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.

Why can’t I stop writing this stupid blog!?

Why can’t I stop writing this stupid blog!?

I need to stop attracting this confused 15y/o they are so lame.... I hate them and you know why? Because they are me!!! 

I hate I’m not fucking ameinian, I’m desperate to be a fucking cock sucker... and yet that specific act repulses me!

I like boxers... on girls and guys, that’s a truth.

I like girls kissing girls, maybe as much a boys kissing boys.

(4 days late)

what is it about me?

I met someone, another sexually confused 15 y/o, - what is it about me?- he seems more mature than the last one, he is Emo obsessed which is a big improvement… but knows nothing about my fetishes, is it something I should tell him at first or just let him discover. He is out of town for Easter, but he seems like it could be something serious, more than a fling… am I actually considering a relationship? I’m a loner! I’ve always been a loner… I don’t even believe in love, I haven’t sustained a relationship with anyone over the years! Is it crazy to think now I can have a relationship with someone? 

I need to stay focused on the goal

“Miracle: a happy coincidence”

(33 days late)

And a sensual neglect will come at the end.

 

Friday 3 am

A blue Saturday fever and a Sunday without sadness.

You avoid your heart and blow up your head,

And in your voice, just a pale goodbye

And the watch in your wrist stroke the three.

 

The dream of a sun and a sea and a dangerous life

Changing the bitter for honey and the grey city for roses

It does you good, as it does you wrong

It makes you hate, as it makes you love and more.

 

You changed of time and love, music and ideas

You changed of sex and God, color and frontiers

But in essence, you won't change anything else

And a sensual neglect will come at the end.

 

And you take the tube to your head pressing the teeth

And you close your eyes and you see all the sea in spring

Bang, bang, bang, dead leaves that fall,

Always the same, those who can't go on will leave.

I hate myself...

I hate myself...-. I hate that the only way I can utterly express my sadness is through this diary which was supposed to have ended.

I hate that I have no one to share my thoughts and wishes, I’m tired of being alone... so alone...

I know I need my own apartment, I know I do, I know I need to get a job, I know I do, I know I have to stop sheltering in my room from the world

(62 days late)

Writing a suicide letter is much more difficult than it sounds ...

 "Writing a suicide letter is much more difficult than it sounds ... I know this because I have written many."

FINAL from José Luis Montesinos. Director on Vimeo.

Christmas is a stupid holiday

Christmas is a stupid holiday, not as stupid as New Year’s but stupid enough.

First we must admit it’s all about the money and the presents, like one broke girl said.

“The holidays are totally about money! It’s about spending money to buy things to stuff into the giant black sucking hole in the center of each of us that reminds us life is hard and then we die.” 

It’s not about love, joy to the world, or the celebration of the birth of Christ... It’s a huge commercial complot to exploit us and taker our money.

But who am I kidding… this is not why I hate Christmas...

I hate Christmas, because it’s supposed to be perfect and never is. This time of year comes, and it’s in our subconscious that this should be a time for happiness and sharing with our families. But it’s never like that…

I personally don’t love my extended family, with whom I have been forced to share this dreadful holiday. Why you wonder? It’s a nice family… a good looking, a wealthy family, a kind family… I don’t fit. I just don’t. 

The people closer to me is the people I’m more distant emotionally, no one in my family knows me, and the only person I depended in making Christmas better is across the ocean having the time of her life. 

As I sat alone in the middle of the crowd drinking Colombiana I realized how alone and pathetic I was:

First the only person I was expecting to hear a merry Christmas from was a 60 year old in England.

Second, that the only person I could ask in a date was not very good looking 15 year old ameinian boy I met online… and knowing that if I ever meet him, he’ll be so disappointed; I’m much uglier than what you see on webcam.

Everyone else is gone… just gone… And to think this promised to be such a great Christmas season. 

(29 days late)

Smoke Cathedral

The tragedy is not that life has no meaning but that there is no meaning that is worth a life. 

-  La catedral de humo. 

Why do I have to put my life aside all the time?

Why do I have to put my life aside all the time?

I haven’t written recently because of one simple thing… collage work, it just never ends, and the truth is… I don’t even think I’m learning that much.

I don’t understand why I have to put my life aside to do what is supposed my choice of life.

I did choose to go to college… didn’t I?

I’m no longer sure; I can’t remember the moment I chose a major… I just remember one day my mom driving me to the campus and I signed some paper…. And voila! I’m studying a career I hate!

Everyone I meet and I show my work to says “WTF are you doing here?” actually today Ana Maria (A girl I’m really into) said that I was wasting myself studying this :P I’m not sure if it’s a complement or if it’s an insult, but it’s surely says what I feel right now.

(1 day late)

Liar

Liar

You are a liar, a fake phony false human being... if you can call yourself human. Deception disappointment, in everything you do and say, nothing is real, nothing is true, nothing is authentic.

Liar. Masks all over yourself, makeup... actor, pretender, wannabe...

The truth is I can’t do it, the truth is, and I’m incapable. The truth is I sabotage myself constantly, which part of me is real?

(14 days late)

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)

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)

To my mother

To my mother

I have life, I have gaps, I have what I want,

I have scars, deep wounds, immense pain,

I have my nostalgia, my questions, my affections.

You left to punish us all,

to mark your territory with the weight of your final absence,

to kill us too.

I died in you

you killed me

you evicted my life with your death,

imposed, impossible, final.

Every day every night,

every day every night,

your memory is never alone

there is always you and your death,

your hand stretched out in the empty space

so purple, so cold,

your mouth ajar,

the sound of your dead chest.

You didn't leave me alone

you just left me without you and with your death,

violent, simple, provoked.

"Only optimists commit suicide," they say.

I believe

What did you think was going to happen?

What were you going to find?

Didn't mother tell you that there is no beyond?

You condemned yourself too,

you took off,

You killed me, you evicted him, you killed them, we got lost,

You turned off your light very early.

With your last act,

sublime act of selfishness,

you gave me full hands.

Who would believe it mother?

Who would believe that you could give birth to me twice?

I hold on to the facts

your body, dead and decomposed is in a grave,

your soul does not exist.

Who do I talk to when I talk to you?

You are memory.

I have my affections, my questions, my nostalgia,

immense pains, deep wounds,

scars,

what I wish,

empty,

life.

I have life.

Maria G