Where I grew up

I grew up in a home where for some reason I was embarrassed to do anything. Everything I did, everything I said, everything I thought was a secret. It still is.

I was incredibly embarrassed of keeping this diary. I had to wait till it has late at night, to sneak around and write without anyone noticing. I was embarrassed to paint, so I had to do it at school. I was embarrassed to watch TV so I never used the TV remote... I always wanted to walk around in my underwear at home; I've always felt embarrassed...

I don't come from a home where I am free to be myself. Judged, questioned... made uncomfortable. Everything is I was embarrassed to ask for the clothes I like. I still am. I was embarrassed to get the haircut I liked. I was embarrassed to bring my friends home or speak about home... or even have my parents come to school for grades.

I think from there came much of my urge to lie as a kid. I didn't like where I came from.

I know now, my mom was severely depressed most of the time... and contemplated suicide a lot. I know she didn't’ got married out of love. My dad is never around in any of my childhood memories... except to watch if I brushed my teeth... which was a traumatic experience.

my parents lacked taste.... they were always behind in any sense of fashion... you ask around my childhood could have very well taken place in the 80's ... plus they never cared much about how the place looked, or how we dressed... most of my clothes where inherited by my older cousins anyway, so they were always old fashioned... we didn't have cable, so we watched a lot of local TV, Peruvian channels mostly...the TV I watched was never in sync with the TV people I met. Watched.

I remember I played some games with my sisters, we had an Intellivision that never worked, and board games got so boring after a while, so we used our toys and made up storyline that were actually part of the TV roast of our own imaginary TV channel: happy channel, and each game we played was an episode of a show we had there. It was all pretty cool actually.

But most of the time my sisters hated me. They said I was little fag every time they could and were so embarrassed I was their brother. They however have each other for better or for worse. So I was forever excluded from, games, conversations, TV shows, friends, visits... They were pretty much geniuses on their own right, I was always left as the dumb old brother. The queer.

I can’t honestly remember my mom or my dad caring for us at all... like, being concerned about a school, or our happiness, or our wellbeing. I only remembered one time my parents were called by a teacher at school or something... and they asked me about it. And I told them that this girl on the bus was calling me names and bullying me.

I was the ugliest kid in school, I remember the girls saying I had like this huge head... which I found so painful (because it was true) I think I became oversensitive to criticism... and kind of forgot to talk to people.

Hence... I looked even more as a moron. I remember once, we went to the Francesa with the school... and most of my friends found it came and went on be themselves, leaving me alone. And there that there was this sign on top of a comic shelve.

"Pay for one... takes two"

And I didn't quite understand it.

"I pay for one... and I get two more? That two awesome to be true!!! I got to ask!"

I know.... I was kind of hardheaded. So I asked this lady about it. And she said something like ¿are you a moron or what?

I told her some lie about being in the hospital... but since then, I never ever asked for help in store... or to the police or anything. The sense of utter stupidity was just too much.

I remember being so lonely and stupid that time... and I kind of punished myself for years for it. I was a moron. An idiot who couldn't read a sign.

I lived with this moron complex, for years and years... I remember it wasn't till second semester in collage. A girl in my photography class asked, actually asked me if I had some mental disability... that I realized how amazingly stupid I appear to people.

School sucked for me... there were some few scarce memories that I cherish... but they are so few and feeble.

Tilatá was a nightmare... I remember never being able to make a stupid friend there. Like... never. I think there were few recesses I spent with people... and it was rare...

I remember I was psychology most of the time in my first school... then..., well they stopped caring. I never spoke much in my therapy sessions either... it must have been frustrating to everyone. I was just sad. By the end of my time there... I was such an outcast... I felt so stupid... I was glad...

then my second school... was, well at least different... co I kind of made friends with the most un cool people... which lasted about a year... and then it was again loneliness... being mediocre in all my classes. I don't think I excelled at anything... besides design and arts which weren't even considered in my school...

God I hate my school. I find it... unbearably boring...

When I think about it, I just have this urge of screaming... like just really screaming so loud I cry. I just never screamed... there were so many things I kept to myself, so many things unsaid, so many things undone, so many wrongs ignored... I was the kind of kid that would take a shotgun to school and kill people. I fantasized with it, on endless times. There is just such a sense of frustration about everything. About not being recognized there as... something special.

I just wanted to say deeply... "You are wrong, you are so wrong... and I am right."

Nausea... from what that school meant... nausea ...with some really bright colors that showed occasionally in the gray mist...

Now I'm home again. Term is over. And I'm alone... feeling stupid. 

(12 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)

Medellin

The prince has asked me to join him a in a little trip to Medellin... which I think  means something like going to Vegas or something... lots of drinking parties and orgies. And I think that’s what he wants (except for the parties he is no the party kind of guy) I already told him, I’m too stressed over to go... but he insists. I like it he insists... 

So the problem is mainly that I am torn between my rational wanting to go (I do want to be the kind of guy who goes on a trip with someone... sometime)... and the mood of going (which I’m honestly not into most of the time). I keep debating with myself over this issue...

(80 days late)

Coming out.

I like told my mom about The Prince Rabbit, and was pretty much uneventful. She actually was kind of … I don’t know… but we haven’t talked about it yet… I’m afraid the prince might become a taboo subject, especially now since I really need to get out and buy him a Xmas/Birthday present and I am like totally broke… and will probably have to ask her for money. Mm… I need money for my bf, you know the one I told you about and you said I should kiss when no one is around…

[2 days late]

One night at his room

One night at Sag’s room Lights went offIt was all dark, I just saw the contour of his toys, the outline of the furniture, the wooden roof...He pulled the curtains and let a blue light come in...It became creepysuddenly; I didn't recognized where I was...His kryptonite lamp looked like the arm of an evil robot that got stuck in the ceiling when trying to catch usHis action figures became an army of stone faceless guardians from an hostile planet with pink sandThe blue light of his laptop became an eerie distress call from a troubled boy from the year 3002The shelve above our heads became the kitchen floor of a cosmic fast food restaurant, with body parts of exotic monsters scrambled aroundThe pencils of his Crayola-themed sheets became knivesThe left end of his bed became the end of the world...it was intimidatingI was there....I felt his presence...so strong...so powerful...it was Xag...I could feel itHe was all around the place...in the air, in what I saw, in what I what I smelled, In what I touchedIt was XAG, I was inside himAs we spoke, I heard a whisper...It was the room..., his mattresshis demons? They were talking to me from under his bed...I think I heard a little boy crying...a boy asking himself questions he could not answer...a boy yelling at himself...a boy praying...a boy talking to God, a boy hitting the wall with his head...a boy asking for help...a little boy that was alone, a boy that felt rejected; I heard a boy talking to a webcam...a boy wondering; I heard a boy laughing, I heard a boy dreaming, I heard a boy happy to find an answer, I heard a boy's underwear ripping, I heard some liquid dripping on the floor, I heard the wet steps of a victorious boy that got away with his mischief, I heard the moan of a young boy collapsing on a dry orgasm, I heard the heavy breath of a boy that violently woke up from a nightmare, I heard a boy playing with his toys, making stories; I heard a boy writing on his notebook, typing on his PC; I heard an insomniac boy counting sheep, trying to get some rest; I heard a boy flipping pages with excitement, eager to know what's going to happen next...I was comfortable though, because when I turned my head right, I saw I boy smiling for having me by his side.He hugged me

I’m destroying myself for him.

Right now I feel I’m destroying myself for him... I’m writing love letters to him... and as they go on and on...  I am more and more convinced that I don’t love him or that he doesn’t love me... I’m falling out of love... and I will go back to being doomed...

I should be telling him how much I love him, how much I want him, how much I wish he will be happy. How much I don’t want to hurt him, how much I wish I was his confident, how much I wish I did not make a video of everything we discuss.

He needs someone that would make him smile, not exasperate him, he needs someone who he can make love to every so often... someone that can invite him over his apartment all the time. Who can drive him to school.... ok maybe he doesn’t need to... maybe he just deserves to. Someone who can spoil him. If I was him... that’s what I would aim for, he deserves it... and he can get it...

I’m doing it his way, I’m going to have random sex today, for the very first time in my life, I just called someone for sex... someone I don’t really have feelings for. Just someone for sex... get it over with. Just not be passionate, not be in love... don’t make a video out of it. Why do I wish the prince the will call me and say... no Xag, don’t do it... or better yet... here: take this advice...?

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 

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...

Life... is an addiction

Life... is an addiction.

Doomed if I do doomed if I don’t

My mom is convinced that cutting is an addiction... she should know she is a psychologist... I didn’t think so... until... the prince asked me to never do it again.

I couldn’t make such promise! What if 5 years from now I cut again? THEN I would be an addict for not being able to keep my promise...

But... if I can’t make the promise.... I’m obviously an addict.

Where the hell is my free will?

And not only cutting... but everything... life for example...

People want me to stop being sad...

Am I addicted to my sadness?

It’s the only emotion... I think I’m familiar with... it’s that emotion... suicidal sadness I can handle... heartbreak, doom... I can handle that...

I can’t handle sex...I can’t handle having fun... I can’t handle being loved, loving someone... I can’t handle a relationship...

I took a look... around me...

My childhood... my adolescence... they have all passed... uneventful... empty... wasted

The prince... could I become addicted to the prince. I know I already am in a way. Like being addicted to a chocolate bar, to gum, to sparkies... I just like him too much.

Violently reconquering myself

 

“If I commit suicide, it will not be to destroy myself, but to put myself back together again. Suicide will be for me only one means of violently reconquering myself, of brutally invading my being, of anticipating the unpredictable approaches of God. By suicide, I reintroduce my design in nature, I shall for the first time give things the shape of my will.”

― Antonin Artaud

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. 

Right now...

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

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…

We are all supposed to be loved equally, treated equally, all as your beloved children... all, except the freaks... all except... me.

I lack of true friendship or company... not having anyone to... trust... rely one... to open up to... not having anyone to have fun with... to watch a movie, to yell when things go wrong, to cry on, to walk with, to share an inside joke with... that is not simply chose... it’s just the result of various and complex... situations

I don’t have friends... I can’t trust anyone... I think I did... at least with people online, but there’s always some kind of parallel communication with this blog... I really only truly open up here

The sad and utter realization of complete loneliness... the knowledge that I will never find really anyone... That will share my believes, dreamas, or hopes.., challenge them, accept them, and be part of them...

Who would want a fat ass, ugly, depressive, bisexual, polyamorist, liar...?

God... I don’t even know why I call myself those things... I say I’m bisexual... When I’m still a virgin... I say I’m a polyamorist when I’ve never found a single meaningful relationship...

No one chooses to be bored... things get boring... boredom falls upon... clouds the mind... I experience boredom on a daily basis... its stresses the hell out of me... that’s why I do websites for free... why I keep sickening relationships with people on line, why I spent 4 hour designing my space profile... why I’m updating this journal twice a day...

If I should define my talent... I would have to say... its product of utter boredom... and the pain it brings.

And finally hopelessness:

Complete or partial...

It might seem like a state of freedom, not being slave to our desires...

you... never hope for hopelessness... because you are keeping hope alive in that hope... you end up hopeless... by systematically lying to yourself, blindly believing that everything will get better, that you are going to evolve, that the person you love will come save you.... you make leap of faith in god magic, in beauty.... you hold on to this thoughts... and then... Bam!!... and you see that all you’ve been dreaming for, suffering for, yearning for... is not there... and never will be... and the pain so strong, the only sane way to move on, is to break down... give up... and die inside.

If I don’t need reasons to be happy... then why do I have reasons to be sad?

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)

God?

God? will you let me die tonight?

"I've told you before... if you really, truly wanted to die... you’d be already 

Yeah... I know... *sigh* 

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

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

This is irritating for a number of reasons.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

(13 days late)

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)

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

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

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

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

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

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

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