I'm tired of pretending to be something I am not

I'm tired of pretending to be something I am not, I am not an artist no matter how mush I’d like to be one.... I don't have the knack for it, the eye to it... I lack education in it... I am destined to be file clerk... it doesn't particularly bother me as login as I get a nice apartment and cable TV...

I can be content.

I am willing to... no grandeur, no glory... no art; just life where I can be lazy and comfortable.

Pride is killing me... art is so pretentious... and I'm already lazy to be that pretentious. I need just one capital sin to define me, having two is exhausting... oh so exhausting...

... I have this feeling....

Something is wrong, something I can’t precisely put my finger on...

It happened again today.

I was eating lunch, and all the sudden I started crying, this is not healthy.

but I don't really know why is it, I don't know what's going through my mind except this feeling of frustrated dreams... some sort of exhaustion from creation that leads nowhere...

(6 days late)

A night in the other realm

A night in the other realm. We didn't sleep.

I guess I was just too scared someone would walk in...I don't think I had ever been so attend to the sound of someone climbing the stairs... to the shadows that might be creeping on the hall...

I saw part of him I loved... he was in charge, he took the initiative, he was amazing... and talked and he shared... and he was so close...

And he gave me the key.

The key.

He couldn't have argued rationally... it was impossible....so he gave me instead of a rational argument... an emotional one.

And what can I say...

He won.

For the record. I am truly happy right now. 

(7 days late)

Get wet out in the rain . . . bad idea

So I take one Last chance and get him to get wet out in the rain . . . bad idea. 

I’m tired of pushing so I'm seeing my boyfriend, once a week, tops. So what do I do? Convince myself. When he is not around, that we just aren't meant to be together.

I'm even avoiding him. Didn’t let him join me for TV class, or see him on Saturday when he is sick.

He seems Un-aware of this.

We haven't discussed batman or the music I Shared with him. Or Peter Pan. Or my script for my new video, or wedgies or slime, or mud. Or him coming out to his Sister. Or my childhood traumas or his comics.

(27 days late)

Testimony of Circumstances

Testimony of Circumstances

  (1st WARNING)

            A warning  

            I’m not a psycho

            they call me “insane” but those who call me “insane”

            are also called “insane” 

            just like people say “buddy”

            —sometimes people call me “buddy”

            and a real buddy of mine calls me “stranger.” 

                  But, I warn You and Your Lordship

            that, truly,

                        I am not CRAZY

            despite labels

            vulgarly referred to as diagnostics 

            that distinguished specialists 

            have applied to my case

            moistening the glue of labels 

            with plastic sponges

                  their hands gloved in latex

—talcum powder while fitting on latex gloves

—denatured alcohol on plastic sponges 

—the immaculate white of priest-like aprons 

—liquid or conductor jelly on my temples or skull

      (whether EEG or EST

      good-for-nothing—)

            that I’m not even that much more neurotic

            than the average of my contemporaries

            that I have a good prognosis 

                  that I haven’t been lobotomized yet they haven’t given me a

                  lobotomy

            that my computer still works, and enough

            to write this

            without misspellings, without spelling

            mistakes

                  or punctuation errors,

                  (this part ends with a coma,) (,),

(1st CONFESSION)

I do confess though 

                     that sometimes I have to clench my brain with both hands

                     that sometimes Great Thoughts and Solutions 

                     begin to boil

                     accumulating pressurized steam in my head

                     swaying me into a bubble bath

                     —hydrotherapy, they call it—                                                

                     or something along those lines

          and other times

                     the world loses color

                     it becomes something like street pavement

                     someone paves my world

                     and everything is a path or a highway or a road

                           but never a destination

                     and I’ll die waiting to arrive somewhere

                     two steps back for every step forward

                     seeing it all gray gray

                     not feeling joy or happiness

                     and the sun causes well-known

                     visual distortions on hot pavement 

                     and even when the sun sets

                     sometimes the pavement heats up

                     this doesn’t necessarily mean

                           it’s hot outside 

                     the world 

                           is like gravel covered in cement

                           in drying cement 

                           and the cold can become dreadful.

Rodrigo Lira committed suicide on Saturday December 26, 1981, at the same time of his birth, in the place where he had lived the last years: Grecia 907, department 22. His poetry, distributed in photocopies, spread in recitals and printed in fleeting magazines, it was later anthologized in the COMPLETE WORKS PROJECT, a book that cannot be found today."

I thought... love would cure it... I think we all did...

I thought... love would cure it... I think we all did...

I did everything in my power to become emotionally stable, to find a cure and a fix... I confessed my darkest secrets in a park... I cried on his shoulder... my traumas, I read out loud my suicide letters, and I shared my work, my thoughts... I draw on him... I made love to him... I did all and everything I could ever think of to gain my sanity, for myself, for him... I really tried... I swear to god... I searched for  that cathartic moment where I knew I would never ever let go... because I knew I was... if not happy... at least content... that I wouldn't be seeking suicide in every corner... in every thought… 

(4 days late)

And I almost ran out of faith...

And I almost ran out of faith... and I almost ran out of love.

The year I took a bus, the year I had sex, the year I fell in love, The year of Len, of josh... and the Prince, the year harry potter ended, the year of the golden compass, the year of my suicide...

I was going to join him and his guys as they have a drink at the Francesa... and it turned out that I not being with them was a relief...

I was going to wait for the prince to teach me about Paul Klee, Andy Warhol, and Marcel Duchamp... I don’t think he really wants me to know... maybe he just think I’m too dumb to understand...

I was going to Play Final Fantasy VII, Zelda... I apparently I’m also to dumb undisciplined for this...

I was going to get him, gunged and slimed....

I was going to go out with him... Daniel and Aiacos, watch them fight... I ruined this... by being myself... he will never let me see them again... god... I was surrounded by people like them my entire school... and never enjoyed it... I wanted to... I just never knew how... I wanted him to teach me how.... I so wanted to have friends... and not feel old... I want to be reckless and immature... tell them about my wedgies, my fetishes... tell them about our sex... I want to fight you in the mud my prince... or at least watch them... but no.... it’s too late and I wrecked it... now they think only awful things about me...

I was going to wait and see if we draw together... he was going to teach me... and I feel I can’t draw anymore...

He was going to explain me about the Surrealist Revolution...

He was going to teach me French, Japanese and Hebrew from him... I don’t even know how was this ever going to happen...

He was going to introduce me to Natalia as she introduced him her new girlfriend... but I somehow convinced him I just don’t know how to have fun... and maybe I don’t...

He was going to teach me about indie rock... He doesn’t share his music... my fault... for handing back a headphone.

We were going to watch shotacon together... and I turned out to be a fucking asexual... uncomfortable to be around with....

We were going to go out and get wet in the rain: he doesn’t enjoy it... he just feels ugly and uncomfortable... I felt old...

We were going to have proper sex... and I apparently have the sexual age of an 8 year old... I don’t watch porn...

We were going to see the golden compass... he hated going to the movies with me...

We were going to play board games with my sisters... he hates playing games...

We were going to take glamour pictures of us... I’m an awful photographer... I disappointed him so badly last time...

We were going to go and see Adolf... I will feel ugly while doing so...

So what exactly the New Year holds for me?

Getting kidnapped to Sweden

Getting a double grad program in Spain

Getting a summer job in the us

This is one of the miracles of love: It gives a power of seeing through its own enchantments and yet not being disenchanted

New plans to make and disappoint him... new ways of do self-sabotage... All this is product of me missing him... I miss him to much... it’s starting to hurt me... maybe he just doesn’t love me enough to send me a text message on the cellphone... maybe he doesn’t love me enough to let me be with him on his birthday... maybe he doesn’t love me enough to comment on MySpace... maybe he doesn’t love me enough to want me to join him to wherever he goes... maybe he just doesn’t love me enough to answer my emails (its only polite)... maybe he doesn’t love me enough to push me... and teach me how to enjoy the things he enjoys...

What I really want with this entry is to make all of the said above to happen... not plant it and force it to happen... but just tell the universe... I want this to happen!!! I need this... because I don’t feel like killing myself anymore... I feel like wanting to live... just a little bit...

In wonderland

It’s not a whim...

It not... I'm not... little boy that whines, because life sucks, because no one understands him...

I am losing my mind...

I don't think it’s my secret desire to be special... to feel special , it’s not I'm pretending to be something I'm not.... I'm truly losing my mid... It just stops making sense sometimes, like, if my train of thoughts started going in circles...

it been going on for some times... its stare with me wondering around the house, just walking... people in school used to mention I spoke to myself, this was never intentional, I am never aware of this... but I do. My little sister notices sometimes... she finds it funny...

Lately, it’s been getting worse.

I'm dropping things all over the place... I was the neatest guy ever, it was psychotic... my room now... is a disaster... peopled asks me for things, I hand them something else... I can’t seem to keep a pen with me over a week... I forget to do homework's... I literally forgot the face of my teacher...

I never remember to put the milk back in the fridge... everyone snaps at me.

I find myself asking myself... what I was thinking. What am I doing? What am I saying?

Today the creepiest thing happened... I called the prince on the phone... I just forgot, what I was going to tell him... it took me a while before I started making any sense... he noticed...

Not having the cell phone at hand... also relieves me from the remorse of not calling anyone to say good bye...

I failed again... I know...

but I'm not planning months ahead, it’s just a week... soon it will be days... the I will be planning for tomorrow... and then... then I will make it...

I can kill myself, I can do it....

I can, I can... I can...

See... I'm spinning again? Maybe this is why I can‘t writes a lineal story any more... my book... I can’t seem to focus and tell the story form beginning to end... neither on video... things is becoming increasingly abstract...

I was a very reserved person... now I'm telling the entire class that I'm suicidal, now, I'm showing my half naked boyfriend to the world... I say the most inappropriate things in the library....

I'm so... anguished... so....

I've been writing this entry for a week...

(59 days late)

The Repairer Of Reputations

 "The laws prohibiting suicide and providing punishment for any attempt at self-destruction have been repealed. The Government has seen fit to acknowledge the right of man to end an existence which may have become intolerable to him, through physical suffering or mental despair. It is believed that the community will be benefited by the removal of such people from their midst. Since the passage of this law, the number of suicides in the United States has not increased. Now the Government has determined to establish a Lethal Chamber in every city, town and village in the country, it remains to be seen whether or not that class of human creatures from whose desponding ranks new victims of self-destruction fall daily will accept the relief thus provided." He paused, and turned to the white Lethal Chamber. The silence in the street was absolute. "There a painless death awaits him who can no longer bear the sorrows of this life. If death is welcome let him seek it there." Then quickly turning to the military aid of the President's household, he said, "I declare the Lethal Chamber open," and again facing the vast crowd he cried in a clear voice: "Citizens of New York and of the United States of America, through me the Government declares the Lethal Chamber to be open."

The Repairer Of Reputations By Robert W. Chambers

Medellin

The prince has asked me to join him a in a little trip to Medellin... which I think  means something like going to Vegas or something... lots of drinking parties and orgies. And I think that’s what he wants (except for the parties he is no the party kind of guy) I already told him, I’m too stressed over to go... but he insists. I like it he insists... 

So the problem is mainly that I am torn between my rational wanting to go (I do want to be the kind of guy who goes on a trip with someone... sometime)... and the mood of going (which I’m honestly not into most of the time). I keep debating with myself over this issue...

(80 days late)

I don't know how to play

 I suck a football or any other pseudo sport. I sucked at magic, at D&D… I was the worst video game player in history. I was basically the boy who just doesn’t know how to have fun. I’ve been in an endless… and rather fruitless, search for people who have with me common interests… hoping there would be kids that would enjoy, rather adult hobbies… and when I do like kids’ stuff… there just isn’t anyone around to share… My friends only liked to get wet riding a bike… I do not know how to ride one. My friends loved going to the pool… but would never take my shirt off and wait in a bench nearby. My friends loved Pokémon... I never got my own Gameboy. My friends would rather read Spiderman than superman, daredevil than batman… My friends enjoy playing video games in silence… while I desperately wanted to talk.

… my activities are just there for me to enjoy alone… collecting action figures, reading comics, watching anime series, movies, listening to music… designing websites, drawing crappy anime… writing my book. I want to learn how to play… I need to learn to not think I’m wasting my time with people who are not interested in what I am interested in… I need to stop thinking about adulthood and childhood. Somehow I have become this creature that feels 1000 years old… that feels that has lived all and learned it all. 

I should be enjoying the here and the now… I shouldn’t be thinking of the future and my career and my spiritual growth… especially because when I think of spiritual growth, I think of a boy…. I see Xag as boy… not a grown man. Maybe I just go backwards maybe just trying to acquire that childhood vision of the world… 

I am in desperately needed of hugs.

(1 day late)

I felt old.

I felt old. I fell a million years old. I saw a spark of youth I have never experienced. A naïve-ness that’s in some way repulsive… I realized… that it’s important how I look in the eyes of the prince. I won’t smoke in front of you.

I realized that I need a life away from him…

 What’s wrong....your blog was so sad???

 And I think you're beautiful

Well, thanks I've been in this mood for a while

I know exactly how you fee. I honestly do...but I think you're beautiful inside and out

It’s not a come on and I'm not into cheap flattery

And yes....I agree with your link between art beauty and sadness

But its sadness that breeds both art and beauty...so without sadness we wouldn't appreciate anything beautiful

And if we didn't experience sadness we couldn't create anything beautiful or artistic

And I think your graphics are beautiful'

Your words are beautiful and poetic

Your sensitivity that makes you so sad is the same sensitivity that lends you the perspective which allows you to write so beautifully

It’s a double edged sword

Your gifts come with a price

Just like every superhero story

This is from one sad sensitive writer to another

Xag: I had never known someone who had actually read what I write there. I don't know what to say ^^. Thanks.

Believe me I understand

The sadness

 The consuming depression

you look everywhere and see injustice, sadness, misery...and it's not fair, and you can't change it...and you think "I can’t continue on like this"...you feel like no one else sees it and you think why go on in this world...where nothing is fair...where beauty is fleeting and nothing matters anyway since it will end one day anyway

 And you think you want to just stop being sad by hurting yourself

But if you do that you'd just be contributing to the sadness and the violence of the world

and you wouldn't be able to create anything beautiful that might one day give solace to another suffering kid....the eighteen year old kid 20 years from now who needs to spend every night on the web just to escape wherever he is

Let me venture some guesses

You think it’s unfair that there are prescribed limitations and expectations based on your gender

You don't understand why you attract any extra attention if you wear a girl's tee...and you don’t understand why some guys wear baggy clothes that hide their bodies when they actually have really good bodies

You think it's unfair that anyone with a sexual fetish or preference other than the usual is looked at any differently or that anyone cares about such things one way or the other

You don't understand why heterosexuals are threatened or nervous around queer people

 You accept diversity and differences in everyone around you and you don't get why everyone else doesn't

How am I doing so far?

You are actually scaring me little bit

 Lol why

It is pretty, pretty accurate

He he...sorry...I kind ranted there for a bit...

I just told you

 I completely understand you

Because I'm EXACTLY the same way

 You’re adorable

I understand you so well...do you feel let down by people a lot cause you feel like you care a lot more about them then they care about you?

Yeah I do feel like that sometimes... but I also feel I'm so selfish for expecting people to care...

Exactly...so you alternate between feeling guilty and feeling let down?

Xag: exactly

Coming out.

I like told my mom about The Prince Rabbit, and was pretty much uneventful. She actually was kind of … I don’t know… but we haven’t talked about it yet… I’m afraid the prince might become a taboo subject, especially now since I really need to get out and buy him a Xmas/Birthday present and I am like totally broke… and will probably have to ask her for money. Mm… I need money for my bf, you know the one I told you about and you said I should kiss when no one is around…

[2 days late]

Lock up

I feel, this pressure on the chest, like, of such fear that he is not around... and that I actually don’t know where he is... I don’t think function properly with the prince... his confidence; his detachment... maybe true love is like that. Not this constant yearning, heart wrecking, constant feeling...

I am not that much of an Emo... I do not cry in public... I cry a lot, but I do not cry in public... my prince... you are the only who has seen my cry. Of all my traumas... if you look closely... I cry alone...

I need to feel less... how do I feel less? I was watching this documentary on emotions... people who act on their emotions are even more addicted to the... People, who express their rage openly, are more addicted to it...

I do not express my rage... I bottle it up inside, till I want to die... and then... I cut myself...

I don’t know how to scream... or yell... I have never yelled at anyone...

On this blog... I used to talk about sex... which was virtually inexistent... but... if this is my diary... why am I not writing? About it.

This Journal... must and will have to remain, password protected. So you will have to get to guess the password, from the hint. Or just leave it.

I talked to Emma today... well we just said hi... and he reminded me of something... a year ago... I did not masturbate...

Cumming with only wedgies and water is really hard... like really hard in some cases it can take... hours... I have accomplished it... like... a few pair of times... I doubt there are more than a five (OMG)... It was so rare and so unique I didn’t count them as masturbation till very recently... when I met Daniel... maybe later...

(I need to speak about Daniel. He has acquired such dimensions... I think it was a lie... he has grown into this figure in my life... he doesn’t deserve it)

Then... I met Emma, and I don’t know... why he made masturbation with your hands look so fucking hot... the way he wrote in his journal about it... and once I tried it... and it was awesome... because I could cum... So easily... and now I masturbate till me cum much more easily... and much more quickly... and much more often...

And... Now sex... has come... too late... because I haven’t cummed during sex... I need to cum in front of the prince... I need to make him cum so much. I need him to have an orgasm... I think... that... would be the end of my virginity... getting someone to an orgasm... I need to fucking, fuck him...

I keep thinking, maybe I just need to get drunk off my ass to do it... but god... I have such an alcohol aversion... it’s such a turnoff... its cheating... lying... and I don’t want that... or maybe I do? Maybe only I could get drunk... but he would have to stay sober... one of us has to remember...

Gosh... and when he talks about sex he is so vague... I wish he would just use words to describe me why is it so hot...but I understand... finding words it’s so hard to talk about sex... he keeps promising shoat, but this is the day.. He hasn’t sent me anything... I had this story to share back... it’s like the only story of his type I’ve read... though to be honest I did skip some of the just plain sex parts.. 

He is so selfish... I asked him as politely as I could what happened if he got the chance to travel again for sex... and I so desperately wanted him to tell me, "I’d make you come with me... because I’m sure you have fun"... but no... I don’t think if I’ve told him enough how much I envy his sex, how much I’d like to experience an orgy... even though yeah... its cares me like hell. He just refuses to share... how much I would love to be in his art lessons... but he hasn’t invited me... how much I’d like to be like him... and be better for him... but he just doesn’t invite me to... he has never sent a song... or shared a picture... or like done anything I haven’t asked before... I know that he gives when he is asked. He just doesn’t offer... he just doesn’t push... I shouldn’t have been the one to ask him out on the first date... maybe then I would be sure he wants me around...

I could think one of these things... either he is in love with someone as broken as I am and just doesn’t want me to evolve and come back to life... or... he just doesn’t love me enough... or maybe he just is that selfish everything needs to be asked... though when he does give... he gives generously... I fucking ripped his boxer’s god!!!!

Am I asexual?!!! asexual people do not hit on Emo boys on MySpace.... do not ask girls on msn to have virtual sex... do not bang 17 year olds in collage facilities... maybe I’m not asexual at al... Just some closeted homosexual... who just doesn’t dream of fucking boys... I’m so screwed... I right now, just want to fuck him.  the prince... just let him do whatever he wants to do... he want me to fuck him... fuck him real hard... he wants me to cum inside him... god... he wants that... someone actually wants that from me... I want to do it... but I don’t want to cheat at it... I want it to be ME fucking, I want him to just arghh... ask me this... this way... plead to me for it.... maybe while he is wearing a collar... maybe after I have just ripped his boxers off... then I fuck him, and fuck him really hard... cum with him...

Right now, I’m turned on... by this words...of having him deliciously naked, over me, his skin, against my skin, his cock against my cock. His smell... he has this smell... I haven’t managed to describe it... it has a sweetness... a raw sweetness... nah that’s not the word... it just smells, like I have been touched by a prince... by love... that there’s someone that cares about me.... he smells like I’m not alone anymore... like there’s someone I can put my arms around to... how can something smell like that? But it does... it does to me... it smells like: God I want this!!!

As corny as it sounds... I don’t want to always have sex, or do my things with the prince...

I’m starting to think that I do not love the prince like he loves me. I think he loves me more... and here comes the dilemma... should I tell him... god... prince... I don’t love you the way you love me...

I haven’t told him, how really fucking scared I am to tell my mom about him... and that I do think, that my relationship can be... scarred... that I wish I could hug him in public oh so often I didn’t feel the need bringing him home... that I feel... that I just don’t belong with him ever... if we are alone, it’s the window... or the time, my family will come back...

Love is about honesty... and here I’m honest with him.... either that or an act of self-sabotage... I’m going to lock up this journal... from now till forever… 

(4 days late)

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