I've gathered what I needed.

I used to need so many guiding dots in order to trace a single line, by the end I didn't need to trace it, it was already made, skipping, incomplete, but with some incontinuous sense of direction.

I feel brave again, so brave I could trace the line out of pure imagination with no need of tangible guidance.
I'm organic again.


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Everything is nothing if you got no one, and you walk in the night slowly losing sight of the real thing.

Mostré los síntomas y los ignoré por completo.

I don't usually get infected by other people's viruses.
Rarely do the required factors for a succesful infection ever align, but when they do the result is fatal and long lasting.
When I get the flu, I get it bad. My legs and arms grow a will of their own and rebel against my desire to set them in motion and my head hurts constantly, as it does now. Despite the dryness of throat my nose keeps running on and on, my skin withers and my lips are chapped, my spirits are low and my will to interact with others is reduced to nothing.
Few gaps and cracks are found in my "force-field" but when something manages to find them and cross them and infect me, there is most likely no way of getting better.

Your disease... it found a crack.

I built my expectations on life and people (on myself) so high, I thought I was invincible  but I forgot to build a fort around the cracks on their foundations, and I set myself to do it but it was a fraction of a second too late.
I opened up to being empathic out of curiosity, I wanted to understand the way you felt in order to help you improve, but you empathically opened up a vault where my insecurities lay in store, I closed it up but didn't realize I had locked something in beside them for them to nurture and grow. 

I suspected it when I wasn't able to cry in front of anyone (in front of you) out of shame and pride no matter how bad it hurt, no matter how bad it physically hurt. I ignored the sensation of glass splinters grinding against my bones, plowing their way into my chest. I pretended the aching wasn't enough to break me down and I swallowed my tears and my disappointment. I still do.

I started noticing when I, having the chance of building something good and new, filled myself with meaningless errands just to avoid and be able to ignore these opportunities. I wanted to take the chance, I took the chance, but still managed (manage to), make escape routes in my mind in order to not be fully present when my body began feeling those "black magic tingles" that made my heart turn into a jungle drum. My thoughts were alienated from my feelings, I guess they still are, sometimes.

I started worrying when I couldn't keep track of my thoughts, couldn't keep aligned. Couldn't make myself focus on the moment in order to "avoid" some sort of trap. Even though I wanted to synchronize myself in order to enjoy the moment for what it was and not fear any "possibly-maybe's" my will somehow turned against me.

Then they synched...

I knew it when by a single sprout of fear of abandonment or rejection I jumped out of my solid metal boxes and hurt someone who I knew cared about me deeply without any concern for the person's feelings. I attacked, savagely, verbally, before I could get hurt myself because my paranoias took the best of me.



I still preserve a spark of the hope I had then. I still want to believe that there is love that needs no threats or manipulations to grow. No "he said- she said" bullshit, but I'm losing faith due to my own actions. Is it straight-forward manipulation hiding my feelings and playing the tougher part of the two in order to bend the other person's mind in my desire and whim? It is, isn't it? It wasn't meant to be like this. I want to stop this, but there is a survival instinct that begs me not to stop, that warns me I could get scarred, that I'm in too deep.

How do I stop this?
Were you able to stop it?
Was it a swap?
Your cold feet for whatever little warmth I had?



With my poor heart in my throat I begin living the "dream" come true.

Knock knock.

Doce personas entrelazadas a sabiendas y sin saberlo sentadas en una mesa.

-Ocho hombres y cinco personas quieren pisarte el vestido sin que estés del todo enterada, una para que se te caiga aunque de lo rabón y ajustado no queden dudas de lo que se esconde debajo y dos para que no te vayas, para que se te caiga hasta los tobillos y te amarre a la silla y te amarre cerca. "No te vayas" imploran sus ojos mientras observan con cuidado como tus uñas de acrílico desgarran lentamente la piel alrededor del lunar de tu escote cuando estas nerviosa pensando en como desgarrarle mejor el alma a tres de cinco.
"Satisfy myself, avoid beginners who long to shut my mouth 'til I take one of them home, cause i know how it feels. Filling in the blanks, looking on the bright side when there is no  bright side, cumming in your pants for the off-chance with a poster of a girl."

-Dos hombres sin muchos sueños, uno por que no quiere soñar y otro por que no podría financiarlos si los tuviera.

-Tres personas relacionadas por sangre. Uno de las cinco previas, el vestido y alguien sin nombre en un lugar vacío que mira el vestido preguntándose por que no puede caber dentro de él y muriéndose por dentro por que su hermano lo quiere en el piso de su cuarto.
"Je sais que tu n'aimes pas ta réalité"

-Cinco personas: dos recientes enamorados, una mujer sin corazón, un hombre feo sin dignidad pero con dinero y un hombre guapo con ganas de carne. Cinco personas: dos amantes divorciados, la razón del divorcio, el hombre que hace años pudo haber sido el esposo de la divorciada pero es amigo del divorciado y un hombre con ganas de carne. Cinco Personas: Una divorciada que encontró a su nuevo amor rebuscando en su pasado, un divorciado  enamorado y desesperado, una rompe-corazones de carrera con ganas de un hombre guapo, que necesita que le paguen la cuenta y un hombre con ganas de una rompe-corazones. Cinco personas: Dos enamorados entrelazados en un comedor que un tiempo cercano estarán tranquilos en casa, una rompe-corazones entrando en calor en un carro con un divorciado con dinero que en un futuro no lejano encontrará su antojito original y un hombre esperando a una rompe-corazones afuera de su casa para entrar en calor.

-Una persona, no involucrada, por que ha encontrado un amor fiel que por desgracia no lo pudo acompañar consolándose con un plato calientito de paella.

¿Cómo se llamó la obra?
Todos somos un pésimo intento de humor negro. 

Y como.

la hipocresía también funciona en reverso y escondo mis más buenas intenciones detrás de una sonrisa altanera y te barro cuando te veo pasar.