“You’ll be OK.”
“I know I’ll be OK. But I want to be happy.”
You are probably about to read a whole bunch of stuff that a lot of people have said before me, but these are some things I felt like sharing:
Hollywood movies are all lies.
Love can not survive everything. You have to fight hard for it and sometimes that won’t be enough.
It’s not the universe who decides, it’s people. More often than not you won’t like those decisions but, for some reason, we make excuses for them and blame it on a higher power.
I’ts stupid to not let people in because you are afraid. But letting people in without making they prove they deserve it is equally stupid.
Sometimes you just need coffee. Sometimes you need a drink.
Things don’t happen when they are meant to, or when you are ready or when you least expect them. Things just happen. Or sometimes they don’t.
You can not expect others to make you feel good about yourself.
People will leave for no apparent reason. It will hurt. The pain might not go away. You’ll live.
A decision made when you are angry is a decision you will regret. However decisions can not be put off forever.
If you don’t do it, nobody else will.
There is no fairness or logic behind life. And that’s that.
We don’t get what we deserve, we get what we get.
There is no point in dwelling on bad choices but you can learn from them.
You will hurt and get hurt.
And sometimes you will be happy.
Not words. Not empty canvases. It is just waiting, because something is coming up. Something must be coming up.
And so she murmurs, at night, every night. She closes her eyes and she is certain that this is not forever. It can not be. And in that way she tries to save herself because otherwise she would have died by now.
But there is always tomorrow and that means there is always hope. Even if that hope is hopeless.
She tears apart the papers since letters are of no use to her anymore.
Days become weeks, then months, then years.
The course of life takes over her own life which seems to make no sense to her so she ignores it.
Rain makes her blue but also brings the memories of what was which also makes her think of what might come. She hates the sun but the blue sky soothes her. Everything is fine when you know your story has not yet begun.
Only the words still escape her and the canvas stays white and hope is nothing but an illusion diverting her from life.
Because as long as she is there, he’s going to linger. He’s going to decipher the meaning of leaves flying around in the wind and understand the words she never said. As long as he breathes the same air she breathes he’s going to keep alive the hope of one day breathing it in from her mouth. Again. She walks the same sidewalks and yet nothing can the tiles tell him of what became of her. Do her eyes look the same? Do her hands hold somebody else’s? Wandering street after street he still feels like at any moment she will walk up to him and smile. As long as she can hold in her mind the tiniest memory of the boy that once loved her. If she can, only for a little longer, let her scars wash under the rain there’ll come the day. A time when nothing will change their world.
Una mezcla de alcohol, añoranza y desesperanza no te convierten en nada que no fueras ya. Cogerme de la mano no te da derecho a susurrarme mentiras al oído. Una despedida no quiere decir que me vaya a ir a dormir llorando una ausencia que no siento. Pero si eso es lo único que quieres, entonces engáñame a lo grande. Hazme creer que eres esa persona que en realidad no eres. Háblame con las palabras propias de un amor que no sientes. A la mañana, con una mezcla de alcohol, añoranza y desesperanza, prometo derramar lágrimas amargas por una ausencia que me habrás hecho sentir real.
A lo mejor es mejor así, sin que nunca llegaras a entrar del todo en mi vida. Así no hay nada que esconder. Te deslizaste por los márgenes de mis días sin dejar nunca un rastro que alguna vez pudiera llegar a seguir. Nunca un paso de más. Mis preguntas se estrellaron siempre contra un muro. Solo dejaste, y sin querer, algún recuerdo, a regañadientes, entre frases sin sentido. Y, ¿sabes qué?, ojalá eso tampoco lo hubieras dejado.
Soon I will be packing my bags again and sooner than that none of it will matter. Though for a while, the days will be filled with memories of laughs, late nights and the easy warmth of milder weather and kinder circumstances.
In very little time my life will be kept in boxes and put on hold until new and sunnier days get ready to arrive. An though it wasn’t always so, there is really no way of changing it back.
I’m counting the days, as usual, because home tends to be more interesting from abroad. Luckily this time it’s only minor disappointments and major steps forward what I will be bringing with me.
Different and out of the ordinary is always better. I know it, my luggage knows it, and we are both ready.