Your demons

So I tried it. I closed my eyes and tried to imagine my monster. What would it look like? Big, I decided. Bigger than me. Dark, definitely dark. Masked, one with the shadows. Trim enough to sneak up on you, and yet stout, corpulent enough that he could clearly overpower you anytime. Not necessarily male but decidedly masculine, aggressive. Slits for eyes, of a really clear or bright color.

Then I concentrated on the opposite image. A skinny, stringy, glowing-in-the-dark, sexless, big-eyed, effeminate, unmissable, unavoidable, thinner than air light creature that came directly at me in an open space, at light speed.

Well, that is fucking scary too.

La història es repetirà

Serem una entitat, vindrem en pack indivisible. 2x1. Tant temps ocupant el mateix espai físic farà que perdem el compte.

Ens començarà a importar això del compte. El temps començarà a pesar i la convivència escanyarà. Buscarem una excusa, no et suporto més i això no ho aguanto i es va acabar.

Però no s'acabarà tan fàcil ni tan definitivament. Intentarem reconstruir una indivualitat escindida en dues, i durarà fins que el silenci fastiguegi. Arribarà un dia que ens podrà l'avorriment i en una arrencada de sinceritat, nocturnitat, alcoholisme o probablement una combinació de les tres, reprendrem el compte. El temps tornarà a deixar d'importar, perquè se'ns oblidi contar-lo. Serem una entitat.

Dramatització

Deixa de mirar-me. No em demanis un gest, no em demanis un si.

No puc permetre'm acostumar-me a que siguis aquí. ¿Com em torno a acostumar a mi quan et vagis? ¿Què passa quan ens deixem, i no tinguem a qui tornar al final del dia? Tindré qué ser capaç d'ensenyar-me a tornar a respirar quan tinguis a algú nou a qui tornar al final de la resta dels teus dies.

I, ¿això com es fa?

Heartless lying bastard

Let me tell you something you may not know about me.

I was born without a heart. Got a transplant at eleven days old because my mother thought it was weird. Really, not that it was life threatening or anything, but it gave her the willies. Mostly, I think she felt guilty she didn't know who my father was and was desperate to make me whole. No such luck.

It didn't take. And so I stand here, as heartless as I was brought into this world, telling you it's not you, it's me.

You see, I have an itchy ring finger. Not that serious, really. It's just it's always been naked. I guess I kept it that way for too long, because now, whenever a pretty girl responds to my attentions, the third finger of my left hand starts to itch like crazy. It's no mild irritation, mind you. It's mind-numbingly haunting. Comes from underneath my skin, I can feel it. Like a fucking billion red big-bummed ants are crawling inside that particular phalange. There's been occasions where I've woken up next to some gorgeous woman my inexistent heart couldn't feel a thing for to find I had scratched myself to the bone. Literally.

If you don't believe me you should know I'm actually physically incapable of telling a lie. It's a bit of a problem, actually. When I try to utter a statement I know to be false, I get this allergic reaction to the essense of the untruth that makes my throat close up. It's an extremely rapid swelling. Kind of uncomfortable.

Anyway, you can rest assured that I am being honest here. You will see no struggle for breath or sign of gagging when I tell you this. I don't fucking love you.

I do not and could not ever hold any kind of romantic feelings for you whatsoever. Not even a teansy bit of affection.

However, my finger's driving me nuts, so let's put a few miles between us, yeah?

Babbling mess

And, yes, everytime someone mentions your name I freeze and stare at them in mid-disbelief. I force it to seem like any other indifferent stare I'd give at the coming up of some nobody's name, but in truth I am terrified to make a move or even open my mouth. And make a complete fool out of myself. Nothing but a babbling mess, I'd be.

So, shoo, get outta my head for a sec and lemme study, will ya?

Steady legs on shaky ground

You'd been guest-starring in my dreams for the last couple of nights. In anticipation of seeing you, I reckon. But today, when I finally did, my heart didn't race, it didn't stop. This time it kept my legs steady, walking with a firm step, till they passed you and left you behind.

If only it wasn't a complete and total lie.

Getting nowhere

If you won't even look at me how in hell are you going to see that I can't take my eyes off you?

Hold your own

Are you checking back to see if that split second called upon my muses to inspire something out of me? Come on...

You might as well come out and admit it.

Pink is the color of sweetness

If you're reading a description of how mauve that special room really was, you can always go back to a picture of a mauve wall and check, with an affordable margin of error, that whatever shade was in your mind was the exact right one. But when someone tells you about the overly sweet smell that seemed to add a texture to the air and made everything feel magical, you can only assume that their concept of overly sweet is the same as yours. You can't go back and find an overly sweet smell sample and check that, in fact, they meant by it exactly what you thought. One can only guess and regret that the most powerful and emotion-triggering sense is also the most vague and unattainable. And, perhaps, accept that that's precisely what made everything feel magical in the first place.

Let Them cry

Oh how inadvertently wise you've been, condemning yourself to nothingness and living of off far off dreams -so distant and unattainable you wouldn't even want or would stick around to see realized- and nothingness itself.

For you know, there's nothing out there except, maybe, other cages. Not My Cup of Tea cages, who would want to see themselves in... well, themselves with another name anyway? There might be Different, but where is Chemistry? There might be Understanding, but there's no expressing it. Communication is not dead, it never was. Anything at all.

And it's true, that you're trapped, but so is everybody else. While they feel it so, you know it so. Have the vastness of your self-imposed walls memorized, and be always aware that you are as free as you are limited. That it's irrelevant the Where, Whose or When, not even the What; just how. And the How is not just you. You'll be hurt once and again that they don't see that, just remember you'll make of it exactly what you want it to be, no matter what truly happens in everyone else's eyes.

I say there's only you. So fuck 'em.

And off you go, birdie.

something blue

It's one of those bright-cloudy days. A few rain drops shyly make their heavy way to the ground while a big shiny sun is on its way to sunset. If you squint your eyes just a little bit, you can see the bluest moon getting all dressy for tonight.

Seems like the fucking perfect evening. This air makes it feel like anything could happen and just the smell of wet soil would make it seem magical.

Isn't 10pm the best time to start your day? When you wake up to this, there's nothing you're not up to. Even the breeze is yelling at you to get out there and take on the world.

They say that every once in a blue moon a vampire is born. FYI.

something new

I've always thought, funnily enough, that I could get right back into it at any moment. That even though it's been over a decade now, I've somehow kept that part of me trained and ready.

Like riding a bike.

But the thing is I'm realizing that, instead of keeping it fresh by deluding myself thinking I still wanted it, it's been drying away. And now that I'm all gone to waste I fail to see if I was ever worth anything anyway.

something old

We first saw each other at the peek of an orgasm. Actually, I hadn't met you yet. You talked to me like we knew each other, though. And as you held my hand, we disappeared for the rest of the world. Our existence was erased from the face of the Earth. We had no parents, no friends and no responsabilities. Our birth certificates melted in a snap. The world was still there and it was pretty much the same as before, only it didn't appear to have us in it. We were invisible to all effect and purpose, and although the world remained in its place for us to see, we couldn't have cared less.

Deluded animals

I think we may be living in Delusionville, where we all are participants of a great collective hallucination. This oasis still has those we lost in it, as if nothing had ever happened to them. Somewhere along the way we chose to hang on to what we wished not to miss. And they stayed, the people and the facts, summoned by our own fear and selfishness. We are scared shitless of letting go and trying to be what we should have already become.

And that's what's killing us.

Marvin' around

Let's face it: deep down, all of us are Marv -the monster, the lesser one-, in our heads. And, deep down, she's always Goldie, isn't she? Does she really wants us? Or is it just convenient? We don't care, as long as she's here. Not really, not deep down.

Sheer newness

Just like sex, this little game is at least a little about newness. You're not going to be new forever.

Neither am I. And I know right know we seem infinite to each other. It truely feels like a lifetime is not going to be nearly enough to get to know you to a full extent.

Nonetheless, life is long. And time can seem infinite when limited to a single human body and only one voice. We will get to accepting there's just so much about each other. Some day, sooner than we probably expect, we are going to be able to cover that apparent vastness. We might get to the end of our universe.

But you know me, I'm throughoutly slow. Going inch by inch, meticulously. I have never been a fast learner, I will need to take my time.

And when I finally know you, the entire you, by heart, you know what? I think I'll start revising.

Snap out of it

I gotta say, you wouldn't think you'd miss the awkwardness -and you may think you don't, until it's back-, but you do. It's the rush. That sudden endless split of a second of half a doubt that oscillates in the first three seconds. Because, let's admit it, it doesn't take any longer than three seconds. Four, tops. But after that, your mind's made up one way or another. It doesn't give you time to get settled or half articulated. Either you rise to the occasion or fail misserably. Go for it or just go home. You know you'll analyze every little bit of it later, you'll go over it once and again and you'll be glad for some parts, half ashamed of others and strangely proud overall. Till it goes away.

Make me care

Write your name starting with a capital letter. Let me see how strong and confident you are. Disguise your possible doubts about me with coyness and show off. Excel in every way like I know you know how, with your head high and your ponytail higher still. Be discreet yourself while kindly ignoring my conspicuousness.

Keep up the good work. And, for future references: the more you hurt me, the longer you will stay within me.

Evolve

I know you think we can't understand each other. You told me so. That for some reason people think they can do that. Your words, not mine. You said to remember that they can't, that we can't. Never completely. Never enough. But if you think people are such sad creatures, how come you are still holding my hand?

Guilty pleasure

You know I've seen all kinds of hurt. Well, actually, you don't know that, but you do well in not knowing that, because it isn't true. See? This keeps happening. I get overcome by the urge of saying something to purposely throw you off track.

I could just as well tell you something true and honest. I cannot promise to not exaggerate, though. But the thing is I'm kept alive by the promise anything could happen from here. And it's been fun and it's been real and it's been real fun, but...

Well, just turn around now.