I am sorry

I had been sober for so long. I had buried this person I hated and loved at the same time. I had tamed myself. I was no longer the one who made them fall. I was nice, I was the one everyone wanted to set up. I had kept my secret unveiled. I had been nice. 

Suddenly, without any warning, I came back. It was like I had been underwater. I could breathe. He came through the door like every other day. I had been so controlled. I have this thing for men I cannot have. I want them, bad. The less attainable they seem, the more I want them. I wanted to make him fall. He is so controlled, so good. The only one people say it is impossible to corrupt. I wanted him just because no one believed he would ever do something wrong. 

He came through that door. It was different this time. I had woken up from my idiotic dream. I do not want to be that person any more. The switch just went off. I looked at him the way I used to look at men. I had been so focused in being nice I thought I had forgotten how it felt to be bad. It feels good. It feels so damn good. 

He was surprised. I could tell. He felt nervous, he felt restless. I saw how he could not look at me the same. I was safe. I was this nice little girl he never thought had it in her. Boy, do I have it in me. I love the thrill, I love knowing they want to touch me, drink me in and do all those things they aren't supposed to. I could even feel his fear. I love that fear. I love being looked at that way. I hate being looked as safe. I am not a nice little girl. 

I made him fall. Bad. He did all those things you shouldn't do. It felt so good. I am the one that can make you fall. I will never be the one to heal you. I will burn you and leave you filled with regret and leave. I always leave, one way or another, I leave them alone. I will not be there to heal their wounds or make them believe it will all settle. You will never be the same. I will show you what you are capable of doing and then go back to my life as if nothing had happened. I will see you everyday and feel nothing. Because once they fall, once they become what they have always been, I stop wanting them. 

Don't get me wrong. I will make you fall again. Be sure of that. Every now and then, when you feel you have put yourself together, I will be there in the dark reminding you that you can fall again. You will do so. You will clean up your act and then, come back. 

Don't be fooled by my good girl act. I love sex. I am more instinct than anything else. You looked at me thinking I would just be a small slip. Something you get out of your system and then go back to your town house and daily duties. I should have warned you. But, where's the fun in that? I am sorry I didn't tell you. I am sorry I did all those things to you like it was something one normally does on a Monday. Well, I am not sorry about that. 

I don't really want you. I just need you. I need my safety net. I need to know that if I fall, there will still be a person who thinks of me as incredibly special. I know I amuse you. I know you've missed, like I did, having someone in your life you can talk about nothing and everything.

Still, you can't let me in completely in your real life. I exist in this place where time doesn't really pass. I am in this limbo where we haven't been torn apart and have not broken up every little thing that kept us together. I know you can't let go. I can't either.

I tried to keep you out of my life. Like every now and then when I think I can grow up and become a better version of myself. I keep failing miserably. You keep becoming this person you are supposed to be, the one people say we should when we grow up. I keep being this little girl who plays and never really gets invested. I keep thinking I have time. I keep ignoring there is no way to go back. There is no way. There is no place for me in your life. There has never been a place for me in your heart. Still, I tell you about my days.

I have deceived myself into thinking I don't care anymore. I keep telling myself there is nothing wrong with having this secret part of my life with you. I lie and lie to keep you safely in this place. I tell everyone there is nothing more than a good friendship. I keep saying I don't compare what I felt for you, what you are, what you were to me with other people. I can't anymore. I can't just forget that I made this perfect little thing up. I made myself to be that force of nature that kept you on your toes. I become even more restless, random and loud. I get to be that woman that makes you loose yourself. However, you are not that man anymore. You grew out of it. You became what you had to. You are stable, planned and have built a life for yourself. I have not. I keep breaking everything that makes me feel safe. I want the thrill. I still look for that. I still want to be swept off my feet. 

I still look for that high, the unknown. When things get familiar I run out the door. I need that electric impulse that just overtakes me when I don't know the next move. The anticipation. I am a junkie for pain and still look for it in someone else. 

You've learned, sort of. You have made this perfect little life where someone as random and passionate as me does not fit. I keep trying to find me someplace where conventional rules don't apply. I have searched high and low for someone like you. 

The truth is, I look for the person I am when I'm with you. The thing is, no one has ever made me hurt the way I did with you. Nobody has played with my demons as well as you have. I need to find it one last time. I need to let go of this fantasy, and accept, there is no fairy tale to tell. 

Te me estás saliendo

Poco a poco te me estás saliendo. Poco a poco la historia que ocupaba tanto tiempo de mi vida se convierte en una anécdota que cuentas en 20 minutos. De pronto, sin darme cuenta, ya no me duele decir que te quise. Ya no siento que me falta el aire cuando digo que tu nunca me quisiste como yo a ti. De repente, sin más, dejas de ser ese hombre que esperé casi la mitad de mi vida. 

Siempre te voy a querer, siempre voy a encontrarme en la vida cosas que me recuerden a ti. No me importa, ya no me duele. 

La distancia, el tiempo, la vida, todo me llegó al mismo tiempo. Te me fuiste tú. Ya no maldigo la hora en que decidí quererte y me aferré a una historia de amor que sólo existía en mi cabeza. Ya no lloro cuando entiendo que el amor es de dos y lo nuestro nunca fue eso. Ya no siento que nunca nadie me va a entender como tú. Ya no quiero cambiar por ti. No quiero dejar todo eso que amo y que contigo siempre pensé que terminaría por dejar. No lo dejo ahora por ti, no lo dejo por nadie más. 

Me quedé sin lo que sentía por ti y me llene de mí. Me llené de amor por mis particularidades y dejé de intentar ser ordinaria y sumisa. No puedo, no quiero y no vuelvo a cometer el mismo error. 

No quiero ser la mujer perfecta, no quiero ser la que sale en las revistas de sociales, la de la sonrisa para los demás. Quiero sonreír para mí y no me interesa que nadie más se entere. Quiero guardar los momentos y no tener que comprobarle al mundo que no estoy sola. Porque dejó de importarme si alguien me merece en los ojos de los demás. Porque no es cuestión de merecer, es cuestión de todo menos de lo que debe ser. 

Everything I wanted

Nothing ever matters. In the end, all the words we say, all the tears we shed, all the promises we make, they all fall and break into a million pieces. We don't get to find the source of all this pain or the cause of all this hurting. We are left broken, without all those things we gave.

Hurting, feeling like dying is ok. There is no grace or glamour in crying like a child. It makes no difference where the tears come from. We are all, at the end of it all, nothing but a carbon copy of everyone else. We are no different from anyone else that has been broken.

We might have felt special, untouchable. We might have lived different stories. In the end, it does not make a difference, not one bit. We deceive ourselves and others by making up this people we want to be. We are desperately trying to become an exception to every rule ever written about love.We never are. 

The first time I saw you, I felt an instant pull towards you. I felt the need to be around you. I had to breathe the same air, your scent, drink in your eyes. I had to be with you. I had never wanted something so bad, so desperately. We were drawn to each other. We are messed up and two narcissistic assholes. We had this connexion, this way of communicating no one else understood. I loved feeling this special. I lived to be that untouchable, ethereal being you cherished so much. You made me feel safe and in control. I thought we were one of a kind. I truly believed this bond could never be broken. No matter how many people crossed our paths, we kept coming back.
I thought I was so different. I was living this messed up, impossible relationship and loved it. I have never felt normal, I have always dreaded the ordinary. You gave me that.
You never gave me flowers, you gave me irreplaceable moments. You never wrote a poem about me, you wrote endless letters that showed your true colors. You never called me your girlfriend, you called me your soulmate and best friend. You never proclaimed your love, you gave it to me, complete behind closed doors. You never gave me ordinary, you gave me everything I wanted. 

La hora de la cena

Se ha pasado la hora de la cena. Se ha pasado el tiempo que siempre le había dedicado. En un inicio, siempre estaba ahí para platicarle sobre su día. Desesperada, no entiende que pasa. ¿Amé demasiado? ¿Amé muy poco? A veces quisiera poder decirle la verdad. Sentarme con ella a tomar el té y decirle por qué. Me gustaría mirarla a los ojos y contarle, con el corazón en la mano, por qué no llega a la hora de la cena. Nunca he sido de las personas que habla claramente. Nunca he dicho realmente que siento. Ella si. Ella le dice cuanto lo ama, cuanto lo extraña y cuanto está dispuesta a dejar por él. Ella dejó todo atrás. Dejó su independencia, sus tacones, sus días de fiesta. También se deshizo de todas esas cosas que a él no le gustan y se llenó de lo que él adora. Encontró espacio para guardar todos esas cosas que una vez amó y cerró las gavetas. No miró atrás. Lo amaba. Lo ama. Él intentó hacer la mitad de lo que ella hizo por él. De verdad, lo vi intentar una y otra vez no desear que ella fuera diferente. Quería amarla por quien era y como era. Por un momento, breve, lo logró. Esos días, siempre llegaba a la hora de la cena.  La gente cambia. El instinto más escondido siempre regresa. Las cosas que nunca dejas salir son las que terminan rompiendo esa persona que construyes para el resto del mundo. Si tan sólo pudiera decirle que, de verdad, intentó no amarme. No hubo manera de no encontrarnos. Algo debía pasar. Disfrazados, comenzamos a jugar. No pasa nada cuando no dices nada. Cuando no hay quien si quiera susurre un nombre, esa persona no existe. Así jugamos, a no decir, a no verbalizar lo que pasaba y a no recordar nada. Hasta que un día, a la hora de la cena, decidío decir lo que pasaba. Me lo dijo y de pronto, me di cuenta de lo que hacía. Me di cuenta que jamás cambiaría para ser esa mujer que él esperaba. ¿Por qué no lo amaba como ella? ¿Por qué me le había metido hasta los huesos? ¿Por qué no lo necesitaba? Me pidió que lo amara. Me pidió que dejara caer las barreras que he construido y le enseñara realmente quien soy. Mañana, estará con ella, a la hora de la cena.

A bad day

Most of the time, I can live normally. Every day, I think less and less about you. Somedays, the good days, I don't have a single thought regarding you. Those days, I actually think I can love again. Those goods days make me say yes to dates and talk to people. I even let them tell me things I only let myself hear from you. These good days are becoming more and more common. I'm starting to have more good days than bad ones. 

Today was not a good day. Today, I thought of how much I miss your lips. I remembered you how my heart trembled with just the sight of you. Oh, no, it was not a good day. I kept hearing your voice. I kept feeling your hands on me. I kept feeling my skin crawl because of your absence. 

Then you came. Like you always do. You made me remember why I can't think of being with someone else. You made me realize why I am so confused, so broken. 

I thought I was letting you go. I even made a statement out of it. I had this thing confusing me, and I thought I was finally getting rid of you and feeling for someone else. 

Then you looked at me. It is like you never left. I continue to ignore what keeps me from getting back to you. Just this moment. Please don't take that away from me. 

My ego was bruised and you came back to fix it. You made sure no else had that kind of power over me. You just make it better by making it worse. You heal me to leave me, once again, in the highest tower. Today, it's ok for me to have a bad day. Today, I need to remember you by and think of you. Because you did hurt me. You made me remember what it feels to be hurt, not bruised. You bring back all this darkness and loneliness. You make me realize I can't cry for someone else because you used up all the tears I had. 

I have been hurt by you. Nobody else can touch me. Nobody else can make me tremble with anger, despair, and love. I thought I was getting rid of you. I guess today its OK to hold on just a little stronger. 

Feeling unwanted and crazy is just not pretty. I've been that kind of girl too many times. These thoughts, this darknes after you said you never meant to hurt me, have rushed back in. I've been trying to let go of that hurt I went through after you said goodbye. That pain after you came back and made me think I was imagining things. It all came back. 

I did it again. I was the crazy one again. I was the one that thought was important for someone who just was not as invested. I hate myself when I become that person. I am not used to it. You had taught me well. You had made me this impenetrable bitch that no one could ever touch. 

I let my guard down because I thought I had all those things I had with you. I had even more. I had some more things that made me think I was important or wanted. 

I am still that nice girl no one wants to hurt. I am still this pathetic toy no one ever wanted to break but played incesantly with. I hate that girl. I hate being the nice little girl people find smart and funny. It sucks to be the one they feel bad after hurting. I hate people trying to make it all right afterwards. I hate being pittied. I hate being thought as fragile. I've been through so much crap they have no idea. They still think I need protection.. 

I do not work well as a victim. It makes all my darkeness take over. All these twisted thoughts come flooding back in. I am too special, I am too nice, I am not what you wanted, what he wants. Why can't you just man up and say it? Why do you have to feel like a good person after you've used someone? Be a fucking man about it an accept it. "I thought this was just us playing", "I thought you just wanted sex", "I am not interested, thank you". Be the fucking jerk you are and get it over with. Step down from your high horse, I do not need saving. 

I don't do well as a victim. I don't do well as a poor little girl who needs protection because she's too emotional. I don't want it. I don't need it. I hope people would just stop trying to not hurt me. Pretending to care, when you actually don't, is far more hurtful. I do not need protecting. I don't want it. Go pitty some other girl who actually wants to be protected. 

Potential

You drive me crazy. You have all this potential. You apparently have no idea you are totally the kind of man I could fall in love with. This, drives me mad crazy. I wish I could be this open book. I wish I had no fears and no darkness. I have even thought that you don't like me because of that. I think it is mainly because of this craziness you don't seem to stop talking to me. 

I'd like to think I have a strange power that just draws you to me. I think you are just amused by me. I am weird and funny and you are bored. However, I see the darkness too. I see you are not quite as composed as you portray yourself to be. I like that. 

I have this crazy idea where I truly believe our demons could play very well together. They could play in a way people warn us demons should not play. But I like that. I honestly do like the possibility of burning. I have never wanted a dull life. You have all this potential, and still you'll never know. You will never use it because, maybe, you need more or want something different. I could understand that too. 

Maybe is this darkness and potential in me that keeps you out. Maybe you are evolved and don't need that kind of darkness anymore. Maybe we should have met when you weren't trying to be normal. I don't know. Maybe you are far more concient of this possibility you know better. Who knows. I will never know. 

I want to be rid of you

I am not sure if I have ever been in love. The only thing I am sure of is that I have fallen. I have fallen countless times for countless people. 

In the corners of my mind, you will find infinite memories. They all blend together and become nothing. They all become part of my imagination and turn into epic love stories. The truth is, they aren't. 

I have fallen for smart and idiotic men. I have fallen for ugly and beautiful men. I have fallen for funny and serious men. I have collected pieces of different puzzles which I force to fit my own. I have also fallen countless times for you. 

I have found you in green, hazel and blue eyes. I have found you in sarcastic, vain and intelligent comments. I have been able to read your name in every book, essay and article. I see you everywhere. I find you in the most random and planned places. I can't seem to get rid of you. I want to be rid of you. 

I have fallen so many times with the hope I will finally take away this power you have over me. I know I am not in love with you, but I love you. I know you are not in love with me either, but you love me.

All this time without you has taught me I am stuck with you. I want to stop being in your life. I want you to stop thinking about my future and tearing apart every resemblance of a relationship I might have. I need to stop believing you will come back. 

I am rationally convinced this is over. Emotionally, well that is a different story. Emotionally, I am still dependent of you. I still need you to find me attractive to feel pretty. I still need you to validate my intelligence to feel worthy. I do, I still need you to say I am a good person to feel like one. I've heard I am beautiful, smart and good. The words just resonate outside my heart. Your voice has the power to travel, tear down all my walls and, like an arrow, end up in the center of my heart. You gave me confidence. You gave me power. You took it all away. 

I just need you to see me one last time, like you used to. I need to feel the warmth a devoted gaze brings. I need you to hold my hand for the last time. This time I will keep that warmth in my heart, now frozen and uninterested. This time I will cherish the electric impulse traveling through my body when your skin touches mine. This time I will finally believe I am beautiful. I will finally let myself feel and let all this love come into my heart. This time, I promise, I will say I love you back. 

Almost there

This too, shall pass. I've been repeating myself I will not die of this hurting. I keep telling myself I will not be broken. I can't. I've come too far to let this break me. I breathe in, I take control of what was taken away from me. 

It's been so long, I can hardly remember how it feels to not be damaged. I've always kept my cool. I've always made it seem I was dark and twisted inside just because that was who I am. I've never given any explanation. Nobody asked. 

When someone takes away your identity and your worldview, there is no turning back. There is absolutely no way you can ever be that trusting little girl. There is absolutely no hope. You can never love unconditionally because you always expect to be used. You can never ever be truthful because you know you will be deceived. 

I have never fully trusted. I have never fully loved. I have never been completely honest. Nobody asked why. I am damaged goods. I am broken. I have this fog around me that keeps people from actually seeing me. I keep all, miles away. I keep everyone out of reach. 

I made up all kinds of legends about me. I have orchestrated the perfect lie. She is not interested in love. She will eat you up and spit you out without any regret. Behind these walls, there is a scared six year old screaming her heart out, begging not to be hurt. This little girl has been hurt too much, too often and too deeply. 

I've tried to stop this hurting. I've tried a million times to fix me. I've failed miserably every single time. I am so used to my darkness I can't find the light. Being in the dark almost your whole life makes it very difficult for you to want the light. If you have never felt the sun, you hardly miss it. 

I've built sick relationships that prove, once and again, I am not worthy of love. I keep hurting and being used. That is the only way I know. I´ve been their obsession, their desire, never the love of someone's life. I have never been taken care of. 

I want, for once, to be loved. I want to be the fragile little girl someone cherishes. I don't want to be the temptation they all fall into. I want to stop being someone's obsession. I want to stop the things I make them feel. 

I sometimes wonder if just the mere sight of me awakens the most basic, primal and destructive instincts. I think I do. Men keep obsessing over me, sick, twisted kind of love. I have always been this thing they want to posses, not love. 

I have been used for so long, I don't know how it feels to be protected. This little girl had to fight since I can remember. This fragile little girl had to find it in her to be smarter, manipulative and destructive. I've been playing this part for so long, these walls just won't fall down. 

My heart has never felt the warmth of loving. It is frozen, left all alone in the highest mountain. The more I try to make it better the harsher it becomes, the heavier it gets. I am drowning in quick sand. I am hopelessly fighting something that defeated me a long time ago. 

I can't let it show. I am too close. I am a breath away from accepting I am not meant for love. 

Juntos

No recuerdo la última vez que vivimos en la misma ciudad. Tenemos tanto tiempo regados en diferentes partes del mundo, que de verdad, no logro ubicar el momento exacto en que no era así. La gente crece y la distancia suele romper casi todo. El futuro, las nuevas personas, las nuevas costumbres, pueden llegar a alejarnos aún más que esos kilómetros que separan la puerta de mi casa de la suya. 

Somos cinco personas que tuvieron la fortuna de encontrarse. Somos tan iguales pero a la vez tan opuestos que casi pudimos no habernos querido tanto. Porque esta manera de querer es de las que toda la vida te van a durar. No importa que tanto nos cambie el acento, el idioma o las parejas, cada uno siempre tendrá 4 personas dispuestas a casi todo por ellos. Somos afortunados. Aún más yo. 

Seré la última. Como en casi todas las cosas, porque a mi siempre me ha llevado más tiempo que al resto de la gente vivir. No importa. Es ahora cuando entiendo todas esas cosas de dejar a la gente que quieres en un lugar que quieres. Empiezo a pensar que debí de tener más tiempo y menos trabajo. Empiezo a pensar que debí de haber tenido menos conocidos y más tiempo con mi gente. 

No lo digo lo suficiente y cuando lo hago, es muy bajito. Los quiero. Los quiero porque han soportado mis neurosis, mis ataques, mis altas y mis bajas. Porque me hacen reír y llorar. Me conocen, muchas veces, más que yo. Me cuentan en su vida como activo fijo aunque soy la más irregular de las personas. 

Hemos crecido. Nos ha pasado la vida y seguimos aquí. Seguimos hablando de las cosas que nos pasan. Cambian los contextos pero seguimos siendo "Sergio y ellos". Tenemos un pequeño espacio que se quedó detenido en el tiempo. Un espacio que no es frecuente, no como debería, pero igual siempre está ahí. Tenemos un lugar seguro donde regresar. Hemos desafiado al tiempo y al espacio. Porque no importa lo lejos, ni el tiempo, siempre estamos juntos. 

Hoy quiero ir por una copa glamour, ir al cineforo, pasear por el centro, tomar café en el sanborns y whisky en lugares de mala muerte. Tengo unas ganas enormes de ir por un café del seven, tomar fotos, ir a clases y ver series en pijama. Quiero hablar de chisme farandulero y de las cosas raras que pasan por mi cabeza con alguien que sepa exactamente a lo que me refiero. Quiero que me regañen por adicta al trabajo, me lleven a tomar mezcal y me digan que me deje de engañar. Hoy voy a hacer todo porque siempre están y no hay nada que lo pueda evitar. 

Me hubiera gustado...

No tengo una razón. No tengo ganas de econtrarme con esa persona que puedes destruir. No tengo ni la más mínima intención de volverme vulnerable ante ti. El dolor no es algo que me interese. Encontrarme emocionalmente desnuda nunca ha sido mi mejor traje. La vulnerabilidad nunca me ha sentado bien. Jamás seré esa mujer que te va a entregar el alma. No hay ya que entregar. La realidad de las cosas es que tengo demasiada alma para la vida y muy poca me queda para el amor. No me queda ya nada para ti porque llegaste tarde. 

Me hubiera gustado conocerte cuando todavía podía decir la verdad. Antes no era tan cínica. Hace mucho tiempo que dejé de pensar en cuidar a alguien más. No he podido deshacerme de este miedo. No he logrado quitarme de encima toda la culpa de haber sido quien fui. 

Probablemente, hubieras podido enamorarte de mi. Antes, no estaba tan rota. Dejé perdida la llave que me hace vulnerable, que me abre al mundo. A esa mujer, creo, si la pudiste haber amado. 

La mujer que está frente a tí el día de hoy, no es nada comparado con la niña que ahogué entre tantas mentiras. Esa niña se murió entre el dolor y las ganas de amar a alguien más. Ella era transparente, simpática. Ella no tenía agendas escondidas ni mecanismos de manipulación. Ella te hubiera caido muy bien. 

Ahora, entre todas esas agendas escondidas, perdí a esa niña. Me hubiera gustado que la conocieras. Ella si sonreía sincera. Ella no era pasivo-agresiva. Ella si podría haberte amado. 

Yo ya no puedo amar porque me rompí conscientemente. Asesiné a esa niña que puede amar porque no pude soportar el dolor de amar sin ser correspondida. 

Prefiero estar sentada aquí, hablando contigo. Prefiero decirte, en este momento, que me dejes ir y lo dejes de intentar. Me duele no ser todavía esa niña. Ella, te hubiera dejado entrar hace mucho tiempo. Ella te hubiera enseñado todas esas cosas que la gente hace por quien ama. Yo no. Yo no puedo ser esa niña. No me encuentro en posición de amar a nadie más. Se me acabó el amor por él y junto con el se escapó todo lo que podía sentir por alguien más, aún por mi. Me dejé de amar. Dejé de tener la capacidad de sentir. Porque ya no siento. No siento el frío ni las ganas de llorar cuando no te aman. No siento el calor y las ganas de sonreír cuando de verdad te quieren. No queda nada. 

Estoy hecha ruinas y no hay manera de reconstruirme. No hay manera porque me aseguré que todo eso que tenía se fuera con él. Se lo regalé. Le dí todo y no me dejó nada. Yo se lo pedí. Porque si no lo podía amar a él no quería amar a nadie más. 

En mi terquedad, en mis ganas de tener la razón, apagué en mi alma la poca luz que quedaba. Porque no hay manera de que yo pueda amar, si no es a él. Porque tengo que saber lo que se siente no amar después de romper tantas casas. Porque siento, muy en el fondo, que no merezco encontrar el amor porque lastimé demasiado. Me castigo porque no me creo merecedora de nada porque me la he pasado rompiendo demasiadas cosas. 

No puedo amar. No puedo encontrarme en el punto vulnerable en el que alguien sepa quien soy realmente. Porque me muero de miedo que vean eso que el vio y salgan corriendo. 

Me hubiera gustado encontrarte menos rota. Me hubiera gustado no haber sido tan soberbia y tan destructiva antes de ti. Me hubiera gustado que me hubieras conocido. 

Si regresas

A veces, me gustaría ser esa mujer que puedes querer. No me importa que no sea como en las películas. Solamente que me quisieras, así, un poquito como en la vida real. Muy de repente, me entran las ganas de decirte que no es cierto que no voy a cambiar por ti. 

Cuando estoy sola, cuando te extraño, se me ocurren todas las maneras en las que puedo cambiar y dejar de ser todo eso que no quieres. Me dan ganas de salirte a buscar y decirte que siempre si quiero que me quieras. 

A veces, no siempre, me atormento pensando en todo lo que dije y pude haber callado. Todas esas promesas a mi dignidad las rompo si decides regresar. En ese instante preciso, te prometo ser la más sumisa, la más callada, la más abnegada. Te juro dejar de llorar, decir lo que pienso y sentir todo al mismo tiempo. 

De pronto, sin darme cuenta, te hablo. No para decirte que regreses, porque en ese momento, no me acuerdo que me dejaste. Te hablo para contarte lo que acabo de ver en las noticias o esa idea sin sentido que acaba de cruzar por mi mente. En ese segundo, no tengo orgullo, no hay lágrimas, no te has ido.

Regresame la calma, las fuerzas, las ganas. Quítame estas ganas de llorar, el insomnio y mi cinismo. Porque ya no quiero ser una niña buena si no estás tú para corromperla. Ahora quiero ser esa mujer que le dan un anillo y entrega su vida. Te quiero entregar mi vida porque, en realidad, ya te pertenece. Quiero ser políticamente correcta y perfecta. No quiero ya escribir si no puedo teclear tu nombre en cada letra. 

Lo dejo todo. Lo dejo a él también. 

Te prometo ahora sí, decirte a tí todo eso que pienso. Te prometo que no vuelvo a decirle a alguien más mis más oscuros secretos. Te juro, si regresas, no vuelvo a pensar que alguien más me querrá. Te prometo no contestarle, no hablar con él. Si regresas, dejo a este sustituto de tí que me queda grande y me duele más que tú. 

The problem with you

The problem with you is you are too perfect. You are everything my mother told me a man should be. You are too damn perfect. You make me feel awkward and out of place. You keep telling me you find all my awkwardness appealing. I keep repeating myself you will wake up one day wanting a perfect wife. 

The problem with this is my darkness fades when you are around. You have and will never understand the twisted paths within my mind. You are too damn perfect. 

You are that kind of man all women want to marry. You have everything planned, everything on track. I am everything but planned or on track. You make us being together a constant reminder I am everything but the good girl you are supposed to marry. 

It hurts, because I see the way you look at me. It breaks my heart because I have learned to love perfect. I have become this person who is not afraid of good things. Still, in the back of my mind, in the morning, while you are just there, observing me, I hear this voice. This person I really am just tells me you won't love my darkness. 

I really want you to love my darkness. I want you to not be afraid of all the crazy things that go on in my head. I want to be sure you won't run out the door the moment I let one of my demons out. You are too perfect. You have kept all the voices in my head quiet. You have kept my fears, my pain and self loathing in line. I am no longer in this need to make someone hurt. I want to make you happy. 

The problem with you is you are perfect. You are well adjusted and sure. I am awkward and doubtful. You  are handsome an well dressed. I am weird and unfashionable . You are well behaved and controlled. I am unstable and random. 

The thing with you is I kind of love my darkness. The thing with you is you've taken that away from me. I am scared. I am just waiting for my monster to wake up and make a mess. I am just waiting for you to realize you are too good for me. I am terrified you will leave me and my demons will just take over for good. 

Beautiful Pain

Beautiful pain. Beautiful hurting. I love the way it feels. Nothing is so profound, so deep, so personal. The pain you give me is the most amazing gift someone could ever receive. It is this pain that lets me know I am alive. I realize, because of this hurting, I love you. I could never love so intensely. I could never hope to burst into flames ever again. You make me feel hell on earth. You make me fall from the highest tower and break every single bone in my body. You brand every inch of my body with your touch. 

I don't want this pain to go away. I don't want to stop this absolute bliss. The hurting gives me pleasure. The absolute misery that comes from feeling every inch of your skin crawl and burn because of someone else is just amazing. 

Don't heal me. Please, do not let me feel happiness or stop the bleeding. I want to feel every drop of my blood drain out of my body. I want to feel every bit of pain you have given me. I do not want you to stop. Please, I beg you, hurt me deeper. Don't let any part of me untouched. I am yours, completely. I am your toy to pick up whenever you feel like it. 

Don't love me. Please, hate me, hurt me and make me feel alive. I do not want your tenderness or kindness. I want you to burn with desire, self destruct and break me every time you think o me. I want to be broken. Please, do not mend me. I love the feeling of not having anything to hold on to. This beautiful feeling of falling without a net. The beautiful thrill of falling. Please do not take that away from me. 

I do not need you to stay. I do not need you to heal me once I break. I love myself dysfunctional. I love myself hurt and broken. I do not need my wholeness. I do not want my sanity. I do not need warm and fuzzy. I want to burn with just the thought of you. 

Ordinaria

Despacio. Entre todo el ruido, en la oscuridad de la noche, no eres tú. Este personaje proveniente de tu imaginación llega para quitarte todo el miedo de aceptar tu vulnerabilidad. Whisky y cigarro. No necesitas más porque eres esa versión de tí que no siente. El silencio entre tanto ruido deja por fin callados a todos tus demonios. El movimiento, la gente, la superficialidad de todo, te da un aire de seguridad. 

Te gusta jugar a la niña tonta. En tí ya no hay ese miedo a ser lastimada porque no hay manera que ese idiota te pueda tocar. Juegas tus cartas, juegas con su mente y le haces creer que eres todo eso que las niñas normales deben de ser.

Juegas a ser sumisa, a no tener opiniones, a dejarte seducir. Entregas el control en sus ojos cuando en realidad eres tu la que jala cada uno de los hilos en este teatro. Te disfrazas de lo común. Guardas el secreto como si tu vida dependiera de ello. No dices una sola verdad. Todo lo escondes. Te gusta saber que nadie te puede tocar. 

Verlos intentar te llena de paz. Lo común y corriente de cada uno de esos hombres te da una paz que jamás habías sentido. Porque no hay discusiones. No hay manera de que tus demonios sean retados a salir. No hay forma que esta paz te abandone. Un whisky más. Eres de esas personas que pueden controlar todo lo que dicen entre el descontrol de la ebriedad. Cada palabra está llena de intenciones ocultas. Cada frase esconde un fin último de asegurarle que no existe mujer más común que tú. 

Lo mundano siempre te ha atraido. Siempre has querido ser feliz. Has buscado entre todos los recovecos de tu alma, la paz que te da el no tener que pensar. Apagar todo lo que sientes y piensas te produce un sosiego que nunca quieres dejar. 

Quieres ser ordinaria para sentirte satisfecha con las cosas de todos los días. Te mueres por ser común para dejarte engañar mil veces y vivir eternamente en la quietud de la ignorancia. No quieres leer más, vivir más, entender más. Quieres que todas esas voces en tu cabeza dejen de gritar todo eso que tienes miedo a enfrentar. 

Hoy, no tienes tiempo de dejarte sentir algo. No tienes la fuerza de abrir tu alma a alguien que te pueda romper. Porque estás reconstruyendo todo eso que tu misma destruiste. Te volviste un rompecabeza de emociones y personas. No tienes la menor idea de como empezar. Decides callar esos gritos de dolor que provienen desde lo más profundo de tí. Prefieres hacer como que todo eso que te está destruyendo nunca existió. 

Te fumas un cigarro mientras ves como todas y cada una de las preguntas de tu vida desaparecen entre el humo. No hay tiempo, espacio ni ganas de pensar en ese fantasma que a veces, ya entrada la noche, aparece. Hace mucho que no lloras por él. Hace mucho que dejaste de sentir que nunca más encontrarías una conexión igual de fuerte. 

Tu obsesión siempre fue más grande que el amor. Construir tu vida en letras y convertirlo en el arquitecto de esa obra de arte te dejó sin fuerzas. Tienes sólo las ganas de volverte común. No quieres otra vez encontrar esas ganas de romper algo. Te rehusas a visitar esa parte de tu historia que te hace la persona más cruel, enferma y honesta. No tienes interés ahora por la sinceridad o el éxtasis. 

Te llenas de las poquitas fuerzas que te quedan y sales al mundo en toda tu ordinariedad. En el fondo, no quieres volver a ser esa persona que es capaz de herir por placer y destruirse sistematicamente. Quieres ser feliz y encontrarte en ese abismo adormecedor que logra hacerte una buena mujer. 

You are my drug of choice

You are my drug of choice. I had been sober for too long. I had forgotten the high, the thrill, the absolute bliss you give me. My demons had been silent for such a long time, they had forgotten how to come out. My darkness just blends perfectly with yours. We are one of a kind, you and me. We are this absolutely intoxicating chemical reaction that just implodes, every time. 

I had been able to keep the cravings in line. I had been having my daily placebo and made myself believe I was no longer in withdrawal. As soon as I saw you, I had this itch. It came from my darkest place. It missed you. It longed for you. It needed to be heard, played with. 

I tried to fight it. I tried to deny it. I had been sober for so long. I had been such a good girl for so long. I fought. I had reason by my side. We are no good for each other. We are no good for anyone around us. I am no good for you. You are certainly no good for me. We just burst into flames every single time. We alienate everyone. We are no good for anyone. 

The worst thing someone can ever do is stand in the sidelines of this mess. We are not only willing to destroy ourselves but we go with a bang. It never lasts long. We are unable to keep this stable. That's the beauty and horror of it. We just are not able to keep it normal.

I've always had two sides of me. This one part of me only comes out when you call it. You make me feel so free. With you, I do not have the urge to think about who I am or pretend to be. With you, tomorrow is never a question. We never have tomorrow. All these years, we've only had today. You come out of the shadows just to tempt me, make me the bad behaved girl you know I can be. You bring out my demons, untamed. You let them run wild and free. You do not give me the feeling of not being good enough. You make me feel like the most exquisite and special thing that has ever walked this earth. You take away the shame from all my demons. You take away the guilt, the hurt and the desperation. You make me reckless, selfish and completely and utterly happy. You make me smile like an idiot, fuck like a nymphomaniac, laugh like a child, write like an erudite and live like a daredevil. 

Your are my drug of choice. I had been sober for so long. I had forgotten the complete desolation you leave behind. I didn't remember the pain and messes my demons bring when untamed. I had forgotten how hopeless and alone you leave me, every time. I had forgotten the guilt, the rock bottom. The road down your high is absolutely devastating. They way back home is lonely and dark. I have to keep my demons in line, my darkness hidden and mend my heart. 

With you, I become this person who hurts everybody. I don't care, I don't mind. I just need your fire. That is all I crave, want or need. I burn all the bridges, I stop feeling. The numbness, the absolute silence in my head is just heaven.

Just one last high. 

Fidelity

Are we truly faithful? Are we really meant to find absolute devotion in someone else? Are we willing to give that back?

Eyes wonder. Hearts unsettle. Just one little thing can change everything. A butterfly flaps its wings. It's a hurricane in someone else's life. We just meant to be nice. You just meant to be warm with the girl your friend brought over. I just meant to be the polite new girl. It was just beyond our control. We are both commited. What harm could come out of this?

Love sometimes just lets pure lust escape. When you love you need to take care of so many things, and then you kind of lose some others. We are so invested in taking care of so many things required in a relationship we forget we are human. We tend forget we have instincts and that taming ourselves is not just an act of pure love. 

Faithfulness is just a spectrum. It's a pallet of colors and we choose where we stand. We do not need to touch to cheat. We don't even need to get close to cheat. Who decides that? Sometimes, it takes a look, just one word. We change everything inside us and we just start fearing we might be unfaithful. 

It doesn't even matter how loyal we are as a person. We can be the must trustworthy being you have ever met, and still, a stranger can make you melt inside. Where do we draw the line? Is cheating having a wet dream about someone else? Is cheating having that electric reaction when someone brushes against you by chance? Am I supposed to feel this way? Is it normal?  Am I cheating?

Someone once said, "if it feels like cheating, it probably is". I don't even know how I feel. I just have this loyalty thing. I guess it's just an honesty thing. I need things to be transparent, clear. I have to tell. I have to let you know I have this urge. I have this itch. If I don't say it, am I cheating?

If we talk about it? Is it cheating? If we fantasize about how could it be if we weren't committed? Is it cheating? The thing is, we can still be in love with someone else. Still, we can't stop looking at each other. Still this beat inside of me can't be silenced. 

It stopped for a while. I didn't find any urges outside where my loyalty laid. Then it did. Then I had this itch, this uncontrollable feeling of feeling turned on by somebody else. The urge to feel someone else's hands over my body. I wanted to be explored and tamed by someone else. I wanted to feel his breathe, taste every little part of him. I wanted to see him whole, naked, sweaty. I wanted to abandon myself to pleasure. I wanted to end up naked, exhausted and trembling. I wanted him to fill this urge. 

If I do not cave, is it cheating? If I do not let myself go to every single urge I have, will I be faithful? Even if I dream at night about his lips, his tongue and every inch of his body, am I still being faithful? If I do not let him lick every hidden part of my body, do I get to keep being loyal? Even if dream about it, think about it and even talk about it?

Where do we draw the line?

De haber sabido

El último beso debería de ser anunciado. Deberíamos saber que nunca más volveremos a sentir el aliento de esa persona que hace que toda razón deje de tener sentido. Debería de existir una señal que te avise que será la última vez que ese cuerpo estará en sintonía con el propio y ambos tendrán que buscar otras frecuencias. 

De existir este tipo de avisos, guardaría el último beso en el cajón más escondido dentro de mi corazón. Guadaría ese momento en que las respiraciones se convierten en una misma. Me quedaría con el impulso eléctrico que te recorre por completo en el instante justo en que los labios se tocan. Guardaría por siempre tu esencia en una camisa. 

Porque nunca nada es igual. Porque cada relación tiene su propio ritmo, su propia velocidad. Porque nadie besa con la misma intensidad o la misma ternura. Porque guardar esos pequeños momentos nos llenaría la vida en vez de dejarnos vacíos. Si pudiera llenarme de tí para dejarte ir, lo haría. Si una despedida pudiera ser anunciada, lo haría. Porque conmigo ninguna despedida ha sido anunciada. Nunca he dicho adiós y me quedo con el alma vacía sin darme cuenta. 

Si me hubieras avisado que sería la última vez, tus caricias no me dolería. Haría que me recorrieras entera para que pudieras sanar todas las cicatrices que una vez dejaste, todas esas veces que me convertiste en fuego y me quemaste. Me quemaste y dejaste todas esas heridas abiertas. 

Si pudiera, guardaría la última mirada cómplice. Esa que nunca será igual. Porque todos crecemos, cambiamos y los ojos nunca son los mismos. Porque la complicidad nunca es la misma. Porque la frecuencia y las bromas escondidas nunca son iguales. Me perdería por última vez en tus ojos miel y encontraría mi propio reflejo para darme cuenta que lo que amo no es tu mirada sino cómo me ves. Porque verme a través de tus ojos nunca ha sido tan hermoso. Porque me enseñaste a observarme con tus pupilas. Me enseñaste a que soy tan tuya porque así me ves, me veías. 

Me quedé sin dueño. No encuentro esas cosas que me hacen quien soy, de quien te enamoraste. De haber sabido, te hubiera pedido me escribieras mil veces para no olvidarme. Porque me perdí, olvidé todo eso que me hizo lo que alguna vez amaste. 

De haber sabido, me encontraría en tu cuerpo una última vez, para no quedarme tan sola. 

This person I have become

I've never been yours. I really tried. I really hoped I could love you. The truth is, I never did. I kept making you my perfect excuse. If I suffered you, I couldn't possible suffer for something else. I became a ghost. I became this vision that could never become real. I made myself impossible to touch, to love. I made myself everything you wanted but feared the most. I kept quiet. 

I am nothing but what I made myself. I am not yours. I am not a toy you pick up whenever you are bored. I am not half the things you resolved me to be. You once said you needed me to need you. I did, in my own way. I needed you to keep me from everyone else. You did. You kept making me feel as this unattainable little thing. I became what I wanted you to think of me. You couldn't hurt me that way. You couldn't break me. I closed myself up from everything remotely dangerous. I stopped feeling. I felt too much.
I felt every little thing, making me numb to real feelings. I can't feel you. I stopped feeling you a long time ago. I made you my shield from the world. I made you everything you are not. I made myself believe I could only be happy with you, with that make believe version of you.

I saw you. I had imagined this moment a hundred times. I played over and over, all the possible scenarios in my head. It was no big deal. I saw you, I felt nothing. I didn't tremble when you kissed me. My heart did not skip a beat when you hugged me. I didn't lose my breath when I smelled your scent. I just held you. I just stood there, looked at you and realized you were half the man I built you up to be. I will always care. I will always have a place for you in my heart. This time, I realized it just this part, not my whole heart. I have room for something more, for someone else. I have room in my bed, my heart, my mind. You are not my whole heart anymore. You are not my whole dreams and thoughts.

After all this time I realize I loved you. In my own, messed up way, I did. I made my life this comfortable waiting room. I built up this world that had a space for you. All the time, you could just enter without any trouble. You had your chair. I was there sitting beside you all the time. It worked, in a way. It did, for a while. I had time to do all those things people should do in order to grow. I grew up. I wasn't distracted. For that, in a weird way, I thank you. I had the time to become the person I am today.

The person I am today moved, little by little all the furniture out of the waiting room I had built. Without me noticing, this version of me filled the wholes I left for you. I had left all this void space for you to settle once you had done and tried all the things you needed. I filled those wholes without noticing. This person I have become, was smart enough to let you go. I am sorry I didn't notice. I held you yesterday and then, I realized I had let you go.