her on my arms... and the vertigo increased and increased... I was very high (I had never flew that high)...till she told me to stop. Then I asked... do you want to fall?

I never knew her answer I woke up…

 

(1 day late)

Self Sabotage

Aw my mom being the good mom she is gave me a cute present… the book I called: "Self Sabotage a guide on how to detect it and what to do to stop it." I love her... she just knows how to make sure there won’t be a dull moment the time I get to see a therapist.

(4 days late)

Crushes are to feel crushed... I can handle crushes; my entire life, has been a series of crushes, not only with people, but with dreams, with stories... and most of all on me...

It is my latest discovery: I had a crush on myself. I think maybe I still do... I had a crush on who I wanted to be, where I wanted to be, how I wanted to be... and I had been longing for that person to come along.. so I could be happy...

But its never going to, because its a crush on someone that well... can’t be... and for number of reasons. One he isn’t as smart as he had to be, he isn’t living where he was supposed to.. And well he will never look as I hoped he would...

I’m clinging again to the idea that all this... my life.. is just a  mere case of clinical depression.... a case that just has gone by unnoticed... I need to make it noticeable... but how?.. it’s a rhetorical question.... suicide...

Josh wrote this to me:

I want you to know that...

Even though it was possible for you to never talk to me again...because you'd be gone...my life...continued normally.

The world didn't end. I was ok...and when I was with my dad...I forgot all about you...

You know, I missed talking to you.

But at the same time, I don't even care...

Sorry if this sounds harsh but like...

Part of me really does not enjoy talking to you at all...

It's annoying, depressing, and ends up with an argument.

So yes, here comes the crushing part of the crush... with the horrible fact that it will never go anywhere... and that it was never meant to be...

I think all I ever wanted to be... I had to be by the time I was 21...

I said I needed someone that would get me and push me... I need pushing, everything that’s worth been doing in my life I’ve been pushed to do it... so when it comes to studying overseas... well I need someone to push me do it, basically force me to... and force me because I will fight it back, I would fight that person back, even if it’s doing something I really want to do... it’s insane, like if I had no willpower whatsoever... but just otherwise I’m too scared... I’m too terrified... I can’t move on my own otherwise...

(1 day late)

A voice that makes sense

A voice that makes sense

"There is really no doubt you are a very sick person. And if this diary has been online so long and been read as much as you claim and there are still no changes, it is very clear that either no one really cares about you or that you are indeed beyond any kind of help. Suicide is your best option, it really doesn’t sound your life is worth living at all. I live near you, I will be glad to be of assistance. Stop torturing yourself with this diary and most importantly stop torturing people online who deceived by your videos and other works come into this depressive world of yours. I’m not blaming you, it’s not your fault, you are just very sick. Please stop, and if you are not able to do it by yourself, let me help you end it. For your own sake and for everyone else’s."

(3 days late)

I keep searching

My emotional support system has resided in sporadic kind words from strangers who assure me I do have something. Only the people whom I’ve called "friends" (more out of desperation than from real sense of friendship) have told me I’m really not going to make it, and if I do, it will take me years and years.

I know have no serious expectations from publishing anything in the next 5 to 10 years. Actually the thought that I will die without ever seeing my work "out" is even more persistent. I’m haunted by this thought that my work will be meaningless while I live. Even when I think of the moment I finish my book... I think, I must die after or otherwise it will all be just pointless.

I guess, what I’m really hoping is for someone to tell me, that I’m terribly wrong, that I made mistake, a terrible mistake... that writing was not my thing, but to do something else, something I’m truly great at and I just haven’t realized!

I’m back waiting for a savior… 

(31 days late)

 They do not inspire me with disgust, but with an immense pity. Among all the mysteries of human life there is one which I have penetrated; our great torment in this existence comes from the fact that we are eternally alone -- all our efforts and all our actions are directed toward escaping this solitude.

On January 2, 1892, de Maupassant attempted suicide by cutting his throat.  He was committed to the celebrated private asylum of Dr. Esprit Blanche at Passy, in Paris, where he died on July 6, 1893, at the age of 43.

I’m scared

I’m scared, I’m scared of what I’m feeling, for some reason, I started to care for someone else, absurd I know… and then I thought someone wanted to love me when all he wanted was sex, and that’s why I’m heartbroken. 

Do I believe in sex between friends? Yeah. 

Do I believe in marriage? No.

Do I believe in boy/girlfriends? yeah

So of course I’m scared and dumb when it comes to relationships… I’ve never had one. I feel vulnerable because people tend to leave marks on me… a burn, a scar, something that will never go away… god I still remember people from when I was 10 y/o…. I’m insane, that’s it, and I’m totally and completely insane. 

How is it different a fling from a relationship… a fling is a kid of a relationship… yeah it’s constant, but without the compromise, or the exclusiveness, or the labels and responsibilities. There is something going on inside that I’m having trouble identifying… 

Do I want unconditional love? Yes… 

Do I want a lifelong partner? Yeah! 

Do I believe in sex with no compromises? No 

Oh my god… I don’t believe in sex without compromises.

Is that wrong? 

But I have put myself out there not expecting any compromises; I can have sex just to have sex. Not feeling hurt. It’s all very weird, it’s all very weird… 

David, David, what’s your problem… I’m bothered by your use bisexuality as a shield, like if it was less bad or something… Does it bother me because I use it as a shield? I don’t know… I don’t think I do, or I don’t want to, I believe I can love a man or a woman the same way romantically… actually if I’m not deceiving myself, I can have sex with both… right now I feel like I can be more open about what I like with a guy, but I’m sure a girl would understand… a girl like Elektra, I liked her… I really liked her. 

I need to… publish this… yeah… I need to, my diary it’s not over, I need it to continue or things will bottle up inside and become really confusing. And I don’t want to be confused.

(1 day late)