Es un servicio publico. Si mi mundana y pequeña vida puede de alguna manera proveer alivio a algún solitario internauta, entonces sabré que mi tiempo en este planeta no fue un desperdicio. (Jane Lane -Daria)
The way I was always thinking of him. Of what he liked, what he said, that he was alive at the same time as me. I thought it was a miracle.
I turned him into a god I wanted to please so badly, if he had asked for my arm, I would have chopped it myself.
But it was worst cause he never asked and even then
I gave him my heart.
I gave him my life.
I gave him my soul.
And then he left.
He estado pensando en todos los sueños que deje ir por el.
Deje de soñar con una familia, con una casa. Deje de soñar con vestidos, bodas, anillos.
Deje de soñar con sentirme querida.
Odio haberlo elegido para vivir mi vida, y no haberme dado cuenta que el no quería vivir. Recuerdo cuando le llore diciendo que pensaba que si tal vez yo me esforzará más, si hiciera más, si diera más de mi, el iba a tener ganas de vivir, de esforzarse más, de hacer más y que diera más de si. El mismo me dijo con su voz y sus palabras que no, no había nada de lo que yo hiciera dijera o fuera que lo hicieran a él cambiar lo que era. Y me sentí tan inservible e inútil, porque me había puesta como única meta el hacerlo querer vivir, y nunca pude.
Deje ir mi juventud, mis sueños y mi vida en alguien que no quería vivir.
Solo puedo llorar y pensar, en cómo fui TAN tonta.
Conocí a dos chavos en el trabajo que son tan diferentes a el.
Trabajan.
Para empezar eso ya es una gran diferencia de el.
Les dan cosas a sus novias todo el tiempo.
Las incluyen en su futuro.
Y pienso, claro que las incluyen en su futuro, porque ellos por si mismos tienen un futuro. Ellas son un plus en sus vidas, la gente con la que eligen que quieren vivir.
El nunca me incluía en nada, y no era por mi. Era por el mismo, porque él no tenía un futuro, no trabajaba por nada.
Siento que me duele el pecho pero es de caer en cuenta que como dicen, le estaba pidiendo peras a un olmo.
Como podía esperar que me quisiera y me tratará bien, si no lo hacía ni por el mismo?
Es esto a lo que se refieren con que tienen que buscar a alguien que tenga ganas de vivir y de salir adelante.
Hablan de casas, de vida en conjunto. Mencionan regalos y cosas, no como una carga sino como algo de lo que se sienten orgullosos de poder dar.
No sé cómo fui tan ciega. Siento que en estuve tanto tiempo en un cuarto oscuro y de repente tiraron una pared y se hizo la luz.
El mundo es tan basto y grande y enorme, pero se me había olvidado porque me amarre a ese burro y su estaca.
El dolor que siento son mis ojos ajustándose a la luz, recordando, cuanto brilla el sol.
I had a dream about you the other day. It was weird. We were sort of like a family, with a kid and stuff. I was confused but somehow happy.
It went on and on following us in our daily routine. I knew I was dreaming and that it was stupid to keep going but I wanted to know how it would be like if you hadn't left.
I didn't woke up until at one point in the dream, where we looked into each other's eyes, you reached out to take my hand. I stared at it and was starting to stretch my hand to reach yours, and then, I woke up.
If it's true that dreams are us in another universe, I hope they are happy.
Ayer alguien me pregunto si todavía escribo aquí. Le respondí que sí, pero retroactivamente. Me cuesta escribir ahorita porque hace una semana me compre unas postizas y todavía me cuesta acostumbrarme al movimiento de mis dedos con estas garras. ¿Qué pensaría de mí, la yo que empezó a escribir aquí hace más de 10 años?
Ya no escribo como antes creo, porque siempre me da la impresión de que escribo sobre lo mismo y que todo lo que tengo que decir, ya lo dijo alguien más y seguramente mejor que yo.
Solo escribo de lo que sufro, de lo que es mi existencia y el internet me hace pensar que todos vivimos la misma vida de una forma u otra, que ninguna experiencia es auténtica y que no soy diferente a nadie. Eso me libera y me mortifica a la vez, porque entonces me siento libre de simplemente ser sabiendo que todos sufren igual que yo, y me lastima porque entonces no le encuentro sentido al sufrimiento si no es único.
Yo solo quiero ser, no quiero estar. No quiero existir más en este plano, quiero irme y alejarme de todos y de todo, porque no entiendo como ser agradecida, no sé cómo sacarme de la cama, como querer salir y ver y hablar porque hace 10 años me parecía que era una persona interesante y que tenía tanto que dar, pero ahora siento que solo sé que no se nada, que no soy interesante y que estoy vacía y no tengo nada que dar.
Todo lo que me gusta, todo lo que hago, todo lo que sé no le interesa a nadie y por algún motivo de nuevo eso me libera porque puedo ser yo sin vergüenza, pero me lastima porque pienso que mi yo verdadero nunca podrá ser reconocido ni amado por nadie.
Y así, como hace 10 años, siempre llego a la conclusión, de que soy miserable.
I would like to take you to all my favorite places,
but all the memories I have of them are with someone else
I'll give you the roses that used to grow on my heart
but its spoiled land and they won't flower now
I wish I could kiss, made us feel alright
but Im so tired of bracing lonely nights
I want to cry and I want to love you
but I used my tears on another love
On another love, another love
All my tears have been used up
On another love, another love
All my tears have been used up
On another love, another love
All my tears have been used up, up
If someone dares to hurt you, you know I'll fight
but my hands are cripple of fighting someone else's wars,
but I can use my voice, I'll be so freaking cruel
words wont hurt them but I'll still try to
and I'll write you verses that I've told no one else
but I've used all my lexus and gave it to someone else
And I want to cry, I want to learn of your love
but I used my tears on another love
On another love, another love
All my tears have been used up
On another love, another love
All my tears have been used up
On another love, another love
All my tears have been used up
I was thinking about the moments I valued the most from those few days, of how happy he seemed to be next to me. He would hold my hand all the time, and even look for it if I took it away for a minute.
I remember the tone of his voice and the smile on his face when he realized I had allowed him to be part of my life, because he knows I don't let people in my life that easily.
I remember his gentle touch when he kissed my forehead and the scowl on his face if I strayed away from him even in his sleep.
He held my hand in his, the room was dark and as we talk about who knows what, he scratched his eye with my knuckles. I remember the feeling of his eye leads on my skin, the moist of it forever in my memory. And his laugh as I asked him what was he doing and him not being able to say why he felt so comforted with my touch.
And the last night, I remember the way he swirl in bed and came close to me, eyes closed feeling the softness and warmth of my body, rubbing his face on my skin and letting go a big sigh of relief when he put his arm around me and hugged me.
There I was, being loved and desired after so many years. After being told, we "no longer had to kiss that often now that we were 1 year into the relationship". Seeing his scowling upset face all the time, his huffs of dispairment when he was around me. How holding my hand and having me near him felt more like an obligation than something he enjoyed
How he was may be not even tired, more like annoyed or I would dare to say, grossed out of my company.
I think my love language has changed after that. Or I have discovered my second one if anything. I've always loved spending lots of time with the people I love, but now I also know, I like to be touched and kissed and hugged by my partner. After all the time I was neglected, and told how much of an annoyance it was for him to even kiss me on the lips, my new lover soft demeanor and smile on his face when he was around me, reminded me of something I had lost hope so long ago, an unthinkable concept.
That I am lovable too.
I have a new lover and I dont know how to deal with it.
I wish to tell him so many things but I get paralyzed with the memories of the way you treated me when I spoke my mind.
Im so afraid of being unlovable that I become numb.
I hate how the wounds that you caused me are so not healed yet. How they are ripping open when my new lover's kind hand moves gently over my skin. I feel the cuts and scratches bleeding again.
Im not healed yet, Im not ready yet.
I wonder if I'll ever be. So insecure and sad and hopeless.
So from all the marvelous things I want to tell my new lover, when I look at his eyes instead I see yours, and so, I say nothing.
It's been just a few hours. I did my best to say goodbye, did my best to hold you a bit longer, to feel your warmth a bit longer, but I didn't want to cry.
I'm in my bed, pants, sweater and a blanket, but I'm so cold, and somehow I'm sweating like if I'm in a fever.
You hugged me tight and while looking at my soul through my eyes you said "well meet again". I couldn't open my mouth, or you'll hear my voice breaking, so I nodded and fake smile you didn't believe on.
I'm so tired, but I can't sleep, I'm having issues to breath. My thoughts are running around the last few days, and I feel my body shake in small tremors that keep me awake.
I did my best to hold your hand in mine a bit longer, to feel your touch on my skin a bit harder. You held my face with your soft hands, closed your eyes and went for my lips. A kiss. One last kiss, and then, you walked away.
I hate how you took us for granted.
How you let everything we had gone through go to the garbage.
All the times I was vulnerable with you.
All the times you were vulnerable with me.
Everything we've built up to that point, you didn't destroyed it.
You abandoned it.
With me trapped inside.
