Devoided

Devoided of any inspiration or creativity, I'm still trying to find some kind of stability that will take me to new waves and forms of compatibility with the world. Needless to say... no new deviation.

... I feel deep hatred towards those who I once loved.

Is it Christmas approaching that makes the sublime smell of deep dark Tartarus so irresistible?

me, the winter lover, lives now in contradiction; for as my most natural and defining event of the year nears closer (the winter solstice) I find more and more hatred towards me and those around me.

My nature contradicts the artificial environment I've been placed. Either that or I am really helium's strayed disciple...

Has the sun and summer really been my home all along?

Can’t help but admit that I have always wondered about the light in long blonde hair and the look and taste of wet bare skin.

If summer is my real nature, I can’t help but say that my true nature in fact makes out of me feel most alien within my surroundings; for I have not felt more inadequate than under the light and heat of our systems central star.

For now I can only say that as days grow shorter, my despise of those around gets bigger... and I yearn for loneliness, snow, and northern lights almost unbearable.

I hope hell is cold, for is where I most desire to go... since in the warmth of heaven I would just feel like a smashed cockroach on the wall... disgusting, out of place, hated... and still moving my little antennas, keeping the attention of those who have murdered me, all in awe and puzzled with the mystery of how was it that without any part or limb working, I managed to keep on holding to my fragile sense... smell..

I smell the sublime dead heavy fog from Tartarus calling on to me... yet I see no entrance, or way to say good bye to those once loved and are now hated...

I repeat myself. 

(40 days late)

Alone now

Ok, I’m alone now, me with me and me……….

……….… I feel if my blog was a real space… it would be like a cathedral a huge empty cathedral with scattered paper on the floor… and now it’s deserted… I feel I could hear my echoes…….

ECHO!!!

………………………… (Echo!!)

……………………………………………….. (Echo!)

………………………………………………………………… (…echo…)

I’ve been bleeding through my nose all afternoon… he asked me what do you need… what can I do?, should I cut myself?, should I get wet?… 

(1 day late)

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)

Take a deep breath…

Take a deep breath… I said I had never been satisfied about anything with my life… well I’m just happy I met the prince… it was great… he showed me that there’s like people worth living for… that there are in fact people hat make the world a special place by just being in it… 

How often you come across people that make you feel better than what you think you are? How many people come along and make you feel you might be remotely valuable to someone? 

… he has been offline for 3 days now… today (this is going to be so embarrassing to say) I repeated his voice mail message on my cellphone , over and over till the battery died… every time I listened to it, its meaning varied… was he satisfied? Tired? Was he sad? Was he disappointed? Was he fed up? why did he call?.. Did feel he had to do it? did he wanted to? Was that simple calling a way of saying goodbye? I keep replaying our date on my head… sometimes I think it went great… sometimes I think it had to be the worst thing for him ever…when I judge it by my actions, when I dated Daniel (the really bad two dates) I lied a lot to Daniel to try to make him feel comfortable… I’m afraid he did the same thing to me, I said awful things… he said the most wonderful… I just was so focused trying to hide the cuts on my wrists while we ate… now I have the urge to cut more. I wouldn’t blame him; maybe I was his bad date… He did say he was a detached person.

I don’t dare try calling him on his cellphone … I don’t even know if it is his… I’m not that desperate… mmmm… ok maybe I am a little… probably, the biggest act of self-sabotage is this… writing this, because I know he’ll read it (hiya!!^^) … but all I think of is him… and I don’t know if that’s good or bad… but I just need to let it out somewhere… here… in the screaming room…

 I just hoped through the day as a voting juror he would show up... for some reason… it was… so… psychotic… so pathetic…. I’m so damaged and despaired… I try to keep myself from just calling him and telling him all those things… damn phone phobia!

I never thought I could be like this, thinking about someone for such long periods of time… I just like… I want to be with him…. god

I don’t even know him… I spoke to him once, this is sick… this is… self-sabotage… I’m tired of sabotaging myself; I’m my worst enemy… I don’t know if I want to be with him or be him… or maybe a bit of both… I am just so  incredibly happy I actually met him… even if it was just to see him once… and also I’m in so much pain now after (the good kind)… I feel so alive… all thanks to him… to him… I have to visit some historic places and museum here in Bogotá… I mailed him asking him to come… if he doesn’t… well… I can always ask Ana to come, I really wish he does… but again, I’m too scared to just call … me and my damn phone phobia…

A voice that makes sense

A voice that makes sense

"There is really no doubt you are a very sick person. And if this diary has been online so long and been read as much as you claim and there are still no changes, it is very clear that either no one really cares about you or that you are indeed beyond any kind of help. Suicide is your best option, it really doesn’t sound your life is worth living at all. I live near you, I will be glad to be of assistance. Stop torturing yourself with this diary and most importantly stop torturing people online who deceived by your videos and other works come into this depressive world of yours. I’m not blaming you, it’s not your fault, you are just very sick. Please stop, and if you are not able to do it by yourself, let me help you end it. For your own sake and for everyone else’s."

(3 days late)

The last few entries… are the worst side of me…

The last few entries… are the worst side of me… I hate me… I want to sit still forever and ever, and ever… I don’t want to write ever again… I don’t want to speak ever again… I don’t want to get dressed, or straighten my hair… or sit on a chair… why are chairs so uncomfortable? Why it is while I write all this things… everything in stupid journal… the world keeps revolving around me… I’m waiting for it, to stop and change… that why I did everything… I just genuinely thought, that if I wrote my life would change… it won’t… its stupid, like expecting ritual chants to cure diseases... or car horns to make traffic lights change faster… My pathetic excuse for existence it’s coming to an end… at least to you… I’m not genuinely mad… I’m just tired… just too tired to carry on… not tired like I’m tired eventually… I’m just giving up… for real… tonight, I’m going to give up, on myself. I know this is probably not in the secret, but it’s all I can do… I come from a family of quitters… from a country of losers, from an education of conformists… I’m going to do all I can really do… quit… take the notebook I use for my book out of my notebook and leave it home. Pack up my justice league toys… give away my comics to recycle… and stop using English… stop fighting to get fit in the system, stop trying get good grades with no effort… I will stop hurting people, which I try so hard to do, to get recognized by them… I will stop smiling… I will stop reading… needless to say… I will stop this, drawing, and or doing vids … all together … I don’t want to yell ever again… I don’t even want to ever listen to music ever again… I just quit… I quit, not defeated, just too tired, to sad, to dead inside to carry on… let’s just see… if this is something I will succeed at…

May my death be fruitful. And force the meditation. So that those who can, learn the lesson.

From the suicide letter of Miguel Ángel Quevedo. Cuban Editor, Shot himself while living in exile  in Venezuela. 

We were all guilty. Everyone. By action or omission. Old and young. Rich and poor. Black and white. Honored and thieves. Virtuous and sinners. Of course, we still had to learn the incredible and bitter lesson: that the most "virtuous" and the most "honored" were the poor.

I die disgusted. Alone. Outlaw. Exiled. And betrayed and abandoned by friends to whom I generously gave my moral and financial support in very difficult days. [...] All dehumanized and cold abandoned me in "the fall".

May my death be fruitful. And force the meditation. So that those who can, learn the lesson. [...]And for the people to reconsider and repudiate those spokesmen of hatred, whose fruits we have seen could not be more bitter.

We were a people blinded by hate. And we were all victims of that blindness. Our sins weighed more than our virtues. We forgot Nuñez de Arce when he said:

"When people forget their virtues, it's a tyrant in its own vices."

Inexpressibly Melancholic

The desire to rid himself of depression—and the loneliness, the despair, and the fears that were part of it—was the most powerful force that motivated Vincent to become an artist and incited the intense energy that was so vital to this end. His pictures became his companions, his mistresses, and his children. "The work is an absolute necessity for me," he wrote. "I can't put it off, I don't care for anything but the work; that is to say, the pleasure in something else ceases at once, and I become melancholic when I can't go on with my work."  He observed at another time that hard work was the way to avoid "that melancholic staring into the abyss."  "I feel inexpressibly melancholic without my work to distract me, as you will understand, and I must work and work with facility. I must forget myself in my work, otherwise it will crush me."  

-  Vincent Van Gogh (Found on: Stranger on the earth; a psychological biography of Vincent van Gogh by Lubin, Albert J - Page 22. )

No laughs or tears, just emptiness growing, taking over.

I should accept who I am and leave the worrying behind; accept I am like anything or everyone else. Just go with the flow. I wanted to be different, go against the flow, make a difference, and just be special. Bisexuality is the halfway.

The person I used to be, no longer exists. I’ve become one of them… another boring despicable muggle. I am just like any other person, I am evolving backwards.

Now, I hate philosophy, I’m constantly coursing and speaking shit. I’ve become either an atheist or worse: a blind believer. I no longer believe in anything or acre about living or dying. People I thought I once knew no longer exist.

When I get home, I’ll take a fully clothed shower and spend some time in front of the mirror fully soaked and try to find myself.

No laughs or tears, just emptiness growing, taking over.

My ego

I had previously been publishing all this online (my ego!). But now I’m back to the privacy of myself. 

I think it is my duty to inform you that since I was born I have had difficulty relating to other people, mainly because of my eccentricities and behavior, for this reason I have not managed to have the opportunity to meet a single true friend in my life.

I studied in the Tilatá school, behind the western mountains, but for some reason I could not relate to people there. Tired and desperate a change of school came into my life a bit over three years ago.

The change brought both good and hard truths. I first realized that my behavior and way of life, it’s indeed very strange for my peers. But not everything is bad I was able to relate with some other freaks and even identify them as my real friends (for a while)... But life takes hard hits on me and I could not dodge all my misfortune. They turned against me for some undisclosed reason, from one day to another. To the point of having me become my now sworn enemies or taking disgust of my mere presence. Fortunately though I fell back on my feet and managed one of them continues to be a regular acquaintance.

It turns out also, I have a terrible memory, and before I start writing always put the keywords on the topics I want to discuss so avoid that something escapes me. But in time these words lose their meaning as I delve into my writing...  you might occasionally find random words scribble about. I hope you understand. 

I did not have to turn to any hidden powers against Obsidian. Thing I considered after our last encounter, so my karma is rather safe. Obsidian apologized, and I did not offend him further. Peace seems to work, with time, patience and endurance, but it works.

I quit going to IT and Programming courses, I think its best, it might mean I will not do anything with my life, no traveling abroad not anything... but for now I am content to find what is it, it makes me happy.... Yeah right? That's big lie, I feel like I am a failure and with luck I'll make it is a waiter someday. I fight with Valdes; he is sadistic and cruel, besides hates me because I am not very smart. We visited the girls at the Christ King, and surprisingly it was very ... hot? I flirted with a girl just as we came in... But my introversion not allowed me to go much further as to actually changing email addresses... plus people around me where weighing me down, so I ended up feeling like a loser, an imbecile. This day will bring me nightmares, I just want to meet girls and fuck, and then I want to meet someone special.

(22 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.