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)

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 in love

I'm in love I don't know how it happened, but today I knew it more than ever....I felt it more than ever...I've never EVER cried like that...for love...I just keep revisiting my romantic life trying to remember a moment that resembles the profound and powerful feeling I felt today when Xag broke up with me.I cried when Maria Camilla said I was ugly and I dressed bad on 4th grade (I was 9)I cried when, very dramatically, Chajín revealed that I was "gay" and that I liked Nicolas (Nicolas was there, I was 12) I cried of regret when I realized I hurt a naive 11/12 year old making him believe a hot older girl was in love with him(14)I cried when I realized I was old and ugly enough to make the prettiest boy in school, declare his love for me(16)Today I cried for love...because I'm truly in love with Xag. There wasn't a random tear like the other times...I felt something inside, something that made me...feel...I'm still crying and it hurts...but GOD, I'm crying for love...(cheesiest thing I've ever said) but what the HELL its true!, I'm in love bitches! And it feels amazing...Today, Xag made the noblest thing someone could ever do. It's so amazing I can't even believe it...Let's suppose that I'm as good as he says I am....He was willing to give up the "most precious thing in the whole wide world" just because he didn't feel he deserved it...how come? he thought that he would make me suffer, that I'll be better off with him...now tell me what person in the world is willing to sacrifice the most precious thing in the world just because the sake of it?...I have no words...Hun, I feel humble in front of you, and I feel I'm the happiest person on earth because I found you.god...crying makes you feel tired and sleepy...my face is all sticky and I have Goosebumps...every time I try to show Xag something about me, there's problems....either because he can't believe it and becomes overwhelmed or because he discovers that I want something else...What do I have to show him to believe me...I'm not making a charity job...I don't feel sorry about him...I LOVE HIM DAMN IT....as I've never loved someone before...I have flaws...my mistake maybe was not showing myself to him when I was most hurt on Monday...It was for my sanity...for my mental health...I´ll try to use this blog to expose my traumas...I think I've said them all but I'll try and dig deep into them, and show Xag that they don't hurt anymorethere's so many things I'd like to say right now....but I just can't I'm so tired....I still have to cry a little more...I miss him so much right nowI'll complete this entry later, don't take it’s finished..

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.

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. 

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)

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...

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. 

I’ve been cutting since school…

Aw fuck… well… I’ve been cutting since school… only 3 people have noticed that I knew of. Aiacos, my English teacher… and today, my mom. Of all people… she was the only one that couldn’t ever know… 

“Did you subconsciously let your guard down to ask for help from the one person that will not give up on you?” 

I can’t relate to the beautiful… “An old ugly virgin”… there… that’s what should lie in my grave… it would sum up my existence… won’t it? Won’t it?

 NOW you don’t answer!!!… You…. you double faced bastard… you said we were all the same!!!… All created at your own perfect image… all to be loved equally… All but the freaks… All… but ME…

(1 day late)

Right now...

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

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* 

Woe, woe, woe...

 Woe, woe, woe... in a little while we shall all be dead. Therefore let us behave as though we were dead already.

- Raymond Chandler

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"

The truth and only the truth

The truth and only the truth. 

This was the reason I started this diary in the first place, I needed to tell the truth... why? Because I lie a lot. 

I think being a good liar is an essential quality of being a good actor; Enjoying your lies I fundamental for a good writer. 

I need to write, I haven’t written anything in months but the urge is getting bigger and bigger, and the story is now to big to keep it in my head. 

And I’m a lousy writer, just read my entries they lack style, coherence and mainly good grammar. 

I feel I’ve been giving up lately, giving up on so many things... specially my dreams. I stopped straightening and dying my hair, haven’t got dressed in days. I need to record this video and yet I seem to not find the appropriate time. Time... I need time, I keep convincing myself  to give up on these things because there is no time. No time to write, to read, to lie down, to draw... 

The truth is I don’t know if any of this is true. Or if my lies are taking a toll on me, and I’ve started fall for ‘me. Believing my own lies; If an actor gets so much in character he starts to actually believe he is his character... does that make him a terrific actor or the worse of all? 

Didn’t this happen to the guy that played Nosferatu in that old silent movie? (I’m too lazy to Google it now) or isn’t this the same that happened to Ed Wood, who blindly believed his work was truly amazing. 

Back to the pressing matter, I no longer know if this diary true, or if I’ve fallen into the delusion it is... I keep writing I’m sad, but am I? I keep trying to expand my writing beyond myself to prove I’m not an egocentric maniac... what do you think? 

Drunks have taken over the block, you can hear them arguing and laughing from all over here in the fifth floor. People are dying in floods all over the place, corruption invades everything in this country, and the truth is I am here at night, writing, expecting an epiphany from putting this words here... because I promised here I would tell the truth and only the truth.

(11 Days Late)

Just Shoot Me

Just Shoot Me

I live in country where pretty much a lot of people die every day in a violent conflict that has lasted for years... so why am I not one of those? 

Why hasn't just someone come along and just shoot me, and set me free form this existence. And it’s not that I'm in pain and I can’t take life anymore... I'm just so bored; bored out of my existence that getting shot seems like just something that could be.... well... just something...

I'm going through of one of those moment when I see myself objectively, and I'm nauseous... this guy described my videos as ...

An interesting way of transmitting sensations though simple things...

This is the sweetest way to put it...

(3 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)

There is so much inside me bursting to get out

There is so much inside me bursting to get out. 

I've been not feeling well, I've been sick, I've been lying and lied to... don't know what to do, everything seems like this huge endless lie... but it isn't... or is it?... I've always considered myself a great liar... who in turn would make me also a great actor or, better yet, a great story teller.

Perhaps that’s why my life feels like a lie, I have this image of myself that is far from being any real sense... am I novelist' am I a writer?... it’s been months since I wrote anything for my novel.... there hasn't been a day I don't think about it, I think about it constantly, endlessly every detail, the whole plot, sometimes I think so much about it overwhelms me.

There is this contest... I could try to do something... however I know I won’t make it. I wake up with the thought that I have to straighten my hair if I want to feel good today... how empty is that? 

Then I spend the next 30 minutes looking at the guy in the mirror, who depending on the day, at random, is the most disgusting being on the planet or maybe not, so I stop, my hair half done, I look myself in the eyes and then I see it... the future, my future, I know how things will go, I know how everything will pan out, not in detail, but the overall plot.

I just keep thinking... Someone living my life should be happy…

(5 days late)

I feel like if someone had tripped me, and I tumbled over...

I feel like if someone had tripped me, and I tumbled over...

I just don’t know who?

Probably myself...

I don’t really know what to do next... I don’t even know what I am going to do the next hour... go to class or go home... I don’t know if I should remove illustrations, or videos... I hate them all so much... I don’t know if should publish my journal entries or not...

I don’t know, if I should keep on writing or give up already and try something else, I don’t know if should cut my hair or leave it as it is... I don’t know if I should keep on trying photography, or devote myself to manga.

I don’t know if should delete some of my contacts, I don’t know if I should date girls or boys... or stop dating at all... I don’t know if I should just lock myself at home alone... Should I get job, or try and make it on my own... should in stick to my dreams, or accept my life as it is and move ahead with it... I don’t know I f a should still believe in love... or in god... or in magic... or in anything at all

(29 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)