me vs. me

Sometimes I like to play that I’m not really me, and it’s just someone else living in my body, having these experiences. Or maybe, that there’s two sides of me and I get to watch myself doing the things I do. When I’m stuck in traffic trying to get to work and fighting against time, trying to prove to myself that I can make it in twenty minutes or less, I see myself from the top of a mountain, reading a book. Having no care in the world. Or when I’m being judged by my own family that cares more about the way I look than the things I’m accomplishing, I can see myself from the other side of the line, indulging in chocolate, sweet coffee and all the goodness in the world. Telling myself, ‘don’t pay attention to them. They don’t even like themselves anyways. They’d be better off looking at themselves instead of focusing their attention in you so much.’ Or when I’m stuck at a desk at a job I don’t really care about, just so I can pay my bills and stay alive, this other me is telling me, ‘Fuck this. You don’t have to live this way. Come meet me in paradise.’ Or when I’m looking at my debts, my bank account, my bills, planning, budgeting, stressing, this other me is living her best life without worrying about a single penny, traveling around the world, just doing what she loves most. Discovering. Or when I’m listening to the orders of a boss, this other me has no boss to report to. She’s her own. Or when I’m wondering where this love has gone, asking myself if he still really loves me, if he still thinks I’m beautiful… This other me doesn’t really care – she understands it’s not her job to be pretty or loved by someone else, other than her own. This other me is the best side of me, the one that is constantly reminding my bodily me, the one that is having all these mundane experiences, that none of this even really matters. You know, there’s more to life than this, there must be. I look at them and wonder, do they know that too? Are they really happy? But also – why worry about them? You can only focus so much energy in one task. So just focus on you.


At once, all my life’s inconsistencies are all wrapped up. And I can see the change in your eyes. I can sense your hopelessness getting to me. I don’t wanna say it’s all for naught, but I can’t help but wonder how our lives would be had we never met each other. Had I never replied to that first message, would I be here? Living in this city? Working at this job? Meeting these (few) people? Looking like I look? Would’ve it been better to never have met you? But I can’t change it now… all that’s left is just the wondering.

Amor, ¿qué pasó?

Amor, ¿qué pasó con nuestro amor?
Se quedó olvidado en el pasado
Donde solíamos emocionarnos de vernos
De vez en cuando
Incluso todos los días
Ahora, todo es mundano
Una rutina donde nos preguntamos,
¿Cómo dejamos que llegara a esto?
Solíamos planear y hacer,
Ahora sólo nos quejamos
Y por alguna razón es como si
Ya ni siquiera difrutamos la compañía del otro.
Amor, ¿qué pasó con nuestra pasión? 
Se quedó olvidada en nuestra cama vacía
Donde solías despertarme a mitad de la noche
Con besos y una necesidad repentina,
Un deseo que yo obedecía
Porque sabía que lo sentía también,
Y no tenía que fingir nada…
Ahora, ni tú ni yo
Sentimos esta ansia apresurada
Y lloro, porque me siento inquerida
Inamada, indeseada
Y no es tu culpa – ni la mía.
Amor, ¿qué pasó con nuestros planes?
Logramos la mayoría de ellos y ahora
Es como si no tenemos nada que esperar
Ningún sueño que nos mantenga andando,
Ninguna emoción por el mañana
Todo se ha tornado aburrido y gris
Y no hay necesidad de hablar de ello
Porque no hay nada que decir
Puedo oír las palabras no dichas llenando el silencio,
E intento no llorar en frente de ti
Porque no solucionaría nada
Porque no cambiaría nada.
Amor, ¿qué pasó con nosotros?
Nosotros, aventureros, espontáneos, audaces
Sin importarnos nada en el mundo
Aparte de los deseos de nuestros corazones
Pero me pregunto si quizás estoy idolatrando nuestro pasado
Y olvidando todas las dificultades
Y es por eso que parece tan diferente al ahora
Y me quedo pensando,
¿Es ese amor apasionado, aventurero, espontáneo
Algo que debe permanecer
O es simplemente natural que se desvanezca?
Intento mantenerlo vivo, pero fracaso en el intento…
Amor, ¿qué pasó?

Love, what happened?

Love, what happened to our love?
It stayed forgotten in the past
Where we used to get excited of seeing each other
Every now and then
Even every day
Now, it’s all mundane
A routine where we ask ourselves,
How did we let it get to this?
We used to plan and do,
Now all we do is complain
And for some reason it’s as if
We don’t even enjoy each other’s company anymore.
Love, what happened to our passion?
It stayed forgotten in our empty bed
Where you used to wake me up in the middle of the night
With kisses and a sudden craving,
A desire I would obey
Because I knew I felt it too,
And I didn’t have to pretend anything…
Now, it’s neither you nor me
Who feels this hasty want
And I cry, because I feel unwanted
Unloved, undesirable
And it’s not your fault – nor mine.
Love, what happened to our plans?
We accomplished most of them and now
It’s as if we have nothing to look forward to
No dream to keep us going,
No excitement for tomorrow
Everything has turned dull and grey
And we don’t even have to talk about it
Because there’s nothing to be said
I can hear the untold words that fill the silence,
And I’m trying not to cry in front of you
Because it wouldn’t fix anything
Because it wouldn’t change anything.
Love, what happened to us?
Us, adventurous, spontaneous, audacious
With not a care in the world
Besides the wishes of our hearts
But I’m left to wonder if perhaps I’m idolizing our past
And forgetting all the hardships
And that’s why it looks so different compared to now
And I’m left to think,
Is that passionate, adventurous, spontaneous love
Something that should be kept,
Or is it only natural that it fades away?
I’m trying to keep it alive, but failing at it…
Love, what happened?

a paper and a pen

let me be here, with absolutely nothing to do, with not a worry in the world, with just the sound of the birds singing getting to my mind, and nothing else. let me be motionless for a while. let me be unmotivated, unwilling and unconvinced. let me complain without taking action, let me ask myself time and time again what is it that I really want to do with my life. because at this moment, I don’t know. at this moment, all I want to do is lay. how do people do it? how do people live so passionately, so motivated, so filled with inner convictions of their capabilities and strength? I wonder… it’s getting boring to be chasing, day after day, a fulfillment that never comes. my body is here, but I can’t seem to get it to move, to work, to act. my mind is clustered. and all I can do is be there. hearing. looking. being. without an excitement in the world.

de-stuck yourself

What does it look like to live in a world of total freedom? What does it feel like to live in a world where I only follow my desires? I don’t have to ask myself these questions, because I know their answers – I live in this world; I follow only myself. The truth has been with me ever since I was born, it’s not out there to be found – it’s within me. I just have to listen to it, silencing everything else. This part, the part that is doubtful and fearful and hesitant and cautious, is a part no more. Its existence has ceased. I may not know my true purpose, I may not know the essence of my existence, because my purpose and my essence change every day. Nothing wrong in this. And attempting to be innovative is worthless, because even the masters of masters have found inspiration in past leaders. We are all one.

I understand now that it’s not the fears, or the doubts, or the self-inflicted pressure which has kept me emotionally stuck for so long -it’s only my ego. My ego is telling me, “you have to accomplish this by this time or else you’re a failure,” which is just so self-destructive. And although it feels nice to accomplish what I have set for myself in the exact span of time, the emptiness still manages to arrive once again once that feeling of satisfaction expires. Because it does expire. And my ego as well tells me, “you have to look like you used to or else people will talk, do you want people talking? Or do you want to silence their judgments?” Truth is, people will always judge. My ego tries to make me do things just for the satisfaction of other people, not me. And this is where I know I should draw the line – setting your own goals is fine; what is not fine is to set them having only other people in mind.

Another thing that my ego does is try to sabotage my small accomplishments. It does this by thinking that only big victories should be celebrated; which is why I think so many people live so dissatisfied nowadays. They only focus on what’s missing – not what’s already there. Can’t blame them – I am like this too, sometimes. But by trying to shift my behavior, I have learned that no matter how small your accomplishment seems, it is still worth the celebrating. Attend that ceremony; go to that party. Take the nice pictures; who cares if it’s not a big deal for anyone else. You know what you had to do in order to accomplish it; and that’s where the value of your achievement relies. Others have had it easier and others have had it more complicated; but you had it your way, and your way was filled with worries and uncertainties and wondering if it’s even worth fighting for, and look at you now – on the other side of the road, looking past only to be grateful for the experiences, but focusing on the way forward.

I don’t have a “solution” for my ego – I don’t even think an ego can be one hundred percent destructed. But it can be managed. I know there are parts of it that leave me stuck instead of helping me move forward. The crazy thing is, I have always looked at this stuckness as though it was a consequence of my fears, my doubts, my insecurities. It wasn’t until I started reading about the ego that I have realized that these fears are consequence of the ego itself; and the stuckness is my ego becoming manifested. I get stuck in the planning. I get stuck in the fear of failure. I get stuck in the wanting to do better just to feel like I’m better than “x” or “y”. I get stuck in the comparison. And all these are aspects of the ego – whether positive or negative; they can create a false image of the true value of yourself.

where is our love?

this bed is crumbling underneath us, and the words left in silence increase the distance between us. it seems as if we’re strangers now, regardless of the many years that we’ve gotten to know each other. I know I mess up and it’s hard for me to say sorry, because I don’t want to cry in front of you anymore… again. my mind, my feelings, my doubts, my wonders, they all take the best of me and I tend to take it out on you. I’m sorry. but the fear, the unbearable fear of being alone, makes me do stupid stuff that I wouldn’t have done if I was sure of your feelings for me. perhaps those feelings are gone. I don’t know what to do, I don’t know what to say because I’m scared that nothing I do, and nothing I say will fix this mess. are we doing the wrong thing? I wonder everyday… how do you know when to leave it alone or to keep fighting for it? how do you know the difference between something worth fighting for and something that is best left in the past? where do you draw the line, and how do you know if you’re doing the right thing? I know it shouldn’t be this hard; love shouldn’t be this hard. It seems like my mind is messing everything up, like it always does. the over-thinking, the over-planning, the over-wondering never leave me alone and I cry and I think and I plan and I fight and I take it out on you because I want you to hold me, I want you to love me, I want you to tell me it will all be okay at the end. but will it all be okay at the end? I don’t know anymore…

dear stranger, where is our love?

as raw as it gets

My mind takes hard hits at me and never shuts up. Sometimes it’s hard to concentrate when I’m at work, I keep looking at the clock hoping it’s time to leave. But when I leave and go to class, I keep looking at the clock hoping it’s time to go home. Then I get home, and I’m not happy. I know it’s not because of the state of my circumstances, because I have everything I need to be happy. But my mind just keeps playing tricks on me. Planning, planning, planning. Thinking, thinking, thinking. Wondering, wondering, wondering. It’s never in place, it’s never here, it’s always there. Wishing to be someplace else. Wishing to be doing anything else. But it’s never satisfied, no matter where I am, no matter what I’m doing. But if you looked at me you would never think all this is going on inside of me… this war… this indecisiveness. This always wondering, thinking, “am I doing the right thing?”. I hope I’m doing the right thing.

soon, you’ll get better?

Tres años y medio atrás, jamás me imaginaría que tres años y medio en el futuro me convertiría en lo que tanto luchaba por no ser. Infeliz, estancada es una relación por el simple hecho de estar. Arreglar, pulir, ordenar, a la vez de cumplir con las responsabilidades del trabajo, los estudios, las presiones auto-inducidas -las cuales, a mi parecer, son peores que las presiones sociales-. Sabotearse en la cabeza con las ansiedades del futuro, sabiendo que quizá no será tan malo como uno se lo imagina pero siempre, siempre, siempre, incapaz de escapar ese desasosiego.

Hoy, el entusiasmo de una vida diferente juntos se ha disipado rápidamente para convertirse en monotonía. El café, ya frío, olvidado y sin cambiar desde hace tres días atrás, porque ya no hay tiempo en las mañanas para compartir el desayuno. La cama, a medio tender, que ya no es colchón de caricias sino de peleas, dudas, y cincuenta centímetros en medio de los dos, enfocados en no tocarnos. Me comentas sobre tu día, pero en medio de tus palabras me pierdo, aislada, pensando en algo -o alguien- más. Te comento del mío, pero sé que, como yo, sólo intentas ser un buen oyente al momento de escucharme.

La mayoría de los días -por no decir todos- no me siento de veintidós. Por algún motivo he tenido que crecer tan rápido, quizá por motivos auto-inducidos, como mis presiones. Y mientras otros salen, fuman, beben, yo me aíslo, estudio, trabajo, enfocada en cumplir con mis objetivos que sé que son importantes, pero no son todo en esta vida. ¿De qué sirve llegar al final si en el camino todo es soledad, aislamiento, tristeza, y al llegar a la meta es más de lo mismo? Intentar convencerme de que al obtener lo que deseo todo va a cambiar sería en vano. Engañarme a mí misma no es lo mío, y quizá es por ello que sufro por ser tan consciente y tan dura conmigo misma.

Y mañana, nada queda sino seguir…