Crowded house

Since the afternoon she had spotted him. She alredy knew the code and was able to read the signs. Not that they where that hard to understand.
It felt good.
The hunter was back.

days of rain, sun, rain. i miss my little sunny spot, where i can lay drinking ice tea, a book, swinging in the hammock, milla jumping back and forth the fence, bbq´s while malade y maladie jump around naked taking pictures of each other.

The renaissance artist has parted to the highlands, to his summer retreat, put on your hunters and take long walks in the hills with your faithful dog next to you, so a son of bush´s country is staying with us, using the dark scot´s bedroom.

A son of the perfid Albion and the Empire is the new permanent member of house d of dames & dragons. NOW it´s offcial. sigh. boys.

And we are expecting another product of the land of hamburgers and nukes, who will arrive with his wife for the summer. and i have my fingers crossed. for them not to be psychos. or for them to be so. i can´t remember which was.

so this is summer. i actually like summer. but away from the city.
i think of sea breeze, caipirinhas, a good book, the feel of sand under my feet...
but well.
one of these days
these are the days
ja!

top five
These are the days-10,000 maniacs
La ciudad de la furia- soda stereo, (version unplugged)
smells like teen spirit-nirvana
coffee & tv-blur
for real-tricky

Summer letters

I still think of you. I do.
I wonder where you are now.
I actually miss you.

Todavía te busco entre la gente. Cuando manejo. O caminando.
Espero verte aparecer en cualquier momento.
Casi un accidente.

I still believe I will find you.
So I leave this stupid notes everywhere. For you.
Just in case you find one of them, so you would know I am here.

Para que cuando encuentres una de esas notas, estas cartas, palabras, pelo, sangre, sudor,
sepas que soy yo, que estoy aquí.
Y que seguiré dejando estas pistas, este rastro que sólo tú puedes leer.
El único a quien no he abandonado.

The only one for whom I sit and wait.
You.

I need a candle
I need a wish
I need a fairy tale with a happy ending
I need a dream that doesn´t wake me up at night
I need a day for the living
I need a warm spot next to me
I need a chance
I need you

birthday letters

My birthday was the third of june. I was away from home. And it seem I was going to have a horrible day. But something changed. By casualty i ran into somebody. And he took care of me. And I found some friends. And they don´t care if i don´t wear designer clothes or if i am not a catholic or i am the daugther of the previous marriage. And i felt proud of my father. he was happy. he glowed. and i was happy for him. but it hurts. the be the other. to be the one who spend her childhood alone. i am happy he has a new life, a new beatiful girl that is worthy of his love. i just wish he could understand that i am ok with it, but i don´t want to see it. that i don´t want to know all the things he can give to her, all the love he has for his new wife. because i never saw him love my mother. we never went on fun trips, i never saw him holding hands with her. i never saw him compliment her or told her he loved her. and it´s ok. it was their lifes and he was a good man to her and she tried to make him happy. but even if as a grown person i understand they were not able to love each other and that life moved on i do,n´t need to see it. my mother is alone, as she is going to die alone, her life stopped the day he left. it shouldn´t be like that. but it is. and she is my mother. as he is my father.

and he feels sorry for me. and he is ashamed of me. and i wish it could be different. but it can´t.

and i am happy for the way his life is going. he said to an audience that dreams come true. i believe that. but not my dreams. i am lonely in my heart but i know i am not alone. i am trying to remember it. every day. but as far as my dreams come, i´ve lost hope. but i am ok. i will be ok. i am living.

i had fun on my birthday. and everyone called to say they love me. and i got a birthday present. and someone said I am beatiful.

my father is happy.

and maybe someday i will be too.

actually it´s easy,

it´s not the result of a mind challenging puzzle or the thousand voices of an army lost in oblivion.

It´s even obvious, which makes it trivial, (I hate vulgarity, triviality, mediocracy)

I am crazy.

not in the we live nowadays in a crazy world full with stress and that has change the people´s perception of sanity.

really crazy as in take your rainbow pills dear,

we don´t want you to upset the rest of the kids right?

And no, it´s not cool, so forget about the wonders of being different.

I´ve become paranoic.

I´ve become obssesive.

I´ve become an addict.

and i am not happy and i want to hurt everything, everyone, starting with myself.

slish slash slish a little cut here slash a little cut there

if you do it in your legs it´s easier to explain them

if you do it in your wrists you´ll have to wear bracelets to cover them up

if you do it with your nails you can say it´s a scratch

if you do it with a knife is more painful

so, are you looking for pain?

or humilliation?

or sick sick sick behavior?

yep, that´s me, that´s what i´ve become.

lonely, full of rage, betrayed by myself

let me tell you a little of a story there was this girl, beatiful wide eyed curly hair girl.

she lived in an apartment and she was never allowed to go out. In the mornings she went to school and from there she became a ghost, hidden in her parents office, doing homework, laying by herself. A sad little ghost. She created imaginary friends, she read, she imagine what the outside world will look like. She had a little problem, because she would get bored at school very easily. Her teachers punished her for finishing work too fast. And she grew bored, punished. The others girls laughed at her. She was the other. And a little seed began growing inside of her, tick tack, little by little, branches leaves spreading in her body. crazy crazy Her parents told the little gril that was ok, it was good to be different, super cool yei. And told her to not have a chicken heart. So she learn to conceal her thoughts her feelings. To pretend to be daddy´s girl, mommy´s favorite baby. To be clean cut A grade nice boring stupid bitch everyone expected her to be. Until the jungle inside her grew too much, digged to far into the darkness of her heart. And she exploted. dark trees, clouds, blood, dead babies, storms, snakes and worms, pain pain pain pain, everything went out . And then they told her she was crazy, that it was her fault. They advice to stay home, hidden, so she wouldn´t bring shame to the family. to write happy things, because the world is so bright and full of wonderful things. to not feel sad angry depressed disapointed bored helpless. When they saw the marks in her legs they told her to stop doing it because it looked "ugly", not girly pretty. When they saw the marks in her wrists they said to stop doing it because it distressed them. And she grew, dark circles under her eyes, ugly hate rage death.

There is no turning back.

Once you´ve gone too deep into the waste lands.

When you are an empty field.

When you are a lost sorrow.

When you breath death

The reality is that you are not dying, you just want to, but at the same time you do not know how to do it (trust me, is not that easy)

And half of the time you wonder if you REALLY want to die, or if it´s just another one living inside you the one that does. Because you never know, if your toughts are yours, or if it is the illness.

After the shakes, you will be able to breath again.