La sonrisa tatuada

No creo en la reencarnación.
Sí creo en la bondad de la gente.
Pero me resulta más tangible su indiferencia.
No es que no encuentre personas con las que compartir cariño, pero a veces me resulta tan sórdido ver cómo hay personas tan... vacías en el mundo. ¿Por qué es que a veces estamos tan vacíos?
Y si no estamos vacíos, la mayoría de las veces estamos llenos de dolor.

No sé si la angustia me hace entender las cosas mejor.
Pero sé que los que se la guardan y la intentan olvidar no entienden nunca nada.

Me frustran esas personas.
Me cansa mirarlas, no entiendo de qué van ni cómo funcionan. Y eso significa que no entiendo a la mayoría de la gente.
Tengo tantos por qués para ellos... Y sus respuestas nunca me van a satisfacer.

You know all is not lost

I sit in my bed trying to study and then this poet comes up, B******. Hey, it's not like I haven't been thinking about you. I have, a lot. But this is just... well. It makes me remember stuff. I miss you. I really liked you, you know? It was so hard turning you down. It was one of the most terrible decissions I've ever made.

But I can't ask you to come back because first of all, I'm proud. You are proud too. If I knew you were willing and able to love me... or at least to try and do, well. That would be another thing. But you see, all I ever had from you is speculation. You never came by and said: "Hey! Let's hang out, just you and me."

Gosh...
I just wish things would've turned out differently between us. At least I wish we weren't "enemies."
One thing's for sure: you never felt anything serious for me. And never once since we last spoke you thought about me.

I know you are doing well though. Happy to, in fact. So, that's great.
I'm doing great too in case you read this, it's just the ocassional melancholy that bursts in.
I'll allways remember you.
I hope we meet again.

Hoy hice un gran monólogo improvisado en el baño.
Me hubiera gustado escribirlo.

There're so many things going on with my life right now, so many good, good things...
Why can't I seem to fit in anywhere. I guess it's me. I'm pretending all the time that I'm okay, that I'm happy. There's something compelling me to smile, to laugh, to be funny or to fit in a mold.
I wanna open up to someone.
I want to show someone who I really am, and for somebody to embrace it, to embrace me with whom they really are in an embrace of love and care.
Not necesarily physical, it doesn't need to be that way, but I do need a hug, I do need to cuddle.
I feel... Apart. Disconected.
Como si fuera una pieza del mundo que encaja a medias, de esas que ponés pero al toque te das cuenta que no va.
I want to be sure I mean something.

Because, really, let's be honest, that has been the question all along. I thought I had something there before but I was freaking wrong.
SO fucking wrong.
And having the knive stabbed up my back hurt like hell. Now the wound oozes some blood from time to time, but it's fine, nothing I can't handle.
Still, what hurts the most is that I seem to be in a very similar possition to the one I was when this whole thing began.

I'm such a fool for believing I had a chance.

I want to run naked in the summer rain

and let my hair be wet with all tomorrows hopes