2days

I was really proud of myself, I was able to be okay, maybe even happy yesterday.

Now it's gone. 

I'm still broken.

How the most dangerous thing is to love

The sun

I've missed you.

Your words today gave me everything. I felt closer to you. I feel like protected by you. And loved. 

And you called me like that again. You made me so happy. 

Thank you. 

Ily. 

Another fear

We had a nice day. So I got really scared.

I'm scared because I think you love me only because you don't know everything. 

I'm scared of it. 

Because you haven't seen me like that, when I'm in the dark and I can't barely talk. 

You haven't seen me when I can't breathe and I can't think of anything. You haven't seen me at my lowest, when I'm smaller and lonely and cold and when I don't deserve your love.

So I'm just the funny friend, the one you like. 

What if you all really hate me? What will I do?

What happens when everyone starts to see me for what I really am? What if I'm a monster and you hate me?

I'll be alone. 

I'll be just that kind girl who seems nice but she really isn't. 

I'm sorry I go to these dark places. I'm sorry I don't know how to talk about it. I'm sorry I'm such a mess, such a bad friend. 

empty

It's here again. It never really went away. It's like having a hole in the middle of my chest and never being able to fill it up. And you try and sometimes it looks like it's okay and you feel whole and normal but it's only temporary. The emptiness always comes back and eats you from the inside out and it hurts like hell.

Somethings are meant to be. 

I know it's gonna be like this forever. I just have to live with it and keep myself distracted from it. I just have to turn off and feel less and be less. Sometimes it's easier to just let the blood do its work. To let pain take control and shut down. Nothing makes sense, it never did. I'm just waiting to be gone, like the coward I am. 

So yeah. Sorry for bothering you. It was never my intention. 

Distance

I don't know when we grew apart. I almost didn't notice. And I blame myself every time I think about it. I don't know why, but it is my fault, isn't it? But sorry, I don't have the courage to talk about it. It's stupid, I know — we used to talk so much. I trusted you so so much. I think you did too. Hell, I'm sorry. 

I miss the nickname you gave me. Made me feel better about myself, made me feel love. I liked the way I was in your eyes. Like I was worth it.

Sometimes I miss you. I wish I was another kind of human — a better one. I wish I deserved you.

And I felt left behind. And I know that was my fault too. But I still feel like that — I can't help it I'm so sorry.

I just hope you still think I'm worth it. I just hope that I still get to have a little place in your heart.

I'm sorry, for everything.

I love you.

Do I worry?

I worry every single day.

About the smallest things, the stupidest. 

I worry about the past and the present.

I throw up about the future. 

Even when everything seem okay

I worry. 

I get sick and mad and I worry. 

I get sad and angry and I worry. 

About what I said and what you meant. 

I feel lonely surrounded by people and I worry. 

My head gets burry and foggy. 

My stomach hurts and I get cramps. 

My body gets heavier and slower and I fucking worry. 

And I hope – nothing good –. I hope to disappear 'cause that seems to be the only way to stop it. 

Running out of time

Nos estamos quedando sin tiempo y sin ganas.

Y me estoy quedando sin palabras.

A este paso voy a quedarme sin folios, te he escrito ya mil cartas, tengo la papelera llena.

La tinta emborronada y el mismo final amargo en todas ellas, como si no pudiese evitarlo. 

Tal vez no pueda.

Puede que nos hayamos quedado encerrados en este bucle sin fin de apatía y malas miradas y menos palabras. A lo mejor por eso ya no sé cómo escribirte, he gastado todas mis palabras en cosas que no te he dicho, me pregunto si te pasa a ti lo mismo.

¿Cómo es posible que hayamos pasado de tener nuestro propio idioma a no poder siquiera traducirnos? 

¿Cómo es posible que hayamos pasado de estar tan unidos a ser desconocidos?

Son preguntas estúpidas. Las hay más importantes.

¿Cómo pudiste hacer eso? ¿Cómo pudiste hacer todo lo que hiciste?

He abandonado ya la esperanza de tener una respuesta. He abrazado la idea de que hay algo de inocencia en ti, aunque sea para permitirme dormir por las noches.

Y no, no te he escrito ninguna carta, porque suficiente tengo con el Miedo, las pesadillas y los traumas. Suficiente tengo.

Happy birthday

 I miss you so much. 

I don't believe in the afterlife, but if it exists please let me be with you.

I saw you on a dream the other night. I'm so scared of forgetting you, I rather die.

I hope you still love me, I always will.

Not a good day

It wasn't a good day today. It was not that bad either.
But I'm tired.
I'm tired of people being condescending and selfish and disrespectful.
Is not that hard to be polite and kind to each other.
I'm tired of being the weak one that always has to be the strong one, I'm tired of lifting myself up just to be face to face with people who don't give a fuck. I'm tired of all this trauma that conditions me, of all the personas I carry with me just in case. The luggage it's getting too heavy and my back hurts.
Right now I just want the world to shut about and change and learn.
I'm so angry right now.

Doorknob to the other side

Is this how poison feels? I don't understand why does everyone get to move forward but me. Am I the one who's doing it all wrong? I know I don't have any idea what is going on. But the world brought news of you again, and guess what? I haven't healed yet, what a surprise! Will I ever get past this? Another big stone to carry on my stupid backpack.

"Look, you guys, I'm really grateful that you still believe in me. Problem is, I don't."

Blacksmith

I don't have hate for anyone, except myself. Over and over again. I keep hating me. I want to shape myself into a new person. I've tried. I didn't care how much I needed to hurt myself to change, to be better for others, wonder why I never got to be good enough. And I feel disgusted when I see the past me, who the hell is she and why do I hate her so much? Why did she have to be like that? Why did she say that? Sometimes I wish I could go back in time and sometimes I wish I could bring her down to hell. We only caused problems to each other, I'm sure I'll cause problems to future me too, I'm sorry.

Sometimes I wonder who I was. I still don't know who I am. I have no shape, I have no truth. Sometimes I don't even think I'm real. Oh, I wish I wasn't real. I hate how egocentric English makes me look when I talk about my feelings and myself. But it's still hard to talk about those things in Spanish. Can I be cured? Am I supposed to just live like this forever? Because I don't want to. Don0t listen to me: I don't want to. Sometimes I wish I was just a little bit braver. Brave enough. I know I can't say that. I know it'll make everyone sad. But I feel like River. I felt like it was (one of) the most accurate representation of what I feel. It's just too much and I can't handle it. And I'm tired. I'm so fucking tired. I'm tied. I'm trapped here. I don't even have a good story. I'm not even a good person. I'm not even an honest person. Sure, you all like me, but that's just because I'm a bit charming, I smile and listen and I help people sometimes. That's just because I try so hard to be a decent human being sometimes.

But I ain't.

Is nobody going to realize that?

I wanna get out of my head. I wanna leave my body to die. I want to disappear. I just want to be a spectator. But I'm also fine being nothing, maybe that's the only thing I'm good at. And you can't tell me otherwise. I don't want people to lie to me or give me empty words about how wrong I am. I can't take it today (I won't take it for the next ten minutes, then I'll go back to being a nice girl who eats with her family and talks only about the good things). You are not inside my head, you don't know, it's the worst place I know. That's why being numb and cloudy feels so nice because I don't feel that much.

I'm so sorry. I'm not feeling good right now. I'll try.

Shaking

It was stupid to think that I was getting better. I'm not.
And I know that pushing my feelings away isn't going to help on the long run, but it helped yesterday.  And the day before...
Today a bomb was dropped in my front yard. It doesn't have to be a bad thing. But it was enough.
Now I'm a mess — I was a human mess before but I don't think I'm even human any more, am I? — and writing gets harder with these shaking hands.
But hey, on the bright side, I did my homework the proper way for the first time in months, it would be great if I was able to keep doing it.
And I didn't take the pill. Lots of reasons, I don't have many and I don't want to waste it. I don't wanna fall asleep yet. I may need it later tonight if things get worse. I'm trying to defeat this by myself. I don't wanna be judged. I don't want to ask for more if I take all of them. I really think I will need it later tonight.
I shouldn't be writing this. My head feels heavy and thick, like my brain has turned into butter, and now I'm just a sounding board for the music I'm not even listening to. I feel like I can't even lift my own hands, like it's taking all my strength just to write.
I know part of me is able to act and talk — almost — like nothing's going on. But the inside me is burning and confused and feeling every part of her body being torn apart.
I really wanna go to sleep.

April ended

I'm sorry. I just had to do this and I couldn't.

So I feel like a disappointment, getting used to it. 

Quarantine is being... I don't really have words. 

I'm just trying to repress my feelings all the time. And it's working.

I know it's probably for the worse, but I'm just trying not to be miserable now.

And yet I don't seem to be able to get a one good day, today I was really close but it didn't end well.

I'm trying to be strong, to not think about it, to drown myself.

Life just keeps getting messier. I don't think I'm built to face it. 

I'm just too weak for everything. 

I wish I could just go away. 

I'm really sorry. 

This is the most I can write, I can't even face my diary. I can't even face myself. 

It sucks. 

I'm sorry. 

Good night. 

monochrome

I disappointed myself again,

what a surprise (ironic). 

I thin this is accurate, 

if you think of it, 

maybe I like color because

I only see my life in black & white. 

But mostly grey. 

And it gets darker most often. 

I'm in one of those black spots. 

I'm certain there's white somewhere, 

but I'm not strong enough, 

not brave enough. 

And I already know everything that you could say.

That's why I don't want to hear it. 

It doesn't work. It's meaningless. 

Moon

I wish I could be like you.

19042020

Is tough to be a bug.
The world looks so big,
and you're so small.
Everything is big compared to you,
everyone looks like a giant.

Is tough to be a bug.
Every day feels like it could be the last.
Always running, trying to escape catastrophe.
You're already used to being look at
with pity, with disgust, with anger,
for no reason.

Is tough to be a bug.
Nobody cares about you.
They only see you as an annoyance.
Your existence bothers everyone.
Nobody likes you.

Is tough to be a bug.
So, sometimes, it's almost relieving,
to know your life is short and
maybe tomorrow you won't suffer any more.

how did the sky look?

It was a perfect day.
Clear skies, bright sun, perfect weather.
No one would've said
that it was going to be ruined like that.
I'm sorry.
My head is messy.
I love sleeping under the perfect sun,
but is not like that inside my brain.
I've got a thunderstorm every night,
fog every morning
and rain in the afternoon, not a cool, calm rain,
more like a heavy, windy, cold and piercing rain,
the one that feels like it's about to hail.

So my sky is a fucking mess.

Grief

It can be really hard to talk about it some times.
Someone who was here before,
now they're not.
And there are so many things I could have done,
so many things I could have say.
If I could go back in time, I will.
I'll go back, to tell you I love you,
more times, more seriously,
I'll do better.
I just need to learn how to go back.

-hey

I didn't write euphoria or bearing fruit,
I'm sorry.
I was busy suffering.
It was a new kind of pain, too intense to write.
Too intense to even think about it.
Is not okay yet, I don't think it will be.
But it's in truce now.
I just came to say that I'm sorry,
and I'll try to come back tomorrow,
well, later, and keep this shit going.

Pink, like your brain

Me estoy derritiendo.
Y me sigue faltado el tiempo,
se me hace difuso, se pasa volando.
Y querría haber llegado cuando tocaba,
con la cabeza bien puesta,
con el cerebro en su sitio,
pero no ha podido ser,
no sé si podrá ser algún día.
Y siento que esto es un engaño,
que estoy dando forma a un trozo de barro
que no va a aguantar ni media tormenta.
Pero no pasa nada,
de todas formas nadie tenía esperaba nada.
Y si tengo la suerte de que el barro seque,
de que el horno funcione,
que no se destroce la pieza a medio cocer,
con un poco de paciencia, un poco de tacto,
tal vez pueda pintarlo de rosa.

The city

You look so good.

I wish I could lose myself in you.
You're the future I wanna get to.
I saw you in a dream, when I was awake.
You're all the things I don't have.
I don't miss home, 'cause you're home,
you take me in your arms, promising.

Hotter than hell when the summer hits.
Wild as the wind when you get mad.
Bigger than my heart, so welcoming.
You make me feel lonely in your hugs,
yet you feel so warm, so loving.

I wanna run to you, escape myself.
Grown in your insides, conquer you.
Become another number in your story.

Submerged in water

Cierro los ojos y se me nublan los oídos.
Aguanto la respiración.
Intento hacer mi cuerpo más pesado.
Noto como me flota el pelo alrededor.
Estoy en otra parte, lejos,
en cualquiera de los mundos,
menos este.
Tengo una vida totalmente diferente,
despliego las alas y vuelo.
Echo a correr entre la hierba.
Vivo en lo alto de una estantería.
Puedo ver en la oscuridad.
Tengo mil años y soy un castillo.
Soy un fuego que no se apaga.
Llevo una maleta llena de magia.
Tengo un ángel de la guarda.
Empieza a faltarme el aire,
aprieto los ojos.
Cabalgo por la autopista.
Soy una pesadilla.
Puedo ver el futuro-
Tengo las manos llenas de sangre.
No aguanto más, abro los ojos.
Emerjo.
Me hundo.

Heaven/Hell

I'm standing in the dark,
two doors before me,
both with your face in them.
I know I have to open one of them.
I have to.
But I just can't.
I don't want to face the other side,
don't wanna fly to heaven,
don't wanna fall to hell.
So I'm here,
trapped,
frozen,
scared.
I want a third door.
Become another person.
Be somebody else.
Leave this body, this life.
Everything matters too much,
to the point where I don't care anymore.
So I lie.
You can hang me up, sentence me to death,
I don't care.
I just wanna throw my heart away,
stop feeling, stop caring.


I just wanna set the damn doors on fire.

1004

Parasitic,
that's what you were.
I didn't realize it then,
when you manipulated me,
when you hurt me,
again and again.
Like you didn't care.
You were always the same,
always saying it was for the best,
that you were protecting me,
turning yourself into a victim,
blindfolding me with your words.
I thought they were loving words.
I doubted so many times,
and I asked you:
“Did you love me?”
“Did you ever care about me?”
I really wanted to trust you
when you said you did,
you cared so much.
And I hated writing this.
Because I was am over you,
but now I'm reading our conversations again.
We loved each other so much
(at least I did)
I kinda miss it some times.
I could tear my heart apart writing about you,
but let's not do that.
I wonder how you're doing (sometimes).
I sincerely hope you're doing well.
Hope you're happy, and letting the ones around you be happy too.
I hope when we see each other again,
we can smile and say “hi”,
like old acquaintances
 that never had our story.

Natural light

I'm not a plant (not yet at least),
but instead of sunbathing,
I'd like to photosynthesize.
Feed on the sun,
grow from its heat.

I'm not a plant (not yet at least),
but I'd like to be one.
So much less to worry about.
So much less to think about.
Wait, they don't think, do they?

Maybe I think it's easier,
because I can think.
But I'm not a plant,
I can not know.
It may be really hard to be a plant.

I don't think plants know,
but it's really hard to be a human.

Hometown

Feels right to talk about it now.
Now that we're here, at home,
unable to go out, confined.
I'm at my hometown.
It's funny how many things a place can be at once.
It's quiet, but alive and noisy.
It's big and green, but I just hold the same four walls.
It's homely, but at times it makes me anxious.
It's spacious, but I feel trapped (and it's not by the quarantine).
It's a safe space and hell at the same time.
It's a memory. Good ones, bad ones.
It's a constant reminder of my life,
of my family, of life.
I'm grateful.
But my heart it's torn apart.

chemical reaction

She was sitting just across the room,
focusing on her measurements.
Her hair was tied up in a messy bun,
enough to get it out of her face.
Frowning and biting the inside of her mouth,
her hands moving slowly, without trembling.
But then I tripped, fell down.
She got startled by the noise,
her hands out of control.
So she accidentally poured too much.
I heard I bubbly sound.
I heard her call my name and swear.
And then the room was foggy.
She coughed and shouted,
but I wasn't listening.
Something had come out of the fog.

6.4

He llegado tarde otra vez.

Lo siento, es que se me mezclan las cosas. 

La falta de rutina y la carencia de motivación. 

La ansiedad y el volar de las horas. 

La continua y aplastante sensación de hacerlo todo mal. 

La obsesión por estar al tanto de todo

y la incapacidad de completar una sola cosa. 

Es el constante himno de mi vida. 

Let me play this song again. 

peace

I wanna sit in the edge of the world and just stay there for a bunch of songs, watching as the world goes on without me. 

the view from up here

I can see her.

How she's growing. 

I'm proud of her,

of all that she's achieved. 

I can hear her sing,

just like she always did, 

in small places, 

with all her heart. 

I can smell her perfume. 

She smells like flowers, 

like fresh fruit in the morning. 

It's the smell of joy. 

I can almost taste it, 

the tea she drinks all nights,

when she's tired but not sleepy. 

Apples and cinnamon. 

But I can't feel her warmth.

I can't feel her touch, or hugs. 

I can't put her hair behind her ears. 

I can't kiss her. 

All I can do is watch her. 

Waiting. 

But she's the best view I ever had. 

So if you ask me, yes. 

I love the view from up here. 

Earthly pleasures

Tomar el sol en el tejado,
leer el mismo libro por sexta vez,
comer chocolate de madrugada,
quedarme en la cama por la mañana,
rodeada de almohadas.
Ver a la gente a mi alrededor feliz,
caminar de noche con el frío de otoño,
escuchar música con la mente en blanco.
Sentarme en el suelo,
hablando durante horas,
de cualquier cosa, de todo.
Mirar como arde la leña,
sentir el calor de la estufa.

Is anyone listening?

I just want to know.
Did you ever care?
Did you ever listen?
My heart was crying
and I felt lonely being with you.
You said you cared about me,
you said I was important.
So why did you treat me like that?
Why does everyone do that?
I'm here, I'm a person too.
I want you to stop seeing me as a weak animal,
or a funny toy,
or a tears tissue,
or a crying baby.
I might be those things.
But there's more to me.
Stop taking advantage of my fears,
it's scary.
I felt so powerless.
I still do most of the time.

Growth/Decay

A veces me siento como una planta en constante movimiento.

Justo cuando parece que he echado raíces,
cuando he encontrado un lugar donde me da el sol,
con la tierra fértil y el agua suficiente,
cuando puedo empezar a crecer,

me arrancan.

Y me marchito.

No del todo, pero sí lo suficiente como para perder el ánimo.

Y pierdo el contacto con el mundo, y la tierra, y el sol y el agua.

Hasta que aparece otra maceta.

Un lugar nuevo donde tratar de echar raíces,

volver a intentarlo.

Y el ciclo vuelve a empezar

01/04

I'm sorry. I forgot.
I never see the dawn anymore.
I go to sleep just before the sun raises
and I sleep till midday.

It feels like the world is on hold,
but I'm frozen. I can't keep going.
I'm just waiting for life to continue,
hoping the world won't end with this.

Hoping to see another dawn.

Fine

I'm fine.

That's a lot actually. I'm not used to feeling this calm. Everything is messy and out of control and I still feel pressured and all. But right now, at this moment, I'm okay.

Maybe 'cause it's late and there's music in my ears and I'm here. Maybe 'cause I've been getting more sleep these days and I'm more rested and I'm having fun most of the time. Maybe 'cause life doesn't feel too real these days.

But I'm fine. I'll worry tomorrow. I'll go back to normal tomorrow. I'm gonna enjoy this feeling for now.

Dark nights

I would really like to talk to someone about this without them freaking out or getting all sad and worried. I've tried, but I feel my physiologists don't really listen to me, how fucked up is that? I had to vent out. I'm really sorry. 

Burn The House Down

I'm not ready, that's not me. I don't know what to do. I don't wanna be me. I'm hoping to be someone else tonight, I don't care if it's a dream or a hallucination, whatever it takes to set me free.

Maybe I'm just mad, it could be true, my head is messy and foggy most of the time. Some times I'm not even in my own head, I become a body with autopilot and I see myself from above, confused, powerless. I'm always powerless. Maybe that's why I like having control.

Is this normal? Do people feel like this too? What is wrong with me? I've been trying to get the correct answers for years but I feel stupid and crazy and helpless. Why won't they help me? Am I asking too much?

I'm sorry.

I'm just having another one of my moments.

Atlas

Does everyone feel like this? It's too much weight. I just want to let go.

I just wanna go to sleep. For years.

Anyone

I'm so disappointed at myself. I haven't done anything right in ¿months? ¿years? I don't even wanna know. I told myself I would try, that I would keep up. I'm still a liar. I'm not keeping up, life's going too fast and I don't even know how to run. I feel trapped, tired. Fuck, I'm always tired, I don't think that's normal. I think I may be killing myself slowly and I don't really care. I need immediate comfort that I can't really find, not in food, not in bed, not in people, even though I try. I know it's not right, I know I should be writing in that notebook so in a couple months a psycho can read it and tell me how fucked up I am and how this mess is all my fault and how I'm making things up and not focusing in the positive. But I don't want to. I've been avoiding it for days. Is anyone ganna give me comfort, heal me? Doesn't seem like it so why bother? I can always go back to my old self, the one that was able t hide it, sure, it's more complicated now since it's worse but hey, if it's all in my head then why bother getting it out? Just cut my head when you get tired of it. I don't think I'm able to grow another one but who cares? I wasn't that interesting in the first place, you'll survive. Oh, I'm sorry, not really thinking 'bout y'all right now, I'm deep in the selfish pain, let me hang here for a while, I don't wanna go full crazy yet. Sometimes I think I'm making things up. And also there are times when I think I had a happy childhood - and I did - if you put aside the abuse, the daddy issues, the self-punishment, the early anxiety, the Fear... - but my brain took care of that, that's why I can't remember half of my life. It's not ideal, I have huge memory issues now, sometimes I can't even remember what I just said. Sometimes I wish my brain would give back my memory - I could use it, like for studying and real-life stuff like that. I don't think my memories are that bad, I think I have more of it processed now. And what they said about scars? Not true, I have most of mine gone now, you just gotta do it right. Oh, yeah, there's another issue, pain addiction, that's a funny one, still with me that one, but I try to keep it under control - and by that I mean replace pain with food even if it leads to body issues again, gotta have priorities, right? I should get going, I'm in a really dark place right now. I'm sorry. I couldn't confront my diary so I came here looking or relief. Not gonna lie, I feel guilty now. But hey, no worries, just another day. Sorry. See ya.

Estirando

Quería escribirte para hablarte de ti, pero la música ha cambiado y no sé cómo decirte todo lo que eres ni lo mucho que te he echado de menos o lo mucho que me dueles, de tantas formas. Así que no voy a escribirte, voy a destrozar los sellos y tachar el remitente para asegurarme de que esta carta no sea capaz de abandonar este cajón, justo como solía hacer hace años, cuando le escribía con lágrimas. O podría no escribirle tampoco, y en su lugar llenar otro cuaderno de arañazos y de tinta bañada en sangre porque llevo toda una vida aterrada y arrastrando medio árbol porque no puedo librarme, aunque tal vez no quiera, de mis sus malditas raíces. Y supongo que todo el mundo merece una segunda oportunidad, ¿cuántas debería darle? ¿cuántas debería darme? Y podría ir un poco más allá, probar un tipo más inusual de dolor y escribir desde un corazón roto y un cerebro destrozado, que no sé quién soy y que a veces me creo que no me quieres, que no me entiendes, que no valgo la pena y que soy la mochila de la que deseas deshacerte, ya lo he dicho, tengo el cerebro destrozado. Y es un poco triste, que después de dos semanas buscando el lado bueno y escribiendo sobre amor y tratando de hacer los deberes, llegue hoy la madrugada para asegurarme que quien no me abandona soy yo misma y que eso, esta noche y tantas otras, no es algo positivo. Pero al menos he conseguido arrancarme unas cuantas palabras, escribirme un poco a mi misma mientras me reviento los tímpanos solo para amortiguar el sonido de mis pensamientos. Tal vez otro día pueda volver a la ficción.

Words

It hurts. I can feel them pushing against the inside of my back, trying to get out, to break me. It's like having a snake inside me, moving up and down, looking for a way out, crashing my bones. I didn't think I had it in me, but maybe I do. It's not the same kind of pain. I've learnt to enjoy some kinds of pain, but this is new, it'll take some time to get used to it, or maybe I won't. I may be suffering, but that means I'm alive, it's nice to know.

I still can't hate u

Five years ago I would have run to you, it's fucked up. And yes, I still think about you some times, I think that will never change. But I won't run to you ever again. Not to you, not to him. Not ever again. I don't hate you, I still think hate is a very strong word, I don't use it with anyone. But I don't like you.