What's "share"?

What's "share"? 
We tried to have sex. We failed...but somehow...it didn't matter to me. Actually, I enjoyed the wedgie much better than our sex attempt. If someone would have told me a while ago that my partner would be asexual, I would feel frustrated, but with Xag I didn't...our relationship is much more than that. Though I still want to have "proper" sex with him, I'll try to go at his pace...I'm not hurry, as long as I can hold him in my arms, as long as I can kiss him...that's fine with me.We talkedHe tried to broke up with me again. I cried again...but, you know something? I didn't "hurt", I mean, of course I don't want to break up with him, but he tried to because he loves me...how can I be hurt when someone loves me that much...I cried, but I felt happy, joyful, glad to have him. I didn't cry because I was sad, I felt powerless...powerless because I couldn't make him see how much I love him, how wonderful he is how much I need him. He refuses to see it; He can't see it...that's why I told him he needs advice, professional advice. I think Xag needs someone who tells him that he has a distorted image of himself. How come he hasn't asked for professional help? I totally understand his reasons, his motivations; he says he is "sick", "broken" but it is psychologists and psychiatrist’s job to "cure", to "fix".He measures things very strictly: "this is good", "this is bad", "and this is ugly" "this is pretty" Though he has never explained to me what he uses to measure, he always puts himself in the "ugly", "bad" category. I do not see him in that way. Not at all. That makes him start questioning things about us, "what if...?", "what if not...", "would you...?", "why didn't you...', "why did you...?"...Hun, believe me I'm sure, I love you...I LOVE YOU.If you want to ask me something, if something's not clear, I want you to say it: "My Prince, I think you're selfish", "I think you're vague", "How come? I don't get it", "Explain it"...that's what I'm for.I admire him, I think sometimes I'm afraid to discuss with him because I don't have strong arguments... I'm so naive, I don't read, I don't think...I'm not intellectual as him. I just keep floating around in the world watching the clouds move by, staring at distant lights, kissing the wind that comes from the mountains, gazing at the reflection of the moonlight in wet asphalt, trying to understand the dance of the leaves in the trees....I don't know what love is, I don't know what Aristotle’s said about it, I haven't read The Marquis de Sade, I haven't read about antimatter, I don't know what Peter Pan is about...but God, I'm SO glad I have my Xag to explain it all to me...I was speaking about Xag with Marciano (Mauricio, my 17 year old best friend forever):" you know what I feel about him?I don't know how to say itHe's a thinking person...but inside the house(...)I'd like to meet him...and his sister(...)I imagine he's lived so little in the outside world that he doesn't have a happy image of his /video/"Ok, so please, don't puzzle yourself trying to understand this kid. I've hit the keyboard a la angry German kid trying to figure him out....I just want to let you know what he thinks of you.age...I don't know what to say...I'm in love....there wasn't a single second of this day that I wasn't thinking of him...I LOVE YOU XAG....what do I have to do to prove it to you?I have to share a little more....I just think: " I don't want to suffocate him" When he was watching my drawing the first time I thought: "Ok, that's enough, maybe he doesn't care that much" I know it's silly...but I'm not used to people care so much about me...when they do I make my "cool" face and that's it...It became an habit...I've thought of sending things to him, showing songs to him....but maybe he'll say: "that's an ugly song" He doesn't like my music, I know...it was clear when we were on the bus and he rejected the headphone. And I'm so weak...I'm afraid that if I show him a song he may not understand it...But hey, I planned to share a lot of things with him, I want to...it’s just...I'm so amazed by him right now...Xag, please remind me to show you the pdf. Of "Death in Venice", my favorite book. You, who like books, should read it that's the book that defines me.Please, let me teach about Paul Klee, Andy Warhol, and Marcel DuchampLet me explain you about the Surrealist RevolutionLet me tell you about indie rock...Play Final Fantasy VII (it’s in your house) Let me lend you Zelda: The Wind Waker and play a little bitLet me teach you French, Japanese and HebrewLet me teach you how to draw...lets draw togetherLets join my guys as they have a drink at the FrancesaLet’s go out with Daniel and Diego, lets watch them fightLet me introduce you to Natalia as she introduces me her new girlfriendLet's watch shotacon together....I want to do all those things with you...I'm just so thrilled learning about you that I forgot...to share, but you're right.I'm convinced I'm not good with words (English is killing me right now)...So my plan will be to post a drawing with a small caption...I'll see if its more "effective" or I’ll just try Spanish...somehow I feel I didn't make any point with this entry...Xag...you don't have to change...you don't have to be "better", but if you think you have to, let me help you...Natalia said that loving a lot someone is making an effort to be able to keep him with you...to be better for that person."Amar a alguien mucho es también esforzarse por pòderlo conservar a tu lado... por ser mejor para esa persona"I LOVE YOU XAG

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... 

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)

Grated Carrot

 Grated Carrot

The first suicide is unique.
They always ask you if it was an accident
or a sincere proposition of death.
They shove a tube up your nose,
hard,
it hurts,
and you learn to not disturb the neighbors.
When you begin to explain that
death-actually-seemed-like-the-only-way-out
or that you did it
to-fuck-up-your-husband-and-your-family
they have all turned their backs
and are watching the transparent tube,
retrieving the parade of your last supper.
Betting on whether its noodles or fried rice.
The doctor on duty coldly tells them:
it’s grated carrot.
“Disgusting,“ says the nurse with big lips.
They disposed of me furiously
because no one won the bet.
The saline dispersed quickly
and ten minutes later,
I was back at my house.
No space to mourn
nor time to feel cold and tremble.
People are unconcerned with death that comes from loving too much.
Child’s play
they say
as if children killed themselves every day.
I looked in Hammett for this exact page:
never tell a word about your life
in any book,
if you can help it.

Miyo Vestrini, died by suicide on November 29, 1991, at 53. Cut her veins. 

Ai-je bien pu vivre deux mois et demi sans toi?

I'll kill myself tomorrow, unable to stand existence without the woman who had been my sole joy, the only happiness in my life. For the last two and a half months I have struggled; today I am at the edge. I don't have much hope to see her again, but who knows? At least I am plunging into the void where one no longer suffers. I wish to be buried (this is my formal wish) in the tomb that I have had built in the Ixelles cemetery for my dear Marguerite, the vault which I own. My body should be placed in the central resting place just above her. And never, for any reason, must I be placed in the highest chamber. I ask that her portrait and a lock of her hair, which I will have on me when I die, be placed in my coffin, which should be as similar as possible to that of my dearest Marguerite's. On the tombstone, below my dearest Marguerite's inscription, in the same characters and the same style of writing, write these words: "Georges, 29th of April, 1837 - 30th of September, 1891: Ai-je bien pu vivre deux mois et demi sans toi?"

General Georges Boulanger, who, on the verge of becoming dictator of France, relinquished his power to care for his dying lover, Marguerite. Two months after her death, he shot himself at her grave site.

Slipping through Time

Slipping through Time
by Marina Tsvetaeva

Perhaps the finest victory
over time and gravity
is to pass without leaving a trace,
casting not even a shadow on the wall.
Perhaps it's best to renounce it all,
erase your image from the mirror
and steal by like Lermontov in the Caucasus
without upsetting the stones.
Maybe it would be more entertaining
had Bach's finger never prodded the organ's echo
Maybe if you simply dissolved
and left no ashes for the urn.
If you lied your way out
and were expunged from the latitudes
slipping through time like an ocean
whose waters were never disturbed.

Loneliness

I was 16 months in my first school, 72 months in my second school, another 10 months in my third school and another 60 in my last school... plus the 4 months I’ve been in collage

All these are a bunch of 162 months or about 4860 days of sharing with people about 8 hours a day, every week day for more than 10 years. Want to know how many friends I’ve made?

None.

(38 days late)

Past One O’Clock

Past one o’clock. You must have gone to bed.
The Milky Way streams silver through the night.
I’m in no hurry; with lightning telegrams
I have no cause to wake or trouble you.
And, as they say, the incident is closed.
Love’s boat has smashed against the daily grind.
Now you and I are quits. Why bother then
To balance mutual sorrows, pains, and hurts.
Behold what quiet settles on the world.
Night wraps the sky in tribute from the stars.
In hours like these, one rises to address
The ages, history, and all creation.

Vladimir Mayakovsky

At 10:15 a.m. of April 14, 1930, Vladimir Mayakovsky shot himself in the heart with the same Spanish revolver that had  used to represent his voluntary death in the film: Nye dlya deneg radivshisya  where he played Ivan Nov, a homeless poet.

Sincerely: Not fit.

"'Survival of the fittest.'

 Goodbye.

Sincerely: Not fit."

- Anonymous Suicide Note.

I got the need to lie, and I end up making up a story to someone I appreciate

I got the need to lie, and I end up making up a story to someone I appreciate, I told him the story about Obsidian and me, but like if I was the victim. I hate myself for doing that, I continue lying even when I promised I wouldn’t do it anymore… it’s sick.

Miscellaneous reflections

Who says what craziness is? To believe you are not crazy is just crazy, and to believe you are capable of deciding who is crazy and who is not, is craziness itself.

To judge without knowledge, isn’t it the worst crime?

“The real cool thing about writing is that I can say whatever I want” – Grace manning

Why can’t I do whatever I want?

Why I am a prisoner of myself?

Why I am not happy?

The problem resides in the human nature of placing limits to absolutely everything; we are filled of yes’s and no’s, dos and don’ts, good and bad.

“There is no good and evil, there is only power, and those too weak to seek it….”

I’m such a looser, now with no computer I have so much to say … but I’m just totally blocked

What kind of person am I? What kind of person will I become? 

“Have you ever found out yourself being a much horrible person than what you really are?” 

How do I get to magic? 

I can’t believe myself asking this question, I mean, I was supposed to be the magic one. 

Who am I anyway? Does anyone really know me? Why I am not happy? Why I am not magical? Why am I, not me? Where is my heart? Am I free? Am I in hell? You know what? 

Now it turns out all we learned at school during the years before is going to be actually useful?

 I just don’t want to think anymore. 

I wish I would never go back home. 

(9 days late)

School-days, I believe, are the unhappiest in the whole span of human existence.

School-days, I believe, are the unhappiest in the whole span of human existence. They are full of dull, unintelligible tasks, new and unpleasant ordinances, brutal violations of common sense and common decency. It doesn't take a reasonably bright boy long to discover that most of what is rammed into him is nonsense, and that no one really cares very much whether he learns it or not.

H. L. Mencken

Why do I study?  Why am I studying? Why am I wasting my time this way? It’s no secret I don’t enjoy school, in any way, I hate it in every way... I hate my closed-minded friends, gym class, the self-proclaimed know-it all teachers, the useless subjects (including the ones I chose), that without counting; waking up at 5:30 every day, the soft-core bullies, the choking, the lame humiliation, people in my bus, overpriced things at the copy shop, long lines at the cafeteria, kneeling down every time to open my locker, feeling so stupid... etc.

But now I think of something that does really bothers me of being in school, I simply CANT be ME; That is, the person that writes this, it’s another person than the one that goes to school or lives at home. I don’t know if I’m making sense, it’s like if when I sit and write over here, another person takes over... Never the less the person that writes here is the person I’m more comfortable with being. I like being the person that writes. Unfortunately it doesn’t exist anywhere else. The moment I speak to someone else, he disappears and runs to put all kinds of masks to show the person, everyone think they know. And there comes times where masks are so many and so heavy that I suffocate and I can’t breathe and is like if suddenly I had stopped controlling it, like if I had lend my body to someone. And now it seems everyone is living and I'm just watching and I could just break down and no one would notice or know why it is.

That’s why I can’t take it anymore, what recently happened at my diary was the top, having to close it down just because someone at school had found it… the fact of having to shut up because of my school, has been one of the most humiliating things in my life. I got totally silenced by the world that surrounded me, because of a stupid guy with a promise to make my life a living hell... 

Sometimes... (Like all the time) I’d like to leave school. just stop feeling a moron and numb, stop hiding who I am, start doing something I really enjoy, cut all those fake friends and stupid jokes; no more sadistic comments, immature sayings, gum in my hair, laughs at my back and other nasty things I don’t want to remember. Maybe if I leave school leave school, I could keep on studying at home, at my own rhythm... no pressures, no more tests or homework; it will all depend on me.

Self-sufficiency, it would be the first mayor thing done by myself.

I just don’t know how to sit down again one hour in front of an exam without a clue of what I have to do, and watch how the time goes on, with my paper clear and my head in blank, waiting for someone who will miraculously see you in all your despair and help you. Or maybe just stop studying at all... I could live up by my talents or something... of course despite the fact I have none.

In school everything is just so unfair, tons and tons of homework. They say that that kind of work is to raise our academic levels and have better grades than the ones last year, but how can you raise our academic levels by pushing us to hard in one year without previous preparation, twice as work the ones had last year, less recuperation opportunities and an increased demand for quality in our homework (?). Besides there’s a lot of time for small petty humiliations, all you get there are insults and stupid questions, besides comments and orders from the hideous teachers.

Maybe I’m just not feeling right, maybe because after gym class "is" impossible to feel right. First you are all sweaty and dirty; from the entire pushups you miserably try to do on the ground because of being the last to get to the teacher, after running 3 times around the football field. But generally there is the subconscious bonus of seeing other cute and hot guys in the same state. Now that is a great thing for specially two cuties in my class. One is a tall blond guy, with a really great body, dirty blond hair, charismatic personality and what really makes it unique is that is very, very, very smart.

I remember that during my first year in that school I had a dream about him; we were in a peer together and I can’t remember why he jumped in the water fully clothed... and then I guess he took of his clothes off in the water leaving his boxers, and gave them to me, then I would throw them far away and he would swim to get it and put it on again... it was really hot and fun... 

He, like most guys who have a great body at school, has an unconsciously method of showing it, so we, all the fat wimps feel more as losers than the rest most of time, the amazing ability of making the uniform look good on them, in a kind of sporty way, besides keeping always the shirt up in the most creative ways, so we all can see his fabulous abs, besides having the pants kind of pulled down so the underwear is always visible.

To say there are no hotties in my school would be a major lie, there are many, especially in 7th, 8th and 9th grade. Some with beautiful eyes, a cute face, or a great body... most of them I keep on watching all the time and I have to keep reminding myself not to stare much.

School is just a place to be unhappy, stupid laws, and absolute monarchy by teacher’s directives or soft-core bullies. It’s a place where people live with fear and confusion, mindless acts and memorizing useless and absurd stuff instead of learning. 

I just don’t know what’s going on ... I had a problem with my head group teacher, (which happens to be my head teacher too :$ ) we started arguing about something really stupid until she came with the most stupid argument I’ve ever heard:

- You do it when I say it, it’s not your choice - she said already freaked out - why? - I asked reasonably - just because- she replied even more stupidly - and if you don’t like it you can leave! - - well thanks...- I said, and left the class room.

It all happened so fast I couldn’t swallow it... what?!? It’s not my choice?!? “Just because?!?” what kind of argument is that? What kind of answer is that for an almost 50 year’s old shrunken woman? I mean she obviously studied math because has terrible problems with self-esteem… I would I looked like her. Maybe she needs to follow orders and formulas so she doesn’t have to think about anything… and avoid the fact of her own existence. Why do I always think of what to say when is too late?

but after all I had a chance to say part of what I said, when she handed me the detention card where I am supposed to give my opinion on what I think, and I’m sure I told Delilah something she didn’t like, that’s why she went down to the principal and took me out of chemistry class to chat or I better say criticize and fend for herself.

What I wrote was something like this:

“Who are you to decide what is ok or not? Beside I think the teacher should learn to give a more strong argument than 'just because’, answers should be according to the age… and oh, by the way... it is always my choice."

But just as I came in the comments on school moral started, mental disorder or nonsense rebellion started, all kinds of judgments against me were heard in the place, but specially bothered me the one that said that I wasn’t reasonable with my words and thoughts. I tried to say what I thought and argument my position but words failed me I suppose... And I started to be at their side. I hate that so much! Beside it was two against one and that is cowardly. The principal treated me as a mental idiot that could not understand where I was standing on.

First they said I had insulted Delilah’s moral authority... is there any moral authority? Actually I don’t think there is, but if there should be one, that, it should be mine, the one I choose, not one someone has imposed upon me. Laws should not be imposed they should be proposed and accepted by consent. For me, my answer to Delilah’s comments might have not been what she wanted or expected, but surely was what I need it. If I had stayed quiet and obeyed would have meant to give up my rights and thoughts, to kneel down and just repent, was giving up any value to what I think or what I am.

My dilemma: "why study?" there could be an award such as "knowledge" (yeah right) or a diploma to work or get to collage. But there could be a menace too, like the fear to be a looser (my case) or to be afraid of rejection by the family or friends.

Why it is the guys at my school are so into soft-core bullying stupidly, yeah not into hard bullying just common nonsense bullying. Why are guys so stupid, it’s like having people emotionally and spiritually retarded, maybe I’m generalizing and I know it’s not fair? This reminds me of something a girl said "men have a huge space in the brain, between thinking and feeling, that’s why they can feel and think but not at the same time". It just sometimes seems men are not thinking anything at all... but.... that’s impossible.

I mean chase a ball for two hours... complain about it and plan strategies to do it better the next time. Just like hazing. In my school, it may be funny the first time, and maybe the second, but when you keep on doing it the same way and expecting a different reaction is just maniac. I wish they would just stop it or do it really hard, for a change.

Why it is that abandoning school is seen as such a bad thing or ridiculous. My head group once said something I considered very offensive. "You only exist to study". She obviously has no idea of what is going on my mind, and how much I need to believe that is not true. But anyway, don’t teachers get that they have no rights if we don’t have them, I mean we are the ones paying a miserable salary so they just speak their shit, and hold up their tongue when it comes to their thoughts or comments.

I am just so tired of feeling so stupid, I can’t defend an argument and it always seems I’m making the worst ridiculous thing, and no one understands me or gets me and I feel so dumb... maybe I’m just retarded, I don’t get things the way most people do, and that makes me stupid. Even the closest person to me in school keeps criticizing everything I do and say all the time, everyone thinks I am the most immature being ever, the dumb one with no logic or reason. A good-for-nothing, idiot boy, with absolutely no talent for anything. I’m so tired of people thinking I am stupid, I can see it in their faces and little dissimulated glances at me.

Sometimes I just hallucinate with someone who will come out from nowhere and make my life something new and special.

Maybe I should be a dumb slave of the system study a boring career, go to church and throw everything I believe to hell because anyway I’d be unhappy.

“Always expect the worse and you won’t be disappointed”

I don’t want to belong to that school anymore. It is funny how the emigrant effect caused by violence can be seen on my class room.

It only takes two idiots (like in real life) to stand on each side of the classroom and start kicking a ball really hard to each other, without caring (or on purpose) hitting anyone who is between them. People afraid of getting hit, start to silently move to one of the sides to be save or if you are stupid enough even take part on the game

“Stupidity does not know any limits” - - - /o/ - - - “there’s no worst thing than stupidity in action”

I heard a guy talking in school with his friend about this same problem; he didn’t want to continue with this, he was tired of school as I am. After saying that, one of his friends answered this: “I know how you feel my friend, believe me, everyone at school goes through that… and that same feeling is going to last for about two months and then there’ll be nothing else but resignation”.

(1 day late)

If I reach myself, I've reached heaven.

If I reach myself, I've reached heaven.

 What the hell you think you are doing?

I don’t care for anyone. Only two random people have ever captured my attention in my life and I don’t know any of them. 

I remember being with my dad in the car and one boy came to clean the windows, he was my age 12 or 13 y/o he had this…  look…  in his eyes, like if we both at the same time wished to be in each other’s place. Year later in an hotel pool a rich cute boy also my age (15-16 y/o) was there in the pool looking at the ocean and I saw a something in his eyes in his eyes... he was lonely.

I bought a Wicca book but my mom had my money so she had to buy it for me, now she is at her room looking at it and commenting it with my sisters.

I want to suicide so much... but I can’t, I’m such a coward... I've had that knife in my hand so many times for such a long time but I still don’t. I have someone that I think is worried about me, but that isn’t enough. 

(1 day late)