NEAR THE END OF THE YEAR

GOODBYE LOVE, HELLO DISEASE

Look at these pictures. I just took them some minutes ago with the webcam. That's supposed to be me. But I only half recognize myself.
Life still goes on. Incredibly. In September, or late August, again airports and suitcases and this time Boston. An elite university only for women. My last year as an undergraduate student and first official year giving lessons. And I realize we are entering a dangerous new period of our lives.
A friend, or rather an acquaintaince, a friend of a friend, is getting married sometime soon, maybe this month or maybe the next. And I am not talking about someone at work, where everyone appears to be suffering from the wedding fever (but they are in their thirties). Kas is in her early twenties. And soon to be married. So now we are all marriage and parent material. It is no longer a long-term dream or nightmare. It's here.
Those fears some of us have had since forever of spending the rest of our lives alone no longer seem absurd. Yes, of course, I am twenty-one. But now, at twenty-one, the feeling is not that you have time to go out and meet people and have fun. Rather, if you are alone, you should be worrying. If you haven't yet booked the church or the City Hall for the wedding, people begin to whisper, and look at you as though you had something contagious. Yesterday, one of my workmates said that they all thought that I was one of those girls who remains a virgin until her marriage (...), and the maitre, when told that I have no boyfriend, said that I should hurry because if not "se me pasaría el arroz"... F**k
So, alone for life. Because according to a friend, I am enchanting but I have the type of personality that attracts people and scares them off almost immediately. It's my way of acting. It's the illness. The delusions. The tears. The scars. So, goodbye love, hello disease.
Just out of curiosity, how many more people will I attract to my web of madness and how many more people will leave me completely alone and broken screaming every night in pain? Will I ever resign myself to loneliness? Will I stop scaring people? Will they stop being cowards? How much pain can one single person experience before the soul or the body give up?

INGENUA IDIOTA (EN ESPAÑOL PARA QUE LO ENTIENDAS)

para oscar para oscar para oscar para oscar para oscar para oscar para oscar para oscar para oscar para oscar para oscar



Estoy en tu dolor
y en el dibujo de tu sangre
Si me arrancas el corazón
te amaré con tus manos piadosas

Tu corazón huesudo me lleva

Migajas de una relación

He visto mentiras más grandes que tus manos
pero me estrangulas
Soy el pequeño pez
que lame basura de tus llagas
Ya no sobrevive el fado
que provocaron tus labios

Recuerda. Esas pecas son mías
Si te besan, me están besando
Si muerdes la boca
muerdes mi llanto
Quedé a la deriva en tu cáliz de plata
y tú jamás me salvaste.


P. D. No, no estoy enfadada. Tal vez si lees esto, me dirás algo, de lo contrario sabré que yo he imaginado todo.

COMPANION IN FAIRY LAND

We were lying on the grass
miles apart
holding each other's hand
I hid under a flower
and became a silver butterfly
Your voice was a kitten
you licken my wounds
and softly scratched my back.
I loved you then
like now, like a rainbow
with leafless leaves and stars
You shot your nails
right through my soul
and made a tiny dancer
out of sparkle and salt.

IF LOVE IS A RED DRESS HANG ME IN RAGS

Days go by. Life goes by. The Earth moves. We go by. Some of us go to sleep alone every night and wonder when things are gonna stop going by.
The medication, capricious as myself, lets me remember only some things. For example. I remember that someone told me that there were three things that you should never talk about, much less with strangers, and I agreed that they were polemical but I thought that because of that you should talk about them, that they defined the individual. They were politics, religion... and something else. I can't remember what was the third thing nor who told me nor when, but this is how the story goes and this is how I am telling it.
With the years, it's not only politcs and religion and whatever the third thing was that you don't mention. And now it's not because you want to cause a good impression or to avoid an argument. It's simply that reality has been draining you of your energies, and all the topics seem polluted.
What can you talk about? Studies? Err... Yeah, that's what people who are not studying think, and of course they wouldn't be interested in the conversation. Those who do study are too angry nowadays with the reform and the masters and all that to talk rationally and objectively. So, one topic that we rule out. Work then... Yep, cos we all love that one, don't we? No comment, unless we are signing up for hours and hours of whose job is the most miserable. So, let's think, we're twenty-something here, our happiest days, aren't they? so apart from politics, religion, studying, working, what do we do... go out? Yeah... Grown-ups (the real ones I mean, not us) would be surprised at how little we actually go out. We stopped doing that thing at 17 or so. Sex, drugs, rock and roll? Hate to confess that I seem to have popularized the vow of chastity among my friends. As for drugs, no no, never were too popular. And rock? Does any any of my friends listen to rock? Ok, we have Sam (in the US), Kyle (in Canada)... errrr.... David (only U2 and Led Zeppelin) and then we have some others of whose musical taste I am as yet uncertain.

So far we have discarded politics, religion, studies, work, going out, sex, drugs, music, as topics for talking, because they are either too stressing or too depressing. And this in a crowd in their twenties. And what do we talk about then? My professor has this theory that history is like a pendulum, one materialistic period is followed by a romantic period, followed by a materialistic period, followed by a romantic period... My professors, my workmates, random people, think that I am some sort of naive idiot, because I believe in miracles and in fairy tales. Well, I also believe that I am not the only one. I believe there many naif idiots, or at least a few, around. And I prefer to spend my whole life (which, I know, is not saying much) waiting for my miracle than accepting the material ugly world that the other people offer. The naif idiots like me, or like Diana, we talk about poetry and magic and love and fairy tales and what we wish would happen. I do realize I am too preoccupied with love. I'd like to rip up my heart and throw it away, so the birds could eat it. Or rather, I'd like my fairy tale to come true. I'd give anything, absolutely anything. They have given me the scholarship for Boston and I'm supposed to go there in September and it will all begin again. But in the end, my dream, my greatest fantasy, is to have someone to sleep with, someone who will tell me stories, hold me and who will stay with me, who will never let me go. I know that knights in shining armour are rare. But I don't actually require the shining armour anymore, just someone who will take care of me and bring me a bag full little miracles. That is a lot?

SHOULD I STAY OR SHOULD I GO?

Today I'd like to write about so many things that I have forgotten absolutely everything. I just want to say that I am thinking about Isaac. I hope to see you soon and give you a hug. We are all with you.

MY FAVOURITE GIRLS IN THE WHOLE WIDE WORLD

ANYTHING CAN HAPPEN IF YOU LET IT

WILL YOU STAY WITH ME?

First day of Easter break at uni, but still have to go to work. Yesterday slept only three hours, so poisoned myself with coffee, so tonight wasn't able to sleep.
Many things are happening, some around me, some inside me, but I am not fully aware of them, not with the medication. They say I am pretty as a doll, I am sweet as a doll, I am cute as a doll. That I am angelic. That I should be framed and exhibited. Am I pretty? Is it enough? Will it ever be enough? Why do I give so much importance to being beautiful?
I know nothing about the US. My professors are all very excited for me, but I begin to despair. My father and my friends think that it would be better if I stayed here. Maybe they're right. It seems that nobody wants me over there anyway. Does anybody want me here?
Can I trust my feelings now? Can I trust the feelings that I had before? Can I trust my memories? To what an extent am I sick? Yesterday a man sat with me in a cafeteria and began rambling on about the bad quality of Spanish coffee... then about immigration and cinema and traditions and life. He said that if you don't know yourself you can't love yourself, and if you don't love yourself no one will truly love yourself. Their love will only harm you. But this knowledge comes too late. For we are a culture of consumers, not of learners. And basically I think he's right... and all I want in life is love. But now I don't what to do. Should I go back to the past? focus on the present? wait for the future?
There are cats living under the platform of the restaurant and the managers are going to poison them in the summer. I can't stop thinking about that. I think that's monstrous.

A FAKE AND A BITCH (A MODERN TRAGEDY)