Y te extraño porque te quiero.

Extraño sentarme en esa placita en Los Palos Grandes, tiritando de frío pero negando a irme antes de terminar ese último capítulo.
Extraño el sonido de la risa de mi mejor amiga cuando se pasaba de cuba libres en Teatro Bar.
Extraño tener una reunión todas los fines de semana y tener una cara nueva en cada ocasión.
Extraño ir al cine en el San Ignacio y, al salir de la función, ir a tomar un helado en Versalles.
Extraño el frío que hacía en ese apartamento en Caracas y que por la mañana nos entrara neblina por las ventanas.
Extraño esos atardeceres en la Central, sentada en al borde de la barandilla del segundo piso de la Biblioteca Central.
Extraño los conciertos de Nuevas Bandas y tengo un rencorsito pequeñito por aquellos que brincan con una birra en la mano en cada uno de ellos.
Extraño el sonido de la lluvia contra el parabrisas en medio de una cola infernal en la Cota Mil. Como si de alguna manera el universo tuviese un plan para aquello que necesitaban relajarse un pelín después del trabajo.
Extraño que los buenos días y los a la orden. Extraño los modales tan bonitos y las caras tan amables.
Extraño los paseos por El Hatillo y las subidas a El Ávila.
Extraño salir a tomarme unas birras con mi amigos cuando terminabámos el semetre.
Extraño tomar el metro desde mi casa hasta la universidad -que aunque me moría de sueño, era mi cápsula diraria de lectura-.
Extraño vivir con gente que me conoce de toda la vida.
Extraño asomarme por el balcón y ver caras conocidas.
Extraño los cursos Slam Poetry.
Extraño caminar por el pasillito que lleva a la Alianza Francesa de Chacaito y tener de profe a Juan, el viejito de boina y de bastón, que decía que, de tener 50 años menos, se casaría conmigo.
Extraño estudiar como loca para lo exámenes finales de Francés.
Extraño a mi profesor de Literatura. Que nos hacía sentir como Werter y pensar como Jane Eyre.
Extraño que suene el himno nacional en las mañanas haciendo la fila en el colegio.
Extraño la inocencia del colegio y de tener una creatividad afilada.
Extraño poder pedir un poquito de azúcar o una cebolla a la vecina de al lado.
Extraño escuchar gaitas desde Octubre hasta entrado Enero.
Extraño los edificios de oficinas y las oportunidades de crecer. La mente que jamás para de expandirse.
Extraño vivir en mi ciudad amada.
Extraño la luz. Que es diferente, que da un brillo espectacular, que crea un filtro nuevo y lava todo lo malo.
Extraño esa luna caraqueña, que tan silenciosa nos veía a todos.
Extraño comerme una buena empanada de mi papá y un sancocho de mi abuela.
Extraño los rinconitos de La Candelaria.
Extraño que se abran las puertas y te sientas en casa.
Extraño las guacamayas en los balcones y las luces de los ranchitos frente a mi casa.
Extraño bajar a La Guaira y, sin siquiera ver el mar, empezarte a quitar la ropa.
Extraño esa casa en Macaracuay y los grillos por las noches.
Extraño esas pendientes en Capacho y que haya tanta neblina que no se pueda ver el cerro de El Cristo.
Extraño los médanos y los picos blancos y pulcros.
Extraño los amaneceres en el llano.
Extraño despertar con el sonido del agua cayendo a lo lejos.
Extraño los chinchorros y las cocadas en Margarita.


Y te extraño porque te quiero.

El ayer

¿Hasta qué punto es real nuestro pasado?
¿Qué nos demuestra que algo no palpable, mentalmente modificable y lejano es real?
Jugamos a vivir por años, hasta que una mañana despiertas y tienes un deja-vú que te lleva de un lugar a otro, de un evento a otro, de una persona a otra... Y te preguntas, ¿cómo puedo hacer el pasado algo más cercano; algo que puedo tocar, como a través de un velo?
¿Qué sucede dentro de nosotros?, ¿A qué se deben estas preguntas?, ¿es mi ansiedad tocando la puerta, esperando que abra y la reciba?, ¿a quién engaño?, ¿quién soy y qué estoy intentando?, ¿hasta cuándo voy a querer tantas cosas para las que parece no fui creada para alcanzar?, ¿hasta cuándo seré yo la impostora de mi conciencia?, ¿cuándo llegaré más profundo?, ¿cuándo responderé mis preguntas?

¿Será que alguna vez me contraré caminando por Times Square con Mary, Mariana y Abdi?, ¿será que alguna vez volveré a ver a Ori y a Leo en nuestro lugar, para tomarnos un helado?, ¿será que algún día volveré a recurrir al metro y a nuestra relación de amor-odio?, ¿será que alguna vez se repetirá ir a almorzar en Altamira y luego pasear por Los Naranjos?, ¿O alguna vez podré echar un camarón en una hamaca en Margarita?, ¿volveré alguna vez a compartir secretos con extraños y prohibirme hacerlo de nuevo al arrepentirme?, ¿será que alguna vez volveré a caminar entre flamingos en una playa del Caribe, con la inocencia que sólo trae un corazón inmaculado?, ¿seré capaz de querer el Meditarraneo y las costas del Atlántico como quiero las playas del norte del sur?, ¿será posible que mis estrellas me den la sorpresa de una vida y que alguien que ame me venga a visitar?, ¿alguna vez sentiré ese mismo calorsito, que no quema pero calienta?, ¿alguna vez volveré a pasear por las calles de San Luis fumando y riendo como si la vida se tratara de perder el tiempo pasándola tan bien?

Espero algún día poder responderme a mí misma, poder saber la respuesta a las preguntas que me da la vida o que me doy yo misma, porque esta vida lo es todo... pero yo quiero más.

goodbyes

I never gave much thought to goodbyes in general. I always thought they were a natural part of our existance. Everything in our lives is determined by periods. Periods start and periods end and, usually, they don't even end with a proper goodbye. You are born, you stop being just a baby, you become a toddler. You stop being just a toddler, you become a kid. You stop being a kid, you become a teenager, and on and on until you finally die. Those are just periods, periods that come with changes of all types: changes of mentality, changes in our bodies, changes in the way we see, analyze and question the world around us.

I'm changing. And, now, is not just an organic process, now it is almost imposed.

I like adventures. I like to move around. I like learning new things. I like visiting new places. I like the world. but I also like the people that has been around me most of my life. I love the place I am from. I hate the chaos that surrounds me but it add a poetic je ne sais quoi to my city. Somehow chaos makes it so, so beautiful.

Now I am changing. That real change has not even started but I am already changing at a very fast pace. I have not yet left but I already feel the bittersweet flavor of oblivion. I know I will never see some people again. I feel like I am going to start dying as soon as I leave, I know we die as soon as people start to forget us,

Everthing will be brand new. New continent, new country, new city, new apartment, new friends, new neighbours, new coasts, new adventures.

The devil.

Things weren't that bad at first.
Every night the devil would come and sing me a lullaby.
Every night I would stare into his eyes and see how his mouth moved when he said "I love you"
I'd always hold my breath whenever I felt him near me.
To the point of almost physically feel rage flowing through my veins at the thought of his existance.
But, once again, things weren't that bad just yet.

Much later the devil started to like screaming.
Screaming and hitting.
Screaming and hitting and making others cry.
Screaming against a pillow until my voice hoarse to let it all out.
That was my way to let anger go.
Always asking him to stop. But he did not.
But, once again, things weren't that bad just yet.

By the time I was six, the devil had a break down.
I remember getting into the car and rushing down to hospital.
I was just looking around, not really sure of what was going on.
It was not a regular hospital, where you see sick people.
Sick people looks alive.
In this hospital, patients didn't have a soul.
Empty eyes. Silent halls. White uniforms. Phone rings.
But, once again, things weren't that bad just yet.

The devil took a vacation.
A few weeks later he came back.
He had a sparkle in his eyes. But some cuts on his wrists.
I asked him how he got them, but he didn't really tell me.
He seemed happy.
I once heard him say that he had found reasons to live again.
I guess that's a good thing, isn't it?
But, once again, things weren't that bad just yet.

The day I turned ten the devil was mad at me for some reason.
He forgot my birthday and, that night he came home and screamed at me and tried to hit me.
But something stopped him.
He fell to the floor and started crying.
I don't want people to cry.
I don't want people to cry on my birthday.
But things weren't that bad just yet.

By the time I was thirteen, the devil and I didn't really talked anymore.
He was too busy with work.
I was too busy doing nothing.
I used to think I loved the devil,
but one day realised you don't love your family because they are your family,
but because they have earned you affection.
He used to shout at me, asking me for respect.
But I don't respect liars. Even less whe you lie to my face.
But once again, things weren't that bad just yet.

By the time I was fifteen, the devil and I, well… We would fight a lot.

He would shout and scream and say things that didn’t really make sense to me.

Until that night, when I was reading Fitzgerald, he came into my room

I’m leaving because I love myself enough not to try to love you.

Well, you know what, devil? I never forgot that night, or that book.

Or your hurtful words,

Or what you did to me and the rest of us,

But one day, I decided to kill the devil.

He was sleeping, I came close, and whispered in his ear

I love you, mom

He died instantly. 

What I wish someone had told me that night at 3:27 am

Honey, do not settle. Do not accept less than your deserve because your worth is upon the highest of stars and you should not take your own value for granted.

If he really loves you, you will notice.

You won't have a single doubt,

You won't cry alone after an argument in which he is not willing to giving in,

You will feel caressed without touch and words will gently take care of those wounds that have followed you like your shadow,

You will feel important and relevant,

You will have a time and a place in every opportunity he finds,

You will feel like the walls of a museum. He will look straight at you with the warmth of a million suns while reading your soul,

You will feel like the only woman in the room. His eyes will lock on .

You will feel like your voice is the most melodic sound that he has ever listened to,

You will feel like no one could ever make you become such a good version of yourself,

You will feel like you have the best person to turn to when you need an advice (and he's going to be right),

You won't feel like a lonely wanderer anymore because you will have someone to share the road with,

You will feel stars and galaxies being created at the feeling of his skin touching your skin, even if it's just a slight touch of hands,

You will feel his pride when he talks about you. With family, friends and random people he just met,

And, most importantly, you won't ever feel like living on a constant lie.

I took me a while to realize that love is an universal energy that moves us and this means that we share certain patterns when it comes to loving someone. This is important: It must be real, it must be sincere.

He can repeat himself a thousand times, not stopping once, and that wouldn't make it true.

It doesn't matter what he says to you when he is trying to win your heart, it doesn't matter how he acts at the begging. You just wait.

Wait until the honeymoon phase is over and you can clearly see that raw, ugly part of himself.

By then, you should already have him figured out a little bit.

Take a close look of him in each situation. Remember, always remember, the importance of attitude and gratitude.

Go be yourself and let go of that weight that is not letting you continue.

You are amazing, girl. Please, don't you ever forget that.

bitácora #1. 31/3/2016

Es mejor una frase sincera que un mar de palabras que ahogan su propia veracidad.


Es mejor un pequeño momento que meses y meses de vacía desesperación.


Es mejor ese nuevo perfecto desconocido que quién, a pesar del tiempo y supuesta la cercanía, aún permanece siendo un extraño, alguien ajeno.


Descubre la alegría que trae consigo mostrar vulnerabilidad a la persona adecuada.


Sé leal a ti misma. Avergonzarse de uno mismo es crear una cárcel dentro de sí, sólo para mostrar aquello que no es, que no se siente y que no se piensa.

what 2015 did to me

So, this year has been quite an experience.

This year has been pure fucking magic, honestly.

Everything is good, actually.

Everything is hard, and a little weird, but good.

Right now I’m so sick I can’t even talk and life is still good.

This year I learned so many things.

This year I just exploded in knowledge of all types and that is amazing.

2015 was probably the best year I’ve had in my entire life.

I started university, my mom moved out of the country, I turned 18, I fell in love, I met lots of new people, I became a totally new different person and I’m actually not loving it, but things can change and I have the power to do so, so I can’t complain about it.

Right now my life is in such a raw point that I could only describe it as a seed being planted. Plenty of them, in fact.

Plenty of dreams, plenty of hope, plenty of will power, plenty of vision, plenty of determination, plenty of change, plenty of growth.

This year I lost track of many things.

One of the things that I lost track of was purity and innocence.

I lost track of those. Reaming immaculate was not longer a thing to keep in mind.

It was just something I was afraid of. Like being afraid of what could be behind a door, or a wall.

It was real and deep fear of the unknown. It was fear of what it could be. It was fear of pain, of sadness, of gaining wisdom through some bad experiences that could literally change the course of my life.

I’m still afraid. I’m terrified. But I’m now dealing with fear by facing it.

I regret some things, I do not regret others.

I appreciate how things went out and how things have continued to be.

I realized that I’ve never been this young, hopeful and empowered ever before, and I’m totally ready to use it to take over this world.

This year I’ve probably been in my worst and best moments.

I’ve realized some dreams, and failed to succeed as well. But I’m fine with that. I’m fine with not being perfect and I’m perfectly fine with trying my hardest and still not getting the results I wanted. I know someday I’ll achieve all of my goals and they will be better than I expected.

And in the same way I learnt a few things about life and love, and even hating, I’ve also come to the realization that I need to learn a thing or two, or an infinite number of things. It depends on how you look at it.

I’m just grateful because I’m here. I’m alive, I’m healthy, I’m loved by myself and others, I’ve got food and clothes and I can change the world. And that’s awesome. I’m just a lady that’s still trying to figure out things a regular young adult should already know about him or herself but still doesn’t have a clue about, and I really hope that’s fine.

I’m just someone walking on Earth, trying to do the best thing I can do, trying to make the best decisions and trying not to fuck things up so bad.

I’m still figuring out how to understand my own mind and how to my body the way it is, and that’s hard but not impossible.

I’m still having dreams about NYC and Paris and travelling the world, and even if the years pass I can tell those dreams change. And, if they change, it’s because got more intense.

Life is good and you should be young and free and reckless and look for the good thing and do good things and stop complaining and worrying so badly.

When things get hard just hold on and cry when you’re overwhelmed but don’t you ever think you are alone or not loved at all.

You are unique, special, capable and freacking amazing. And that’s your essence. You are a smart-ass girl, and you like to know a few facts that no one knows.

You keep being you.

Because this world deserves to see your beauty unfold, grow and shine.

You are brave, girl. And live is for those who are brave enough to conquer their dreams.

So go ahead and conquer every single dream, every single project, every single little thing that you want to achieve.

Because, you, you can do it.

eighteen

So, yes. In a few minutes I'll be turning eighteen.
I don't like the fact of growing old.
I feel like every day is dull and pages are a big blank, empty spaces I should be filling but I just don't even know how to.
As always, I'm listening to The 1975. Realising I'm not longer going to be that seventeen years-old-girl they sing about.
I'm somehow numb to fear. But fear is still real.
Everything is real.
Everything is gaining a different perspective and I kind of like that, to be honest.
But sometimes I don't. Sometimes those new perspectives are harsh and hard and I find myself being more sensible than usual.
And everything is so fucking real. So true. Reality has crystallized in front of my eyes.
University, having a job, thinking and trying to believe.
Everything is so different now.
A year ago I was devastated. Totally, completely and miserably devastated.

To my seventeen-years-old me: you had a hell of a good year. Sometimes uncertain and a little hard. But amazing. You have changed. You have grown so much. You have been challenged every single day.  And you have made it through. And I'm fucking proud of you.
A year ago you thought of youself as a lost case. Useless. Insignificant. But this year you had the chance to show and prove to yourself and others that you are actually amazing and that you just did not have a way to prove it before. You nailed it.
Keep on keeping on and go ahead. Go get what you want. Go get what you need. Do more. Explore more. Become the person you have always wanted to be. Be you. Believe. DO NOT GIVE UP BELIEVING.
Try your best every day. Wake up each morning believing. Be thankful. Respect others. Learn. Learn a lot. Learn from everyone and from everything. Tell people how you feel about them and why you appreciate them. Remember to be kind and to help other. Never lose your smile: it's your lucky charm. It actually works wonders, Michelle. Remember that.

I do not want to age. I do not want to grow. I do not want to lose everything. I do not want to become someone I always hated. I do not want to stop enjoying good music and just stop closing my eyes and never get lost in it again, I do not want to miss out on life. I do not want to waste my time. I want to do great things. I want to love deeply. I want to care. I want to help. I want to create. I want to do. I truly want to do. I want to move foward. I want to be me. I want to explore. I want to explore places and bodies. I want to explore minds. I want to explore realities. I want to read. Books and minds. And emotions. And people's eyes too. I want to be loved. I want to be that person some nice guy cares about and falls in love with. I want to kiss someone. I want to hug someone. I want to go swim in the middle of the night. I want to meet random strangers. I want to develop enough confidence to do things people usually do not do. I want to become a better person. I want to speak. I want to open up to someone else. I want someone to get to know me. I want someone to dedicate songs to. I want someone to be with. I want someone to get lost with.

to you, in the castell next door

I, I listen to Chopin and read novels that would make you sick because of how romantic Romanticism can be.
You, you look like you are constantly wearing an invisible crown. So confident, such an amazing presence.
I, I work everyday to stay away from negativity.
You, you wake up everyday to an endless dream.
I, I get to see you from a far, knowing how dangerous you could be to me.
You, you get closer. Just like lions do when they look at their prey.
I, always too fast, too stressed.
You, hopeless.
I, knowing that everything you do to yourself it's just silent cry.
You, not knowing that I know.
I, too worried.
You, too cool.
I, such a hopeful girl. Thinking she will get the boy.
You, the golden boy, filling all my expectations.
I, too young but, certainly, not dumb,
You, probably too young for your own age.
I, worring about you like a mother would.
You, not even knowing I do.
Because addictions do that to you.
They make you and break you.
They cause you pain and, at times, they crown you king.