Hola verano

(Me suena a 'Hello Sunshine' esa cancion que me gusta mucho de los Super Flurry Animals.)

Oficialmente de vacaciones, y sólo figurado. Porque estoy dedicandome a mi nueva tarea de leer, leer y analizar libros en general, y también porque hago clases de inglés algunos días a la semana. Esta semana será navidad, hace más calor, los días son más largos y los libros se hacen más cortos.

La verdad es que quería escribir algo aqui (algo que no se si sé lo que es) Pero me di cuenta que quizás las cosas se ven más lindas en papel. En fin, se esta acabando el año y fue un buen año. El año pasado a estas alturas me moría de miedo con la psu, este año, terminé el primero de cuatro años de Licenciatura y pasando todos los ramos con notas decentes.

Las cosas cambian, no porque las cosas digan que hay que cambiar, pero porque la gente cambia y nunca somos los mismos. Siempre me molestó pensar que yo no era yo ni era yo misma ni era la misma, pero ahora no. Es genial cambiar sin parar.

Listas Mentales

(will you give me a clue? I'm feeling like I really really need it)

People might say...

'but, it's unfair'
Yeah, it is, but if you think carefully about it, what isn't?
And you could scream 'but it hurts', and then I'd like to ask, what doesn't?
And, if I'm alive, if I can (still) breath, why should things be different?
Here it goes. Things haven't changed. Part of me is glad, of course, part of me... is terrified.

Maybe what I know is not the truth. (but if what I feel inside me is not the truth, then nothing is)


You see? :)

The History of Love

Es la primera vez que termino un libro con esta sensación. Si alguien me pregunta '¿De qué se trataba el libro?' Sólo podría responder cosas como: de todo y de nada, de la vida y de la muerte. Incluso podría decir que es sobre Todo en general y Nada en particular. Es por eso que sólo dejare (para variar) una quote (una solita de las toneladas que anoté). Este es un libro que debe ser leído, y esta en español, asi que no hay excusas.

She's kept her love for him as alive as the summer they first met. In order to do this, she has turned life away. Sometimes she subsists for days on water and air.
(Page 45)

Y no puedo evitar querer poner la página final: El obituario.

THE DEATH OF LEOPOLD GURSKY

Leopold Gursky started dying on August 18, 1920
He died learning to walk.
He died standing at the blackboard.
And once, also, carrying a heavy tray.
He died practicing a new way to sign his name.
Opening a window.
Washing his genitals in the bath.

He died alone, because he was too embarrased to phone anyone.
Or he died thinking about Alma.
Or when he chose not to.

Really, there isn't much to say.
He was a great writer.
He fell in love.
It was his life.

¿Porqué leer?

Why not? No puedo pensar en una respuesta mejor. Traduciré mi respuestas de dos planas sobre Why Literature? y la traeré por estos lugares.

Eso haré.

uhhhh candies!

Maybe I shouldn't care at all

But I want to say that I do care. I would like to stop reading books, I'd rather not read nothing at all. I do care and it's hard to stop. Not that anyone would understand this. No that anyone would slightly care.

But I do.
And I want to stop taking pictures, to stop thinking, to stop writing diaries (that I don't want to write but have to) and stop having these dreams, and stop having nightmares, and stop having insomnia, and stop trembling and trembling and trembling while I get annoyed because I really can't make it stop. Because I can't truly sleep, because I can't truly listen to music, because I can't truly be or do or whatever. But I keep on caring (while I'd rather not).

I've spent a lot of nights trying to sleep. The trembling won't go away. I would try to breath normally. The trembling won't go away. I'd better try crying, I think. The trembling will be worse than ever.

Just because I do care. I do care about future, I guess. I care about tomorrow, and I care about yesterday. Today is nothing, just a door for tomorrow, a regret from yesterday, another night without sleeping, another dream way too real...

And I don't want to care anymore, I don't want to wake up some day or everyday with that feeling in the deepest corner of my chest. Probably, it isn't that I don't want: I can't do it anymore.

I have been guessing that this moment would come, but I never ever realized that I would feel like this. The truth is that I can't handle this anymore. Another day would simply kill me, another week would make me invisible, a couple of months would make me disappear forever (and with pleasure, and just out of cowardice, I'd simply disappear)

It is sad, isn't it? That because I am too afraid to make questions everything had to be transformed into this. I don't feel that this is my fault, though. It would be insane to think about this like that. I should have been honest to myself from the very beggining. Honest not in the sense of saying what I expected or what I wanted to happen: Honest in the sense that I knew how everything will be, and even with that, I decided to simply be myself, too afraid to ask, too afraid to go away, and even too afraid to care for myself and my own peace of mind.

I guess I need a huge huge huge full stop. It's difficult. I was confident enough to think that time would make everything work. Probably, I was wrong. Probably, I'm not wrong yet. Maybe I'll never know.

But I do know this: I have to stop caring (or embrace reality as hard as it is, as painful as it must be, and as real as my own sadness).

I'll go for stop caring (I don't know how to treat myself, how to talk to myself or how to look myself with so much sadness, anyway)

If anyone should make this stop, then stop it. That one has been my greatest expectation, and if it should happen at some moment, well, this is THE MOMENT. (should I say... 'please?')