6:30 pm

Puedo ser ese sonido secreto que nunca atreverás a confesar.
Puedo ser esa tranquila tarde de un jueves cuando ves la vida pasar.Cuando, si te inclinas un poco y observas ese ocaso, te enamoras.De la vida, de tus sueños, de uno que otro suspiro y quizás hasta de mi.Puedo ser esa paciencia y esa paz que se desnuda del cuerpo, que te envuelve y te cautiva.Te subyuga, te seduce, te enamora y te deja en medio de la nada echo pedazos.Eufórico, destrozado.Puedo ser esos diez minutos a la seis y media de la tarde que discurren por tu mente.Ese suspiro que se desgasta en tu mirada.
Puedo ser la canción mas hermosa de tu vida.Puedo ser irrefutablemente lo que me venga en gana.Porque soy paz y soy música; porque soy libre en estos párrafos, tanto que te los dedico solo a ti.Y al lento andar de las manecillas se me va esta inspiración. Se echa a correr.
Se me va. Quizás se lleve este amor, si acaso lo fue. Para mi solo fueron tan solo meras palabras del corazón.Puedo dudar y afirmar; puedo llevarte a la euforia y dejarte ahí en libertad. Pero lo que mas puedo hacer, para lo que me "pinto" sola, es amarte poco a poco cada día de invierno a las seis y media de la tarde, alterar tu respiración, andarme por tus sueños y desaparecerlos. Y desaparecer.E irme. Porque me voy, porque nunca llegué.

Enero.

Like empty when coming the dark.

I was an island to discover.

Estoy aquí, pero también mas allá sentada en la nada.
Escucho un sonido peculiar; un sonido familiar que solía hacerme sentir bien; como en casa, donde quiera que mis pasos me llevaran.
Sí, unas tres lágrimas recorren mi rostro.
Cuento mis demonios, todos y cada uno de ellos. Hacen que me sienta perdida, incompleta.
Me gustaría mirar un rato hacia atrás, hacia el pasado. Lo incierto de mis pasos. Ese escepticismo que nunca comprendí por estar tan ocupada equivocándome. Me gustaría llorar ante esa ironía, ante ese reflejo que ahora mas bien parece una sombra. Una que solía perseguirme, pero ya no más.
Esos sentimientos perdidos ya nadie los retiene, ya nadie los recuerda y nadie, espero, nunca los llegue a conocer. Porque hasta aquí los paro, aquí les doy un hasta nunca. Si caminé por aquí alguna vez, y me arrepentí de ello, eso ya fue. Siempre habrán sonidos que recuerden historias viejas, confusas y tristes. Pero de viejas historias y tres lágrimas se construye el camino que mañana he de pisar. No tendría ningún sentido vivir sin equivocarme, si de solo risas no se logra la felicidad. No tendría ningún sentido no recordar de vez en cuando esas historias. No me voy a perder en ellas, voy a bailar en la oscuridad un momento, voy a crear una obra de arte y me volveré a sentar en la nada y hacer de ella un hermoso desastre.

 

Fotografia by David Carrillo (Derechos Reservados)

I was not sleeping.

So? I'm spending most of the night writing and trying to throw all "this" out. I've been almost shouting to everyone and everywhere, recently, that I only got shit along my days and for mysterious reasons I began to feel as if my mind were a programmed receiver of bad news. I could be talking with fellas and I could be surrounded by people, without showing a slight sense of happiness.

I don't want to believe that increasingly, I start to feel like a different person, but it happen to be true; at least only in the mornings.

Some days I hate myself just by the fact that most of the time I tend to hide me in words. People would probably know me better if I bear a transcript or description of my person on the face. Words are my best feature, so I'm told! but such a thing like carry a replacing-biography of verbal words tattooed on the face, it's just beyond!

"Through words, I can soften some of the worst blows that life delivers"

It's not a flatter of pretentiousness, because some other days I try to not be like I am.

Perhaps it's just the suspicion that I've lived and experienced every-day situations in an accelerated rate. I've probably caused this on me and it doesn't necessary have to be tagged as a bad thing.

The other day, a friend of mine reserved to herself a deep experience about something wrong happend with her mother. We weren't together and miles away I felt in need of fall apart and weep the whole night. I simply wasn't feeling OK. A month before she got the brave enough to tell me what had happened and hours before I linked up what she just told me with "the month-after feeling" that caught me unawares.

Yesterday I felt into the same situation. I was at class with the only urgency to run away straight to my home. This is why I made this statement clear: "I've gotten so much shit and I think I'm really trying to not tempt people too"

I couldn't handle this. Like I don't want to get my hopes up but..."no" I definitely wouldn't. I was going at the opposite side; and a friend of my class whom I hold dear too much ♥ He let me to cool the jets when I actually, rather than to be ignored, I prefer to discuss and talk about.

I guess he has a random opinion about me but let's hope he can remove the bandage from his eyes and instead of hypnotize himself with what he's holding close, he begin to appreciate what he's just watching in a considerable distance.

"Me against that rock solid over there"

I know I've ultimately destroyed my lovely mood but I've been having also my bright days.

Spitefully (maybe) I wrote this down because I AM A freaking jealous person, just in case to be required, and now, although somewhat befuddled I feel SO MUCH BETTER.

Let's not to put a name to this feeling, firs of all because it's weird and It's been a day and I still didn't know how exactly felt like; and second of all I'm not interested at all-

I get interested just at the right moment when that happen. I've been thinking in a solution to finish finish this up and I wish someone think up, make up and invent miraculous pills to get over this human emotional-state.

Who would say that I did spend about one hour polishing this up, to savor a slight of chocolatey success. No coffee. No parsley or coriander.

I'm going to bed. It's 2:33 am (25-march)

 

[G.i.s.s.e.l.l.e]

Brand New Start

I had never had the chance or the shrewdness to perceive signals to change my life. I was nineteen years old, me and all my "troubles". It was an interval time, and my life’s prospects were going down. I was like a lonely monotonous note, a tone of definite pitch, playing a song in an empty room. Deep down, I knew that I wanted a big change in my life. Losing a friend can motivate you to close your interval time and get yourself ready for a brand new start. Regrettably we shall no chose the act that will turn our lives around completely. Some time ago my heart was away from my sister, who had just decided to grow up and marry her love. I didn't know what she felt exactly to believe herself mature enough, if she is only one year older than me. Now she was away from home; she and my future niece. And I must say that it was not that dramatic! She actually moved one block away from home.

In the other scene was the fact that my silly friends had decided to forget me. We actually were changing inside. We would stop calling each other for months and even claim that there was nothing new going on. I never believed that nonsense. I was miles away from doing the things I most like to do. I was in shock for no apparent reason. “It's so much going on and it's nothing happening at the same time” I was lying down on the sofa; it was a pretty normal morning, I was tired because of my early English class, and a phone call, an apparently simple phone call from my dear friend, who hadn't called me in weeks, made me smile joyfully when I was just a second away from falling into a world of sleep deprivation. It was Daniela calling; I just said a cheerful hello; what happened? But the mysterious sound of total silence appeared to let me know that it was not good news. What happened? I asked again; and her voice broke down and cried: “It's Gisselle, Amy” – Daniela said. -What about…? –I asked- And it's quite strange how in the middle of a question, just two words away, I knew what she was trying to tell me. I knew it because of the mysterious silence. –“It's Gisselle, Amy”- she claimed.

Aloud, in my mind, I can't even remember all the ways I expressed my denial. -I'm on my way to your house- I said to her. I hung up and my world was paralyzed. I sat on the couch with my head down and my eyes closed. I was nowhere; I was hurt when I thought I couldn't be hurt; I was suffering endlessly, all inside, with no way of getting it all out. Not a tear, not a single one. The painful feeling of losing a friend, the one who you hold dear; inevitably, times turn down into sad days and a slow recovery. “Your life changes since the very first minute your friend lost her breath and you catch her sigh”. It's a tiny insignificance, a long second going unnoticed.

We were talking about Gisselle, the authentic and exceptional girl with the honey eyes; so lively, motivated, optimistic, so real, spiritual, unique, wise and wonderful. I was frightened. I had known her since we were eight, and we had become such good friends. She was so thoughtful and trustworthy that I knew we would have a caring friendship even when our grandchildren see us as the craziest grandmas they have ever known. We are really good friends, she, me and six more. We supported each other and we cared a shit if our classmates thought that we were the weird ones; It is somewhat like my grandfather says: “darling, you can claim to have a bunch of friends and that dating everyone will take you more than a year but you are the luckiest one if you have five real friends to date in one week and they can surely change your life just for being together”, “Oh definitely, what an extraordinary thought” I could easily get lost with all this words but the thing is that I got up of the sofa and I met my silly friends, the five who have changed my life. We sat together in the living room of my friend Daniela. I was incapable to share a cry; I was not feeling it, not because the horrible reason the I didn’t care, it was because I still waited for someone who told me it was all just a bad joke, the worst joke, but a hopeful one. We shared words, an embrace of love, healing looks, and silence above all. Deep down, I knew that everyone that day thought that it could have been one of us. We knew and could have a certain respect for the time; the time coming and the time past. Circumstances don't matter, it was like the “aha!” of the problem. “Where the heck I had my mind? --¡I was so into my “fucking” problems!

Late that day my friend drove me to my house, just five blocks away from hers. My mother opened the door, I got out of the car and finally, like a breeze touching my face, reality reached me. I hold my friend and she knew that at last I have realized that our friend was gone. I spent hours just thinking, I was not sharing words with anyone, not with the meant of doing it, it was just the way I was feeling it. I was not even spending time with my sister, not talking with my niece because I didn't want to make a pregnant woman feel sad, and I was sure that my little niece could perceive my emotions.

Lots of teas were doing their thing; but a strange thing happens when you go beyond imagining. The day had arrived, the day we had to say goodbye. Once more, words failed me. I can hardly find any words to describe that day. And just before the sun went completely, we went home. I arrived home, strangely inside of a world I barely understood but something inside just told me that things would get better. I lay on bed again, feeling attached to it, like my faster little own remedy; but I had already seen the sundown, the air blowing away, the clouds falling from the sky, I'd walk the way back home to the cemetery, I walked and I found peace. I must say that I found walking a pretty freeing business ever since. I lie down and felt asleep for a little while. My father took his key, called my brother and took us to the car: Your sister is in labor! - He said (excited). I nervously talked and said –What, What? - I shake a little and I went to the hospital.

It was almost midnight; it was the most thoughtful road I'd ever take. I arrived and perceived strange emotions everywhere. I didn't see my sister before she entered to the operating room. The only thing I did, and I barely remember, was thinking: “Oh God, Oh God”, I stayed quiet, then I bow, my head up and down, I lay on my mom's arms, I kept my tears, I folded my arms, I sang a song into my head, I heard the sound of a clock, I found myself jangling with nervous energy until I closed my eyes and waited for the sound, the cry of a new life. I was waiting to breathe again, to let everything, all behind. The seconds became minutes and the room bigger. I checked the clock, It was 1:10 am when someone said: “you heard that”, I said: “what, what?” - Another one screamed: “shhhhhhh, did you hear that”, I check the clock again and YES, it was 1:11 am, and a new life had just started. I simply cannot describe why uncontrollably I wept that day. I wept, yes, and everyone was scared. How you can feel a light of joy when just hours ago you did not perceive any lights or sounds, laughs and voices; it is strange but it is miraculous, you simply had been waiting for this, for a change, for a new prospect; you let your friend's hand and kept going.

“I approached to the crib, I nervously leaned and I held her for the first time”

† Gisselle Elena! ❥ 1990-2009

A L W A Y S means F O R E V E R