miércoles, 16 de agosto de 2017

I fucking miss you and it is not fair.


It’s not fair that I miss you, it is not fair that I miss someone who doesn't give a fuck, and it is not fair that I care if someone gives a fuck about me missing them.

It is not fair that whenever I’m sad I think of you and it is not fair that When I’m sad I try not to think about you but the freaking’ firehouse nearby my office reminds me of you every single week. I try not to be sad but happy, but its boring, people are boring, I think you are boring, but you are the only boring person that I like right now, the only one who can fart in front of me and I don’t feel disgusted, the only one I can think of not having a straighten teeth and still think is beautiful.
 My friends tell me I am nice, and smart and intelligent and independent, and guys ask me out but I compare every one with you, and it’s not fair with them, nor is to you.
This is not about your strong arms or your big dick, it is about how I felt when you were around and how much I hate myself for not being able to find that in someone else  who can care about me.
It is not fair to you that I treat you like this, but I don’t give a fuck, I don’t care because you are pretty far, and you cannot see my face when writing this
It’s not fair that I contain my impulse of going up to Chicago, and it is not fair all the fear that I feel whenever I think about going there and see you again. Because all the things that I want to say turn in silence when you are around and I act like an idiot who cannot control herself.

It is not fair that I do everything that is possible to stay out of your life (you keep me out anyways) but I am always worried about the fact of losing you in a real way, like something can happen to you and how would I know. Reading news about Chicago? Or just writing a silly message to see if you reply and that way I can keep breathing because my Zack is still alive.

Life is unfair, we both know, but still is awesome that I got so vulnerable in front of someone who is not even close to who I thought I would be falling for when younger. I don’t talk with you about books, or music or philosophy (well maybe we do in a kind of way) but not in academic style, which was and it is my style to judge people. It is awesome how fascinated I get when I listen to your words because they sound sophisticated and I love when languages sound that way.
It is awesome that I want to be a better person since I met you, but I still manage not to lose my identity to become what you would like in someone, cause I don’t know you, so I don’t know what you look for in a person,

And I don’t know if it is pathetic or not but whenever I’m making choices I say to myself, yeah, this is right, this is good, and If Zack were close by, he might be saying, Nice Alejandra, although I hate myself for thinking that way too.
We might just end up having sex every 5 years whenever we meet, cause it is fun, or maybe not, I don’t care, I can keep becoming amazing and keep myself young and beautiful, so I can pass by when you are fat and bald, and say, hey…it is so good to see you again.

Cause  I already fucking know how gooooood it is to see you again, and it is not fair, cause I was fine, or at least trying till the day I saw you after I thought It couldn't be possible ever again.

Anyways, I'm just saying all this that I might regret in few minutes cause I got nothing to lose, cause as long as time goes by things get blurrier, but I don’t know when I will die, or when would you. Not being dramatic, just thinking that life cannot be taken for granted   So I need to take the chance and thank you for that morning when the last thing I heard before going to my daily routine was you in my bed wishing me a good day at work.

I hate you, and I love you and I miss you and it is not fair.

I can deal with that (or at least I think I can)

I wrote this 4 years ago. I know is full of sadness, and it has tons of mistakes and  I still  think the end of this story wasn't fair.


viernes, 30 de junio de 2017

Viernes de Rutina

Leer escuchando https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=G3fBhJm1qtQ


Sabes? amo mi rutina, me encanta desechar planes frívolos de sentarme con personas  a hablar de temas triviales que no me interesan o de noticias que desconozco, tampoco puedo hablar de series televisivas  o de la ultima película en cartelera pues lo ultimo que cruza por mi mente es comprar un televisor.

En la rutina que amo, predomina el sonsonete continuo de algún dispositivo reproduciendo música
Música siempre, guitarras eléctricas siempre, baterías siempre, violines siempre.
Rock, folk, punk, jazz...ese es el murmullito que siempre sale de mi cuarto.
Algunos se arrullan con películas, otros acompañan su almuerzo con un devastador noticiero...yo prefiero a Johny Cash diciéndome que le debo al diablo  o a Kurt Cobain preguntándome donde dormí la noche anterior.

En algún momento la rutina si era otra, y el sábado era raro....y me preguntaba una y otra vez, vale esto realmente la pena. Vale mis horas? Quien me las devolverá si las desperdicio? Por eso decidí volver cada noche a mi casa, con la certeza de controlar mis pasos, arrastrando mis huesos en este armatoste corporal que me fue asignado. Sabiendo que aunque no lo parezca hay unas maravillosas pesas de 25 libras que soy capaz de levantar sin problemas, mientras mis audífonos me dicen que la bandera de la libertad no tiene color.

Amo saber que decido que leo, que escucho, que hablo, que callo.

Disfruto mi rutina, la prefiero a ella que a ti que necesitas de gente para validarte como ser humano,
a ti que crees que es necesario que otros conozcan tus éxitos para creértelos,
a ti que necesitas a un hombre diciéndote lo bella que eres porque no ves eso en tu reflejo del espejo,
a ti que disfrutas viendo fracasar a las personas para darte consuelo.

Prefiero mi rutina,
mis grullas de papel en la mesita de noche,
mis libros a medias,
mis historias,
mis paisajes.


Me voy a por mis maravillosas pesas mientars tu te vas a tomar!