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En medio.

Todo ocurrió al momento del antojo, el hambre. Ese día estabas con buena actitud, hacías relucir la belleza de lo horrible de las irreparables calles lo cual es una falta de respeto al habitante, pero bueno, de todas maneras cada fin de semana se olvida a sí mismo. Quisieras poderte haber quejado, yo sé que dentro de ti, te morías de ganas por hacerlo, sin embargo, debes mantener la promesa, hay que ejercitar las neuronas. Pero el zumbido del aire acondicionado te daba un poco de satisfacción, aunque descompuesto, solo era aire caliente, pero no moviste ni un músculo en frustración. 

La distorsión te distrajo, el sonido te sumergió por un momento, esperabas paciente el cambio en el semáforo, movías tus manos y tus pies, no podías dejar de repetir esa canción. Compartimos la habilidad de ver la luz amarilla degradando a naranja, no te importó la señal. Tus zapatos, aquellos de los que no soportas una línea de tela blanca y quisieras modificar la producción entera en repulsión obsesiva; juré escuchar sus suelas gastadas rechinar sobre el acelerador oxidado. Avanzamos, con suerte lo hicimos lento, viste el camión del gas, sentí una ráfaga pálida presionar el claxon, el giro de mis ojos se dirigieron al conductor, te vio, frenó despacio, reaccionaste y giraste el volante a la izquierda, las arrugas de tu frente no esperaban el brillo del Jetta rojo, regresaste el volante a la derecha, congelé mi arrogancia y esperé el sonido de los metales rasparse, visualicé de qué manera cubrir mis ojos de los fragmentos del cristal de mi puerta, pero salimos de entre ambas maquinas directo a la entrada del estacionamiento del restaurante, no sé a qué atribuirle esa experiencia, pero fue un camino preciso, debió ser una advertencia y no pudiste evitar referenciar tu falta de atención en veinticuatro cuadros por segundo. 

Mi antojo y mi capricho me hicieron regresar a mi estado natural, a mi narcisismo imperante, te olvidé, aunque contigo, estaba lejos, pensaba en mi, deseaba el lujo de estrellarme en su coche, con él y no en el tuyo, aunque ya sin ti.

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100

I’ve been fortunate enough to meet great people, just sick as me, willing to truly care about me and to help. I’m trying to see beauty in every little thing but sometimes I forget I’m alive. I want to bend and break myself and change, I can do things now that seemed impossible back then and I’m glad for that. 

I’m twisting my wrong wired thoughts, even though I’m afraid of some of them at times, I’m aware that I’ve been struggling with self-hatred and depression for many years, I’m so full of shortcomings as everyone. Creation has been the only getaway, till substance abuse and debauchery came to fit perfectly well on my wounds, I was on denial, but I’m out and I don’t want to go back to that part of me again, I understimate addiction and recovery, now I’m aware. 

All I want in life is to be with someone who I could identify myself with, be able to spill all my bottled emotions and neglected feelings without shame, just to feel free being myself and comfortable on my own skin even with my shadier parts, to share everything I am so far, to be understood, respected and valued, someone who I could trust, care and be absolute honest with, so I could finally have the family I've always wanted, but sometimes getting closer to it It’s only an illusion or a cruel lesson. I’ve been lying myself enough, through suffering I’ve realized that I just simply, plainly, effortlessly don’t care to some people. I’m sick of those dreamy like moments and the constant backstabbing, I’m drained, I’m sick of hearing whispers, hearing “I love you” and facts yelling me “I don’t care about you”. I’m ashamed and insanely proud to say today that I love someone more than myself, that’s my reality, I can’t change my now blurred idealization.

I’m lucky to understand the nature of some reactions and to be me again. Strangely happy on my own.

I just want to take care of myself and be able to not care anymore too.

Happy one hundred days to me.

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You’re back to compete.

You just can’t win from the inside.

This is your first dead end path.

You just function as command, this will be your first regret.

Like ephemeral selection.

A pattern repeated a thousand miles from north to south.

Downside, you haven’t done this,

You’re just trying to keep something you know can easily go away.

Stolen from you, as you did.

We are afraid to the bone.

Status quo.

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We are the same, we’ve been used to fix an issue.

An issue we can’t resolve, you can’t swim deep cause you haven’t been there.

We are patches, you are taking the same risk as me, questions will flood your mind. 

Eventually you’re going to be an obstacle and replaced like me. Some voids are deeper than we thought and we’ve been dragged into it. The path to the bottom is overwhelming.

There are no feelings, they are symptoms, they are just the most pure form of desperation.

Intimacy have lost its meaning, we’re not special, we are tools.

Compulsion and obsession.

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Iggy Pop - Tiny Girls

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So far to end up confusing Love and loneliness I molded my heart with your delusions Forgotten words are my choice now

Best intentions made me numb Best intentions made me numb

I’m walking on your shadow I find it useful and I am disgusted Dealing with a sad joke

I want to be a virus So I can warp your mind So I can stop feel disgusted You are just rotten

I believed in the frequency Everything was dissonance My shape run away

It was only when Not wanting to be alone There is scum in your head You were never in love Just wanted someone to fill the void Your sick cycle

Best intentions made me numb Best intentions made me numb Far Memories contempt No more deception deserved My name is in your bloodstream Your irrationality imprison me

Still  Wanted to help Understand and vanish all You just kept offering your easy currency You were always the same You are the mess I don’t deserve

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There is no need to add, there is always more to subtract Bad implementation confuses other minds Lack of success on this, is nonsense abstraction Simplification is the hardest luxury to achieve.

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Question everything, it all need to make sense There is no worse habit than this My mind twists in curses as I live by this code.

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Lock me out, this is not the place I’m back just to storage myself with posessions Embracing the poison that soak my veins Thinking of disappearing are amusing these days.