Certain Things

There are a few certain things that I can't enjoy while being depressed, and obviously wouldn't enjoy if I were dead.
I wouldn't enjoy listening to some good music or meeting new people which surprisingly have things in common with me.  I wouldn't have the opportunity to find people who still do good things, even if there is a lot that goes wrong and these people could become bad at any moment. I wouldn't enjoy being appreciated by someone who looks at me as if I was a treasure. Or accepting that there's a way of getting away from the cliff and not jumping.
There are certain decisions that I had to make to get here, finding help it's the start of everything. I am not particularly open to getting help. However, I must accept that without help I wouldn't be here writing this. I know me and I am conscious that I can go from being good to be depressed at any moment, but I am really fed up of depending on pills to be okay, I am not sick, it's my mind which it's sick and I can fix it and heal.
And in the end, there are also certain things I can do to NOT depend on pills. It makes me nervous just to think about getting out of my comfort zone, accepting help from others and accepting myself without judging me for every single thing I do wrong. OR others.
From now on, I'll work on these certain things to reach a point in my life where I've never been, I'll be alive again and I'll be able to say: I did it, it was hard, I fail a lot of times while trying, but I did it and now I still working to not fall again.

My Happy Birthday

Tomorrow makes 21 years since some generous person decided to let me come into this pretty and beautiful world. I am so happy to be at home with myself and my thoughts another day of my life. I am so happy for feeling so... happy? another day of my life. I've improved a lot in the meantime, I've been getting worse grades and feeling sicker every day. I've stopped believing in bullshit which it's good, and I stopped believing in myself too. If I found my friends from the past I'd tell them that somebody didn't abandon me in all these years, she's Depression. I don't love her but I think she's hooked on me or something. I feel like she wants to fuck me every day and hug me. She's jealous of the few people that love me and tries to get them away from me. My heart it's totally possessed by her, and she makes me hate myself. Last year I had a plan, I thought that I would be living by myself totally freed from strings with people and nobody would stop me from killing myself. (ha, as if somebody with social anxiety can get so far in life). Well, the truth it's that right now I don't even have money for paying for my own funeral. -Chuckles- That's how beautiful this life is. Probably my problems started even before my birth when some dude created money as the main method of negotiation. I've been seen weirdly by every counselor lately as if I am some kind of crazy insane person who's about to explode. They've started suggesting something that they've never done before: sending me to a hospital and leaving me there for a while. No thanks, I don't want my loving family to realize that I am indeed crazy. Now I don't even understand why they worry so much about if someone kills himself or not. They are not fighting that person's battles and they are selfish as hell for wanting me to live. I could donate my body to science or to someone who really needs my organs. Luckily if someone gets my organs will not become suicidal as hell or something. I am not sure what I expected from life before that now I feel so deceived about it, there's nothing in life nor in death, that's why people create stories and movies with perfect scenarios because they probably would like to see something more interesting in their lives.
If I did feel some kind of self-appreciation I would at least make myself pretty, get myself clothes and go out to eat something delicious. Take pictures with my friends and publish some bullshit on my social media but no, here I am as always :).

Well, it's my birthday officially, I spent the first 5 minutes of my birthday writing some toxic, self-victimizing bullshit about myself. Happy birthday to me I guess.
I love being so asshole and complain about myself while there are people out there who really want to live.

Shortly Nonsensical

She has always been behind me...
Like a shade.
There's me and then there's she, making me do what she wants me to.

Dead Fish in a Pond

I am dead, floating in violent waters

Emotionally empty, ungrateful and sad

I’m waiting to get out of this pond

But anything seems to work

Because I am dead, and dead things don’t move

There’s not a lot to say or do

Even the things I used to love

Now seem stupid and without emotion

How do you move when you’re dead inside?

I wish you understood that I’m convinced I was born dead

My mind keeps drowning me on the past

No, it’s not your fault, it’s mine

Maybe it’s not mine… but I still looking for a culprit

I’m tired of trying to revive

I feel on a cliff and my heart feels dark

Waiting to know when my life fell apart

I don’t want to talk anymore

I don’t want to be a puzzle anymore

Just let me go…

Please, this is much better for your world

I wish this was the last thing for you I wrote

Please love, just let me go.

The Real Zombies

I was walking my usual path to college this morning, and I saw a thin girl walking across mac Donalds. She was off, she walked moving her hips from side to side and her hair was messy, she was young, pretty, but the drugs had taken her life and make her into a zombie.

I live in a city considered a "gueto" city, because of its amount of drug dealers and junkies, there are people from everywhere, Americans, Latinos, young and old. All them addicted to different drugs. Every time I see them, I think about their parents... if they did have them what kind of treatment did they give them to make them into real walking zombies, was it good or bad? What was the factor that turned them into what they are today.

I don't know exactly why they became that, but I do know someone who used to be mentally and physically abused as a kid. He grew up and even on his 20's his mother hit him with several instruments. He went to college, and was about to be successful, worked at a bank and got several luxuries, woman, vehicles, nice clothes, and a nice life. One day, one of his friends convinced him of trying marihuana, and since then, everything started crumbling. He lost his job by stealing from the bank and started using hard drugs such as cocaine and heroin. He got away from and 20 years later his mother went to find him in Philadelphia, he turned into a thin creature without teeth and completely dependent on drugs.

His mother tried to help him, but as soon as she left, he got into jail for selling drugs. Then, some amount of money was spent and he was freed, but he didn't want to change, drugs were his owner. His sister gave him shelter on the living sofa, and she could hear him screaming, paranoid, having hallucinations at night, and sometimes he came home bloody and with several hits on his body. In the end, he moved to another place, with his mom and he could get away from the hard drugs but still used marihuana.

His son, which he had procreated when he was still a "nice, society man" started using drugs at 15 years old, and his mother, which had 3 kids with different man and spent all her life partying and neglecting her kids, started blaming the father. There's not a conclusion to this history yet, but what can ensure that the kid will not follow the same path as the father?

On the other hand, when I see these people on the street, some of them homeless because due to living in a shelter, or to their drug dependency can't find a job and are exiled from the society, I wonder if they are happy. If they are at least happier than we, or happier than me. They don't need to be great in the eyes of anyone because everyone knows that they are a lost cause, not only the junkies but also the mentally ill people that walk around on the street. They might be happier too. However, for me and for some other people they look like zombies waiting for their death, and eating drugs, as brains. In the end, the junkies, and the "normal" people of the society, we all end in the same place, so probably, this doesn't have any meaning, as most things.

Driving by Hill Road

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4zLfCnGVeL4

I can't explain the joy I feel, when my boyfriend drives me through Hill Road.

I enjoy the ups and downs of the streets, and the music that he plays, while looking at him, madly in love. I love his green eyes focused on the street, and I love feeling the softness of his right hand and fingers, touching them with mine. When I look at him, I feel something I cannot explain, it's a kind of love, I've never feel before. I enjoy being with him, I feel peace by his side, and I am not scared. I finally feel like the world it's bright, in these half-days I spend with him. When I say I love him, I wish he knew, that I mean it more than I say... I wouldn't change a single thing about him, even the things that annoy me sometimes, cause without any single thing, even something that he might consider bad about himself, he wouldn't be the same man I love with all my heart. 

I feel like, I haven't posted anything deep and positive like this in a while, and even thought some people think we shouldn't base our happiness on someone, I think a big part of my happiness actually it's because of him. He's the proof that good man do exist, and they are amazing. Yes, he's not perfect, but he tries so hard to be it, just for me. I don't need him to be perfect, as long as he makes me happy like this. I finish this brief thought with a love sight, because I feel so lucky to have him, to have a great man by my side. 

Organizing my Thoughts

Days ago, I was watching a video. The video was about being a perfectionist and what was wrong with it. I personally think, that everyone has a proper definition for everything and I could have my own definition of perfectionism but this one really was fitting for me. 

I've been seeing the word often. This summer I decided to take a psychology course, it's not something that goes towards my degree but I could still choose it and I did it as a personal benefit so that I didn't have to spend all my summer at home doing nothing and getting depressed. In this course, I've learned about the "Super Ego". It is how we learn to punish ourselves, as opposed to the "Ego" which acts seeking rewards, but the "Super Ego" seeks perfection and follows society rules, or learned rules from our parents. 

In my case, I learned at a young age that everything had to be perfect or I would be punished. I had to clean perfectly because, if I was going to do something incorrectly I would rather not do anything... at least that's how I was taught. 

The thing is, on the video I watched, they defined bad perfectionism, as trying to be perfect without seeing the effort that it really takes to be perfect. Consequently, when we see that everything doesn't go as we want, as fast as we want it, instead of as it should be, then we get frustrated.

Now, I think about it, and I've always wanted to be perfect because I wanted my parents to feel proud of me, so, I tried to have good grades, to have the friends that they wanted me to have, to be religious and all that, just leave me empty, and depressed. I learned to be a “victim” of life. And here comes another election learned at my summer course... We don't like change, and we love to act as victims, but even if you go to the counselor, you are paying for getting better so... depression it's just a waste of money and a waste of time living in the time in your mind, where you don't to move because you think you're safe where you are now but you're probably not. So the point of all this:

1. I don't need to be perfect or seek approbation of anyone
2. I should start seeing the effort that it actually takes to makes things work: relationships, friendships, family, love, work, studies and then, be more realistic. 

With this said, I remember that time when my doctor told me: "Life is not easy"... I knew it, not because he said it wasn't but because it's hard to get the things you want. People don't have a good marriage just because, they put their effort into it to make it work. They don't get their dream house if they don't work for it, and they don't raise good kids if they don't discipline them CORRECTLY. etc., etc. At that time, the first thing I had in mind was... "well, if life is not easy, why should I be alive?" "I am not strong enough for this life"... dark thoughts... taking over me. But now, I see how things work, I understand, that if my mother's marriage didn't work was because they didn't put all their effort and love, and it doesn't mean that MY marriage will not work either when I get married. I understand that If I felt so miserable at some point in my life, was because the person who raised me, did it incorrectly BECAUSE she didn’t forgive the person who hit her when she was young, and I wasn’t culprit of that, but I paid for it. Now, I AM responsible for ending the abusive cycle because I know it hurts, and nobody should be hurt like that. Yes, I know is not easy, but if I liked easy things, I would be so fucking boring, so, I am just going to live, cause... even though there are things that make me sad, obstacles and things that make me anxious, I am not the only one, and I have people that love me, as well as people who hate me, but I don't care about the second ones, just the first ones because thanks to them, I am still here, I laugh, I feel relieved, and I have hope. 

Discovering the Bug and Killing it

Trust Issues... they've been there all the time.
When somebody hurts you and you're weak... You might generalize and think that everyone it's the same. Especially, If it's more than just "somebody" but "everybody" according to your thoughts...
It's self-sabotaging and it destroys your relationships because you're expecting that this actual person it's going to do exactly the same thing as the people that you used to know, but being realistic, you never put your trust on reliable people... why? Because you knew that friendships are hard, you have to build them like a house and take care of them, and because you knew that your friends were going to tell you things you didn't want to hear. You knew that when your friends told you to not date that guy and you ended up secretly dating him. Then, here it comes, heartbreak.
Your friends weren't trying to control you, just to show you that this person wasn't the best for you, and they were right. Afterward, you got angry because your friends made a comment about your appearance, and you had such low-self esteem at the moment that you just got angry and didn't want to take pictures with them anymore. They should have understood, right? When you're so self-conscious you don't even accept constructive critics. You had to get away from everyone to find yourself, and you did, but in your mind, they're still living bugs, and you have to kill them. Not everyone it's the same, not all men are jerks and not all girls are two-faced. You must stop expecting that your partner it's going to cheat on you, or leave you, you must stop thinking that all the other girls are better than you and so, you don't fit in their groups, because if you don't stop, you'll always be alone, and you'll never love completely.
Even YOU haven't been the best friend on some occasions and you know it, and probably there's someone that thinks that you weren't reliable at some point. However, we're all humans and we're not free of errors. You can love and trust even if that means that you're going to suffer. It's okay to hurt and let go, but it's also to find out that there still exist good people in the world.

So...?

I knew since you came back that you would not like the idea of me having someone who loves me. I saw the look in your eyes every time I went out with him happily holding his hand. However, this time, you can't do anything about it, I am grown up, seriously. Now you can't break my cell phone or tell everyone that I am losing myself and getting my life screwed up. You can't hit me anymore, or tell me that I am a whore because I am in love. So, what can you do? Nothing, I guess you'll have to find another person to control, or you'll have to change some things in your perturbed mind, because this time, I am not doing anything. I am not leaving him because he's the only person who can make me feel loved and I am comfortable enough with him knowing that he's not going to hurt me and that I love him and this love it's reciprocal. Consequently, I am sorry for you but it's time for me to be happy, I had enough sadness and pain already, it's time for having love and pleasure and fun, and live my life as happy as I was supposed to live it since I was a child. Yes, I know there will be struggles but at least this time I am not allowing anyone ESPECIALLY you, to hit me and unworthy me like you did. You were the first person in my life, but you decided to give me a dark view of the world, now, someone, it's painting that darkness and showing me another side that I didn't know, and I am glad that I met him in this moment of my life when I almost lost all my hope. There's nothing you can do, to make me not see him, or love him. Because now you don't have ANY kind of control over me, you can't hit me or scream to me, you can just look at me, and the person that I've become without you. 

I AM SO HAPPY TO BE FREE OF YOUR CHAINS, MOM.

Nastyness

When you think about crap, there's nothing pretty about it. When you think about a person, you don't necessarily associate it with crap...just the fact, that the person isn't pretty in any sense and lately, I've been associating me and you with that.
I've discovered why the cemetery it's so interesting to me and I contemplate it with attention losing myself inside its rottenness and its death-smelly air. It's because of you, and how you made me feel at some point in my life. It's completely fine because that's just what we are... When we die, the worms are going to eat us, there will be no sky, no hell, just worms and the smell of your dead body.
That smelly body it's the one that you wanted to keep young and that horrible image of that body it's the one that someday looked so perfect to everyone around you. They didn't know, what you did with your hands or your words. They didn't know that my life was a hell because of you and that I felt as shitty as you for 17 years of my life.
You taught me to want to be perfect. However, when you discovered that I wasn't as you wanted you got upset and made me get depressed because I wasn't and I became as unhappy as you. You shot me this fear of having kids and this hatred to them because I wish I have had the option of not being born. I've been thinking that parents are the evilest and egocentric beings on earth. They don't want to get rid of a baby just because people will judge them, but they do want to make the kid feel culprit of having come to this world even though they make the stupid decision of bringing it here.
What we are in the end it's just meat and bones, and some people like you.... don't even include a soul, and because you don't have a soul.. you destroyed mine too. All this time I've been trying to get it back without results. I've found reasons why I don't want to destroy this meat and bones just yet because I've found people who care about me, who show me that I am not a shit like you said I would be.
I want you to know, that the fact that we are just meat and bones and that we're going to die eventually and get eaten by animals and forgotten by the world, to me, means that we're both the same even though you made me feel like I was inferior to everyone in this world and I should feel like a burden to everyone here. What makes people be different and not just a shitty compound of flesh and bones it's how you treat people, and it's okay if you want to treat people bad, but just know, that if you do.. you're just going to be a crap for the rest of the life that you have remaining.
As for me, I'm trying hard not to be like you. I am overcoming depression and my very low-self confidence little by little. Maybe one day I'll forget that as a kid you hit me and call me a whore and made me feel culprit for being adopted and the daughter of a bitch... and maybe I'll have kids and give them a VERY different life, not at all compared to what you give to me. If I do that, it'll be my biggest achievement because as for now, I hate kids, I hate to see loving parents because I didn't have them, and I hate to have to see you again.

Silence is Like an Atomic Bomb

Dear People that surround me:

What do you think my silence is? I wonder if every time I shut myself off when you do/say something I don't like you think I am a stupid fool. I am almost sure that every time I say yes to every fucking shit, and agree with you on every stupid thing you think I am the silliest person you've met, but I wonder why...?

Why do you always have to be the people that I am most closer to, the ones who do these shits to me. Do I have the word idiot painted on my face? Or is it because I grew up oppressed by a familiar dictatorship that you think I don't have a word for your fucking horrible acts.

Dear sister...

Why did you become like our mother? You abandoned your kids, and still considered yourself a mother? Do you even think about how your kids feel, or are you so fucking egocentric that you can't see the damage you're causing? Why'd you do that? Every time I speak to you, I see the clear picture of her. You make me feel like I am drowning, and I want to peel this skin these genes off me, because I hate my origin, I hate to be the product of sex between a whore and a rapist, and I hate to see that you have became exactly that, and that you sell your body and leave that man that clearly doesn't deserve you mistreat you and tell you you're crazy. I hated how you fucked your neighbor because you needed money. You still don't want to get a job and still want to get everything so fucking easy. I wonder if you convinced yourself that your best attribute was your body, and I feel so bad for you sister. 

When I knew I was adopted I really wanted to know if I had a sister, someone related to me, that could understand me and wasn't exactly as my progenitors. I am not surprised though to see that life is dark, as always, and that if what you want its good, you will not have it. Now, I am sorry sister, but I don't want to keep reading your bullshit, I don't want to know that you sold your body again, that you got pregnant again and abandoned your kid, I am so tired of you and I never thought that meeting my sister was going to be so painful and make me feel like an atomic bomb, and make me explode like this without precedents. 

Here It Comes Again

Here it comes again, this horrible sensation of falling into the emptiness, of being in a place but like an empty body without a soul. This sensation of desiring to be the only one person on the planet, of blame, even though I haven't done anything wrong. On this days I really wish that I had an auto destroy button, that spilled all these empty-body pieces on the space and then I wouldn't have to feel this way again. Nevertheless, the only button that I have it's all the triggers around me that make me feel this stupid and nonsensical way. When is it going to end? My med is not working anymore, my mind isn't either, nor my heart. Now I have EVERYTHING I wanted before, but I still feel empty. There's no sense for me in this world, nothing is real, everything has an end, starting with life itself, which means that all my actual worries are just a waste of time because I am going to die anyway. I don't know how to stop feeling this way, I WANT to feel full of something, not temporary, but yes I know that everyone has its own problems. I know that my problems aren't bigger that some people's problems, and according to several people I was lucky to be born...
I didn't ask that though but well, if my adoptive mother knew how I feel, and she loved me only a little... she would feel bad for helping the woman who had me to have me, in my case... abortion would have been the better option available, but as some stupid people feel culprit in front of a NONEXISTENT "God" I was condemned to this hell, which doesn't have fire, or a demon, because the fire are my own thoughts and the devil is me. :/

A New Feeling

I always had the stubborn desire of falling in love with someone who didn't put me in a clear place in his life. I never knew that having a special place in somebody's life would be so joyful. Being sure that he is also thinking about you and he worries about you, it's a paradise. When I met him, I was afraid that he would be like the other men, it was a mistake to make that silly comparison. I confused the hurricane inside of me with love several times, even though instead of a smile, these feelings, caused me anxiety and a hell of fear of being dumped, I really started thinking that loving someone and being loved was boring since I never knew that feeling. -sighs- I was so fucking crazy!

So, if there's somebody reading this I must tell you, don't be scared, don't reject the person who treats you right, accept him because it's like finding a hidden treasure that nobody else will enjoy but you. 

I would not change this feeling of comfort and happiness, intensity, complicity and understanding, for some passion night with somebody who is just going to leave another scar on my very damaged heart, I rather see the beauty in this new feeling. 

His Lack of Experience

His eyes are like a forest. I can look into them and get lost in the woods, his curly hair smells like vanilla mixed with coconut and his collarbone and neck skin has a soft sweet taste. He makes it hard to me to get away from him. Hypnotizing me may be his favorite past time. Although he's probably the most rebel, annoying and inexperienced boy I have met, something about it makes me want him though. I feel so tempted to open his eyes to the world that I already know and he feels very excited to know it as well. I would never, ever before in my life have thought that somebody like him would attract me that much, but I've been thinking that my experience got all these years of insignificant affairs is going to be finally necessary, to introduce my dear to the madness of love.

When I met him, our very first kiss was really awkward. He couldn't understand that to kiss right he had to open his lips and kiss slowly. The second one was kind of better and made me feel something like butterflies inside of me. Then, the first time that I visited his house. While messing around in his room he got overwhelmed by me and said He did not deserve me. Maybe he doesn't know that I am probably the one who doesn't deserve such a respectful and tender man, one that (as annoying as it is for me) always asks me if something it's right or wrong several times before doing it. Someone who for the very simple thing says sorry but after a while learns how to behave when it comes to love matters.

My dear, it's usually focusing on everything that surrounds him, and it's so cute when he looks at me and immediately takes his eyes out of mine embarrassed. When I caress his face, his nose bridge, and his eyebrows, he asks me: What? and I chuckle to my insides wondering what the hell was he doing all these years, that even though he's an adult, older than me, in love, it's just a kid. 

The lack of experience of my cute and handsome man, it's something new for me, and while being something new stills seem so tender to me because this time, I am not going to be taught but I am going to teach and there's a weird pleasure in knowing that the person you are with, and its lack of experience, it's going to make you probably the very first woman that taught him to love and make love.

Blank

Have you ever seen a blank page?
Then, you'll probably know how my mind and my heart look inside
I don't have anything written inside any of them
Nothing more than sorrow and pain that can't be deleted with anything
The pills just take away the feeling, the words, they calm me for a while... and the people, I don't even want them close from me.
There is not a pencil that can erase, correct and re-write my pain. Here I am negatively thinking again, the same stupid fucking cicle over and over again, while my mind, stills blank.

I Wonder (Uncensored nor Unmasked With Pretty Words)

I wonder in what moment I got so accustomed to be treated like crap by men. I got that accustomed that now when someone shows me real appreciation I freak out, because for 20 years this is the first time that someone does that. I wonder but I know something...
I grew up not being loved, and knowing that the first person in my life, the one that was supposed to be by my side on my first moments, decided to give me away like a fucking gift or worse, an object. I always ask myself why people like her have to have kids, even though that question, if not asked, would take out the possibility that I would be in this world today, but I don't care, because even thought I am in this world... I feel so fucking incomplete, so maybe that's why I always attach myself to some kind of asshole, because I never knew what was to be loved in the first place, and now I am like a dog raised by a mistreating owner. A dog that now, needs time to accept love. This dog needs time to get accustomed to love, and be loved, and learn not to bite his new owner's hands.
There was a time that I went to my doctor, and when he asked me if I ever considered the possibility of killing myself. I felt like the world had fallen above me, cause I did, and I didn't want to ask that question. I ended up crying like a baby, crying and explaining my sorrows to my doctor, something that, when I was kid, innocent, stupid and forgiving, I would have never thought that I would be doing. What I did not say to my doctor was, that when I was 14 years old, I took my grandmother's pills wanting to die, but the stupid pills didn't kill me, they just made me vomit for a day and half of the other, and the only thing my DEAR grandma told me was, that I had to buy her a new bottle of pills cause she was aching. I remember me thinking about what a fucking bitch she was, she did not have enough with hitting me and telling me I was a bitch all my childhood, making me feel like if being adopted was my fucking fault. She also had to make me feel like she would have been so fucking happy If I would have died. I ended up going to a stupid Christian church to please her when I was 15 and I spent 2 years of my life trying to convince myself that GOD was real. What a fucking joke. Cause if he really existed, he would not permit that me and my older sister who is unfortunately the daughter of the crazy bitch who decided to give me away when I was born, would have had a better life. She wouldn't have been screwed up by men, would have been happy and not raped when she was just a kid by her neighbor. Yes, I know what a Christian would say about it:"GOD" exists, the problem it's that people don't look for him. Excuse me? Do you know how many times my sister prayed to that great GOD and her life never ever improved. She had to face the same destiny as the bitch who gave us away, had to depend of selling her body for only 150 pesos which would be less than 5 dollars, so that she could eat, had 5 kids from different men and she couldn't even keep her kids because she couldn't raise them with the poverty she was submerged in.
I guess my life was slightly better apart from the psycho mistreat and the hitting from my dearest grandmother which was apparently so happy that I was brought to this family or the screams and insults from my druggie uncle which used to tell me to get out of the house, to find a husband and move.
2 Years later I still frustrated with all the fucking words that I had to hear for 17 years of my life. I don't even know how I could get away from that HELL alive. Yes, I know that other people have had worse situations, but that doesn't change my past and that doesn't changes the fact that since I was never loved from the beginning. its so fucking weird when somebody comes in peace to offer me his love. I can still get rid of the thinking, even thought it's hard. I don't remember since when exactly I decided to put myself on medication for my depression and my anxiety, and sometimes I can't see when I will spend more than a month without having a mental breakdown. I can't see the bright-side of everything that happened to me. I am not stronger than anyone who didn't go by the same. I am weaker. What I want, it's to finally accept the love that other people offer me, because if I can't do that, that means that all that my dear grandmother and my uncle, and all the boys from before, had told me was real. That means that I am crazy like the person who decided to give birth to me and give me away, and that means that I rather be dead than alive but not living. I wonder how I can learn to accept the love, that's all that I wonder.

Visitor

The fact of being just a visitor in your life doesn't make any sense to me. There's no case in visiting your lips and body once, twice and then never more, there's no sense in having you, if you're not going to call the next day. Is it appealing, maybe to you... to visit my body just once, twice and then never more? Why'd I always end up being just a visitor anyways? I am sick of it. I am ready to love and give myself completely, not only my body. I am willing to be tender and risk my heart, if I can be more than just...a body with no soul for somebody. I would be more than pleased. I would scream of happiness, and feel certainly peace. At last, I don't understand, and it's obnoxious to me, the truth that people can be just passengers on each others lives. Life it's shortly enough to be so insensible and I already stopped believing in the majority of things that supposedly exists but you can't see, but I don't seem to stop believing that someday, I will be more than just a visitor, and I will have more than just visitors but a roommate in this short life that I've been given.

What I've Given, Is What I'm Getting.

There were times when I was a wicked creature. When I was a rose that hurt her gardener with her thorns. I was a rose close from the heart of my gardener, and I hurt his heart and made it bleed. These times, I remind that I thought that any other gardener would be better, that there were a lot available in the world. What I didn't thought that time was that these gardeners are experts in recognizing hurting flowers, that they don't get fooled by them, and just take them as a decoration without caring if they get rotten and wither. I gave my gardener a bad paid for his good treatment, now I can't find a good one, now that my petals are falling and I'm becoming rotten, there's no gardener for me. Because what I've given to my sweet and caring gardener, is what I'm getting now, thorns.

Blue Like Me

What kind of blue are you wearing today? Are you covering that pretty color with another one that makes you look brighter but instead it's suffocating you? Are you covering yourself from every color just to confuse the view of everyone that contemplates you? Don't be ashamed of being blue, even though people think that it's a sad color. There's no blame on being sad, it's natural when you're alone. Don't cover the blue, make it brighter, clean it if needed. Paint yourself with all different kinds of blue, it's not bad. Are you blue like me? We can combine ourselves and bright together. We can clean that dirty blue and bright as well as the sky but without clouds.

Karma

I wonder what did I do wrong in my previous life. 

Did I hurt someone so badly?

Someone that loved me like crazy.

Wasn't I a good friend?

 Did I break someone's heart so much that he or she wanted to end its own existence.

If not where the hell does this bad luck in love and friendship comes?

What price am I paying for unknown wicked act?

And when is it going to end?

I don't want to risk myself and end it right now, because maybe later I born again and pay a higher price.

Freedom or Loneliness

How do you call it when you have the liberty to do anything that you want. Freedom or loneliness?

In the night, when there's no one there to hug you when your body is trembling negatively submerged on anxiety. The weekends when you're free and you want to cuddle with someone and watch a movie, but there's no one there. And let's say that there was somebody at once, but he left, and now you are not sure that if there's somebody he's going to stay forever. However, you want him to stay forever because you are so tired of all the fake words and crap coming from passing loves, things of a week, a month, three or just one night. Is it freedom? Is it loneliness? When your tears fall without ceasing and you feel submerged, drowning on them, or when you wake up in the middle of the night, gasping, because you had a bad dream, but there's nobody else there to hug you and tell you everything is going to be okay. Every time that you reach a goal, is there someone there to celebrate it with you?

Or are you there to celebrate somebody's reached goal and congratulate him/her. Do you really feel so excited of sharing your body with a foreign man who is not going to be there when you wake up? Or a woman? With somebody that has other person in his mind when he is "making love" with you, if we can call it like that. And when your own mind is tricking you, making you think that you are nothing, convincing you that you shouldn't be alive, and you can't find a way to shut it up, so you think that the only way of shutting it off is to kill yourself, because there's nothing else, no heaven or hell. Then, you turn up the music and make it go as loud as possible to not hear your own wicked consciousness. Honestly, it makes me laugh mockingly, to think that all this time I've been calling these loads of shits liberty, when they were really nothing. 

When I almost cried because I felt so empty that I confused myself with a zombie, a feather flying in the wind without a direction, just letting the wind take it anywhere. And when I still feeling empty and light like a feather in the wind. If this is freedom... I rather be in the jail of what people call love, than tortured to death in this "freedom".

Being Alive

Being alive is not the lame act of breathing, it means so much more. Being alive is to feel full of feelings, sadness or happiness, doesn't matter if they are bad or good. Being alive is not to be empty walking meat and bones without a soul. You should listen to the voice that tells you to do things that make you happy, not the voice that tells you that if you do something you'll have a bad result from it, even if its a good thing.

In my case, being alive is receiving love from my friends and family, going out and inhaling fresh air, looking at a beautiful landscape, watching forms in the sky, kissing and loving even if its not meant to be.

Even if living the moment seems dangerous, you should go out of your shell, try new things. Because in the end, there's only nothing. Dead bodies don't talk, they don't love, they just lay in a tomb and get rotten and eaten by the worms. 

Personally, I don't think that afterlife there's something else, the sky and hell are here in this earth, in this atmosphere, so, I don't want to think that if I do the things I love, I'll be punished. I want to live intensely from now on. I want to love and make friends without fearing about pain and disappointments and anxiety. I don't want to be depressed because of the past, I don't want to just breath and waste the short time that I was given to be alive. 

Affair

I met him on a Monday night of one Spring break. He has that pretty bright smile like a sun and his brown eyes looking right into mine. We sit in a restaurant and on an intimate place we talk about some silly things, about us and our lives. I can't take my eyes out of his pretty face, he is so talkative and friendly that I forget the nervousness that I had before meeting him. Next stop, a movie, the movie theater doesn't have anything interesting, or at least doesn't have anything that makes us get closer.
He ask me if I want to go to his house, and I say yes, even though I know that something can happen between us, because in the deep of my mind, in spite of the wrongness of the act, I want it.
The moon this night is hiding into grey sheets in the sky, we go in. He puts a movie and we lay into a small comfortable sofa. As we watch the movie he puts his arms around my back and he caresses my left arm. The softness of his hands intimately are causing me a tremor. I am wondering if he is noticing the effect that having him so close is causing. I am feeling my body getting nervous, wishing to have him, caress his soft skin and kiss him.

His black cat Coco comes and starts playing with both. She knows that something intimate is getting done, and she wants to steal the attention. A pair of hours go by, and the movie ends, he playfully presses me into the sofa and gets up on my body, he hugs me and puts his head in my neck. Then he looks at me, and he rubs his soft and red lips with mine, I can't hold myself and I start to kiss him too, what I was waiting finally happened, I caress his black hair, and kiss him passionately, he stands up, takes my hand and helps me stand up, takes my blue jean jacket and send it far from our view.

He takes off my dress and I take off his t-shirt, I can feel his masculinity getting wild, I press my hips against it. He takes my hand and takes me to his bed, he gets up on me and starts kissing my neck, my ears, unties my bra with difficulty, and softly kisses my small upper lady parts, and the part under them. He tries to take off my pants. I stop him, telling him that I'm not ready. He stops but keeps kissing me gently. Then, he whispers in my ear and ask me If I would like to take a look at his masculinity. I cheeky do it. I feel the softness of it rubbing my lips, I caress his abdomen, and kiss it enjoying its texture, he has his eyes closed, he's moaning, and I love that sudden weakness that he shows.

He looks at me for a moment then he takes me and kisses me again. He whispers on my ear, something provocative, I give up. Ah, I am suck a fool. Then I ask him what is he going to do... he says he has protection. I am so excited that I say yes, he gets ready and looks at me with a  naughty smile. He stands up to put a lock in his door... He comes back to me, kisses me, my neck once again and takes both of my legs, I press them against his back and he comes inside me, pressing his crotch against mine, I moan, I'm heated, more than the sun. I beg him to  be more agile, and he does... he puts his head in my shoulder and he moans and access to my insides harder.  He makes me insane, then announces the end of this adventure, the affair it's gone. As a sweet and treacherous deceiver he comes back to me and hugs me putting his arms and hands around my hips, he is out of breath.

It's time to leave. We go out, its dark outside and he drives me home in the dark of the road, and put some music, we know that something happened between us, nobody is going to say anything, we enjoyed our intimacy, he leaves me at home and kisses my lips, will we repeat it? I hope so, but for now, let's just take it as a one night stand.

A month pass by, he doesn't text me again, but I do, and I feel like a fool but I want to see him. What I didn't know was, that this night, when he is sharing his masculinity with my femininity, it's actually a farewell, I am not going to see him again. He says. "F has to say Goodbye to Coco" after spending almost all day with me, after texting me early in the morning to know what I am up to, after trilling me and making my heart beat (even though I was the only one who texted him in the first place...) Saying bye to Coco, was actually saying bye to him. I would rather have read that "I am sorry, I am seeing another person in the same moment I text him, than after he decided to have this very physical farewell.

Then I am here, after I blocked him from everywhere, and made myself insensible to that kind of enchantress... from that wicked man who decided to say bye to me physically than just being honest from the beginning, from that man that one day I will not even remember, because he decided that other girl had more to offer him than I did, but as I am here, I think about this other man, who did decided to see the things that I have to offer, and gave himself the chance of meeting me, to make me more than an affair, but certainly, to make me his love.

When It Rains

When it rains I feel happy, and positively overwhelmed

Why should it be that when it rains, I feel better than when its sunny

Should it be that rain is like my tears, that can't escape from my eyes?

So when It rains I feel freed...

Or , rather I feel the rain coldly wetting my skin, than the burning sun scorching it?

When it rains, I think: A little rain doesn't damage, but...

What if it does?, if it sickens me...

What if the rain is like love, it coldly wets mi insides, it wets my heart...

But it also sickens me, my mind, and common sense...

It feeds my obsessions, destroys my immune system against feelings and freezes me

I have no other chance than to splash on it, let it wet me, even if thunders hit me

So maybe in the end, that's why I love the rain, because it reminds me of love, that love that sometimes I can't have.