Bad habit

I think vomiting when thinking about your own existence is a bad habit. 

(20 days late)

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

Waiting… alone… in the dark.

Take a deep breath… its dark… its cold… I can see his breath in every exhale… The prince is light to me. Not the only light, I refuse to let him be my only light. But it’s a light to me none the less… he is faint, but so beautiful… but faint nonetheless… I’m hypnotized by it. I’m constantly waiting for it to shine… and waiting is exhausting. 

I comb my hair, I shower, and I pick my clothes carefully… I want to wow him so much… sometimes I think I succeed… until… well… he keeps me away from his life… 

If I ever read this… please, remember you were not that desperate or sad, or dramatic, you were sound of mind, you were being whole, and you were just looking at the world around you and writing what you saw… 

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¨ 

Right now... I just feel like making lists.

Right now... I just feel like making lists... lists about things I have to do... things that I want... things that I need...

For example....

I need courage to change my life

I need hope to stay alive

I need to buy a lot of antidepressants so I can commit suicide

I need to lose weight

I need to find someone to exercise with

I need someone to help me do... YouTube vids.... or at least someone who will lend their shower to record that stupid vid

I need wisdom to handle my relationships better

I need knowledge to pass my school tests

I need to find a way of getting out of this country... out of my home...

I need someone who would give me wedgies everyday

I need a lot of underwear for the mentioned above...

I need god to let roaches become extinct... they are disgusting

I need... I need a car... or learn how to drive... or someone to drive me around... or someone to teach me how to...

Most of all... I need my dreams... I miss them...

I have to... ask the prince about his life... I don’t want to question him... I hate interrogatories...

I have to stop thinking about my past

I have to do the literature essay

I have to study for Virtual Communications test

I have to organize my priorities

I have to re-design my site

I have to stop writing such a depressive journal

I have to read all of my economy copies and the damn book

I have to stop being so careless and unorganized

I have to learn how to use flash properly

I have to stop thinking how I could have made my past better

I have to stop daydreaming about being younger

I have to remember to be thankful for my crappy life

I have to be a better person than I am...

I want... not to want anything... but just be happy... and enjoy my shortcomings and my virtues...

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)

Yesterday, I was going to definitely end things with Joshua, he knew it and then out of nowhere… I just told him I loved him. I’m insane, completely acting at random, not being coherent with my mind… perhaps that’s love, and not being coherent… so I just said it... I don’t think I had ever said this to a guy… anyway, after I said it… I was still going to get done with him... I said good bye… and I was going to block him… and I just started at his nickname on msn… my mouse over it… it must have been like 15 minutes… and I couldn’t make up my mind.. And then he talked to me… and he KNEW… he knew I was going to delete him… I don’t know if I’m that obvious or he just reads me to well… but he knew… and then I couldn’t block him at all.

 The refusal to accept love, the refusal to respond to it, that precisely is the meaning of Hell. Hell is not a place where God puts us; it’s a place where we put ourselves. The doors of Hell, insofar as they have locks, have locks on the inside. - Kallistos 

(4 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…

All and all, I’m tired of asking questions...

All and all, I’m tired of asking questions... always, the same questions over and over again. Questions that wear out the soul... stain it.

Why do I hate myself so much? When will it end? Will I die tomorrow? What should I do next? Why can’t I do what I want to do? Why am I not happy? Where am I? Is this the right choice? Where did all go wrong? How could I have made a difference? What if I was someone else? Who am I? How did I let myself fail?

I now see failure not as a persistent fear, not as threatening menace... but as the bleak reality. 

THIS IS IT.

How do you react to failure... well most people will say, you should learn form you mistakes and start over again till you do it right. 

I don’t think I can start over again... and believe me I find myself now staring at the ceiling for hours at a time thinking how would I have lived in a better way, and how I’d give to go back and do it all over again.

Wasteful thoughts indeed.

Now I find myself writing this journal, almost convinced that this will be the only thing I’ll ever write.

This dear reader. Is a story of failing, the story people are too afraid to tell, the story people hate to hear. The story a loser, a depressive freak... my story. The story of accomplishing nothing, losing friends and alienating people.

(4 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"

On my knees

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

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

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

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

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

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

I need to stop pushing people away,

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

(4 days late)

I take a step back ... I stagger.

 2:45 AM

There is no pain at this moment

only the tormented silence of this vast space,

of this misunderstood loneliness.

There will be no more sunrises in our lives ...

Just like the chimeras that we desire,

and like the afflictions we hate

were born from what's dead of our souls.

Dead are our hearts,

incinerated by the flames they once loved!

The earth will kiss our bodies

welcoming our last breaths ...

Only in this moment that we hold on

can we recognize our past.

A feeling floats in the morning haze ...

For an instant its shape is recognizable ...

And between the coldness of our bodies without passion,

fades and dies.

For the agony of not being animals

our hand can take the initiative

and trace a strip of suns

where fear is greater than our hopelessness.

A gag on the soul

a knot in the throat and ...

Only the clouds that contemplate us

can know the dark of our history.

The breeze carries our laments

more in the depths of our emptiness

something urges us not to give up yet.

Today the black storm clouds

will not be a promise of life,

and lost childhoods will not be restored.

On the precipice of our abandonment

nor the thick forest of yesteryear

nor the cold current of the years

may prevent our last blind step ...

Our body shudders against something infinite,

something that does not listen to explanations.

I can see the waves hitting the rocks!

I take a step back ... I stagger.

The pounding of the waves is so vigorous ...

A strange calm invades me ...

Where fear and anguish abounded

now the white foam highlights everything;

where hatred and insecurity lived,

now the breeze softens everything ...

Only the rays of the Sun, which give us life

can know the beauty of our death.

For Miguel Ángel Villegas,

with love, from his father.

God?

 Yeah?

 I have problem

No! Really?! 

No need to be sarcastic.

... The girl I like talks to you…

 But I think you tell her something different than you tell me so... l, are you lying?

 Of course not.

Lying would imply saying something that is not true, and everything is true.

 She thinks I am a sinner 

You are sinner

You told her you spoke to god.

She asked me what you answered me back when I spoke to you... I lied 

What did you say? 

I said you always replied the same thing: yes.

 Well, you certainly omitted my neat sense of humor and sarcasm. 

I know... I don’t know why id did it.

 You don’t believe it’s me anymore

I do.... I do believe this is you

 Then why didn’t you tell her. 

I don’t know... 

I guess I was afraid I would come out as a raving lunatic, I told her... I was god. 

Which is true? 

Yeah, for you and me who understand it? 

But for her... must have sounded insane... 

Can you talk to her? 

I will 

Thanks she is bit stubborn

 I know

\(4 days late)

'blood and guts' and in living color

In keeping with Channel 40's policy of bringing you the latest in 'blood and guts' and in living color, you are going to see another first—(an) attempted suicide.

Christine Chubbuck was an American television news reporter who worked for WTOG and WXLT-TV in Sarasota, Florida. She is known for being the first person to commit suicide on a live television broadcast

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. )

Took his own sword and fell upon it.

4 Then Saul said to his armor-bearer, “Draw your sword, and thrust me through with it, lest these uncircumcised come and thrust me through, and mistreat me.” But his armor-bearer would not, for he feared greatly. Therefore Saul took his own sword and fell upon it. 5 And when his armor-bearer saw that Saul was dead, he also fell upon his sword and died with him.

Samuel 31:4-5

Rhyme Against Living

Rhyme Against Living
Poem by Dorothy

Parker If wild my breast and sore my pride,
I bask in dreams of suicide;
If cool my heart and high my head,
I think, 'How lucky are the dead!'

Toothache

John Thomas D. (49 years old):

"Absolutely no reason, except that I have a toothache."

Again I can’t believe I got a free day at school and I have got nothing to do... it already 8:30 and I haven’t done anything. Well now I think about it I do have Harry Potter 5 to read, but for some reason I don’t want to keep on reading. I guess the story has become too depressing, harry is constantly sad and constantly worried (though I’m only in chapter 11, many of his feeling are just too familiar to me. and I have got to say, that I hate Ron Wesley with all my heart is just so... so... annoying. The book in general has just become another way of suffering with the world, I mean I already deal with those feelings every day I don’t want to get home and continue wallowing in them.

That is so pathetic of me, complaining about my relationship... with a book. 

then there is just this cute boy from 6th grade that is so cute and gorgeous and on Tuesday I saw him shirtless :P, I’m getting obsessed with him, all I think about in school is him, I just keep looking for him everywhere, he is really beautiful. I guess that is my only reason to keep going to school, though I just keep reminding me "don’t stare, don’t stare..." and that for me is so…

Depressing. 

(130 days late)

Lo, my name is abhorred

Lo, my name is abhorred, 
Lo, more than the odour of carrion 
On summer days when the sky is hot.

Lo, my name is abhorred, 
Lo, more than the odour of crocodiles, 
More than sitting under the bank of crocodiles. 

Lo, my name is abhorred, 
Lo, more than a woman 
Against whom a lie is told her husband. 

[...]

To whom do I speak today ?
He that hath a contented countenance is bad,Good is disregarded in every place.

To whom do I speak today?Brothers are evil,A man is treated as an enemy in spite of a righteous disposition.

To whom do I speak today ?
There are none that are righteous,
The earth is given over to the workers of inequity.
To whom do 1 speak today ?
The sin that smiteth the land,It hath no end.

[...]

Death is before me today
As the odour of myrrh,
As when one sitteth under the sail on a windy day.

Death is before me today
As the odour of lotus flowers,
As when one sitteth on the shore of drunkenness.

Death is before me today
As a man longs to sec his house 
When he has spent years in captiviry.

[...]  
He who is yonder
Shall seize the culprit as a living god,
Inflicting punishment of wickedness on the doer of it.

He who is yonder
Shall be a wise man who has not been repelled,
Praying to Re [king of the gods] when he speaks. 

Thomas, Chris. “First Suicide Note?” The British Medical Journal, vol. 281, no. 6235, 1980, pp. 284–285. JSTOR, www.jstor.org/stable/25440699.