I had this dream...

I had a dream...

I was at home watching TV, my mom was around, and then I noticed the building in front of the window was burning. And there were children, very young children, babies even... some were wearing costumes.

Then for no reason, their mothers started to push them down the window, I went down, to try to catch them, I only caught one.... there were more people trying too, but children and babies kept hitting the floor.

there was no blood, but the crash was shocking enough.... then it all stopped, and I noticed a small tiny, ugly baby that I thought to be dead, and despite that I tried to pick her up, and then she woke up.... a doctor then brought a weird trans lucid staff as some sort of resource to keep her alive...

I woke up, and went to class... I didn’t tell anything to anyone.

(6 days late)

Alone

As a flashback, yesterday at lunch I remembered, a three day field trip I did with my schoolmates in sixth grade, it had been buried in my mind for a long time...

It was a cute 12 years old, with some serious problems... I would not let myself be happy, and when I knew of that trip, there was no exception. I didn’t want to go and I made a boring face the entire trip... yet what I remember most about that experience was my rush on Cloud 9 and how I was always trying to be with her...

I also remember the other boys in my class... they were very happy. I remember Simon... he was so extroverted, and care free... I remember him being pushed into the pool and being totally soaked. I remembered how girls looked at him (geez, how pathetic is this getting). Anyway, I did get to spend a big deal of time with the girls and my "friends".

I also remember we went rafting, and I didn’t want to do it... and they practically forced me to do it... it was great of course. It was an opportunity. There in that trip I could have done stuff… kissed her. Jump in.

My point here is, how many times have I had great opportunities and by some reason not make them a great experience. Am, I just too dull to be happy...

why couldn’t I be excited about stuff, y couldn’t I be eager to do things that are so much fun...why am I alone, when there has been so many people in my life that could make it so much better.

Why am I alone... all the time?

The truth is that I’ve had all the material to have written myself a great happy life, I’ve had the opportunities the people, the experiences, yet all I seem to make put of them is something to be forgotten.

I learned my parents met in a funeral, how Goth is that? I was born in kind of wealthy opus die family, I’m a Virgo... I went to one of the most exclusive special schools in the country, it was hidden in the mountains and had river by its side.

I had the chance to be in a classic British boarding school for a glorious summer, I visited most rural places in my country, my family owns a retired country house in the middle of nowhere surrounded by mountains, with every luxury u can imagine...

I have twin sisters, that are into-Goth-metal. I love design.

The first book I read was "the riders of eternity"... I’m into superheroes, I’m into magic... I had a Saint Seiya - Pokémon- Harry Potter packed schooldays....

I went to one of the oldest tradition schools in the country (350yrs old... and it’s also right next to a cemetery). I have fallen in crush-love with a girl and with a boy.... I have car I can’t drive and a computer in my room.

I‘ve been into the DC Universe since I can remember, I love to write, and I’ve been writing a book for a year and a half... and I’m still on the first chapter. I have imaginary friends, I believe in god...

Yet now... that my life has gone where it’s supposed to go... I am alone... I am bored...

(142 days late)

This is not a world to live forever

 This is not a world to live forever.
- H.R. Haggard

Here I am in collage... alone

Here i am, in collage... alone, yes all alone. isnt it sad?

well, ive been writing reading, everithing necesary to be somewhat interesting.... not that i diont do these just for that. I truly like to read and write and say uinteresting stuff, and i enjoy art.... i really enjoy art. anyway, I really think i might be in the worng place -like always- 

Today ive found how almost everyone u can tlk to, can be a really interesting person.... yet i havent got a chance to click with anyone.

is there something wrong with me?... am i really a bad person and i cant see it?

man, im frustrated right now, im lost, im confused, im really out of my mind. i dont know wot else to do.... i want to *be* with someone. 

Its not like im alone ina corner, but everymorning when i get to class, i have noone to si besides to.

this is confusing post, yet i need to say something.... i have a lot of things to say and no one to say them to, and it seem thet just telling them to myself, is just not enough enymore.

(134 days late)

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. )

This is my boy

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

[You] Shall be free. I already am.

“Dear Friends:

Due to the precarious state of my health and the terrible spiritual depression I feel because I cannot continue to write and to struggle for Cuban liberty, I am ending my life. In the last years, in spite of my illness, I have finished my literary work of almost thirty years. I leave you then, as my legacy, all my terrors, but also my hopes that Cuba will soon be free. I am pleased to have played a modest part in the achievement of that liberty. I put an end to my life because I cannot continue my work. None of the persons around me are implicated in that decision. There is only one person responsible: Fidel Castro. The suffering of exile, the pain of banishment, the loneliness and disease, surely would not have come about had I lived a free man in my own country.
“I urge the people of Cuba, in exile and in the island, to continue struggling for freedom. My message is not a message of defeat but of struggle and of hope.
“Cuba shall be free. I already am.”

In 1990 gay cuban poet Reinaldo Arenas committed suicide by taking an overdose of drugs and alcohol.

My sweet prince, my dear princess, and…

My sweet prince, my dear princess, and… you my fellow mate.

I miss you my dear, I need you my dear, my soul seeks you my heart yearns you

My sweet prince, my dear princess, Here I still wait for you Long I have wished for you to be by my side long I have missed your company

This is neither poetry nor stupid song lyrics. This, is not a message, nor a prayer

This my friends, is a plead this few words that vanish in the wind, Are a lonely and silent cry.

Please, I need you I need love,

I miss you… I miss you so much

Only you can stop my tears only you can warm up my heart only you can save me only you can help me

My dear prince, my sweet princess: Here I am, for you to come, for you to love and to be loved

We belong together, like petals on a sunflower We are stuck together, like nest quick and milk We are the sonny and Cher in an everlasting “I got you babe” We are the million rings around Saturn We are the red of our blood and the blue of the sky

We are… when we are together, we just are

(37 days late)

For I have betrayed innocent blood

3 When Judas, who had betrayed him, saw that Jesus was condemned, he was seized with remorse and returned the thirty pieces of silver to the chief priests and the elders. 4 “I have sinned,” he said, “for I have betrayed innocent blood.”

 “What is that to us?” they replied. “That’s your responsibility.”

5 So Judas threw the money into the temple and left. Then he went away and hanged himself.

Matthew 27:3-5

Biblical Suicides

52 Abimelek went to the tower and attacked it. But as he approached the entrance to the tower to set it on fire, 53 a woman dropped an upper millstone on his head and cracked his skull.
54 Hurriedly he called to his armor-bearer, “Draw your sword and kill me, so that they can’t say, ‘A woman killed him.’” So his servant ran him through, and he died.

Judges 9: 52-54

Biblical suicide... because hetero-patriarchy means telling your servants tp put a sword through your  rather than letting the world know a woman threw a fucking boulder to your head.

I feel sick.

I feel sick, im sad, im terribly depressed. and im sure that not something new. what the hell am i doing? where am i headed? ive been skipping school, and getting terrible grades. Im in my senior year, and im suposed to head to collage next year. I dont have what it takes to be in a good university, so im just headed to the neaest one.  

People I know are shutting me out again. I don’t know how to react this time. I guess I’ll just get lost like I did last time. I’m a freak, I know that, I don’t speak or talk easily. Which kind of bores people round me and I’m neither fun nor funny in any way, and it’s more pathetic when I try to be. I shouldn’t be allowed to tell jokes and I stink at playing anything. That’s why people hate me; I’m just too uncomfortable to be with.

I’m just some miscellaneous compound of things I like but that completely repel each other. I’m neurotically organized so I’m not happy or comfortable anywhere that is not my room, and everything it’s in its exact and perfect place. I feel every single thing I do it’s incomplete and has something wrong, that leads for me to start doing things and never be happy about them. Then I love the mess the mud, the wedgie, the bullying, the running the chaos.

I give no good first impression and when you are around me you can only get tired, because I’m tired, I’ve always been. I’m working on a book you know, and I hate it when I think about it, and I feel it’s just lame and stupid. But when I read I love it and I don’t find a way to change it. I’m stuck in the second chapter! I don’t know who to continue with it. I try to write other parts of the story but words don’t come out. I hate it! I hate it! I hate it! I hate it!

I’m so lost, I’m screwing my future every second that passes and I’m not enjoying the present, and I hate my past. Where should I go, what should I do?

I’m lost, and I know I’m not alone in this. But what does it help with when actually no one knows the way. I want to believe in something, but I don’t know what.

I need to have faith.

I only have faith.

Faith in that there is something more in me and the world that I have not yet discovered. Just something, anything.

(7 days late)

In a very weird way

In a very weird way a weird kid is great and lovable. But if you get older and u are still freak. Then it’s not so cute. It’s quite pathetic actually. I’m still a weird kid inside. Very queer and odd.

Silence, hear the drums… a deafening heartbeat across the universe…. Hear life.

Listen steps stumble across endless mountains, hear the screaming of innocents and warriors, pay attention to the noise in a park…. Close your eyes and listen.

Why am I their shattered king? I don’t mean anything.

Is it me? Is it you? Is it all of us?

(3 days late)