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)

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 thought... love would cure it... I think we all did...

I thought... love would cure it... I think we all did...

I did everything in my power to become emotionally stable, to find a cure and a fix... I confessed my darkest secrets in a park... I cried on his shoulder... my traumas, I read out loud my suicide letters, and I shared my work, my thoughts... I draw on him... I made love to him... I did all and everything I could ever think of to gain my sanity, for myself, for him... I really tried... I swear to god... I searched for  that cathartic moment where I knew I would never ever let go... because I knew I was... if not happy... at least content... that I wouldn't be seeking suicide in every corner... in every thought… 

(4 days late)

And I almost ran out of faith...

And I almost ran out of faith... and I almost ran out of love.

The year I took a bus, the year I had sex, the year I fell in love, The year of Len, of josh... and the Prince, the year harry potter ended, the year of the golden compass, the year of my suicide...

I was going to join him and his guys as they have a drink at the Francesa... and it turned out that I not being with them was a relief...

I was going to wait for the prince to teach me about Paul Klee, Andy Warhol, and Marcel Duchamp... I don’t think he really wants me to know... maybe he just think I’m too dumb to understand...

I was going to Play Final Fantasy VII, Zelda... I apparently I’m also to dumb undisciplined for this...

I was going to get him, gunged and slimed....

I was going to go out with him... Daniel and Aiacos, watch them fight... I ruined this... by being myself... he will never let me see them again... god... I was surrounded by people like them my entire school... and never enjoyed it... I wanted to... I just never knew how... I wanted him to teach me how.... I so wanted to have friends... and not feel old... I want to be reckless and immature... tell them about my wedgies, my fetishes... tell them about our sex... I want to fight you in the mud my prince... or at least watch them... but no.... it’s too late and I wrecked it... now they think only awful things about me...

I was going to wait and see if we draw together... he was going to teach me... and I feel I can’t draw anymore...

He was going to explain me about the Surrealist Revolution...

He was going to teach me French, Japanese and Hebrew from him... I don’t even know how was this ever going to happen...

He was going to introduce me to Natalia as she introduced him her new girlfriend... but I somehow convinced him I just don’t know how to have fun... and maybe I don’t...

He was going to teach me about indie rock... He doesn’t share his music... my fault... for handing back a headphone.

We were going to watch shotacon together... and I turned out to be a fucking asexual... uncomfortable to be around with....

We were going to go out and get wet in the rain: he doesn’t enjoy it... he just feels ugly and uncomfortable... I felt old...

We were going to have proper sex... and I apparently have the sexual age of an 8 year old... I don’t watch porn...

We were going to see the golden compass... he hated going to the movies with me...

We were going to play board games with my sisters... he hates playing games...

We were going to take glamour pictures of us... I’m an awful photographer... I disappointed him so badly last time...

We were going to go and see Adolf... I will feel ugly while doing so...

So what exactly the New Year holds for me?

Getting kidnapped to Sweden

Getting a double grad program in Spain

Getting a summer job in the us

This is one of the miracles of love: It gives a power of seeing through its own enchantments and yet not being disenchanted

New plans to make and disappoint him... new ways of do self-sabotage... All this is product of me missing him... I miss him to much... it’s starting to hurt me... maybe he just doesn’t love me enough to send me a text message on the cellphone... maybe he doesn’t love me enough to let me be with him on his birthday... maybe he doesn’t love me enough to comment on MySpace... maybe he doesn’t love me enough to want me to join him to wherever he goes... maybe he just doesn’t love me enough to answer my emails (its only polite)... maybe he doesn’t love me enough to push me... and teach me how to enjoy the things he enjoys...

What I really want with this entry is to make all of the said above to happen... not plant it and force it to happen... but just tell the universe... I want this to happen!!! I need this... because I don’t feel like killing myself anymore... I feel like wanting to live... just a little bit...

In wonderland

It’s not a whim...

It not... I'm not... little boy that whines, because life sucks, because no one understands him...

I am losing my mind...

I don't think it’s my secret desire to be special... to feel special , it’s not I'm pretending to be something I'm not.... I'm truly losing my mid... It just stops making sense sometimes, like, if my train of thoughts started going in circles...

it been going on for some times... its stare with me wondering around the house, just walking... people in school used to mention I spoke to myself, this was never intentional, I am never aware of this... but I do. My little sister notices sometimes... she finds it funny...

Lately, it’s been getting worse.

I'm dropping things all over the place... I was the neatest guy ever, it was psychotic... my room now... is a disaster... peopled asks me for things, I hand them something else... I can’t seem to keep a pen with me over a week... I forget to do homework's... I literally forgot the face of my teacher...

I never remember to put the milk back in the fridge... everyone snaps at me.

I find myself asking myself... what I was thinking. What am I doing? What am I saying?

Today the creepiest thing happened... I called the prince on the phone... I just forgot, what I was going to tell him... it took me a while before I started making any sense... he noticed...

Not having the cell phone at hand... also relieves me from the remorse of not calling anyone to say good bye...

I failed again... I know...

but I'm not planning months ahead, it’s just a week... soon it will be days... the I will be planning for tomorrow... and then... then I will make it...

I can kill myself, I can do it....

I can, I can... I can...

See... I'm spinning again? Maybe this is why I can‘t writes a lineal story any more... my book... I can’t seem to focus and tell the story form beginning to end... neither on video... things is becoming increasingly abstract...

I was a very reserved person... now I'm telling the entire class that I'm suicidal, now, I'm showing my half naked boyfriend to the world... I say the most inappropriate things in the library....

I'm so... anguished... so....

I've been writing this entry for a week...

(59 days late)

I felt old.

I felt old. I fell a million years old. I saw a spark of youth I have never experienced. A naïve-ness that’s in some way repulsive… I realized… that it’s important how I look in the eyes of the prince. I won’t smoke in front of you.

I realized that I need a life away from him…

 What’s wrong....your blog was so sad???

 And I think you're beautiful

Well, thanks I've been in this mood for a while

I know exactly how you fee. I honestly do...but I think you're beautiful inside and out

It’s not a come on and I'm not into cheap flattery

And yes....I agree with your link between art beauty and sadness

But its sadness that breeds both art and beauty...so without sadness we wouldn't appreciate anything beautiful

And if we didn't experience sadness we couldn't create anything beautiful or artistic

And I think your graphics are beautiful'

Your words are beautiful and poetic

Your sensitivity that makes you so sad is the same sensitivity that lends you the perspective which allows you to write so beautifully

It’s a double edged sword

Your gifts come with a price

Just like every superhero story

This is from one sad sensitive writer to another

Xag: I had never known someone who had actually read what I write there. I don't know what to say ^^. Thanks.

Believe me I understand

The sadness

 The consuming depression

you look everywhere and see injustice, sadness, misery...and it's not fair, and you can't change it...and you think "I can’t continue on like this"...you feel like no one else sees it and you think why go on in this world...where nothing is fair...where beauty is fleeting and nothing matters anyway since it will end one day anyway

 And you think you want to just stop being sad by hurting yourself

But if you do that you'd just be contributing to the sadness and the violence of the world

and you wouldn't be able to create anything beautiful that might one day give solace to another suffering kid....the eighteen year old kid 20 years from now who needs to spend every night on the web just to escape wherever he is

Let me venture some guesses

You think it’s unfair that there are prescribed limitations and expectations based on your gender

You don't understand why you attract any extra attention if you wear a girl's tee...and you don’t understand why some guys wear baggy clothes that hide their bodies when they actually have really good bodies

You think it's unfair that anyone with a sexual fetish or preference other than the usual is looked at any differently or that anyone cares about such things one way or the other

You don't understand why heterosexuals are threatened or nervous around queer people

 You accept diversity and differences in everyone around you and you don't get why everyone else doesn't

How am I doing so far?

You are actually scaring me little bit

 Lol why

It is pretty, pretty accurate

He he...sorry...I kind ranted there for a bit...

I just told you

 I completely understand you

Because I'm EXACTLY the same way

 You’re adorable

I understand you so well...do you feel let down by people a lot cause you feel like you care a lot more about them then they care about you?

Yeah I do feel like that sometimes... but I also feel I'm so selfish for expecting people to care...

Exactly...so you alternate between feeling guilty and feeling let down?

Xag: exactly

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

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.

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)

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.

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. 

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?

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)

All it takes is one bad date...

All it takes is one bad date... 

Unless you are me, then you need two.

Tonight I’m going to cry, not just yet, because I’m filled with anger first. And not the type of anger that makes you wants to yell and course everyone you know. I’m filled with type of anger that requires to be denounced, that feels me with energy to write this words. Today I saw the things I hate most about myself and about others. Insecurity, lack of character, lies, disrespect, lack of communication, ugliness, both physically and personality wise... I saw everything that wrong with me and my world.

I don’t want to see you again, ever, you hurt me, and you will die alone, I got myself vulnerable to you, and you, and you made me feel, embarrassed about who I was, about what I believe... and what’s worse, I let you do it to me twice.

You are faggot, and mean this in the very and most insulting way, and for that I hate you, because you made me feel bad about being who I am, you represent everything that wrong in the ameinian community... you are, a cliché! The worst kind, you make me kitsch, void, useless... I’m an idiot, and you proved me right. 

You shouted to a 10 year old girl! What kind of person does that? You had me 15 minutes dragging after you in search of cab... I hate myself, for being with you, I hate myself for even doubting if it was my fault you are so week... I’m angry, so angry, so disappointed, so filled with contempt... I hate you, not more than I hate myself...but I do... I’m so filled with... hate... I couldn’t help but laugh all the time at our situation, and I know it bothered you I didn’t say what I was laughing about... I was laughing about us, our pathetic situation, you not knowing the jerk you are, and me putting up with it, when I know I deserve better even if I die a virgin... which I am still... and I’m so proud about it, because losing it to you would have been too degrading, I would have had to killed you and shoot myself then.

(17 days late)

I’m considering suicide

I’m considering suicide, not as an escape, not as an adventure, not even as a relief, just as an option like going to class tomorrow or choosing to take the bus or a cab. I’m actually surprised at this now I recall it, other times I had seen it as grand finale, this time was just an option it wasn’t dramatic, it was just something I could do.

People are still shocked when they realize how deeply I loathe myself. I guess they don’t understand it... if it’s hard living with someone you hate; it’s even harder to live being someone you hate.

I keep wishing people would someway analyze me and somehow fix me.... but that isn’t going to happen. 

There is a word in Spanish, I have not yet managed to translate to English: "pudor". It refers to a virtue. The virtue of protecting ones intimacy, spiritual, emotional and physical, and sharing it only with those who are close to us... keeping information about ourselves secret, sometimes through shame, but not always because it’s shameful but because its sacred.

Therefore, someone who shares too much, like me here, lacks this virtue, meaning he does not value the person he/she is. Exposing without any restraints who we are to anyone who passes by with no kind of protection or care… is definitely someone who does not treasure anything inside him worth protecting or saving.

It’s been over 5 years and I still can’t re-read whatever I write in this stupid journal. Because I hate every single word of it... I can’t stand any of these thoughts or feelings...  this is why grammar and syntax suck and that’s why typos blossom...

The truth is I know all this, I’ve analyzed myself in and out all my life... sometimes I feel that there’s actually two "versions of me struggling (if not more) and I find myself asking "what are you going to do?", "why do you hate me so much?"

 Sometimes I’m close to believe I can actually slip... and lose my mind... so I don’t allow myself to answer any of those questions... nor think of who is it that’s really asking them.

(11 days late)

On my knees

On my knees, holding my head crying, crying because there is so much to cry for.

That’s what I should be doing, however I don't seem to be doing a lot of things I should these days. Not even crying. And god I need to cry.

I'm thinking what I should say in this entry that would be somehow more mature that what I've been writing since I was 15. But I'm clueless.

I've never doubted I am immature, I think my videos are a testimony of that... the first time I thought about writing my diary was back in Santa Marta, the most awful trip I've ever had... I haven't been near beach or a pool ever since. Then I truly thought it would be such relief, that in some way it would be a way out...years later I still do.

 I can’t stop writing this... I've tried, but I can’t stop, the damn journal keeps going on and on... and I keep filling it with the same feelings, trains of thought, etc...

I need a change... yes a change... one that goes beyond upgrading to vista or changing my sites look, or organizing my shelves.. I need a real change...

I need to stop pushing people away,

(Wow there are a lot of ellipsis in this journal)

(4 days late)

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)

Liar

Liar

You are a liar, a fake phony false human being... if you can call yourself human. Deception disappointment, in everything you do and say, nothing is real, nothing is true, nothing is authentic.

Liar. Masks all over yourself, makeup... actor, pretender, wannabe...

The truth is I can’t do it, the truth is, and I’m incapable. The truth is I sabotage myself constantly, which part of me is real?

(14 days late)

I’m so going to hell

I’m so going to hell. Because this boy… . There   one I have lied about everything… sometimes I feel like I should rescue him, like if I should make him my prince… sometimes I hate him with all my being.

He brought up in the conversation his parents will be off next weekend, but never actually made the invitation. This left me a bit disappointed. I can’t believe I’m saying this… it feels wrong, because he is way younger then me…

God, it kills me that I can’t afford anything right now. Stupid college student budget.

I get about 8 dollars a week, for lunch, books, and transport. So I get to save about a dollar a week… form unused change.

(6 days late)

Today I’ve realized the word "friend" turns me.

Today I’ve realized the word "friend" turns me.

I’m tired of talking about me, I’m tired of writing, I’m tired of reflecting, of contemplating, of analyzing, of pondering, of distinguishing, and most of all, I’m tired of explaining; I don’t want to explain anything to anyone anymore. I can’t stand one more justification on any subject. It seems like my whole existence is focused on justifying myself in every single aspect. Every meaningless conversation becomes an act of validation of why I do or not do something, why I am or I am not something, why I like or don’t like something. But if I take those actions away then there is just nothing left to talk about… we are all just doing monologues about us and our lives.

I have a really long homework for Tuesday…. Really long tedious work to do… and yet I went out shopping and to watch a movie 

Sighs*

I have no doubt I failed, I failed at everything you can fail at life. God… I think I’ve failed in death too, or otherwise I would be dead already.

Why do you that yourself? ]

Why do you that yourself?

I know... the hair... is a mess.

Is it blonde?

I don’t want to talk about it.

Ok... but it must be eating you inside.

Yes, can we move on?

Ok, what bothers you today? I mean besides the hair...

OK!! Enough with the hair, its gross, and I am so embarrassed and I so want to die right now. Let’s just get pass this ok... let’s let the mistake "be"

Why? Why not get it better? Improve it somehow.

Because no one has told me I look like an idiot

You are waiting for someone to say that?

Yes, I’m sure someone will tell it to me tomorrow, or at least ill read it in their face.

You are so childish

Who said I wanted to grow up?

No one... but you have to anyway.

 Aren’t you supposed to be the positive one?

I’m not supposed to be anything; I am what I am...

Well so am I

You are?

Yeah, no?

You tell me...

What’s wrong with you today? You are so mean!

I’m not mean, you are being sensitive.

Great blame it on me then. I want to talk with someone else.

With whom? You got no one... that’s why you recurred to me in the first place, didn’t you?

Yes... but as I chose to speak with you I can speak with whomever I want.

Fine.

Fine.Shit, I want to die tonight.

If you really wanted to, you would.

I knew you would say that.

I wish I could have magic powers

Wait a sec, didn’t you wish the same thing when you were 14 or 15.

Yes I did, so what?

Nothing.

That nothing means something, common tell me,

Ok, it means you really haven’t grown up... your wishes are still the same. You just don’t change, you were miserable and pathetic and you are still miserable and pathetic.

I know! You think I don’t? I do!! And it hurts so much.... I want real therapy.

No you don’t, you want to be miserable and lonely and humiliated... you want to feel that way, and you choose to live that way.

Shut up.