Today, I'm wearing my coffee stained jeans. The ones I'd tucked at the back of my wardrobe and had to pull out in a rush this morning. In which, of course, I forgot all about the fateful stain. It's barely noticeable and since I'm not doing anything important, not like the world will see it. Or my jeans. Or me in my jeans. But I was wondering how old this particular stain was and if it'll come out in the wash. And then, my mind drifted onto more spiritual subjects. Doesn't it always...
How come people come into our lives and smear it all over, only to leave us more feverish than if we had the flu? And I wish they'd give us the recipe for removing these marks. I don't want to carry a stain of disappointment because I let down my parents and didn't become a doctor. I don't need my heart to be like a puzzle of stains thanks to all the people that broke it and left me breathless and feeling dirty, carrying around the small pieces needed to assemble the organ back. Like red wine on a white shirt. Bloody and impossible to remove. Then, there's always those patches from friends, little scrapings of feelings that brush onto me and never leave me. Some good, some bad. Some unforgettable and some I wish they'd never crossed my path.
Of course, perhaps the smudges I really hate are the ones of disappointment towards myself. That I may never become a journalist, because I'm too afraid to put myself out there. That I never learned photography, despite loving it. Or that I never had the courage to go after what I really wanted, because I always thought it wasn't for me. And so the days go by and I live in regret, when all I ever wanted was to be free of this particular feeling. I don't like regret, for it makes me wallow in self pity and contemplate a little too much the troubles of life. And that's when we forget to live. When we're too busy thinking of what might have been. Would we even try to change it, even if we could? Maybe the most courageous ones of us would.
We wear patches of feelings and shadows of the past, all on our hearts. They all make sure to shape us into the people that we are in the present, and we have to live with it until more stains come and hit us, like blotches of paint. Like the world is filled with artists meant to create our painting. They come, they splash, they leave us to deal with the aftermath. But like this coffee stain I'm proudly wearing on my right leg, what stains will eventually come out and which of them will remain forever, like tattoos...?
March 07, 2012
February 27, 2012
Come into my world.
I am a dreamer. I like to envision things the way I'd like them to happen, only to complain later on that such things were never possible. The one tiny detail that always escapes my mind is that I actually need to take action and make something happen. Action needs movement, or so they say...
Sometimes, I act on it. Too soon, and then it falters and dies, leaving me wondering why. Too late, and it breaks my heart because I could have done it sooner and ended up in a different place, but realising at the same time that everything happens for a reason. It being my broken heart....? I often wonder. Other times, I choose to watch things unfold from afar. Like a spectator. My life unveils in front of me like on a stage and I find myself criticising the main character, which is... (big surprise) me. I think of all the better lines I could have written and I leave the theatre with regret.
It confounds me. It comforts me, at the same time. Having a broken heart because of something I didn't do or didn't say is familiar. So much that I often long for it in the very few glimpses of happiness I get. I always say I want to see change in the world and in my life, but I cling so tightly to the same feelings, things, photographs and memories... Like I was branded and these are all ink under my skin. Can't change it.
But here's the funny thing. Why would anyone want to change anything? All the problems and issues and experiences and bad days, they all mean something. Along all the good that happened throughout my life, I've always taken the bad, too. Because I'm a dreamer. And I dream of a day when my eyes won't cry blood. I dream of you. Every day, until I get the chance to make it real. Until then, I dream of you. Because I'm a dreamer.
Sometimes, I act on it. Too soon, and then it falters and dies, leaving me wondering why. Too late, and it breaks my heart because I could have done it sooner and ended up in a different place, but realising at the same time that everything happens for a reason. It being my broken heart....? I often wonder. Other times, I choose to watch things unfold from afar. Like a spectator. My life unveils in front of me like on a stage and I find myself criticising the main character, which is... (big surprise) me. I think of all the better lines I could have written and I leave the theatre with regret.
It confounds me. It comforts me, at the same time. Having a broken heart because of something I didn't do or didn't say is familiar. So much that I often long for it in the very few glimpses of happiness I get. I always say I want to see change in the world and in my life, but I cling so tightly to the same feelings, things, photographs and memories... Like I was branded and these are all ink under my skin. Can't change it.
But here's the funny thing. Why would anyone want to change anything? All the problems and issues and experiences and bad days, they all mean something. Along all the good that happened throughout my life, I've always taken the bad, too. Because I'm a dreamer. And I dream of a day when my eyes won't cry blood. I dream of you. Every day, until I get the chance to make it real. Until then, I dream of you. Because I'm a dreamer.
February 09, 2012
Time marches on.
At the age of 24, I hardly know what life is anymore. I’m supposed to be enjoying it and making the most of it, but all I do is sit at home and wallow in self pity. I’m tired. I feel like it doesn’t matter anymore, like I don’t matter and I simply wish to disappear. If I were to evaporate as if I had never even existed, it would be best… I’d like to say I’m sorry, but that would be a lie. I’m not sorry. I’m not sorry I want to die. I’m not sorry my dreams don’t matter to me anymore. I’m not sorry. I’m not sorry. I’m not. I can’t feel anything but this disgusting, paralysing fear that won’t let me see past it. Like I’m hitting an invisible wall every time I try.
I’m so tired. I pretend a lot. I make my friends believe I’m okay. I’m a compulsive liar. I’m not okay. And I don’t know if I’ll ever be okay again. But to the world, I’m fine. I party like it’s 1999, I flirt with girls and cry over the one I really like, but can’t have. I fantasize about going back to school and finally being on my way to where I always wanted to be. But I don’t know what I want anymore. Some days, I hope to god I won’t wake up in the morning. Others, very few and far in between, I actually wake up and feel a little bit better. Not entirely okay, but I keep telling myself that if a said day was better than before, then ‘okay’ has to be somewhere around the corner. It never is. I can’t remember the last time I was genuinely happy. A day when I didn’t stop to think about everything that’s so very wrong with my life and how big of a failure I am. Have I ever been happy? No, really. I went to school, graduated, had relationships, problems with family, a shitty childhood, met my favourite boyband, moved to the city of my dreams, finally accepted who I was…. And I can’t think of one day when I was just happy. Not one.
I think that’s my biggest issue. I focus so much on what happened before, trying to find a moment of happiness, so I can finally realise that I can and should try to be happy. That I should get out of bed even when I don’t want to. That I need a purpose and motivation to fulfil all of my dreams, big or little. But I just can’t. I can’t even say what’s stopping me other than…. Well, me. I feel so disconnected from the world, from myself, from everything that once mattered. I’m just throwing it all away and for today, it’s okay. I can’t fight it anymore. Tonight I want to lay down and never wake up. Cause maybe, just maybe, that would stop this heartache I feel every day when I’m taking one more step away from what I want and what I could do with my life. Perhaps. Such is life, I guess.
I’m so tired. I pretend a lot. I make my friends believe I’m okay. I’m a compulsive liar. I’m not okay. And I don’t know if I’ll ever be okay again. But to the world, I’m fine. I party like it’s 1999, I flirt with girls and cry over the one I really like, but can’t have. I fantasize about going back to school and finally being on my way to where I always wanted to be. But I don’t know what I want anymore. Some days, I hope to god I won’t wake up in the morning. Others, very few and far in between, I actually wake up and feel a little bit better. Not entirely okay, but I keep telling myself that if a said day was better than before, then ‘okay’ has to be somewhere around the corner. It never is. I can’t remember the last time I was genuinely happy. A day when I didn’t stop to think about everything that’s so very wrong with my life and how big of a failure I am. Have I ever been happy? No, really. I went to school, graduated, had relationships, problems with family, a shitty childhood, met my favourite boyband, moved to the city of my dreams, finally accepted who I was…. And I can’t think of one day when I was just happy. Not one.
I think that’s my biggest issue. I focus so much on what happened before, trying to find a moment of happiness, so I can finally realise that I can and should try to be happy. That I should get out of bed even when I don’t want to. That I need a purpose and motivation to fulfil all of my dreams, big or little. But I just can’t. I can’t even say what’s stopping me other than…. Well, me. I feel so disconnected from the world, from myself, from everything that once mattered. I’m just throwing it all away and for today, it’s okay. I can’t fight it anymore. Tonight I want to lay down and never wake up. Cause maybe, just maybe, that would stop this heartache I feel every day when I’m taking one more step away from what I want and what I could do with my life. Perhaps. Such is life, I guess.
December 28, 2011
Paper Heart.
Last night I saw her again. She talked to me and in a whisper of mundane questions, she managed to take away everything I've ever feared. Her smile set my world on fire with the power of a thousand stars and for a moment in time, I was genuinely happy. Not happy - what - if, but happy - happy. And it felt amazing to be able to ignore all the petty problems. With every twirl of her hand, she cast away my worries, replacing them with bittersweet bliss. For a little while, she was mine...
I'll take the sweet pain of knowing she won't ever be truly mine, just for evenings like the last one. In a room full of people, no one else matters to me. I hate how much I've empowered this beautiful soul with every weapon she needs to bring me down on my knees. But I now know there is no other way. She really had me at "hello".
I'll take the sweet pain of knowing she won't ever be truly mine, just for evenings like the last one. In a room full of people, no one else matters to me. I hate how much I've empowered this beautiful soul with every weapon she needs to bring me down on my knees. But I now know there is no other way. She really had me at "hello".
December 05, 2011
Everything but me.
Are the ‘old ways’ making a comeback? How many times have you browsed your facebook page only to realise that many of your former high school classmates are now married and with children? Or at least in a long term, very serious relationship. People as young as 24 (such as myself) already sure of the person they want to spend eternity with. Or at least a tiny fraction of it, this lifetime.
It seems to me that only yesterday I was in high school, having a so-called serious conversation with my then best friend about the many challenges life would face us with in the next few years. Of course, the big stepping stones back then were getting our high school diploma and getting into a good college. It was pretty much unanimous, though. Most people our age wanted the same things: a career first and then (maybe) a family. We all wanted fame and success more than anything. We never had conversations about diapers and pacifiers, it was always about offices and cars, planes and expensive restaurants.
Years went by and while we all scattered around the world, I always thought we were united in that one thought: the idea of making something of ourselves. Whilst browsing this social network the other day, I got nostalgic and thought I’d check up on my old friends. People I’ve long lost real contact with. But by befriending them on facebook, I could still keep in touch, reminisce about our golden era and whatnot. Little did I know I was about to get quite the shock. At least half of my former classmates are now married. Some of them have children. Not babies, not toddlers. Children. Old enough to hold a pen in their little hands and scribble their name. And they all babble about the ‘joys of life’, their marriage, offsprings and quiet Sunday lunches with the in-laws.
After the initial jaw-drop moment, I got to thinking. The other half is most likely doing exact what I’m doing. Finding a purpose to life, beyond marital bliss. Building a career, for surely it’s far more important to leave something behind you. Other than a child bearing your surname. Or maybe it’s just me…? Have I gotten so lost in the last five years that I’ve completely missed the point of life? Have I been too blind to notice the little things? In searching for our happiness, it seems that our high school ideas were easily far-fetched. For some. I can’t help but wonder, though. Are they all grown up and happy, whereas I’m still swarming in the childhood pond? Am I grown up enough to realise and admit that for each and every one of us, happiness holds a different definition? Are my old friends still longing for fame and success, despite having the marital status?
While I know it’s a personal choice and everyone has to stand behind their decisions, I can’t help but feel that I’ve been betrayed. In the most metaphorical way possible, of course. I just feel that in choosing to get married straight out of high school or having children at an age where most of them didn’t even know the meaning of life, they all betrayed our once unanimous idea about what life is meant for. Does that mean I think having a career is truer than any other choice? Probably not. But when did it become acceptable to go back to the old ways? When did we start doing what society was telling us to do all along? It feels like we’re moving backwards.
And I've always been a rebel. Remember. The plane takes off against the wind, not with it.
It seems to me that only yesterday I was in high school, having a so-called serious conversation with my then best friend about the many challenges life would face us with in the next few years. Of course, the big stepping stones back then were getting our high school diploma and getting into a good college. It was pretty much unanimous, though. Most people our age wanted the same things: a career first and then (maybe) a family. We all wanted fame and success more than anything. We never had conversations about diapers and pacifiers, it was always about offices and cars, planes and expensive restaurants.
Years went by and while we all scattered around the world, I always thought we were united in that one thought: the idea of making something of ourselves. Whilst browsing this social network the other day, I got nostalgic and thought I’d check up on my old friends. People I’ve long lost real contact with. But by befriending them on facebook, I could still keep in touch, reminisce about our golden era and whatnot. Little did I know I was about to get quite the shock. At least half of my former classmates are now married. Some of them have children. Not babies, not toddlers. Children. Old enough to hold a pen in their little hands and scribble their name. And they all babble about the ‘joys of life’, their marriage, offsprings and quiet Sunday lunches with the in-laws.
After the initial jaw-drop moment, I got to thinking. The other half is most likely doing exact what I’m doing. Finding a purpose to life, beyond marital bliss. Building a career, for surely it’s far more important to leave something behind you. Other than a child bearing your surname. Or maybe it’s just me…? Have I gotten so lost in the last five years that I’ve completely missed the point of life? Have I been too blind to notice the little things? In searching for our happiness, it seems that our high school ideas were easily far-fetched. For some. I can’t help but wonder, though. Are they all grown up and happy, whereas I’m still swarming in the childhood pond? Am I grown up enough to realise and admit that for each and every one of us, happiness holds a different definition? Are my old friends still longing for fame and success, despite having the marital status?
While I know it’s a personal choice and everyone has to stand behind their decisions, I can’t help but feel that I’ve been betrayed. In the most metaphorical way possible, of course. I just feel that in choosing to get married straight out of high school or having children at an age where most of them didn’t even know the meaning of life, they all betrayed our once unanimous idea about what life is meant for. Does that mean I think having a career is truer than any other choice? Probably not. But when did it become acceptable to go back to the old ways? When did we start doing what society was telling us to do all along? It feels like we’re moving backwards.
And I've always been a rebel. Remember. The plane takes off against the wind, not with it.
August 17, 2011
The end of yet another chapter.
It's almost 3am and I can't sleep. As it has happened for the last few days, I find myself wide awake, smiling like a dumbass to no one and nothing in particular. I cruise the halls of this house in hopes that they'll whisper to me, telling me I've done a good job. Which... I know I have. Sixteen months of history back me up on that assumption, so I don't need any other proof.
Yes, it's been sixteen months since I started my journey in the land of Britain. And I've had ups and downs, obstacles and open roads, because hey, apparently that's life. Sometimes I wanted to sing for joy, like when I landed and took a breath of fresh air (yes, yes, you're gonna ask 'WHAT?! Fresh air in London?!' - it was to me! Because it smelt like the much coveted freedom). And then there were those times when I just wanted to crawl under a rock and slowly die, or when I wanted to scream at the top of my lungs that life just isn't fair. But I didn't do any of those things. No. I just took lots of deep breaths, hoping that whatever strength I had left was enough to keep me going towards my goal. My first one, anyway. (don't they say you need to set yourself goals on somewhat short terms, so you can actually achieve them? mhmm.)
And ta daaaaa. I've reached it! First base camp on my Everest mountain. Legally allowed to work in this country (unlike many others!). Legally obligated to pay taxes (such a grown up thing to do, lol). Desperately trying to find a job. Happily moving into my new home. Undescribably excited that I, me, Cristina, have reached this point in life.
It may not seem much to the world, but it means the world to me. Having been used to people doing everything for me, I think I've achieved something really important after these sixteen months: independence. And I'm not giving it up! Just so you know.
P.S. I couldn't have done it all if it weren't for all the people that supported me, whether it was from here or from a distance. Even the ones that are no longer a part of my life, you've all shaped me and given me something to think about. So, thank you.
I am now ready to turn the page and start scribbling a new chapter of my life...
Yes, it's been sixteen months since I started my journey in the land of Britain. And I've had ups and downs, obstacles and open roads, because hey, apparently that's life. Sometimes I wanted to sing for joy, like when I landed and took a breath of fresh air (yes, yes, you're gonna ask 'WHAT?! Fresh air in London?!' - it was to me! Because it smelt like the much coveted freedom). And then there were those times when I just wanted to crawl under a rock and slowly die, or when I wanted to scream at the top of my lungs that life just isn't fair. But I didn't do any of those things. No. I just took lots of deep breaths, hoping that whatever strength I had left was enough to keep me going towards my goal. My first one, anyway. (don't they say you need to set yourself goals on somewhat short terms, so you can actually achieve them? mhmm.)
And ta daaaaa. I've reached it! First base camp on my Everest mountain. Legally allowed to work in this country (unlike many others!). Legally obligated to pay taxes (such a grown up thing to do, lol). Desperately trying to find a job. Happily moving into my new home. Undescribably excited that I, me, Cristina, have reached this point in life.
It may not seem much to the world, but it means the world to me. Having been used to people doing everything for me, I think I've achieved something really important after these sixteen months: independence. And I'm not giving it up! Just so you know.
P.S. I couldn't have done it all if it weren't for all the people that supported me, whether it was from here or from a distance. Even the ones that are no longer a part of my life, you've all shaped me and given me something to think about. So, thank you.
I am now ready to turn the page and start scribbling a new chapter of my life...
June 19, 2011
Behind the lies.
I gaze into her eyes and I wonder how come we ended up being two strangers, when we used to be so close. She looks at me with a serious expression on her face and after a couple of minutes, in which that awkward silence makes me feel inadequate and small, her features soften and her lips curl into a sweet, shy and sort of sad smile. No, not sad... Knowing. She knows exactly what happened and why, but she's not saying anything, perhaps in an attempt to make me talk about it, when she knows all I want to do is avoid it. I'd run away if I could, but her stare holds me down, despite the smile.
"You haven't been here in a while." She says to me and I lower my head, shameful. She's right, but I don't want to give her that. "Or if you do come around, it's always hurried and hushed, never honest..." She goes on and I have to look her in the eyes now. She's hurting me on purpose, to bring out everything I'm trying to hold back. I bit my lower lip and glance away, letting out a soft sigh, feeling my emotions bubbling up about to spill in a river of undying words, gushing with force. "Maybe I have my reasons." I finally say, looking at her again, matching her smile. She doesn't say anything else, she just stares at me, confident I won't lie to myself anymore.
I see it now... We're the same, me and her. Just because she tries to reason with me and make me understand it's okay to break down every once in a while, it doesn't make us any less different. I pretend she's not there and she pretends I'm not pretending. And she's always there, unforgiving and loving at the same time. It's just a question of which side she wants to show more often.
I blink and then I blink again, the smile growing bigger on my face. "It will be alright, Cristina. You'll be alright, you're strong enough." She says to me and I see our lips moving at the same time, I hear the sound of my voice echoing in the room... And as soon as I nod to that thought, her eyes become soft and silent, like the surface of a tranquil sea. But I know deep down I'll keep lying to myself. It's just that sometimes, I see myself behind all the fake reasons and excuses... Behind all the lies.
"You haven't been here in a while." She says to me and I lower my head, shameful. She's right, but I don't want to give her that. "Or if you do come around, it's always hurried and hushed, never honest..." She goes on and I have to look her in the eyes now. She's hurting me on purpose, to bring out everything I'm trying to hold back. I bit my lower lip and glance away, letting out a soft sigh, feeling my emotions bubbling up about to spill in a river of undying words, gushing with force. "Maybe I have my reasons." I finally say, looking at her again, matching her smile. She doesn't say anything else, she just stares at me, confident I won't lie to myself anymore.
I see it now... We're the same, me and her. Just because she tries to reason with me and make me understand it's okay to break down every once in a while, it doesn't make us any less different. I pretend she's not there and she pretends I'm not pretending. And she's always there, unforgiving and loving at the same time. It's just a question of which side she wants to show more often.
I blink and then I blink again, the smile growing bigger on my face. "It will be alright, Cristina. You'll be alright, you're strong enough." She says to me and I see our lips moving at the same time, I hear the sound of my voice echoing in the room... And as soon as I nod to that thought, her eyes become soft and silent, like the surface of a tranquil sea. But I know deep down I'll keep lying to myself. It's just that sometimes, I see myself behind all the fake reasons and excuses... Behind all the lies.
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