Experience

Ha comenzado otro año más de vida y me siento igual que en el anterior. Recuerdo haber estado aterrado por el primer trabajo formal que tuve y no creí que lo lograría. Éste consistió en un documento de treinta y cinco páginas con cuatro días de anticipación. Mi experiencia con el teclado era casi nula y desconocía la mayoría de las funciones de Word, lo cual entorpecía la velocidad a la que trabajé. Recuerdo también trabajado hasta las 6 am. para terminar el trabajo a tiempo--cosa que jamás me ocurrió durante mi estadía en la universidad. Por primera vez sentí al presión del compromiso laboral y la responsabilidad de mantener mi nivel de habilidad. Mi velocidad con el teclado ya mejorado y puedo explotar de mejor forma las herramientas de trabajo que poseo. Ahora me parece graciosa la angustia del año anterior y todo por treinta y cinco páginas, las cuáles puedo hacer en un par de días a la fecha.

Hace un día abrí cuenta en Facebook para tener más contacto con mis antiguos compañeros de carrera, pues la verdad todavía me interesa saber si aún siguen con vida. Recuerdo que, recién terminé la carrera, me daba tristeza el hecho de que ya no los vería con tanta frecuencia, la cual se empalmó con la depresión crónica que ya tenía. No obstante logré superar esa preocupación e incluso la acepté, pues abía que no duraría para siempre. El reencuentro con mis antiguos compañeros de primaria me enseñó algo: todas las personas que conozco desaparecerán de mi vida y, de una forma u otra, lo superaré, como lo hice con los amigos que dejé de ver hace doce años. Pero con mis ex compañeros de universidad es un tanto distinto, pues sigo manteniendo el contacto. Me enteré que una amiga se fue a Londres la semana pasada a dar clases y regresará hasta dentro de nueve meses (va a perderse a Depeche Mode, pero yo me perderé un sin fin de cosas en Londres). Obviamente le pregunté cómo le hizo y qué contactos obtuvo, pues me gustaría hacer algo similar, pero debo terminar los asuntos pendientes y ahorrar más dinero. Esta noticia me impulsó a darme prisa con la titulación y los trámites respectivos. Espero que estos panes sí se concreten, pero me esforzaré por hacerlo, pues depende totalmente de mí.

Pero lamento volvera repetir que sigo sintiéndome de forma similar al año pasado. Mis emociones influyen mucho en mi forma de ver las cosas y no me agrada en lo absoluto. Debería sentirme más agradecido por lo que tengo y por lo que he logrado: ya cumplí un año de trabajar en la misma empresa y siguen solicitando mis servicios, el dinero no me ha faltado, estoy bien de salud y ya me decidí a concretar los asuntos pendientes. Sin embargo me siento mal. No he encontrado la posibilidad de llenar los vacíos que me molestan desde hace más de dos años y, por lo tanto, he decidido comenzar a ignorar el problema, a tratar de fingir que no está ahí. A veces funciona, y la soledad pierde su pesadez. Trato de ocupar mi mente en otras cosas y gastar mi energía en otras, pues entre más cansado esté menos pensaré en idioteces. En ocasiones he llegado a creer que ya no estoy seguro de querer que mi situación cambie, pues no he conocido otra cosa desde hace mucho tiempo. Me cuesta trabajo concebir la posibilidad de estar completamente satisfecho con la vida, o de encontrar lo que creo que me hace falta para lograrlo. Por mucho tiempo he deseado encontrar a alguien que me haga sentir mejor, pero ahora ya no espero a nadie, si tengo la fortuna de encontrar a esa persona o no, poco importa. Lo mejor será que me marche de aquí mientras puedo, pues nada me detiene.

Quizá cambié un poco, pero detesto decir que no todo fue para bien.

Green Faery

I know you are so sweet and beautiful to be let down by anyone. Once I heard you calling me I went for you right away, for I knew you made all this far, from the other ocean shore. Green has always been my favourite colour, thence it had resulted as love at first sight. For a moment I thought I could follow you till the end of the world. I tasted your sweet kiss as you held me in your arms. I felt like lying by your side as your breath flowed down my lungs and then I felt I was floating.

You washed my pain away when you bridged the distance between time and space and then laid me down into forgetfulness. In a few minutes I could get rid of all the sorrows that had gnawed the core of my heart and put it to waste. You discovered that my thoughts poured sickness over my soul and dispeled them, letting the smell of your skin bathe me with unconsciousness. I'd be yours as long as you were beside me, for I would not miss anything as long as I slept in your ethereal embrace.

You were so perfect. I could have looked into your lonely eyes forever. I would've not minded if there was no tomorrow because I would never suffer from the void that has undermined my spirits since long again. I thought I could follow you a million miles away from here and forget about everything to start all over, where my life was blank to be shaped again. I would never have to walk the same gray paved streets, restlessly staring into the dull, silent sky. But then I saw through your hazy eyes and found the mirage in your attire. The pain returned and dragged me into the storm of the messy thoughts I tried to forget by taking you. The tide washed me up, I was alone again. I swam in a sea of sham I thought could save me but, once again, I only felt the stale truth raining on me.

For a moment I thought I had just paid the price for going to her, since she never made any promise she could not keep. I had already heard about her but I didn't care, forgetfulness was the only thing I bade her and she agreed to grant it to me, and the rest was just the aftermath of her spell. At the beginning her caress kept me warm, but she only pretended to be there. The snow came over me and I didn't notice how long I lied there, but I couldn't stop quivering for I knew my mind would not stand the pressure in my heart. I got up and realized then she was never the one I was stumbling for. The one I had since long wished to find lives now in a realm I will never be able to go to. The faery was not the one in whose shadow I would become as she walked in the sun just to follow her trace and be by her side. My heart came undone when I knew she will always live away from me and, as my mind kept drfiting around, I saw my face slightly altered when reflected upon the ice. She and me we would never share the sound of the chiming bells before the night befell upon us, leaving behind the sorrows born in the older days that hammered the roofs of the ondulating horizon. I kept trying to recall those moments that never happened just to find little debris of souvenirs scattered all over the air, songs I loved because they brought the memories of all that could have been. Nothing but the omnipresent pain came along as I walked on.

The promise of a wonderful life was out there, as long as I could find it. During the reverie the faery drowned me into I thought I was lucky enough to experience such marvel finally. Drowsiness, yet, made me long for the one I have always wanted. I wished she was there to put my arms around her waist, just as people who hold tight to a tree not to be dragged away by the flood do. But the hazy body was not the one I wanted to hold onto. The faery would never be there for me to live with me, neither the one I wished for. I kept walking through roads I felt I had walked before, on the lanes that would never lead me to the goal I had to forget just to help myself through. I thought of taking my last breath and trying to get into the waters but I was too sore to do so. Yet wishful thinking always meddles and I felt like shutting my eyes, like I would finally see her in my mind. The faery came back and told me "Don't look back, just come to me. If you let me sing for you I will never let you down again."

I never had any better choice but going on and touring the void.

Atmosphere

Every time I want to stay something else reminds me I am made of air. The whole world is the recipient where I can be. My shapeless limbs hover far above and then drift by, mixing themselves with the invisible. I can go anywhere I please. My hold is so light and careless to carry something with me, so I don't mind if I spend my days on my own. I'm not meant to remain, either.

I just beat on, nothing can touch me at all. I'm quite supreme and far away from anyone's reach. I can't love and can't be loved. I can't be hurt, for air has no weaknesses. I guess I blew them off or perhaps I always lacked them. Sometimes I'd like to care but then I get annoyed and stop trying, because it is pointless for me, since my condition disables me for those labours.

Everyone knows I'm there but they just look at me pass by. They never dare to follow my way because they know they will never get me; if they wanted to it would make no difference: I would leave them behind or produce a big pressure wall to keep them at bay. Yes, I can let them know when they are trespassing my boundaries, while I stare into their eyes from the distance I have put in-between. I have gotten used to this life so that I'm not sure if I could ever make any exception for someone else. No one has ever flashed up by the corner of my eye for whom I had ever wanted to change my mind.

This place is getting too warm. Off I go.

Survival Strategies

Discomfort
Detection
Futility
Resignation
Attempt
Sleepwalking
Painkilling
Benumbed
Uncouscious
Forget
Dispel

Longing

It is an itch that cannot be scratched. How could an unseen problem be sorted out? In which way the invisible becomes a monster of such hold? If the tumor must be torn out, it should be done later, never sooner; yet the trouble worsens when no tumor is found. Where on earth has the plague that wreaked havoc since long gone? It's not there but it hurts, for it left a hollow replacement that fits and works perfectly. How could an invisible tumor be traced and destroyed then?

What if it is neglected? Just pretending it is not there, that it has never existed. The beauty of invisibility lies in itself: it can't be seen and, therefore, it's easier to neglect. If I regularly pretend that it's not there, soon I will buy my own preachment. It won't matter anymore if it keeps growing. I can't see it, anyway.

It will be worth trying, there is nothing to lose but the counsciousness of such pain. Everybody knows that uncounsciousness means absolute anaesthesics.

Departure

The girl, after a stay that seemed it would last forever, left the building seven days ago; I just noticed her absence, though. She already knew she wasn´t welcome anymore but she kept coming around anyway. I never knew her reasons and never dared to ask, for I thought it wouldn't do any good. I can assure she tried to draw all my attention to her but I just neglected her for a long while. She finally got tired and then couldn't stand it anymore.

At the beginning she used to come up with nonsensical arguments just to tease me, as if trying to make me see she was still alive and around. I guess I received several odd postcards from her everytime she went abroad. It makes up for six. She used to send me petty souvenirs monthly, on the very third week, just to let me know she would come over and stay a few days. At the beginning I didn't want to get them since I never wanted her as a pen pal. On the first time I believed she had only sent me that by chance, thence I didn't make a big deal of it. But chance never falls twice on the same place and she sent life signals for the second time. Her committment happened to be more scary, for she did it quite punctually. If I never wrote her back, why did she then bothered to look for me?

As months went on her letters came in oddly coloured envelopes. Her speech was somehow cryptic and I never managed to read between the lines. Her innuendos formed shapes I had never seen and I thought I would never make any sense out of them. Everytime I looked at the calendar for the due date I wondered what her next "present" would look like, in which way she would arrive, and how long she would stick around. Why did she come if I never called her? What was it she wanted from me?

Did she ever expect me to requite her or did she only do it just to make me remember she was still out there? Be as it may I never thought of any sort of response because I didn't want anything to do with her. On the last due dates I went out not to receive any message from her, but in the course of the day I discovered the extent of her hold. Every message I thought I had dodged reached me: if I got off the train, if I climbed the next to last floor of a skyscrapper, if I went anywhere I believed I could find shelter, she found me--did she ever stalk me all that long? I don't know but the harder I tried to break away, the tighter her grip became.

But one day, when I managed to read the foreword of her arrival I decided to prevent it. I filled the room in which she had stayed all this long to the ceiling and then locked it out. If she ever sent anything I never got it, for, as soon as she arrived I went out because I didn't want to be there when she found out I would never allow her to stay anymore. Meanwhile I was totally spaced out and managed to forget her for several days until now. On her way out she might have even seen all her letters and gifts I put in a bin next to the sidewalk gutter. I hope she didn't get quite mad.

She should have left since long ago. It would have been a lot easier had she managed to read my signs. This time I expect not to hear about her again.

Come Back

People from the past have recently come back to my life, as if they had been washed up by some kind of odd whirlpool life has proven to be in these last days. This meeting, however, which seemed to be lightyears away from me, and also hoped it was so, had taken place in a couple of my often bizarre, yet occasionally foreboding dreams a few weeks ago. As soon as I woke up I pondered a few seconds on the images I was exposed to and mumbled to myself: "There is no reason this could ever happen". I immediately dropped the subject and moved on.

I firmly used to believe that dreams, as faithful portraits of life in the realm of subcounsciousness, lacked any kind of point or whatsoever reason to exist. Life had neither specific goals nor higher purposes, and I had somehow managed to cope with such concept of reality. In those moments human existence was but a maze-like, kafkian cycle which led nowhere; it took me a long while (i.e. months) to reach such conclusion and to find some sort of practical use for it.

But life, or whatever it had done this, proved me wrong. Its intricate ways set me up and, in the most absurd examples of chance's whims, an old schoolmate recognized me. She stopped me and began to ask for the usual suspects: what I was doing by the time, where I lived, what had become of me. I could not think of an useful getaway plan and had to give her my e-address and mobile phone number. In the meantime she told me about the whereabouts of the rest of my back-then schoolmates. Then I went off. In the next hours several of them contacted me. I'm not sure whether this event was good or not, though. In those years, once we parted company with each other I never thought of looking for them. I don't know if I'm ready to see them again, nor even if I really want to. But I'm sure I never missed them, thence I left without saying a word to them.

My ominous dreams have attained a different meaning now. I don't know what to believe anymore, for those dreams I never asked for came true. I dreamt of a quite unlikely encounter and yet this happened; I'm beginning to be afraid of the other dreams, those in which I run into someone I really hope not to meet again. In a manner of speaking I have no place to hide anymore, for the impossible, meeting people I left behind twelve years ago, took place. Any kind of meeting could happen, therefore I must look for evacuation routes just in case.

I can't help but thinking of the fact that everybody breaks into my dreams, except the one I want to see in them. As it happens in real life, I meet everyone in the least likely places, but I never run into the one I wish for.