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 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)

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 Xag-less week

A Xag-less week and I'm not feeling good.My face is still swollen and it hurts...yesterday I got a fever; they almost take me to urgencies. I may have an infection. I had to lie down yesterday...If don't improve; they're going to have to take to the hospital...I miss Xag terribly...I feel SO alone without him...what are you doing?What are you planning?What are you thinking?How are you feeling?Now that I think about it... December 23d seems SO far away....very, very far...I already feel like I stop seeing him for a month...time's funnyNot reading his blog is going to be the toughest test ever...I don't know if I can make it...we were supposed to do a lot of things...take a shower again, have sex, go and get wet in the rain, take glamour pictures of us, go and see Adolf, we were going to see Beowulf, he was going to join me to get a haircut, he was going to explain me how to dye my hair, I was going to spend the night at his house, we were going to go out with my friends, go out with his friends....I practically made my whole holiday vacation thinking I was going to do all that stuff with him. It seems so awkwardly interrupted...like in the first month I got suspended from seeing him...I miss him alreadyThis "break up" it’s so unnecessary...when I became his boyfriend (even before that) I assumed all his problems, his traumas, his videos...I love him that way, he's not hurting me with the way he is. I even accepted the fact that he's going to die someday, I listened to his motivations and I'm trying to harvest the sad and cruel idea that he's going to kill himself someday...but even with that, I love him...I like him the way he is...all of him...If you have problems I'll be there to help you, If you're crying you can have my shoulder, If you're alone I'm here to hug you, If you're hurt I'll lick your wounds, If you're dry you can kiss me, If you're cold you can have my body, If your soul is broken you can have mine...I'm here, I'm here for you.I'm not josh...I'm old enough to know the consequences...I won't cut myself in front of you...I know we need to be together, doesn't matter how hurt or "broken" you are...I need you. I just want to see you one more time...I LOVE YOUI LOVE YOU XAGwhat are you doing Hun?

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 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... 

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...

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... 

The Prince's Strategy

When he read me his blog... I cried... he saw me cry. I don’t think I cried that much in front of anyone... I cry a lot by myself... I like that about going to the movies... no one notices you are crying. That’s what I like about rain... no one notice I’m crying... I like that about the shower... no one notices you are crying

I told the prince... since I met him, I cry every time I take a shower... I think I failed at explaining why...

It’s because I can’t be better for him... I see myself, and think... "Be the person he wants you to be"... and I can’t...

I spoke to Cloud 9... through face book... in some way she is much more relevant than any other of my crushes... because she is the reason I love girls... she is the first... she was my first crush... I was always so scared of her... just such a kid... I talked to her, told her what I felt... shared my life...I said. "It sucks. Yours?"... She hasn’t replied... maybe she just has perfect life...

I had my first clothed shower with someone. I basically pushed him to it... I think he liked it... I still have to get him wet properly... but all in its due time... I took a shower with a guy!!! A hot guy!!! Oh my god... it was so fun!!! I need to write about it, because I don’t want to forget about it... he wore his shirt and his boxers... awesome boxers... his white shirt was see through... he is so beautifully skinny... it was so freaking hot!!! I like being turned on by him... I loved it. I know it sounds such Virgo of me... but god that was so intimate... I felt like gosh... so close. I like simple things... I like staring at him hugging him... 

A Satanic Age Origins

My love is not stupid... no... I’m not stupidly in love... if I was maybe I would be foolish enough to think I could overcome all of my problems and just swim my way to the shore see the stars just because I’m in love... and god I am in love,... in two moths.. So fast... so fast I feel in love...

I’m counting the seconds till the prince will say I have to die... because he is not stupid in love either... he will sooner rather than later realize that my death is the path... those sweet words will be farewell to this world. Of course... I will not tell him this.

(1 day late)

Either leave him... or change myself...

Either leave him... or change myself...

I had never, ever, stayed with someone outside till 1am talking... and we talked... my biggest fear is that… we are going to say everything that there’s to say to soon... and we will eventually run out of things to say...

I know he needs someone better than me, he won’t admit it, I just wish I could do something for him... but he is like... so grounded, smart... , and I don’t feel like I’m really giving him anything... he doesn’t need anything I have...

"If someone doesn’t love you at your worse... they don’t deserve you at your best"...

But what if he doesn’t like me at my best? 

God doesn’t love all creatures... God doesn’t really care...

People are under the delusion that misery comes out of confusion, of being alone in the dark and not knowing where to go... that’s not misery at all... misery come from seeing it all.. And not being able to change course... misery comes from determination...

I am miserable because I reached a point where I know I’m going to fall. It’s there in complete plain sight and I stumble down... I’m numb... I’m stupid... smart people never feel stupid... I feel so stupid... so stupid...

I’m doomed to stay alone in the muddy road... I’m destined, to stay alone drowning in the middle of the lake... I’m condemned to stay in the hole in the dirt... and never get out...

I am definitely standing still, while the world passes by... 

Today I broke a little more...

I’m nauseous... Sleepy... And have knot in my throat... I feel a panic attack coming…

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)

Yesterday, I was going to definitely end things with Joshua, he knew it and then out of nowhere… I just told him I loved him. I’m insane, completely acting at random, not being coherent with my mind… perhaps that’s love, and not being coherent… so I just said it... I don’t think I had ever said this to a guy… anyway, after I said it… I was still going to get done with him... I said good bye… and I was going to block him… and I just started at his nickname on msn… my mouse over it… it must have been like 15 minutes… and I couldn’t make up my mind.. And then he talked to me… and he KNEW… he knew I was going to delete him… I don’t know if I’m that obvious or he just reads me to well… but he knew… and then I couldn’t block him at all.

 The refusal to accept love, the refusal to respond to it, that precisely is the meaning of Hell. Hell is not a place where God puts us; it’s a place where we put ourselves. The doors of Hell, insofar as they have locks, have locks on the inside. - Kallistos 

(4 days late)

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

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

I 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)

Now a toast... To poor decisions!

"You see, I think there comes a time when a man has to ask himself whether he wants a life of happiness or a life of meaning.[...]

Sometimes I have the odd feeling that I can choose to be someone else, sometimes I do … I feel if I tried a bit harder I could like so many things I despise…

Now a toast... 

To poor decisions!

(8 days late)

To a friend

To a friend

I will come one evening, rounding the bend that takes me;

I will come to find you alone with your old dream.

Dusk will drag its light clouds heavily

Passing by your lonely window

You will welcome me in your silent room and there will be

books all around, abandoned in deep silence.

We will sit next to each other. We will talk about the things that go away

of those who have died before we lose them,

from the bitterness of meaningless life, of boredom,

of not expecting anything to be done,

of disappearing ... And little by little in the dark stillness,

our words and our last thoughts will also be quenched.

But the night will come and stop at the window sill;

will mix breezes and aromas with starlight,

with the great call that Nature exhales,

and with your chest which silence will not protect.

April 30, 1930

Maria Polydouri, quit life with a lethal injection of morphine.