Bridges.

It's interesting to see how you are the only one reading this, and somehow I miss you. Despite the chaos that was brought to my life with your company, I miss having your time, and I hate that I do.
I comfort myself with the thought that I am not just another uncensored picture in your phone, or so you said. And I believe you because, if there is one thing you have been to me, it's honest.

I wish I could have done more for you, I wish I helped you somehow, hopefully for the long run, not just while I was around. Anyway, that is not what I wanted to write about. I wanted to write a nice story about the windows of buildings by the train tracks in Berlin, but I got distracted as I checked the "statistics" of the viewers, and how they shifted from places around Europe, to there where you are, and that made me smile a bit.
Don't get me wrong, I am pretty fine. Or as fine as I can be in the chaos I am in, I just want to get over some issues, have some piece of mind. I wish I had been more conscious when I was seventeen and I was going to therapy all the time, but I was hiding such a secret that was my own pain, I was talking about random things and never dared to be honest with that curly hair that tried to help while giving me alcohol as remedies. Very common practice, but I don't think it was useful at all.

I think I miss you because you could perfectly understand me. This is just a bridge language for everyone I meet. Everyone speaks it, but it's not the first language, and I feel anxious when I have to think about the same phrase in a thousand different ways just so that others can get it as I mean it. But with you it was easy, the bridge was somewhat a direct one.

Like the island between Malmö and Copenhague, we need two bridges to meet, and in that drive, a lot of things happen. We meet late, tired, in different moods and with different music. From different cars, at different speeds. But you were only one bridge away, and that was really nice.
Again, don't get me wrong, it's not about you specifically. It's about how well we understood each other, or maybe it is all just my imagination and all of this was an illusion in my head.

I don't want to socialize anymore. I will probably sleep some more and write about the windows by the train tracks in Berlin, and having sex with the light on, curtains fully open so that the sly ones can have their second of astonishment and doubt, and wonder "was that real, or was it just my tired eyes that tricked me?"

Good night bridge, sorry for the fuss, take care in those strange lands, don't let yourself be tricked into buying a gun and appreciate the rats, if you want.

Max

Ayer salí con él y fue divertido, bueno para el alma, comimos pizza y helado, bailamos en el centro comercial mientras buscamos greda. jugamos con los peluches y reímos como hace un buen tiempo. Ya vengo sintiéndome mal por meses, y cuando por fin empieza a mejorar, es sólo un minuto de calma: Sigo en medio de la tormenta.

Y ahí estábamos sentados, en la escalera bajo el sol, abriendo nuestros corazones como si no hubiera mañana, y él, él: la persona que más debería entenderlo, habló sin ni tolerancia sobre quien más me importa aquí. Tú, quien siempre se defiende cuando cualquier persona dice algo erróneo o que simplemente no te parece bien.

"Cis man" dijiste, y me quedé sin palabras. La gente todavía te lee como mujer, no todos tienen tu disforia; algunas personas simplemente no están conformes con los roles sociales, pero se sienten relativamente bien en sus cuerpos: Y eso está bien, al igual que cambiar si no te sientes cómodo.
Está bien ser libre de hacer lo que quieras contigo mismo siempre y cuando respetes a los demás.

He necesitado sacar esto desde que pasó, pero no puedo hablar porque no quiero crear una guerra. Tener esta familia ha costado suficiente trabajo, y estoy ocupada conmigo, ya no puedo dormir, ni descansar mi cabeza con toda la basura que está pasando, que sigue pasando. ¿Cómo me deshago de este sentimiento de gritar? Me siento culpable sin haber hecho nada, otra vez.
Necesito descansar.

Max, ¿por qué hieres tanto, siendo alguien a quién siempre hieren? Todas las risas excesivas cuando alguien se equivoca, pero cuando te pasa a ti, ¿qué pasa entonces?

Necesito descansar.
NECESITO DESCANSAR

Planeemos mi cumpleaños.

A veces, cuando cierro los ojos, veo una sombra que crece y crece en la oscuridad. Como si la capa de mis párpados contra la luz no fuera suficiente para cubrir lo que siento, porque siento más oscuro. Siento más profundo.

Hoy tomaste el control sin querer, pero no es eso lo que me hizo llorar. Me hizo llorar que anoche hubiera tanta gente, que me sintiera tan fuera de lugar entre tanto amor, que viera a tanta gente como posible amenazas a lo que amo. Me hizo llorar que te movieras del sillón, que te fueras a fumar, que miraras a las personas al rededor.
Me hace llorar que no puedo dejar ir todo el sufrimiento que yo misma creo. Me hace llorar el intentar avanzar, creer que lo estoy haciendo y descubrir que sigo en el puto mismo lugar.

Impotencia es cuando no puedes hacer nada por mejorarlo, pero frustración es cuando lo has intentado todo, lo sigues intentando y no eres capaz de cambiarlo. Cuando tras años de intentar cambiar ese vacío y convertirlo en amor propio, sigo exactamente en el mismo. Estoy ahogándome en mi propio vacío y no puedo ni imaginar la vida fuera de él, respirando libre, sin el miedo de hundirme otra vez. Y las olas de nada se hacen gigantes mientras las miro venir, aterrada.
A veces siento tantas cosas, pero el vacío no se las traga, las usa como energía para esas olas que, no sé cómo, no me han matado todavía.

Ese vacío que es el paraguas amarillo de ese dibujo, es los azulejos negros del centro comercial en Las Condes, es esa mancha en los dibujos de mi infancia, es el amor de mi madre, la partida de mi padre, es mi hermano, es mi corazón, es yo.

Ese vacío es lo que siento por mi.

Me siento como un fracaso en todas las areas, estoy perdida navegando en el vacío y no tengo ni sueños que me ayuden a salir de él. No sé qué hacer con mi vida, todavía ni siquiera aprendo alemán. Soy un puto fracaso y cómo podría sentirme bien conmigo misma si no tengo absolutamente nada. Con las políglotas, con los que tienen carreras y trabajos, con los que tienen sueños. 

Panchito perdóname, dejé de soñar. Desearía no haberlo hecho, te juro que lo intenté, pero he descubierto tantos horrores, que ya no puedo ni soñar. No puedo ni respirar de tanto que me carcomen, y espero, con todo mi vacío, poder volver a ser el principito que me deseaste ser.

Revising day.

Today is supposed to be a good day for revising the year, and it makes sense when soon I'll complete one more round to the sun on this boat. I was so excited about it,: getting home, preparing some tea and opening my black notebook to write about everything that has been going on. So much has happened.

But instead, I'm once more trying to find someone to live with us, suffering over the money we don't have, wanting to be quiet and alone but not being able to. I need some time out, I need to revise.

Maybe tomorrow morning, very early would be a good time, but for now I am completely lost and full of noise and light and things I don't want. I wish I knew how to leave these situations.
I can suffer today, about my issues, your issues, my childhood, our flat and the money we don't have. Mostly also about the society, the culture, the worldly world and the existence itself. And I can't do anything more than that.

A little more chaos. (Happy birthday)

I've tried so hard to treat myself better, to be less sorry for stupid things, or unreasonable ones. But things keep getting worse, as I sleep through days on end. All I imagined and built in my head turned to grey, an imposible story widely told.
It's cold and I barely know when it happened, remember when I said my birthday was close? It is now, but it all still hurts, I'm stuck in a train that repeats the same stop over and over as I loose my breath.

The picture, the sickness, the orgy, every small button unsewn from the sweater. It all takes so much space in my head, in my heart, my stomach, my void. The void swallows everything, but it all stays inside, you all stay inside.

I am lost, nothing moves forward, and I have no clue of a direction. I baked a horrible cake today, put sprinkles because I thougth it would be a loving cake for myself. It was not. It is a hate cake for myself, disgusting, just like me.
Monday, where are you? Help me. How to ask for help if I hate me as much as you? I can't even not-kiss him because of the pressure, "I don't want to fight anymore". "I can't take this anymore".
- masturbation -
And I cry as you cum on all my pain, all my fears.

I wish I had something to go back to, a little retrat disguised as a notebook, or as some thread and a hoop, or a computer program.

I wish I weren't so miserable, I wish I had never been born, I wish you would have answered after.

I'm dizzy, my chest is tight but I can't cry anymore, I am tired. And it will continue to get worse. That certainty I had: "after Sweden.." is as gone as my grandparents after the cancer.
I wish you were not constantly against me, I wish things were easier, I wish I at least had enough money to help my family, or to at least see them and play with my girls, and hug my sister, and cry when I have to come back. As I am crying right now because I miss them so much.

There are so many pains inside me, all in different places but they meet right in my mind.
They make me clench my teeth when I sleep, they give me headaches in the morning, cramps in the unterus and ovaries. They turn each second of nothingness into a torture, like watching a war movie.
My head is in a war with me, and I can only wonder.. How long has it been this way? Maybe it was never any different.
I am at war with myself, and have been since the first time I felt: "I wish I had never been born". Sadly, as you know, the concept of death has been in my mind since I was very young. The unhealthy concept of death that is.


I can still smell the awful cake and I wish to die. Soon I'll be 25 and I keep drifting away on the sinking ship that mever drowns.