No title, no picture, giving up. (31/7/22)

 Sometimes I sit by your shores and walk around your forests, but I never go in. I go to your supermarket, buy a drink and sit at your park, you're never there, but it's for the best.

Right now you must be still asleep or partying with your cool people and your cool drugs. It's good you're back to yourself, in a way I just wish you were different so that I truly knew you were going to be alright, not the temporary kind, or maybe we could actually have had a good relationship.

I dreamt last night, while awake, that you were lying behind me and grabbed me in your sleepiness, the way you did so many times, with full hands while kissing my neck in a desire and passion that couldn't be held back, mumbling words of adoration between breathless sighs.
I miss your hands on me, the soft yet tough touch of your fingers on every corner of my skin. It was indeed a masterpiece of sensitivity for all the bodies, we were really good at one thing at least (I know there was more than just that).

Here I am, once again, writing sexually about someone who's happy with someone else. What a fool I can be.

Which stage of grieving am I in? Cause I hate you but I love you, I want you and to hit you too. I wish you happiness but also not even a drop because of how much pain I am in. I want to let you go and I want you back... I want revenge but I just want to lie in peace and for you to find what you are looking for in love and life.

I can clearly see you seducing other girls, getting their numbers at Ohm, which I cycled past today and I could've worked in temporarily without knowing... How could I not be in pain if so much reminds me of you, but not just you: the pain of your lies, you. The trigger and dishonesty you.

Why did it have to end like this? Why did you have to stay until you found a way to deeply hurt me? There were so many times to end us, but it had to be in the most painful way. Is that Karma for all the pain you went through? But why would that energy be on me, when you decided to stay over and over?
Nonsensing.

I need to leave you entirely now, give up all hope of ever having you in my life, give the love of your family up, they probably never really cared, like most people don't, they smile and word come out of their mouths but they mean nothing. Have I ever been lonelier? How much longer do I have to endure this for?

And I guess you don't care and I'm just a fool again. Caring too much while you already forgot about me. So much for the love you praised, it's better like this.

Their bodies may be better suited for you, their vices and traits. 

In the end I believe all good you said about me and about us was a lie, just a feeling of the moment, the obsession of the year. I was just that, a trend, for all you said was so special, I was shown over and over it wasn't, you had it with others as well and now that you're open to more, thanks to my wisdom and the freedom you finally have, I'm completely erased from your mind, for this bitch, was just a trend in your heart.

Remember when you complained that I never wrote about you in my blog? I guess you manifested it too. Sadly it's not what you expected, you wanted love and got only pain. What I bitch I am. What a useless, trivial trend I was.

---

Some days I just want to go away and never turn back. Today that is on the wounds you reopened and it's on me for not letting go. Why can't I just let go? Why can't I forget you? Why do I still miss you? 

I've been doing all the right things, following all the teachings, especially the harder ones, yet I feel as if it was day one again, all over again. 
All the pains and laughter, all the memories come flooding me, drowning me. All the thoughts about all the people come and poison me with their gooey darkness and I just want to give up. I want to give up, I want to give up, I want to give it all up. 

Why am I still so lonely? What am I doing wrong? Why can't I let you go? Why is life like this? Why am I still going through this? What's the point of living like this? Why was I born at all? 

There's no point in living when the day to day is just a constant loneliness, for even with company I feel lonely at times and I never belonged and I never fit it. 

Is there anywhere where there is any hope? 

Will I ever find where I belong?

Tacos.

 Walking around the city so much reminds me of you, even in places we never were. Today I saw the tacos place I hate the most with the red neon letters spelling her name on a corner facing the canal.

Tacos means high heels in Spanish (or heavy traffic in Chile) and I wonder if she was shorter than me and if you two are having more fun now, moving on, maybe you three, moving on.

What's that even supposed to mean?

Moving.

On.

Do I really want to know? Why though? Just to hurt myself more? Can I live with the doubt and let it go? 

There's definitely at least someone new, for the numbers on my blog have gone down to the usual 1-4, instead of 30 per day. Some days you don't see them at all. Good for you.

Now you get to hurt me the way you always dreamt of deep down each time I wasn't with you. But I'm alone and you never were, despite how much you wanted to believe it.

Will the pain ever leave this body of mine, or is it just part of existing?

London, London, London. Will you take them now? Of course you will, moving on. 

That wasn't love. It's not about them, once again, but about us, feelings and mud. There's too much dirt to do better, my back hurts again.

Will your mum also make scones for them? Definitely, but they won't cry in happiness like me, for I'm burdened and blessed by this sensitivity "a flor de piel". What an ugly saying.

I slept so badly and good news is around, I'm happy and suffering too. It's time to take a step further finally, to get some good news also for myself.

Where is my sister?

I want to leave and never return, I miss her. That's the main good news I want to hear: all went well, the struggle is solved, she's alive and well".

There's still a lot going on and as she said, I'm not talking to anyone again, at the moment, as it happens, as I feel defeated and weak, heavy. Maybe I just need a proper bed. What about taking the step further? 24th of September.

It's time to say goodbye to you forever, for this pain is too much. The hope of being closer again is only hurting. Another post will come for that, not that you'd see it. 

Overwhelming emotions constantly, how do I truly let this go? It's been over a month and I'm still stuck here in the space you left in my heart. In the loneliness I am.

On reopening wounds.

 I guess it's part of the healing, to be curious about what's under the bandage, at times, like this one, there's tissue stuck to the cloth and as you pull to take a look it breaks a bit of the effort your body made to heal it and the work begins again.

Only I knew it wasn't healed yet, because when I think of him with either of them three that broke us, I feel flustered and go straight back into the hole I've been trying to climb out of.

It wasn't them who broke us, I know. Still, the images of them together dig with claws into some really sick place within my soul. Betrayals and traumas I wish I didn't have, despite I'd love to have breakfast with him, but it won't turn out well. I don't really want to know what he's been up to because it's probably exactly what I imagine and it hurts that they get to have that while I got so much shit.

Some drinks, some parties, some drugs, some sex, maybe a pile of condoms under the bed this time, maybe an entirely new relationship... There's a reason the statistics on this page have to go down, probably there's a new obsession on the way.

How mean I can be. 

The thing is, I'm just confused. I truly want him to be happy, but I also just want all of that to be erased from my brain and for him to stop all contact with them three and since I miss him, I can't find peace. I never had something like that before, I just wish the good parts had been healthy instead of this awful war it became. I wish there had been true love and not just trauma bonding... But so I wonder about my own sick and twisted heart.

They didn't break us, it was the mistrust, the broken promises, the lies. The anger, the frustration, the control. 

It was trauma bonding all along.

I just wonder if I'd ever be as fulfilled as then, or if that balance between extreme companionship, fun, passion, intimacy and healthy space, individuality and support is actually not possible without the toxicity of enmeshment.

I know this is on me, this is me, I fight my toxicity as much as I can, but that means, I stay contrived as well.

Is he still seeing them? Was she a dj? Is he fucking them? Are they back to being friends? 

They may be having a great time, much better without me as I always believed. Like in my dream of being transparent "La Olvidada", I truly believe you all are better off without me. 

... At least life has shown me that in one case, it's not like that, even when it seems to be. In his case though, I'm sure it is. He has his freedom and his vices and his girls and his parties, no mother-anchor to hold him responsible, no therapists-consciousness to advise him on better decisions. 

I'm freer as well and focusing on my dreams has been a big push. My knitting projects are back and I'm actually good at it. My wishes of living alone might even become true by the next year or so, I'm just opening doors lately, cleaning up dusty, forgotten places in my soul.

I'm sadder, I'm less confident, but I'm stronger and braver, I'm lonelier, I'm less energized, but I'm reminding myself I'm worthy and enough, I can make my dreams come true and I deserve good things, big things too.

I'm more jealous, but I can see it's the apps and the socials. I'm still worthy of love and compassion like we all are.

I wish I knew what I want with this, I wish I knew what is best for me about him. But only time will tell, so patience and focusing on myself are the best options I have, they do me good.

Today is yours.

 Today has been your day, my mind, despite all my efforts, keeps circling back to you. 

Kaufland, enchiladas, quesadillas, spaceship surprise, London, Humboldthain, little surprises and the constant care.

I have my period and in my depressive procrastination, I think of your perfect lentil soup and the cuddles. I'm just sad today.

I'm trying to stay away because I want you to be happy and I know that in order to get there I need to give you enough time and space to heal from me and me from you. 

I wish I could just be happy seeing you with them and I wish we could be close anyway. I wish we could chat and hang out, hug without the pains. I wish so much and though I try to focus on myself, my brain keeps bringing you back. I'm crocheting so time goes by without much space for thinking, I'm cleaning and decorating so my space becomes a home, I'm dreaming and moving toward them so I can be satisfied and forget the loneliness, or maybe not forget, but accept and enjoy even.

Still you keep coming back, on every breakfast I haven't had, on tidal, in the mouth of every English speaker at the store, each evening alone, each walk after sunset, each wish for a cider, at the supermarket and in bed. Today I asked myself: "I wonder what you're having for breakie these days"

I'm just sad today.

What's wrong with me?

          All is filled with unshed tears today, they rush through my throat but my eyes catch them, dry. Your memory haunts me, together with the warmth of home. Today, I miss all I haven't embraced since 2017, but also a life I haven't had yet.

         I'm bleeding and that might be the cause, though all the doubts and intrusive thoughts are taking part too. I feel so weak and frustrated, no matter how much I try, I'm dissatisfied with every goodbye, except one.  Seeing her yesterday was nice, but again, saying goodbye means that I don't know when I would ever see them again unless I keep putting in all the effort. Sure, I understand each has its own struggles and preoccupations, but I keep being forgotten, how come I make the time and I remember?

There's a balance I look for, there are goals I'm figuring out and pursuing, and there is solitude I need but I also need to feel appreciated, cherished, valued... I need love, not only romantic.
I'm more or less fine with myself, I think highly enough of myself and have my projects to express this heart I hold, but my self-worth keeps sinking as I continue not understanding the reason for being forgotten, nor my discomfort with so many other hearts. 

I'm tired of searching and reaching out, of meaningless, self-centred, invulnerable interactions, finite "friendships" and social media's perfect beauty and success.

I want out.

Or better, I want in, properly in. 

Hearty talks, deep laughter and authentic expression, shared projects, mutual support, acceptance and compassion, honest conversations. Warmth, pure and raw humanity, outside the norms of this restrictive society. I want freedom, but together. Respect and appreciation, is that such a hard thing to achieve?

Am I insane for wanting relationships that truly make me happy? Is that even possible, does it exist at all? Am I just wrong, are these wishes just some sick, perverted urge? Are there no other hearts around who may want the same?

Or is it me? What am I doing wrong? What am I not seeing that keeps me from having... a true friend?

I may think and say it's the bleeding of this month, but I know, deep down, it's the lack of love. No matter how much my inner world is blamed, I truly believe and know, that it's not that I'm not giving myself enough love, enough attention, acceptance; enough freedom or space to be; enough compassion and warmth. 
What I believe, is that there is something about my behaviour or beliefs, that keeps me from having the relationships I truly dream of, but I can't see it. And how could I, when I barely see anyone?

I'm tired of reaching out. I'm tired of feeling lonely, I'm tired of this difficult life, always on the verge of crumbling. I'm tired of doubting the one love I have left instead of enjoying it as it should be.

I'm tired of missing.

I will continue to create, maybe then I will at least be stable and this loneliness won't be so deadly anymore.

Store days.

 Friday:

The Streets is playing in the store. I was hesitant to write, so I didn't. 

"Has it come to this?"

The piano carves deeply into my loneliness on this one, it's always done so, but now it also makes me nostalgic about you. 

I was about to write to you last time about letting go, moving forward and all that which I've said many times, but before I even compose it, you were gone. I'm glad you did, probably being healthier was a big reason, together with my last writing. I have the urge to explain about it, but I need to stop myself every time. It's hard when I know that your mind tends to believe the worst possible thing.

I write to process, not to hurt or call upon you. I write for me, I write for my mind and my heart.
I miss you, but that doesn't mean I want you back.

Saturday:

Today one of your disco songs was on the radio, it hit me by surprise, filled me with some odd sad feeling that I can't quite explain right now.

It was "I want your love" by Chic, and now some English gals are here, the kind you'd like.

I was already totally out of it, my brain was elsewhere, the shop was quiet and I just wanted everything to end. Eli was so happy to go to a party, while I just wanted to go home and sleep.
I don't know what's going on with my mind lately, I can barely sleep while of course, my brain keeps leaving reality. I am in a constant state of dissociation, I can't even look at anything, only through it, and the capacity to focus: none.

I still miss you and I still think we can't be in contact at all, I still want to protect you and take care of you, which shows that I need to stay away.
I hope you are doing well, moving forward, learning and healing, I hope therapy starts soon and that this time it does help you deeply, to heal the little Lou that is within, so he learns to trust you while you give him what he needs and deserves. I also hope you can move forward with all your projects and reach your goals.
I just want you to be happy, even if I'm not there at all to see it.

I regularly think of your family, of London, of your mother... And if I let myself dive into them, I dwell on unknown emotions that I can't comprehend, neither why they come, nor what they are at all. Maybe just related to feeling at home, maybe it was just the scones Alice made, maybe the lack of family myself. 
I'm glad they call you regularly, I know they can be annoying at times, but it's lovely to have that support. I'm glad you have your brother and your dad as well. I'm glad you're not actually alone in this and it's important for me to remember that: you are not alone and you will be alright.
You don't need me, and that is a good thing.

La olvidada

 Hay una pena profunda escondida en el océano, entre oscuridad, algas y peces no la notamos, pero está ahí, como una tumba, recordándonos esos miedos que impulsan dolores y crean realidades a su vez.

Soñé con ustedes, estábamos sentadas en una mesa redonda, tomando once, conversando en calma y felicidad, nos reíamos con una ligereza que sólo nosotras concocemos. De pronto, mi cuerpo se volvía translúcido, lentamente avanzando hacia la total transparencia, en mi desesperación les pedía ayuda, pero ustedes seguían riendo, como si nada estuviera pasando, me miraban y veían a través de mi, tal cual un cansancio pesado en los ojos -lloraba. Me habían olvidado, como si nunca hubiera existido y reían como siempre lo hicimos.

Ese terror de ser olvidada se ha hecho real desde que me fui, perdí tantas amistades que simplemente se alejaron, a pesar de mis intentos de mantenerlas, entregué mi cariño una y otra vez, en mensajes, fotos, voces, pero no recibí nada a cambio, un fade-out cualquiera, como si los años de amistad no significaran nada. Un ghosting como en tinder, pero que realmente duele, no sólo frustra. Y ahora hasta mi familia me está dejando, qué he hecho mal?
Cómo puede ser que la más pequeña tuviera un teléfono al que podría haberla llamado por meses antes de que, por casualidad, me contaran? Cómo no estuve dentro de las personas con quien pensaron en compartir este dato? Dicen que todos los almuerzos me recuerdan y les creo, pero cómo es que ese recuerdo no se convierte en un mensaje, una foto, una llamada, años van y sólo por casualidad o en fechas importantes hablamos, y a veces ni eso.

Soy invisible, el anonimato llegó, nunca existí y es que lo deseé tantas veces, el desaparecer. Lo que quería era desaparecer los problemas, las reglas, las jaulas, para poder encontrarme, pero teniendo 7 años, cómo iba a saber que esa frustración, ese odio, esa impotencia, era toda por algo externo y no porque todo estuviera erróneo en mi misma? 
Esa Dani que creía que si no existiera todos estarían mejor, todos serían más felices, esa que sabía que tenía que ganarse su lugar en éste planeta para ser vista y respetada por quien era... Esa Dani, hoy llora porque quienes más ama le están, sin querer, recordando esas emociones, esa soledad que siempre viví, ese deseo de no existir porque al final, no hay diferencia si estoy o no, solamente hay más espacio en un mundo que está demasiado lleno y en las mentes que, como reflejo, están igual. 

Si la Dani no existe, hay más espacio para otras cosas, cosas en las que ustedes quieran enfocarse, no hay más dolor en mi y hay más libertad para otros. Eso cree la Dani de 7 años que esperaba a sus padres en terror, junto al teléfono por horas, después de promesas frescas y ya rotas.
Esa Dani que quiere desaparecer está aquí y yo, la verdadera protectora de mi pequeña, estoy enredándome en estos dolores en un intento casi futil de darle la seguridad, el amor, el valor, la importancia y el respeto que se merece.
Porque esta Dani chiquitita es un ser maravilloso, con una mente increíble y un corazón infinito, si esta Dani hubiera recibido lo que merecía y lo que necesitaba, probablemente mi vida sería mucho más fácil, estaría tan alto como mis padres desearon, en vez de en esta pieza a medio armar, con ansiedad de salir, sobrepasada por todo lo que la sociedad representa y llorando.

Cómo le enseño a ésta Dani que merece mucho más, si quienes dicen amarla, no la ven, no le hablan, no la recuerdan? Cómo la hago sentirse apreciada y vista, cuando tantos se han rendido en mantener una relación, la han dejado? Cómo le recuerdo su valor, cuando sentimos que estamos haciendo algo terríblemente mal y no logramos entender qué es, ni por qué al final terminamos estando solas, una y otra vez?

Hoy no tengo respuestas, para ninguna de estas cosas, sólo sé que yo sí amo a mi Dani, que yo sí le hablo a diario, que estamos tejiendo juntas, escribiendo juntas, cantando juntas, decorando juntas, que sí le doy la libertad para explorar y ser quien realmente es, y que juntas estamos aprendiendo cada día a confiar en mi misma, a vivir en más libertad sin disculparse y a descubrir las cosas que hacen a nuestro corazón palpitar más fuerte. Estamos intentando avanzar hacia el miedo, caminar a través de él. Todo esto mientras volvemos a nuestras rutinas saludables, a la dieta balanceada, al movimiento, la respiración, la mente, las artes... 

Espero poder demostrarle a mi Dani chiquitita querida, que su valor es inmenso y que sí puede confiar, no sólo en mi, pero también en las otras personas. Espero pronto poder encontrar a esas personas con quienes esta Dani se sienta realmente a gusto, sin presiones, sin ansiedades, sin miedos, que encuentre esos corazones que sí la merecen y la valoren.

Humphrey, A (edited into the present reality)

 Seeing your location that day made me wonder instantly, how can this still be here? Does it flow both ways or is just my broken mind... It's been four years.

It's been four years and we both have lives, we were so young. I really hope you are not as sad as you used to be.

I shouldn't have asked, but I did.
I shouldn't have looked, but I did too.
I knew it was gonna hurt, cause the regret of not having looked right into your eyes for longer still haunts me. You were right, I was trapped in that relationship and it wasn't worth keeping. I just wish I hadn't been so rigid and flowed into what we had, or didn't, cause even if we didn't really know each other or the future, feeling your chest against mine, bare, soft and warm, mixed with the unquestionable desire that poured through our every molecule, would have been enough to be worth it.

You are my biggest regret.

Is this only so, for me?
I'm playing lo-fi in your memory, Nujabes was your favourite back then. We never really knew each other and I'm sure it's not worth it for you to even imagine considering the possibility of closing this circle with one first and last encounter, but I needed to tell you once more, after all, this is all about regrets of mine.

Does your mind ever return to that day in your apartment?
Mine does sometimes and I just want to end it for once, the regret is heavy and since I don't have many, I don't know how to let it go. I should probably delete your socials and move on, but I would like to have sex with you, only once, to quiet my mind.

I was remembering since you came, we got deep into something back then, shared darkest thoughts and fears, fantasies and dreams, secrets I can't write and the feeling of belonging, in a really fucked up way, just because we felt and did the same. How would it have been if we had actually met? I have the feeling it would have been a fucking mess, we were too young.
Still, I circle back to asking myself how it would have been if you had touched my arm that day, or if I had leaned a bit closer as we spoke, find out how your lips felt against mine? Your balcony is just an idyllic dream, I still can see your bed and the huge place you had alone for yourself, I can still remember as I imagined you consumed in your loneliness there, drinking wine, smoking and playing video games. I imagined myself being there with you, time stopped in endless days of giving in to our pleasures... It would have been a mess.

I missed my chance to have you in my arms, a feeling that now has turned into a pure craving for your touch, but in its time was more. I was so young -we were so young, as I read our talk in an attempt to find some closure, I find stains of immaturity in a futile attempt to figure things out, heal and grow. We both wanted that and were somehow stuck in our own deep feelings of failure, depression and loneliness. Meaningless and directionless, but somehow still swimming.
Maybe that's the only reason why our connection was so strong, just a sick deprivation of anything good, belonging in each others' misery.

And despite knowing all that, I still want you, just this one first -and last time.

I wanted to write you out of my life, I was going to delete and block you, though what I truly want is for you to ask her, so we can finish (this) together as we wrote so many times in the fantasies we couldn't realise. Thankfully just being honest made me see how different we are, as you said. I looked at your pictures, read your present messages and realised, this is not worthy enough. For your words are filled with some toxin I can't decipher and your face isn't as I remembered. 

I just liked the way you made me feel, the special attention, the idolising words, the sexual pull. Now though, I remembered why it felt so weird to have any little contact. You're one of those. And none of this was worth anything, meaningless it is and so it can leave my chest, all that you are is now gone.

How easy it is to let go once you have all the facts, especially once I re-realise how awful you can be.

Te cuento algo, mamá?

 Y si parto diciendo que todas hemos deseado morir regularmente durante nuestras vidas? Y si te digo que no es tu culpa? Si te cuento que viene de antes, que sobrepasa lo que entiendes como temporal o generacional? Si te digo que es casi una maldición, pero no como tal?

Cuántas generaciones de mujeres aprisionadas hay detrás nuestro mamá? 

No es tan fácil salir de la prisión, ya sea de metal o mental, pero lo estamos intentando, y ahora que la muerte estuvo cerca y nos sigue rondando, más que nunca necesitamos romper estas cuerdas que nos atan, las unas a las otras y a ese dolor que acarreamos como fantasmas pero pesados.
Mamá, cómo te explico que extraño la soledad que me diste? Vivir con tanta gente sólo de causa problemas estomacales y soledad de la mala. En inglés hay dos palabras para explicarlo, son muy diferentes la verdad: Estar solx o sentirse solx. 
Ya que me siento tan sola, al menos podría estar sola también, pero mamá, no sé cómo lograrlo cuando tengo tan poca plata en una ciudad tan cara. Mamá, cómo lo lograste tú?

Quisiera que mi hermano despertara y me agradeciera por darle un mejor futuro, aunque en realidad el mérito es tuyo, como siempre, luchando por algo mejor para nosotros, apesar de habernos dejado solos. Te hemos perdonado ya, ahora te toca a ti perdonarte. 
Imagínate mamá, cómo sería si avanzáramos todas juntas hacia la sanación?

Antes de ayer tuve una epifanía y en un golpe de energía escribí que ya no iba a lamentarme por mi misma, que iba a ser más auténtica y confiar en mi misma, ir por eso que merezco, pero hoy, me levanté y pareciera que se fue ese sentimiento con el temporal que no hubo. Desperté sufriendo por la falta de horas para dormir, por el exceso de luz y de ruido, soñando aún con ese poqueño hogar donde quiero vivir, la naturaleza, el fuego y el agua, la tierra y el aire, vidrio y madera, papel y grafito, lana y tela, té y arroz, tina y balcón.

Mamá, hoy me levanté y todos mis sueños estaban pesados, mantenían mis parpados cerrados pero despierta, tirada en la cama, hinchada, inmóvil, exhausta, destrozada. Hablé hoy con la Vera, mamá, me hizo feliz, está tan grande.
Luego mi hermana me contó sobre esa sombra que nos viene siguiendo y recordé cómo es que todas hemos deseado estar muertas, hemos deseaso unca haber nacido, hemos deseado y preguntado, por qué! Más en exclamación que pregunta. 

Mamá, qué hago ahora? Cómo vuelvo a mi misma cuando mi espacio huele a perro, lleno de pelo y baba seca? Cómo me alimento si no me atrevo a pasar tiempo ahí y otros se come mi comida? Cómo tengo ejercito si en mi nuevo barrio sólo hay adolescentes cool en vez de un parque para correr? Cómo vivo si ya no aguanto estar con gente y deseo con todo mi corazón vivir sola, mientras no me creo capaz de hacerlo?
Siempre me dije, cuando aprenda Alemán todo va a estar mejor. Hoy, con mi b1-b2, tras un mes de trabajar completamente en Alemán puedo decir con certeza, que no se me ha hecho mucho más fácil. O es que no lo noto mamá?
Es acaso mi pesimismo tan arraigado en las profundidades de mi corazón? Es que acaso no puedo ver lo mucho que he logrado?

Probablemente.

Entonces mamá dime, qué he logrado en estos 5 años de exilio autoimpuesto? Qué he logrado?
En cronología, sí dejé las pastillas y bajé de peso, me inicié en el veganismo y en la sustentabilidad, aprendí sobre mi propia mente y trabaje con mis demonios, aunque ninguno de estos trabajos estén terminados. Aprendí un tanto de Alemán, ahora hablo casi tres idiomas, pronto podría aprender un cuarto. Encontré más independencia y al fin aprendí, hasta cierto punto, qué es lo que yo quiero y necesito, cómo cuidarme, cómo crecer, cómo comunicarme. Aprendí sobre mi neurodivergencia, ya sea diagnosticada o no.
Sí aprendí bastante, pero aún siento que no es lo suficiente. No tengo a nadie con quien compararme, así que en vez de hacerlo comigo, lo hago con otres quienes veo en internet, y mamá, te tengo que decir que duele, porque ellxs son todxs perfectxs, super cuerpos, super mentes, super creatividad, super habilidades, super decoración, super estilo y vestimenta, super amigues, super plata, super trabajo, super voz... Es insoportable ver a tanta gente haciendo tantas cosas perfectas... No quiero más perfección, quiero realidad, para ver si logro encajar.

Mamita, creo que tengo problemas. Creo que algo está mal conectado en mi mente y mi cuerpo, algo del sistema nervioso, es que cómo pueden ellos hacer tanto sin aparentes problemas, mientras yo me tengo que ir a llorar al baño?
No quiero más ir a esconderme al baño.

No more pity.

I keep seeing things and thinking things and it's time to stop this.

Every single word you send is another deep black tile for me to fall into, theoretically, you wouldn't be able to go to any parties ever again if we got back together, or anywhere without me. Here is the thing: there is no going back anymore. 
I see no point in my life in which I can overcome this, I don't ever see myself making peace with the long line of men who have hurt me and every single mother in my family.
See I can't believe anything you say anymore, all your reasons and excuses mean absolutely nothing because what I've known so far from you has been pain and frustration. 

Despite being completely taken over by the triggered part of myself, the wounded one, I meant what I said. Yes, I've been awful to you in words since Monday, but I was honest about how I feel. You showed me anger, violence, aggression, and impatience when I needed care and support the most, while you made a playlist for her when she felt pain. It doesn't matter who "she" is, it matters that this is who you were at the beginning, this is who you are to others, and this is not who you are to me or have been for a long time.
You chose me, over and over, but what for and at what cost?
How can you call that love?

I've been pitying myself and being awful to you for long enough now, it's time to end it once and for all. I am strong and I want change, I have self-discipline and I can get out of this, survive this, expand my horizons, my options and my freedom; live without the heaviness of us.
I am alone and lonely, but that doesn't have to be bad, as long as you don't come up with your parties and your cool kid stuff. I am a pathetic little shit and that is fine.
I am sick, I am slow, I am broken and broke, I don't understand, I don't fit in, I don't belong, but none of that has to be bad, it's fine to be who I am because I am also strong and wise and I take my time. I am aware, I am conscious. I am me and she is quite nice, cosy, comfy, lovely company.

In spite of all the lies you all fed me, there's still a little fire within that reminds me of how worthy I am, how much I deserve, and now I know how to take care of myself, how to protect that fire and to hug and love the wounded girl I also am, underneath all the layers, there is a child that needs me, she is funny, caring, witty, creative, loving, curious, enthusiastic, wise, loveable... and her heart is bigger than this world which sadly means that she can get hurt more than this world too. 
I am here now, to protect her immense heart, to let her run free and be by her side whenever she falls. I am here to be the mother I never had, the father I never had, the friend I never had, the partner I never had, the sibling I never had, the me that I never had.

In order to be that, I need to step away from the toxic, I need to rely on the decisions I've made sober, whenever I was alone and thinking clearly, not in the middle of a fight, nor in the middle of a lovely time, but after, alone and wondering what I'd do with my life if I continue like this. 

St. Jude - Florence and the Machine, hear it, read it, swallow and digest it. That's what I am doing right now:

"But I'm learning so I'm leaving
and even though I'm grieving
I'm trying to find the meaning
Letting loss reveal it."

It's time to focus on myself, through the loneliness, through the lack of space, through the passing of time, through the pains and through the fears, it's time and I am here to honour my wounds and my worth. Honour the freedom I never allowed myself. 

It's time to become the powerful creature that was caged inside, let her unleash herself and trust. Trust myself despite what you all said, all I chewed on, swallowed and absorbed believing was nutritious, it's time to detoxify myself and trust the revolution of water we are in until August.

Hereby, I free her -who I once believed was a monster- from the prison of fear, invalidation and diminishing that in its moment seemed to be the only way to protect my immense heart, yet made evident by the present life, it was only hurting us more. My sacred demon, come out and let us have the life we truly deserve.

___________________

"Please don't go back to the place you once prayed to be out of"
"Don't lower your standards to open your possibilities, it will just leave you drained"
"You may be not seeing the bigger picture since you're too focused on this duality"

It's for the best.

 As I see the push and pull so clearly in numbers here and am poisoned by violent wishes, sitting in the same park I walked away from you a couple weeks ago, when nothing was as bad as today. I remember everything and state again and again, it's for the best.

How come you're not here, with all these people just like you and her and her as well, and the friend you said you're helping too? I have so little faith in you that I don't even believe you were just with her, but it wasn't a lie, cause it was on Friday, not the Saturday twin.

I'm in so much pain, I'm so alone. I'm so alone, I'm so alone. 

Fucking bitch, just being sorry for myself, what an idiot, insoportable.

I wish I had a drink, sitting here alone, in pain, cold, I wish I had two drinks, three and four, just lie here until I merge with the soil, forget everything and anything. Bitch.

I will sit here for 20 minutes, you won't see this in that long today since you haven't checked it obsessively like other times. It's for the best. I need to let go.

Caught - Florence & the Machine.

It's all back, it's gone.

 It's back, it's all back but I'm alone this time. 

I never thought I'd be the forgotten one, yet here I am, no messages on my phone, no calls, no one knocking at my door. I've completely disappeared, I am in the void I so feared. How long have I, without noticing, been here?

I wish at least I had the good parts of being alone, but the system forced me to living with others. Is it that farfetched and insane to imagine having a place for myself? 

A cosy little kitchen, a calming bathtub, a nook to cuddle with a tea and a book and a balcony to grow some plants. A big carpet and a coffee table to sit and work at. I can see it perfectly, with a view of some trees, or maybe at the beach. My cabin in the woods to follow the loneliness I've always been.

Talking to my beautiful family made me feel so full, but the second it was over it all came back. 

I'm deeper in depression than I've been in the last 4 years. I'm in a pain and discomfort that's half unknown, I'm not home.

I try, but all my mind goes to is the downsides. I haven't lived any upsides. I'm not meant to be so social, but at least I could have the good parts of either being social or not.

How can I keep my routines when I can't leave my space ready for it, when I'm too anxious to leave the house for my own reasons. Ugh whatever.

Why am I so difficult? Why don't I have any friends? Why can't I finish anything? Why am I not really good at anything? 

I'm just a failed version of a human. My body is working strangely due to my discomfort in this place, but I don't want to accept it because here is much better than there, I don't want to say it because I'm scared of how you'd feel.

I want to leave this planet. They all talk about manifesting and they have perfect lives, perfect jobs, perfect friends, perfect partners, perfect houses, perfect bodies, perfect skin, Jesus even the perfect weather! 

How can I feel any better when I feel like I'm missing the secret ingredient they have? What am I not seeing? Why can't I find it? Why am I stuck and contrived?

It's all back, all of it, entirely and fully. Not only mistrusting and not being worthy, but the failure, the impossible dreams, the wish to escape. 

My will to live is gone again, when can I leave, I give up on this game, I lost and that's ok.

I just don't want to roam around seeing others achieve what I couldn't anymore. Please, take me away.

No wonder I keep coming back to you. I'm so lonely, I've always been so lonely. Hell I don't even know how to make and keep friends, I try so hard, I get so tired and they never ask me how I am. What am I doing wrong?

No wonder I keep coming back to you, no ritual can break it, no therapy. I'm cursed. And I'm slowly passing that curse to you, unless you were cursed already too, but you made it through, you have friends, a few but worthy, you have a loving family who writes and calls. We're both lost, unstable, weak, so being together helps us forget all the pain our hearts have gone through, substance abuse. Only we made more pain for us in the meantime, we can't have the good without the bad. 

I don't want to share more of this curse with you. You could get out once, you will do it again, but not if I'm there to spread my loneliness, my discomfort, my incapacity to fit in, to belong, to feel at home. 

Quiero a mi hermana, que me cuide como cuando era niña. Quiero a la Alicia, que juegue conmigo con los lápices. Quiero a la Carmen, que me haga pancitos después del colegio, y una leche con chocolate. 

Quiero aprender a tener amigos, a sentirme cómoda con ellos, a cuidarles y que me cuiden.

Por qué siento que hay algo que no logro entender de las relaciones humanas? Las quiero, las busco, lo intento, pero no están, no hay nada.

What's wrong with me?

I've been in bed for days, only out to see the only person who would see me right now. I've barely eaten for days, I've barely spoken for days. No showers for days. I tried to arrange the space and make it better for me, but it's not enough. How would it be if I lived alone?

The dreams come but the reality weights them down: Why can't I be normal? Why am I not normal? What am I doing wrong? What's wrong with me?

What's wrong with me? What's wrong with me? What's wrong with me? What's wrong with me? What's wrong with me? What's wrong with me? What's wrong with me? What's wrong with me? What's wrong with me? What's wrong with me? What's wrong with me? What's wrong with me? What's wrong with me? What's wrong with me?

 What's

Wrong

With

Me.

Can I even be helped, or am I doomed to roam this life with the infinite heaviness of loneliness until I die? 

I am at Ikea (not like you would care)

 On my way to our comfort store, either go through your Treptower Park or the park of one of your girls, ugh. 

It must be easy to let me go when you have two prospects waiting for you, one completely new, the other halfway through. The butterflies must be going crazy inside you, the passion you contain can be spread into someone who will be able to receive it better than I did. 

I'm going to remind myself that Ikea is mine, have a tea and cake, it's my comforting place, not ours. I'm going to reconnect with myself again and let go of the memories we made together, forge new ones alone, because I can't remember you without the knife pushing back inside, without that night at Treptower Park, without Victoria and your new drum&base lass, without your lies. 

I'm in so much pain, I'm just trying to stay present with and for myself. I feel contaminated and I just want to lie down and cry until I heal.

I'm so angry, disappointed. Triggered. I wish I had never met you, that's in how much pain I am. I would rather never have had the good, only to never have felt this way again. The feeling of my life, always there. 

You made me believe you could be "the one" (or become the perfect partner) even after I managed to stop believing in that, you brought that idea back into my life and I fell for it, while the other half of me knew it was impossible and dumb, protecting me from letting go of that which was concrete and helpful. 

I am so hurt, and I imagine you making fun of what you read here, as you did many times of what I said or how I said it when we fought, dramatic bitch I am, or maybe it's that this is not my first language, it hurts no matter what the reason was.

At least I am starting to hate you, that's the next stage of grief, isn't it?

Incomplete text 1. Trying to figure it out.

- "Hey are you coming?"

- "Yes, I'm taking an Uber now."

- "Cool, see you soon (:"

Why does it hurt like a knife through the solar plexus? Why  now?

You lied when I asked earlier and I caught you later on, claimed you did't lie and I'm supposed to believe you were waiting for the right time and celebrate you being considerate enough not to tell me because I feel so bad about myself at the moment. 

The story repeats itself, lying men, coward men, lazy men. Always finding an excuse, waiting to be fixed, forgetting: more like not caring, demanding, the push and pull, lying around to be fed a plan, not taking responsibility or communicating with respect and care, the anger! And of course, the making me believe I'm insane. I believed them.

Good that you know who you are: "two years of loyalty", sorry to have wasted your time. You showed it enough, no need for even more words on that. I shouldn't have come back.

Suddenly you're all the men in my life:

My cheating, lustful, lying and coward father, always saying the right things; my cheating, controling mother, gaslighting everyone (masculine energy); my brother, hating me since I turned 6; my first boyfriend, rejected, talking shit about me to our older school mates; Francisco, sudden hate, lying, lustful, weak, coward, saying the right things and keep opening the deepest wounds of my heart and soul, only to make them bigger after years of make-believe and romance stories; and Ville-Matti who left me alone during a miscarriage to go have a drink with his friends...

And let's not forget the most disgusting liar of them all, the one who disappeared every other week, the one who hid behind feminine gestures, half-assed political language and the "I'm working through my issues" bullshit. The "I want radical honesty and communication", the "my boundaries!", yet no responsibility for the relationship, no sense of community or care. Pure selfishness deep down. After desiring every woman in front of me, pushing me to open up the relationship, telling me about the perfect vagina and easy orgasms of his first prey and using me to pretend to be cool with his new victims, he threatened and kicked me out of my house, without a job, without a family, without a backup plan.

Now we have to add the classic abuse to the list.

You're not bad, I know that, but I can say the same for almost every single one of these men (and mother). I understand why they did most of the things they did. All of them have good qualities and fears, confusions, all of them chose the easy way, probably some didn't even know there was another path, nor their values to find courage to do what's right instead... And now I am paying the consequences, deeply in my solar plexus, as you finally told the truth of your parties and friends, if that is even the full truth, something I'm never falling for again, another liar.

To be honest I believe I deserve it. I've hurt you so badly since the beginning with many of the same bad qualities of these men. You've told me enough times how awful I've been to you, how awful I am in general too, and showed no patience, understanding or compassion for my own struggles, explanations and pains, despite my attempts to communicate better than these men who hurt-shaped me.

It's been intensely clarified how painful this all has been for you at least every week of this relationship, yet somehow it's still not enough for you and the need to leave a bigger scar is as promising as the "lies" I told while I stayed in your house: the dreams and wishes of a future together which burnt "with one talk" as you said. Still my clarifications about the confusion and weakness of my heart, body, mind and soul in that moment disappear every other minute, so my efforts to convey a message that's clear and concise are just more useless garbage in your house. 

And now what? 

I can't even look at you without feeling the weight of all these men; I can't touch you without seeing the inappropriate, cheating lust in their eyes; I can't even imagine kissing you without feeling dismissed, lied to, "crazy", too much, not enough, used, abused, trashed, objectified, harassed, guilt-tripped, diminished, shut up and down, yelled at, glorified, destroyed, unheard, unseen, made responsible, made mother and therapist, rejected, unwanted, desired... Scared.

So how do I trust you now that I know how you lie? How do I overcome the long line of shit men in my life? How do I separate this from you, after all the history of abuse we have? 

Two years of loyalty, but also abuse, anger, impatience, misunderstandings, never-ending fights and no compassion... Sure there was also laughter, banter, dancing, incredible sex, drugs, cuddles, companionship at times even. But does it balance out? And what about now, adding lying to the mix, something so triggering and corrosive that I feel literal physical pain? 

The panic attacks are back, all the walk back to my house since it was too late for trains, all the fear of the infinite men who seem to rule the streets, especially in big groups, especially with macho attitudes... The crying all night, no sleep, the pain, Jesus Fucking Christ the knife I feel through the center of my body! I'm bleeding out looking for answers and solutions in myself, in the cards, in rituals, in wishes to contact those who know how to join the two worlds, screaming-asking the universe "WHY?!"

Why did I have to meet you? Why at that point? Why do I keep coming back? Why did it have to go this way? Why, why, why?!

I have no answers tonight, just heavy eyelids and birds signing to wake up. No sleep, just a headache and the strongest wish to be dead, again.