Ya escribí y borré tres veces.

Ya te intenté escribir mil mensajes, que terminaron siendo descartados.

Ya te dibujé y desdibujé en mi mente millones de veces desde que me diste ese beso y ese abrazo en la puerta del departamento para irte.

Ya maldije al tiempo, ya intenté teletransportarme, ya intenté ocuparme para no extrañarte;

nada funciona.

Puedo dedicarte mil posteos, pero ninguno va a hacerte saber lo mucho que te extraño en este momento, lo que me hacés falta y lo eterno que se siente el tiempo hasta la próxima oportunidad de verte.

A lot can happen in six months...

Am I too dirty?

Comparing the present and contrasting it with the past is one thing; feeling like you're being compared 24/7, is a completely different deal.

Stuff II

"Maybe". I hate maybes. Maybe, it was part of a larger, greater plan. Maybe, it's all part of something bigger. Maybe, I was meant to get broken, in order for me to be fixed. Does it make any sense whatsoever? I know it probably doesn't, but it's all I have. Why do I always have to have answers? Can't I have only questions? Tonight, I can have whatever the fuck I want.

I thought a lot today, about pretty much everything. About my past, about my future and, most of all, about the present. Of course, I didn't reach any particular or bright conclusion. Still, here you have. Let's do it chronologically.

The past: I'm tired of dissecting every memory I have. I'm simply done. The past is the past for a reason, even though I hate not having closure for some things. And no, for the record, I'm not just speaking about broken hearts and dates; I'm tired of thinking I'm broken, or that they wanted to break me. I broke myself. That's it. It was me who spent the nights crying; it was me the one that decided to cling onto those memories. It's time for me to realize that whatever happened, happened. Eventually, it would have ended somehow. The friends I've lost, wouldn't have been my friends for much longer; the people I've lost touch with, wouldn't have kept coming round my house for much longer; the people that broke my heart wouldn't have led me to a happy ending. Not now, not ever.

Here's when I make the transition to the present; here is where the past is starting to affect the person I am, the people I love, the things that I do. I didn't have closure with my best friend. I didn't have closure with my ex. I didn't have closure with the fucking guy I dated for less than a week. I didn't have closure with the people that have gone somewhere else. I couldn't say goodbye to my grandmother. I couldn't have closure in so many other situations, and I know I won't have it in so many future ones. It's okay, I guess. It'll will keep on happening, but I have to stop thinking that they left because I'm broken. I have to stop thinking it was my fault. It was theirs. They wanted out, even my grandma. They wanted to leave. It wasn't because of me, even if it was me who pissed them off. That's it. If I keep going this way, that is going to change. It *will* be me who pushes you away, who drives my friends apart from me. It will be my fear. And this wins the price of understatement of the year: I don't want to lose you, any of you. If you're reading this, if you know me, if we're close, you know: I love you. Even if I don't say it, even if I don't hug you when I should, even if I stay quiet in the time you need for me to speak up, or even if I sometimes come off a little too strong, or as if I was cold, you know: I wouldn't change you for anything. You're my friend, my boyfriend, and, if you're reading this, my mother.

A lot has changed over the past year. It wasn't my dreams that changed, I did too. I got sick of being molded by someone else, and tonight, I saw why. (The future:) I want what I saw today. I want a whole fucking audience clapping after my movie. I want someone to recognize my work, and to know me, even when they don't because they see my films, because they know that I have the fucked up habit of killing every important person in them. I want to reach someone. I want to make an impact. Actually, I want to make more than one. I want to make at least one good film that matters to someone. I want to make someone feel loved, in a way that goes beyond words and doubts and fears. I want to, whenever it happens, leave knowing that I'm still here within someone. Why? Because that's they way I feel. I know someone made an impact. I know that, regardless of where I end up, I'll remember that teacher that gave me a chance when not even I would, or the one that made my brain pop with ideas. I'll remember the guy that came out of nowhere and helped me fix myself, even when I thought I needed no help. I'll remember the odd girl that I met, who taught me that the first impression I usually have is wrong, because I didn't like her at first.

I don't have many answers. As a matter of fact, most of the things that fill my head are simply questions left unanswered. Still, I know this much: however the hell I got to this place, I'm thankful. I don't know if it was part of a Master plan or not, but I got here, and that's what's important. Because somewhere along the way, even though I had thought I was lost, I came upon some light. And yes, that light came in shapes of people that now brighten up my days. It came in the shape of a boy who reminded me that magic is everywhere, and that I can be myself without being judged because of the funny noises and faces I make, and that showed me what it's like to miss someone so much that hurts. He showed me what's like to wake up next to the person you love, and made me see that no matter how many times that happens, it's never enough. It also came in the shape of a girl, a pretty messed up one, who taught me I'm not the only insane girl that often wishes to be a boy to dress up differently and act all poshy, who shared coffees and alcohol with me, and nights I don't even remember but that will stay with me in time. And, funnily, it came in the shape of job that would make everyone miserable, but showed me an outlet.

Again, I don't give a fuck about my past. I care about my present, and my future. And I know the future is uncertain, and it freaks me out to say it aloud, but I wish the future includes you. I don't want out. I'm all in. Always and forever, if the eyelashes grant me my wish.

Stuff

You wake up in the middle of the night,

you feel like crying.

You kick aside your pillow

and you feel like dying.

But don't give up.

Yeah, you, little girl, just don't give up.

So, girl, I heard the news in town:

he broke you.

He took you by the heart;

he tore you.

But don't lose hope.

Yeah, you heard me, girl,

just don't lose hope.

Bittersweet memories

Close your eyes and you are no longer here. Hear the shapes. See the sounds. You lose yourself and you don't exist anymore. Your whole body can float. You start measuring distances in sounds. You taste the way things smell. You don't think; you just feel.
Hours don't go by. Space is not by your side. There are no things, no thoughts, no people around. It's just you.
Your heart no longer beats, or it beats harder than ever. It melts and it blends with the music. You feel someone else's feelings, you speak someone else's thoughts, you see someone else's voice.
You float and you are brought back down by a voice you cannot recognize. You are challenged by noises. You feel something that you have never felt. And by the time you wake, you're not yourself. You're someone else, and you're alive.

Conocí a un chico, que era uno más del montón que nunca me iba a dar bola, pero me encantaba. Mi "mejor amiga" me dijo que era justo de mi tipo, aunque no tiene mucho que ver con mi estilo. No le gustaba la música que yo escucho, y, honestamente, yo no entendía una zota de lo que me decía cuando hablaba de las bandas que a él le gustaban. Sea como sea, se dió. Fui a su casa, para verlo pero con otra razón, nerviosa por no saber que decirle. Esa noche apenas intercambiamos palabras y, cuando volví a mi casa, estaba convencidísima de que no me iba a dar ni la hora. Un par de días después, confundió un cover del soundtrack de una película por una canción de los Pixies y se aventuró a hablarme por msn. Todavía yo pensaba que estaba siendo amable, nada de segundas intenciones. Me acuerdo que yo un día estaba bajón y fatalista (porque me conocen, yo me pongo así cuando estoy mal) y él me logró hacer sonreír. Todavía no sé si pretendía hacerme sentir lo que sentí en aquel momento, pero lo logró. Hablamos un par de veces más, pero nada sobre el tema. Eventualemente, le tiré mil ochocientas indirectas por acá y supongo que le gané por cansancio porque salió conmigo. Salimos y yo todavía pensaba que no quería nada conmigo; capaz quería hacerse mi amigo. La verdad es que fue todo un caballero y se bancó la película de mierda sobre el capitalismo que lo llevé a ver. No sé si se dio cuenta de lo mucho que quería no mirar la película en ese momento. Fuimos a comer, y después a su casa, inocentemente. Subimos a su terraza y nos tiramos a hablar y hablamos. Hablamos, hablamos y hablamos con frizze en mano y frio (por lo menos yo, no sé él). Se hicieron las tres de la mañana (según él, porque yo juraría que era más tarde) y lo que pasó, pasó. El resto, supongo, es historia.

Heme acá, cinco meses y algo más tarde, después de mil frikeos, abrazos, tardes, noches, mañanas y primeras veces de cosas, pensando en lo loco que fue todo: cómo conocí a un chico en el lugar en que menos me lo esperaba, cómo ese chico terminó siendo tan genial, cómo ese chico se convirtió en alguien tan importante para mí.

Probablemente no tenga sentido esta entrada porque estoy con fiebre y al tanto de sus mensajes en este momento, pero quería intentarlo. ¿Qué mejor manera de revivir el blog que diciendolé esto?

No somos personas de posteos de feliz día o whatever, pero definitivamente soy persona de postear lo que siente. Hoy, siento las ganas de decirle al mundo (aunque mi garganta está media raspada, así que apuntar al mundo entero es medio complicado ahora), que estoy de novia con un chico fantabuloso, genial, inteligente, gracioso, gruñon, y demases (que a ustedes no les incumben). Hoy, tengo ganas de dedicarte este posteo a vos y decirte que sí, "feliz día", que me alegró de que la vida me haya sorprendido con un regalo tan copado como vos y que ojalá haya muchísimos más tres meses como estos en el futuro.

(espero aunque sea un comentario en ésta publicación)

Por razones que yo se

Por razones que yo sé y que no voy a explayar acá,

de ahora en más este blog no va a ser más mi blog.

Aquellos que leen este blog, son personas que me conocen,

así que van a saber a dónde meterse si quieren saber qué le molesta a mi mente.

Y como parte de mi pasado (que no planeo borrar ni evitar) está acá,

este blog no va a ser cerrado. Simplemente va a ser abandonado.

Desde ya, muchas gracias por sus visitas.

Espero verlos pronto pero en otro lugar.

(no, no es el fucking tumblr que me hice hace meses)

Atte. Juli / Flash.

Para que este acá también

“and now, it all seems so crazy. for so long, i could only feel like myself when being someone else. every night, i waited as the night crept closer and hoped that the darkness would hide away all my problems, and when the light was finally gone, i could see everything so much clearer. by just wearing that mask, i could be whoever and whatever i wanted, and somehow, that made me feel better about the person i was. i could change my name, undo the wrong, un-write the past. i could stand up without feeling weak in the knees or, as a matter a fact, any weakness at all. i was proud of who i was, because i was no one. i was strong, and capable of anything. i could fly if i wished it, or swim on the ground. i was beyond all reasonable reasons, and i loved it, but somewhere along the way, it all changed. he got in the way. he started coming into my fantasies, messing up my dreams. all of the sudden, every time i was up, he pulled me back down, reminding me of the real life waiting for me. little did i know, that he had no bad intentions, but to make me see that i could be the real me, while being me, with no sort of numbness getting in the way. little did i know that he didn’t mean to crush my dreams, but to make them stop being that -just dreams- and make them real.”