Abajo el amor.

¿Has estado alguna vez enamorado? Es horrible, ¿verdad? Te hace tan vulnerable. Te abre en canal y deja tu corazón al descubierto, posibilitando que alguien entre en ti y te destruya. Construyes todas esas defensas, esa armadura completa que consigue que nada pueda dañarte y de repente, esa persona estúpida, quien no es diferente a ninguna de las otras estúpidas personas que componen este planeta, callejea en el en entramado de tu vida. Les das una pieza de tu ser, ni siquiera solicitada, que cesa en pertenecerte. Por tan solo hacer una gilipollez en su día, como besarte o sonreírte, tu vida ya no es sólo tuya. El amor toma rehenes, se adentra en ti, te devora desde el interior y te deja a tu suerte en la oscuridad de una manera tan simple que una oración como “seremos únicamente amigos” se convierte en una astilla de cristal que consigue a base de desgarros hacerse paso hasta tu corazón. Y duele. No sólo en la imaginación, ni en la mente, te jode el alma, tomándose su tiempo en apoderarse de ti y eclosionar dolorosamente cada parte de lo que eras.

Y el simple hecho de no verte era la turbulencia que sufrían mis neuronas pasando esa tormenta de adoración, odio y ausencia de indiferencia que me acompañaban al acostarme y me daban los jodidos buenos días.
dearfuturenovel:

And indeed there will be time To wonder, “Do I dare?” and, “Do I dare?” Time to turn back and descend the stair, With a bald spot in the middle of my hair— [They will say: “How his hair is growing thin!”] My morning coat, my collar mounting firmly to the chin, My necktie rich and modest, but asserted by a simple pin— [They will say: “But how his arms and legs are thin!”] Do I dare Disturb the universe? In a minute there is time For decisions and revisions which a minute will reverse.
(The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock T.S. Eliot)
Photo: Tiffany Dyer

dearfuturenovel:

And indeed there will be time
To wonder, “Do I dare?” and, “Do I dare?”
Time to turn back and descend the stair,
With a bald spot in the middle of my hair—
[They will say: “How his hair is growing thin!”]
My morning coat, my collar mounting firmly to the chin,
My necktie rich and modest, but asserted by a simple pin—
[They will say: “But how his arms and legs are thin!”]
Do I dare
Disturb the universe?
In a minute there is time
For decisions and revisions which a minute will reverse.

(The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock T.S. Eliot)

Photo: Tiffany Dyer

Y vi su sonrisa y sus lágrimas y todo. Y qué sonrisa y qué lágrimas. Y qué todo.

Revisiting Margaret Atwood

You fit into me

Like a hook into an eye

A fucking rusty deadly hook

My bleeding mediocre brown eye

Siege in a seat

image

There he was at that stupid airport if it could even be called that. The wooden farm-like old building where the cheap Ryanair airplanes landed was both his destination and far from it at once: definitely, the airport, as expected, was not as close to Stockholm as they told him. “Brilliant, two hours of seeing boring amounts of snow in a fucking bus”. Leaving to Stockholm was the very first spontaneous idea of his life and he could not regret it less, the idea of leaving behind all those fucking idiots was the best thing he could do.

The last night he spent back home was the bitterest of his not-too-long life and a solution should most definitely be put to his existence, not only the love of his life paid absolutely no attention to him but also made him be as cheesy as he could hate. Also, his immature, selfish and probably mentally challenged long-life friends did not help at all. As soon as he arrived to the city, everything would change. And it would be difficult to change for worse, given what’s given.

Siege in a seat

He was in that stupid plane, scotch and Valium in vein -and in vain- as he was not even close to be capable of eventually fainting as he would have loved to, having thus to suffer not only the noises of that annoying creature that was not yet fully cooked and to whom other humans used to refer as “baby”, but also the surely deep and obviously transcendental conversations that the other fellow adults were having. Even the twenty-year-old lunatic that was sitting next to him tried to start a little chat by admiring the beauty of his jumper. “Beautiful my bollocks”. He nodded and smiled while trying not to call her a fucking ironic whore, as the idea of that jumper being beautiful was neither really matching the fact that it was the only one that was clean, nor his vast hatred for himself and his lack of security. The conversations surrounding, full of happiness and willingness to start the trips each one of them had prepared not only annoyed him but also made him even more sick that he would ever be once the plane would have lifted up in the air.

The plane somehow made an unexpected move and started going on as the flight attendants began to impregnate with bullshit every molecule of oxygen in that way-too-small cabin. He couldn’t help but thinking how ugly the flight attendants were compared to those who helped him travel when he was no less than a teenager possessed by high levels of testosterone. As the plane continued his way, he finally started to feel unconscious and the stream of his thoughts passed from the Amazon river to a perforated can of beer. Lucky to be about to forget the following three hours of his life, he could only wish for an accident to happen to the plane that could put an end to his miserable life. 

Anonimously sharing all the shit that happens to take place in my idiotic mind.