Ok

Decidí que volveré a bloggear, por eso de que luego no se que hacer con el insomnio y lo terapéutico, eso o seguir con la cuenta alternativa de Twitter (o cariñosamente, la cuenta de Azo-Tavo).

¿Pero de que debería hablar primero?

¿De el trabajo que se ha vuelto insufrible, de lo bueno que se ha hecho tener dinero, de lo malo que me he vuelto con las relaciones interpersonales, de que me volví un stalker, de como me di cuenta que solo puedo tener relaciones serias, de mi adicción a las series televisivas, de como mis amigos se han hecho cada vez mas parte importante de mi vida (mi pequeña familia) o de como poco a poco me he vuelto mas como era hace unos 7 años (lo que es irónicamente bueno, ya que vuelvo a tener desapego y amor propio)?

La verdad no se que decir, solo lo resumiré con:

Estoy bien, crecí.

Lets us be free. V 2.0

This is a second version of a World of Darkness FIction I wrote for somebody really special 6 years ago, I found out, by google-ing myself, that my LJ account wasn’t closed, so while I was checking, i found it, and i decided to make some corrections and adding an ending to this short fic.

So here it is , enjoy:

Let us be free.

A dark silhouette standing, thinking, looking at Damian

Damian sitting on the floor watching his own hands: It was me, just me in the darkness…

I was lost, insecure, and then, then just silent. He came to me, not like he left me before, but then, he talked to me…

Dharamian arrogantly walking right through the darkness: You look lonely, even now when I’m near you … And the worst thing here is that you feel Exactly as pathetic as you look, don’t you?

Damian lifting his face to look into Dharamian’s eyes, those deep, pale eyes: Indeed, sometimes I ask myself “where did you came from and what do you want?" And you know what, I’ve gotten no answers in all these years.

Dharamian hugs Damian, like a father hugging his little son, with that tenderness and that love. He whispers in his ear: You know why you need me, I’m your strength, I’m your hatred… I’m you… the best of you!

Damian hugs Dharamian back: Yes, I know that, but I can’t even feel safe by your side anymore, I feel like you have ulterior motives, like you are compromised with someone else, with your own purpose, not with mine… I mean, ours…

Dharamian stops hugging Damian and holds his face tenderly with both hands, talking to him, their lips separated only by a few millimeters. And then, gently, with a sarcastic tone, he says: Of course I’m following your interests my dearest, but also mine, I refuse to be like yourself, those hidden secrets, wishes and desires. Then his lips slowly touches Damian’s face, his cheek, his ear: That is, after all, why I’m still here, I’m doing this for you, only for your own benefit. I can’t go because you can’t deny yourself, you can’t deny me.

Damian takes Dharamian’s hands off him. Yelling: YOU HURT PEOPLE, PEOPLE I LOVED, PEOPLE I CARED ABOUT. YOU ARE NOT HELPING ME, YOU ARE MAKING MY LIFE WORSE!!

Dharamian slaps Damian on his right cheek so he can crouch on top of him. Holding both of his hands against the floor as a fearsome predator giving a dead sentence to his prey, he slowly rubs his nose against Damian’s face while he talks: You can’t get rid of me, as you did with your childer, you can leave me on my one, to let another good doer like you take care of me. I’m your courage, and you know it. Come on, let you, sorry, let me be free, to do what you can’t with this pathetic waste of time you’ve called unlife. You got to understand my dearest, that you can’t run away from me, you have to embrace me, you have to feel the anger let this feeling flow through you so you, so I, so we can be complete, you need to let go, and let me be incharge.

Damian can only turn his head away from those eyes, those pale, hollow eyes, those eyes he sees when he’s not around, mesmerizing, the eyes of a beast he had been trying to avoid his whole life. not because they can do any damage to him, but because he knows what kind of damage they can inflict in people he loves, those same eyes where the reason he decided to leave his childer in better hands at London.

It’s then when he sees all the infamies those eyes had saw, had inflicted on innocent people. he could only tart crying: You bastard, why did you do all that to all those innocent people. Dharamian let go Damian’s hands and gets straight without getting off of him, with his left hand carefully takes of the hair to unveil his eyes, while with the right one does the same with Damian’s hair: I was just taking care of you my dearest, I would never let anything harm you, my most beautiful and precious thing in the whole wide world. But, if you keep being so stubborn, I’ll have to take some measures.

While he leans his head towards Damian’s, he gently traverse his lips through the wet path of tears, from his eyes to his ear, licking every drop, all the way through that painful path that was drawn almost all over his cheek, just to mutter him: Think of it, we are together in this, and I’ll never let you go.

The darkness covers the two silhouettes as the night falls in New York, and while the blood helps his body awake, as every other night, he can only observe his surroundings. A trashed and really decayed apartment with some furniture and the usual belonging, he looks for other people inside the apartment with him, but he is alone, and he can only think:  You need me more than I thought. My dearest fool.

This is based on my first Vampire: The Masquerade Character, a Deranged Malkavian (Yes, I know, it is really shocking to know I would write about deranged people) with D.I.D. (Dissociative Identity Disorder), more commonly known as multiple personalities.

I hope you liked it.

P.D. The moral of the story is:

Never google yourself at 3 in the morning, not when you are trying to write a short tale for a web magazine.

Once upon a time.

Esta es una historia que no paso hace mucho tiempo. “Existio una vez un hombre, mas que un hombre, un niño. Un niño con sueños, sueños de convertirse en alguien. Alguien importante, alguien a quien la gente pudiera seguir y respetar. Alguien.

Este niño soñaba recurrentemente con este alguien que el queria ser, y cada paso pequeño paso que daba era mas importane que el anterior, pero no solo daba pasos, tambien tenia pequeñas caidas, y con cada una aprendia algo valioso.

Y siempre cuido de las pequeñas heridas que le producian esas pequeñas caidas, y aprendio de ellas y continuo.

Entonces, este niño, con tiempo, varios pequeños pasos, caidas y cuidados, se convirtio en un joven, mas que un joven, un joven adulto, que solo queria salir airoso de todo lo qu la vida le pusiera enfrente, y su sueño de querer ser alguien no murio.

Y habia gente que le decia quien debia ser, y fueron tantos, y tanto lo que le dijeron, que termino por convencerse de convertirse en ese alguien que la gente le decia, este joven adulto dejo que su sueño, se convirtiera en el de alguien mas, y dejo que su objetivo se perdiera, esto genero que diera pasos mas grandes, mas complicados, mas cansados, pero no solo daba pasos mas grandes, sus caidas eran mas grandes tambien, y sus herida eran mas profundas y tenia que cuidar mas de ellas, pero con grandes pasos uno tiende a caer con mas constancia. Y no todas las heridas podian ser cuidadas de la misma manera, o con la misma frecuencia. Ser joven apestaba, penso el, ser adulto apesta aun mas penso, pero aun asi el queria ser alguien, alguien que siempe saliera airoso.

Alguien importante. Alguien que no era el. Alguien.”

Truth

I found out I had a draft on my blog entitled “Truth”, it has been there since last year, and I wonder, why didn't I finished it, it was empty, it has no meaning.

I know this is more like a “teenage angsty diary” more than a serious blog, but I consider it an escape window to all my anger and my “writer's trauma”. So I basically use it to release some word vomit.

After the proper explanation, I have to keep wondering, why did I started a blog entry with the name “Truth” was I about to spill the beans on how I was feeling in the moment, or was I so miserable I was about to rage-quit life, but before I decided to tell some ugly truths about the people I know.

I seriously ignore it, maybe I was not ready to write it in the moment so I left it only with the title to think of it and rewrite it later, I vaguely remember I had a draft on a word document, but it might has gone missing since I formatted the lap top.

Anyhow, its lost, like the truth I was about to write in that moment of isolation.

But now I think, maybe, just maybe, that was the truth, the emptiness on the draft was all I had to say.

Maybe it was the truth of how I was feeling at the moment, so blank, so unsure about everything, maybe it was so unbearable, I couldn't write anything.

Right now, for me, the “Truth” is a mystery.

Happy birthday. (how...)

It's almost a year since you're gone and there's a ton of thing I’d like to tell you both, how I got promoted, how I deal with life, how I’m not able to continue with a serious relationship, how lovely is my new broken cat, how alone I feel even when I’m surrounded by the people I love and still love me back, how I understood how terrible I hurt you both, how happy I am about you two being happy, how much writing aches and reliefs, how I decided I want to become a comic writer, how afraid I'm about taking this new carrier, but specially how much I miss you in my life.

Instead, the only thing I can say is:

Happy birthday to you both. 

Time After time.

En estos días después de hablar con un amigo, me di cuenta que es bastante fácil pedirle a la gente que haga las cosas, es demasiado fácil decir " haz..."

Siempre le decimos a la gente que haga cosas, no a manera de comando o de obligación, más bien me refiero a dar consejos, es muy fácil aconsejar, a los amigos, a la familia, y la pero de todas, a uno mismo.

Me considero una persona entrometida, porque siempre me la paso metiéndome en donde no me llaman o queriendo dar consejos a la gente. 

A cerca de su situación laboral, familiar, de pareja, hasta de algún hobbie o pasatiempo, es bastante fácil asumir que uno puede aconsejar a la gente. 

".. No manches Tavo manejas una doble moral bien padre, aconsejas a todo mundo, pero, nunca aplicas eso que aconsejas"

Palabras más ciertas no había oído en mucho tiempo. Me la paso queriendo resolverle la vida a la gente; aseguro que lo hago sin querer, ya que trato de darme un sermón a mi mismo siempre que aconsejo a mis amigos: “no eres papa de nadie, es un consejo si quieren lo hacen si no, no”. A pesar de esto nunca sigo mis consejos, uno de ellos es:

“simplemente déjalo pasar, la vida sigue y el pasado se queda atrás”

No siempre es bueno pensar que uno tiene la razón ya que se cierra a un mundo de posibilidades, es lo que siempre pienso cuando aconsejo o me aconsejan, he pensado n que tal vez es una necesidad primaria que deje de estar deprimido por la pérdida que he sufrido, pero saben que, NO, yo sé cuánto tiempo me voy a sentir mal por lo que paso.

Es mi perdida.

Es mi dolor.

Es mi tiempo.

Y si quiero seguir deprimido, es lo que pienso hacer. Deprimirme no implica que deje de hacer todo, que me tumbe en la cama  y deje de vivir la vida.

Para mi deprimirme significa que nada me satisface (si ya se, nada lo hace, pero aun peor).

Para mi deprimirme significa recordar eso bueno que tuve y sentirme mal. Recordar eso malo que paso y sentirme peor.

Sentir que nunca seré feliz.

Perderme en el vacío.

Perderlo todo para poder hacer lo que sea.

“…solo tú sabes que sientes, solo tú conoces ese dolor, que alguien sufra más que tu por una situación peor que la tuya no minimiza lo que sientes”

Que a alguien le haya ido, o le vaya peor no significa que deba alegrarme.

¡No, no y mil veces NO!

Pero no me malinterpreten, no es una manera de seguirme auto compadeciendo, al contrario, ya quiero dejar ese pensamiento de:

“ya pobre de mí, soy patético, no quiero estar deprimido. No quiero seguir sintiéndome mal. Pobre de mí.”

No mas auto compasión, ni siquiera por mi depresión, si estoy deprimido, que así sea, soy funcional, y puedo salir adelante.

Cuando se toca fondo solo se puede ir para arriba.

Thanatos

Seguir mis sueños.

Seguir adelante.

Es a lo que aspiro.

Aunque me pierda en el olvido

Si se que mi existencia genero cambios en el mundo.

Existo.

Si se que existo.

Existo.