Every now and then...

Every now and then I think of you. I remember your eyes, I remember your lies. Every now and then I wonder. I wonder if I could have been the one. I wonder if you could have ever taken a chance. That's the problem with maybes. We make ourselves believe we might one day get what we always wanted. That's the problem with not saying goodbye.

I wish I could say you love me. I wish I could say you're just too scared to be with me. The truth is you don't, the truth is you are not. I keep wishing you'll show up in the middle of the night, heartbroken. I wish you would just come and say those three words. I'd give anything to hear you say I love you.

It rains. Its pouring. I can't stop thinking about you. I can't stop hopping you'll come and rescue me from all this nonsense. I keep wishing you'll have this epiphany where you realize I'm your destiny. It will never happen. My door is locked, you are not coming in the middle of the night to knock it down. 

Just when I am about to let go of all this hope, you come around. You call. You text. You ask me about my day. Not because something happened but because you just wanted to talk to me. It breaks my heart. It tears apart every single fiber in my body. It feels like putting my self back together after being broken for so long. It feels like dying. It kills me to think I am just this random thought. It takes my breath away, you still know every single button, how to push it and where to find it. It makes me mad. It angers me to fall back into you that easily. I don't fight back. I jus text you back, answer the phone and tell you all about what is going on. 

We do this every time. We just pretend we are back to the beginning, with no commitments, no shattered hopes and nothing else to lose. It's like you'll be coming by like you used to and we'll just do the things we used to. 

These moments are so precious. There are these wrinkles in time where nothing has been broken. We laugh, we talk. Sometimes, we take a chance. We get so close, you brush against me and lean over. This instant, this second, makes it all worth while. All the lies, all the dreams, all the made out memories and hopes become nothing. An electric impulse triggered by your fingertips, runs all over my body, and every tear I shed goes away. 

I cried you, not a river, but an ocean. I hurt as bad as anyone can hurt. I cursed a hundred times. I promised myself I wouldn't go back for more pain. But then, you kiss me. You drink me in and then I forget about the pain. In this instant, I am whole again. I can't think of a reason to keep you out. I can't think, period. I love to be this way. I love who you make me. I am back to my careless, free and happy self. 

I swore I would never take you back. I did, just for one moment. Everything else vanished, you were here, not with her. Now, after the high, I'm all broken inside. I am back to the mess you left so many years ago. Everything I managed to put back together got shattered again. I must not be right in the head, however, to tell you the truth, I'd do it all over again. 

Get out

You better run. You better take off. This will get ugly. This will get twisted, dark and very very painful. Run. Get out. Flee. Don't look back. I will hurt you. It's just the way I function. I have this urge to make people like you hurt. I have this itch. I have this hidden desire. Run.

I see you and find the worst version of me. I bring out the worst in you. What is there to burn? Flee. Don't come back. I'm not kidding. I've been trying so hard to stop being the person I've always been. You make it impossible. You look at me, you want me, you need me. I've said it before, I'll say it again. There's nothing stronger than obsession. Let me go. Let this fade. Let it all go away.

You keep coming back for more. Stop. Find your way, away from me. Find yourself in another place. Don't. Don't give me that look. We can't turn back time. We can't make it all right. I'm not a second-chance kind of girl. Once you've failed you'll never get another shot with me. I make you believe you might. I lie.

I've never been this honest. I'm opening the door. Get out. This is your chance. Get out!

Rota

Puedo ser esa mujer. Puedo ser la que espera. Puedo ser la que se queda callada y no pide nada. Puedo ser la que es fiel aún sabiéndolo en otra cama. Puedo serlo. Lo fui por mucho tiempo. Perdí mi voz, perdí mi corazón y perdí hasta la razón. Siempre sentada, siempre cerrando la puerta con seguro para que nadie más entrara. Puedo volver a serlo. No quiero.

Amarte, así como yo lo hice, me dejó sin ganas de ceder. Me dejó sin la menor intención de volver a entregar todo sin esperar nada a cambio. Me quedé sin ganas. Me quedé sin lágrimas. Me quedé sin esa persona que no le tenía miedo a nada. Me llené de dudas. Me llené de preguntas de las que ya tenía respuesta. No, no eres tú. No, no soy el amor de tu vida. No, no soy la mujer con la que eventualmente terminarás por sentar cabeza. 

Ahora, después de tanto tiempo, me sigo preguntando si me rompí yo sola o si te dejé romperme. Después de todas esas lágrimas, de todos esos perdones, de todas esas ilusiones, sigo pensándome insuficiente. Después de todo este tiempo, toda esta gente, sigo creyendo que soy yo la que está rota. Pero si no me he roto yo sola. No me he desgarrado el alma así, como si no fuera nada, yo sola. Me has hecho creer que no está bien querer a alguien y dejarse querer. Me has hecho sentir que no hay forma que alguien más me pueda querer. Si tú, que conoces todo de mí, no me has querido, la culpa la tengo yo. La que no tiene remedio soy yo. Porque a ti, a ti, si te han querido. Te ha querido más de una. A mí, no me ha querido nadie. 

Soy yo. Soy yo la que ya no quiere querer. Soy la que busca ser esa persona para él, el otro y aquel. Porque nadie me puede querer. Porque enamorarse a estas a alturas de alguien tan rota, no es de persona sensata. Entonces, está bien. Entonces, tomo lo que se dignan a dar. Porque siempre fue así. Porque contigo me mantuve enamorada más de la cuenta y así, con lo poco que me diste, fui feliz. No me dabas las buenas noches, no me dabas las cenas, los regalos, las horas del día. Me dabas tus noches completas, tus ganas. Era suficiente. 

Entre tantas letras, a veces, encuentro mi voz. Me acuerdo que no es suficiente. Que me prefiero sola. Que me prefiero con la voz fuerte y la sonrisa completa. Porque así, así si me dan ganas no sólo de quererlo a él, sino de quererme a mi. Entonces, las migajas son insuficientes, las escondidas en la noche no me alcanzan y tengo demasiadas ganas de mi cama sola y muy pocas de tenerte aquí metido. Me costó la ilusión de verme como en las películas. Me costó las ganas de encontrar dónde poner tanta alma. Es demasiado sentir para un alguien tan pequeño. Porque me cabes en medio cajón de la cómoda y yo tengo un mundo de espacio. Porque si no lo quieren todo yo ya no quiero nada. Ya me dejaron el cuento de hadas muy mal escrito y no tengo ánimos de arreglarle a alguien más la narrativa. 

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.