Heroin

I chose feeling. 

When I decided to come back to Earth in this human form and was asked for my purpose in life, I chose to feel. Feel so deep, so pure and hard that it would almost kill me several times, but at the same time it's the only thing that would keep me alive. I would desperately look for passions, lovers, accidents and problems just so I could pour all my feelings on them. Because that is my heroin, the poison and the antidote, the cause and the consequence.

I'm all about extremes and I'm extremely self-absorbed because all that I have comes from the inside. And when I listen to that song that makes my skin shiver and my fingers type desperately while my heart sings, that is when everything is worth it, all the pain, all the love, all the endless seeking.

But feelings make me nothing but vulnerable, and I know how people can destroy me and I don’t want to be hurt anymore, not right now. So I build walls around me and make it look like I’m tough when deep inside I’m all the opposite, I'm fragile and I break easily. 

Lately, people tell me how much I've changed, how I look less innocent and even darker, but to be honest, I'm always the same. I've always been like that, light and dark, but I choose which side to show them. They just know the Ursula I want them to know. The real problem is when you play a character for so long that you forget it is only that, a character. 

He says I always read like if what I’m reading is a tale, doesn’t matter if it’s a letter or the newspaper, I always make it sound like a novel. And that is also what I feel about life, I always see it as if it was a movie, a drama. And it’s always changing and always evolving, and sometimes it is artwork and others just a piece of shit. He also says I write quite peculiar, with too many repetitions and too much punctuation. I don’t know, maybe I do, I don’t think about it, I just write. And some will love it and others will hate it, but that’s how I live my life and I honestly don’t know if it’s wrong or right. It just is. 

There are days I feel so confused, so lost and scared that I paralyze in bed and the only thing I can do is make stories in my head and burn my lungs with smoke. All I can do is ask unanswerable questions to the universe. Some days I feel out of control and do crazy things that I can't understand why I do them. Some days I give up, I lose any faith or hope. And those days even breathing is hard work. And right there, when I know my life couldn't be any messier and that I couldn't be more fucked up, just then I feel strong again, I put myself together and carry on. Because life is not simple or easy, and thank goodness it isn't or I'd die of boredom, and to be honest I'd rather die of love and passion and sadness and pain than boredom. Anything but boredom. 

Ice Creams, Cigarettes and City Lights

Months ago we road tripped to Merida. I had to get my visa and you made me company, these were some of our last days together. I picked you up early morning but we got caught up with things and left late, as we always did. On the road I felt safe and happy and alive, as I always do. I would put my hand outside and let the wind push it, I’d laugh and feel like a little kid. The weather was unbearably hot so I took my shirt off; you just stared at me and laughed. Those moments when we were able to forget all of our tangled stories, we were real friends and had the best times together.

After a first visit to the embassy we found a nice place to stay, a small hotel with a pool and lots of plants. We jumped in the water and played and talked and it was all good. Life was calm and everything felt right, but it was always like that before the storm hit us and crumbled everything we had slowly built. We explored the streets of the downtown and had dinner at the terrace of a pretty restaurant where we had delicious yucatecan food served by the nicest waiters. We ate until our stomachs hurt and you laughed when I said I still had space for ice cream. So we had huge ice creams with chocolate toppings and smoked cigarettes and watched the city lights while sitting on a bench, and we didn’t say much, we never needed to.  It’s crazy but even in these moments of perfectness; it already felt like the end.

The morning after, we had breakfast at our hotel and checked out early, we left to the embassy for my visa interview. After hours of lines and waiting and questions I just got a terrible NO. No? Really? I think I was so shocked I couldn’t even say anything, I just picked up my things and went outside, I looked for you desperately and hugged and cried. I’m such a baby sometimes.

We stopped for coffee before going on the road again, and I suddenly felt okay. Deep inside me, I knew the answers, all of them. Some doors were closing, but others opening, and they are all so exciting and new. I sometimes forget, but everything happens for a reason, it’s all perfect, it’s all good.

Call Me in the Afternoon

we would run into the forests and laugh about life. because everything is so simple and everything is so bright. and we would chase squirrels and eat lychees while sitting on a bench, letting the juice make our fingers sticky and wet. we would photograph each other so we would never forget what it feels like to be young these days. we would walk between trees and listen the twigs crack under our heavy feet. what are we looking for? what comes next? is it faitytales? 
and the day became night and hello into a goodbye that tastes like "see you soon". and we see each other without looking and we are always there but not really, and we always love, but not really. heads spinning, cars passing by, faces of strangers in the subway. and all that matters is we are here, alive.