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.