Thursday,
don’t throw me back again, please! Saturday morning: nothing in my bank accounts…
the hell with it, it's Sunday morning now. I couldn’t postpone the wills to sit
on the water. Duty called. Cartoons are on, so I expect to finish what I
started. I’m hearing some complaints. I guess I have to cut. I have to cut in
some many ways; either literally and figuratively. Let’s start with this
literal one first. Hold the line,
selected by me. It was rainy all day long. Boundaries testing and its nonstop actions. I’m alone now. I saw a couple of pictures, a
couple of a set of pictures; both of them of vacation time; two different
families, both living here, both Venezuelans. I’m not sure if this is just pure
envy, or if I ever have a point, but it seemed kind of a show off, and up to
this point, a show off is just vulgar. Only that vulgar provokes. Vulgar always
provokes. So I’m not immune to other’s good times, and I have worked a lot not
to be so. I am talking from my podium of poverty, as usual of course. Poor envy although
vulgar, specially when it’s vulgar. I want to be vulgar too, I just can’t
afford it, and I haven’t been able to since so many years. I want to taste, we
all do. Only that we can’t, so we have
to drown this feeling with wine and words, and a new chapter of House Of The
Dragon. It’s Sunday night after all, but it’s hasn’t been easy, there’s so
much going on, but this is always, every
time, anything is something to worry about, to think of, and to probable turn
into something we will postpone to live one more day. It’s exhausting, and
nobody cares.
Another
week. I need to get the Alprazolam. I’m
worried. It’s in moments of sudden that
we feel we don’t belong, that we are forcing something is not meant to be, that
we will never fit in. I guess it happens to all of us. I have to be better, to
get equal treatment. Did we know it
before we came? May be we did, but verbs feels different in first person. The
fiction is over, I have to get back to the reality and go to bed. Financial
blessing, I’m still waiting for you. Only child syndrome for writing and only child
syndrome for thinking. Well, not really. Perhaps for writing. I come here when
I feel alone. The TV is on. I’m waiting for the CBD to replace the
Alprazolam. Nothing has happened yet.
Yesterday was different, I boosted it
with wine. I even forgot about my debts for a while. The CPR course was fine.
It was better than expected. I really
thought I was going to blow it. I should trust myself a little more. I would
like to, it’s just that repercussions have been coming up and showing off, so
now I realized they were all mistakes; missteps, wrong moves I made thinking
they were going to bring me back to stability, and I can’t be more disappointed
from these results. At least I can lecture myself through words.
Home made meat
loaf, I love it. Wine is waiting for me, I need a partner in crime, my partner
in crime. I don’t feel like taking a shower. Desire is suffering, I just read. What if you don’t like what you see? What
about it? Coexist is paramount when lacking resources, specially when you just
want to be left alone. It’s a space not everyone can afford. So Time then it’s
not the greatest asset but Space as well. Wednesday.
Wednesday I’m in love. Let’s see for how long. It’s Thursday now, both countdowns have started; the first one
will reach zero next Sunday. The
election day. A good part of the diaspora remains skeptical, specially those
who have made a family abroad already, those no longer work in factories or production lines. Those ones who
are not waiting for an asylum interview or a court hearing anymore. Those ones
have moved on, or so we can presume. The hearts have their own reason, so
nothing is settled yet, but what I do presume is that the skeptical ones are
not the majority. The majority is
waiting, expecting, and basing their
next moves upon election’s results. My heart is beating harder every time I
think about it. We have one month left. That’s the drama of us; the uncertainty
of the next encounters. When? Where? How? And ‘if’, especially if… If and Why with a bunch of becauses; becauses
with no solid reasons. I only followed my heart, and my heart likes to play. I don’t. Not when it comes to feelings. So I guess
that either you play or be played. I
need more wine. Not really, I’m just tired, and I will never get when people
drown themselves inside the phone. I’m tired of being this way alone. Something
is broken. I don’t know what. I’m just tired and tiredness makes you make up
things to keep yourself uncomfortable. I
am uncomfortable, and tomorrow I have to work. The future is a foreign land. What a
title, Ghost! You really got me. Sadness needs space and time; two assets in
this life. Two assets not everyone can afford, so being sad can be kind of a
luxury sometimes, this time at least, and even more than being happy. Happiness
can be found sometimes, sadness needs a momentum
to acknowledge it. I’m not in the mood to acknowledge. I want to have Sex and forget, but even sex
needs time, space, and an interested partner: interesting, indeed.
I would like
your opinion, but you wouldn’t dare. Maybe I wouldn’t dare. I just want to get
the hell out and move on with all my complexes. The air conditioning is off.
The bill was extremely high. Poor happenings, as usual. When will this stop? I
don’t know. Bearing: a verb for the poor. I hate this sort of poverty. Maybe I hate the company, who knows! I don’t even know myself
anymore. I just want to keep on
drinking. I’m getting close… despite of
the routine, despite of all these disappointments. Disappointment is not for
poor either. We have to keep going. Our survival depends on that. So why do we
want to survive? That’s a good question, as a matter of fact. How do we say in
English when a fruit is not ripe? I don’t know
in Spanish we say verde, yes, green, and maduro, or madura,
when it's ripe. In Spanish fruits have gender, the mongo is male, for example,
the banana (in Venezuela; cambur, and only in Venezuela) is male too. The strawberry is female, and we use it when
it comes to pretty girls. Again, only in Venezuela, as far as I know.
