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 was waiting for you to tell you I don’t want to talk to you.

I have been waiting all my life for me to fall in love... to painfully realize that I really suck at it.

What was the use of all the daydreaming? Of all the waiting? Yearning... if in the end my ability to love is so helplessly handicapped.

what was the use of my pain, of my loneliness... what was the use of my art, of every wasted breath and word... if in the end… there is someone I love telling me they have been waiting online to tell me they are not going to speak.

Let me fall

I asked the prince... who were you before me?

He didn’t remember...

I for one, I feel I am still my past, my present and my future, I feel like that same 5 year old I that broke his best friends little pony...that little 6 year old that shit his pants in 1st grade... like the suicidal 10 year old that sunk his nails on an obnoxious blonde girl... the 12 year old that couldn’t bear to take his shirt off in the swimming pool... the 14 year old that was systematically rejected in school and discussed openly in class... the 16 year old that sat fat and ugly in front of the most hideous sea... I’m still the irresponsible 18 year old that was too weak to know what he really wanted out of life and chose the wrong major... 

You my prince... you are kid at being conscious... I remember... I am still all of who I ever been... all my ups and downs, all my glory and all my despair, I am all... you said you started to rebuild yourself. I’ve been rebuilding myself since forever; always constantly... no matter how I rebuild the outcome is this. Utter ugliness... I am still that same kid that puked every morning in the bus to school; I am still the teenager whose friends were the eternal losers... I am still the one who has to take out the only girl left at the table... I am still so embarrassed by my very existence I have to ask for forgiveness every time I see the only person that seems to care for the dirt bag I am...

you... you... you are still... conscious about society... your place in it... you homophobia... this is too ameinian... this too straight... and it inhibits your actions... see you are still living separate lives at home and at school, and with your friends... all separate worlds and realities... you don’t even act the same with the other people you have been intimate with... you are still getting drunk and getting laid... I’m feel I’m so over that... I’m so over from hiding from my family... I’m so over speaking to people differently because of social rules... from seeking physical love... I guess... I just... gave up on myself... it’s been too long,... too much... it’s just,... not going to go anywhere... maybe not even with my prince... you are to late... you are a cosmic coincidence that just arrived too late...

Ok... I’m crying now... why do I feel the need of just state the fact I’m crying now? I don’t believe my words are strong enough

I’m 13 again am I 13 for good?

I’m 13 again am I 13 for good?

I can feel so unsexy for someone so beautiful 

So unloved for someone so fine 

I can feel so boring for someone so interesting 

So ignorant for someone of sound mind

I was going to say today I couldn’t ever love him if I didn’t love myself… I was going to break up with him, because of irreconcilable differences… he liked me… but I didn’t like myself… I felt like I had to say good bye because I feared we were just going to get bored of each other… and that was the problem really:  fear;   I was completely and utterly afraid of him… of us… 

Why was I so scared? He had complete access to my dirty laundry and he liked it… but he hasn’t given me any access to his… why? What was the sick game we were entering? And if he saw the worse of me and liked it… today I tried to flirt with him… he hated it; I stopped… he then asked what I hated about myself…. I answered my body… which to what he had a moderate polite reply… and all I could think was… god I’ve had more passionate replies from YouTube freaks!

Maybe I am not much into self-loathing and more of a diva…

Maybe I put this entire thing out on line, because I deep down know… even my dirty laundry s worth for the world to see? 

Nonsense, I write because I have to… the same way I breathe, I have to write… and I publish it online, because I need to… because I need help… because I need to connect to the world in some way… because I know I can’t bottle this inside without hurting the people I care about…. I need to blow off some steam, so I can smile every morning, wear my masks calmly… I need to say all of this now because tomorrow I have to see the prince and I want him to see someone that’s not case of charity… but someone he can learn from… if he wants to… god I don’t know… he says so little about himself if I’m not asking…

(3 days late)

Dream Damn It, Dream!!

Not just try to dream... don’t attempt to dream... just dream...

How do you build dreams? I’ve done this before... I just need... inspiration...

What’s a dream really? Idealization of a future that’s not going to come? 

No… 

Dreams are a force of life, its potential of free will, it’s how we can make choices... they do not determine our choices, dreams fuel them...

Let’s start with an easier exercise... what were my dreams?

I wanted to have magical powers when I turned 16 

I wanted to have a Gameboy and play all Pokémon games...

I wanted to own the 1984 hall of justice from Kenner

I wanted to study abroad

I wanted to get some time off studying

I wanted to write my book

I wanted to finish my book

I wanted to have friends at least two

I wanted to collect the JLU/SuperPowers action figures

I wanted to go backpacking to Europe

I’m crying over this... which is so strange because I haven’t really written much... I just wanted to be so much better to what I am now...

And all of these dreams I never accomplished... and they should have been accomplished by now... because honestly... 

I just don’t see any of it... I don’t want to get older... every time I think that far ahead for real, there are the words "he committed suicide 5 or 10 year ago¨ 

Self Sabotage

Aw my mom being the good mom she is gave me a cute present… the book I called: "Self Sabotage a guide on how to detect it and what to do to stop it." I love her... she just knows how to make sure there won’t be a dull moment the time I get to see a therapist.

(4 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)

Ameinian

Ameinian

For a long time, I've always found some kind of linguistic injustice towards men, specially referring to homosexual men and women. 

You see, the word commonly used to denominate an homosexual woman is the word lesbian which I personally think it’s a beautiful word, it just sounds beautiful but also has this cool etymological background, the word comes for the inhabitants of the island of lesbos in Greece where the most famous homoerotic poetess lived thousands of years ago (now this sounds great for us occidentals... not sure how the people over at lesbos in Greece right now feel about it). Meanwhile men are stuck with the word Gay which, not only lacks the thousands of years in history, it is also used on girls.

The word lesbian is never used to refer to guy relationships is it? So I've been searching for a while looking for a word that would match the equivalent of "lesbian" unfortunately poets who wrote male to male relationships in ancient Greece are guys like Theognis and Anacreon who self-identify are pederasts... so taking their names would not really help the ameinian community, since pedophilia is even further away from being socially accepted.

However other more famous poet touched the subject, Homer in the Iliad mentions the myth of Ganymede (god I love that name) The young boy who was kidnapped by Zeus to make him his servant (because he was so darn beautiful) yet again... old Zeus and a young boy do give some remembrance of pederasty again. So I kept searching... along the way, I remembered narcissus that was in love with himself... now of course we couldn't call ameinian men narcissistic of course. Yet however reviewing the myth, there is this little known part.

Many were those who fell in love with the beautiful lad. Even when he was a baby his nurses swooned over him, and by his sixteenth year every man and woman in town pined for him. None of them however were good enough for him, he felt. One day his neighbor, Ameinias, could stand it no longer, and told Narcissus how much he longed for him, and asked him to be his lover. Narcissus said nothing, but merely sent a servant to deliver a dagger in response. Ameinias understood the meaning of the ' gift,' and with that dagger took his own life, calling down the wrath of the gods upon Narcissus, and cursing him to ever meet in love the same disdain that he had for others.

While most of the myth centers on the conflict of narcissus an echo, Ameinias seemed to have been somehow obscured. Ameinias' tragedy is... well... really ameinian... maybe even corny. BUT it really says much more than the word generic word: Gay... Ameinias could be the perfect word. Except for the similarity with the word Anemia which is a disease, however its use on people would not be Amienic but Ameinian - if there wasn't an already established structure for the English language that probably regulates this stuff -.

So yes... I spent my day today trying to make up a word. Imagine what I can do tomorrow…

(8 days late)

Interior

Interior                      

It sheds a shy solemnity,
This lamp in our poor room.
O grey and gold amenity,--
Silence and gentle gloom!
Wide from the world, a stolen hour
We claim, and none may know
How love blooms like a tardy flower
Here in the day's after-glow.
And even should the world break in
With jealous threat and guile,
The world, at last, must bow and win
Our pity and a smile.

1926

The legend tells that:

At noon on April 26, 1932 Hart Crane yelled, "Goodbye everyone," and jumped off the deck of the S. S. Orizaba to voluntarily submit to death in some undetermined point off the Florida coast.

In this way he put the end to the most heartbreaking of his texts his own life.

I can see it so clearly

I can see it so clearly, in 2 or three years, right after finishing collage... I am going to be so lost; I’m no journalist, but that’s my career… and people will ask me "why don’t you change? Why don’t you change your career? Why don’t you make new friends? Why do you finish your book?" 

And I’ll have to answer something lame like 

"It’s like being lost inside a forest, a thick forest, and I’ve been shown a path, not a clear path but like the trace someone left behind, and I’ve been following it for ages and it hasn’t got me anywhere, now, impulsive, decided and strong people would notice that and would leave the path and make their own way, but me, I’m not smart enough or brave enough to leave the path I’ve been shown, even if I know it’s only going in circles... I just can’t"

(1 day 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.

Resume

Resumé

Razors pain you;
Rivers are damp;
Acids stain you;
And drugs cause cramp.
Guns aren’t lawful;
Nooses give;
Gas smells awful;
You might as well live.


BY DOROTHY PARKER

Its me again... its weird

Well... Life Goes on

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)

In the middle of my frustrated fears

In the middle of my frustrated fears

I know this isn't the way I’d like my diary to start but that’s it, I feel awful, my soul is sick and I can’t think straight. I feel like going to vomit again. 

I really screwed it up today, Camilla (previous school acquaintance) called today as she needed to sell some tickets for a party, I was so confused I couldn’t tell her I didn’t want to go so she told me she'd come here to give me the ticket 6$ each. the thing is I feel like a looser, got no style, got acne, have no friends, my room is a mess n' don’t even like my hair.

I couldn’t deal showing up as a looser, so I told the building doorman to tell Camilla that no one was home. of course I thought it was going to be very rude of me so called her back to tell her I wouldn’t go to the party so she wouldn’t bother coming over my house, the thing was that she insisted in coming, so she came over and the watchman told her there was nobody as requested. 

So she called by cellphone here and my sister Alnitak picked up the phone a furious Camilla shouted mad and told her she was a little bitch. I imagined from time to time how it would be when I'd meet my classmates from Tilatá again but I always saw me in a rather better position that O am now. I suffered a lot at Tilatá and in part was because of Camilla, I hate myself and what I’ve become, I hate my lack of courage… my shyness.

I now wish that this day has never begun I want to wake up tomorrow and be Monday morning again so I can do it all over again. Right.

(84 days late)

Please Don't take me Home.

 Ricardo Rendon, Celebrated Colombian political cartoonist. After drawing a quick sketch of a skull and writing the words "Please do not take me home"he shot himself in the head in a coffee shop here in Bogota at age 37.

Me cae mal