jueves, 15 de octubre de 2015

Despedida temporal

Queridos lectores imaginarios:

Como tal vez algunos de ustedes sepan (y los que no, shame on you) me voy de viaje a Europa.

¿Qué significa esto?
Que no voy a poder escribir nada en este blog por un par de meses.

But worry not (psht, yeah, as if you're worried, amirite guys?) porque llevo un cuaderno bien chingón que me compré porque soy un ñoñazo y planeo escribir en él todos los días.
Eventualmente cuando regrese (si es que regreso vivo), voy a transcribir algunas de las cosas de mi súper cuaderno chingón y las publicaré aquí, lo cual además me servirá para no tener que pensar en cosas originales que poner en este blog.
Win-win for everyone.

En fin; adiós y así.

Porfa no rompan nada mientras no estoy. Te estoy hablando a ti, Joselo.

Gossip Girl Petrelli

lunes, 5 de octubre de 2015

Monday or Tuesday

It dawned on her just as she was placing those final three dots on the piece of paper.

Funny thing is, sometimes what seems like a scribbled napkin to a stranger passing by, can actually be a love letter, a heartfelt confession or a cry for help. 
I'm pretty sure we've all been there, but don't quote me on that. 

She briefly thought about wiping her tears, but she shook her head and decided to wear them proudly as she walked down the street. 
She gathered her few belongings and hastily reapplied her Ruby Woo lipstick, which she was sure matched beautifly with the moment even though it contrasted with her running mascara. Waterproof is just a word that gets tossed around in the advertisement industry, after all.

When the waiter wished her a good day, she just nodded in silence. She didn't say "you too" because sarcasm is one of those things that you seem to lose when you feel lost yourself.

For some reason her own footsteps sounded awkward to her, as if she had suddenly forgotten how to walk. I mean, yeah, it was as simple as putting one foot ahead of the other and she knew that. Rinse and repeat.

As she started to muster these thoughts, she became dangerously self aware. How could she forget how to walk if it was as simple as breathing?
"Oh God, but what about breathing?", she thought in a pang of sudden panic.
Funny thing is, when you're consciously breathing, you begin to worry about inhaling too much or exhaling too little; and before you know it you're sweating and panicked about your heartbeats and about how awkward your tongue just sits there in your mouth like a motherfucker.

She stood in the middle of the street and decided to just stop -being-, even if only for a few seconds. She closed her eyes.
"Have you tried turning it off and then turning it back on?", said every tech guy in the universe.
Funny thing is, it worked.

She flashed a quick smile to no one in particular and continued walking.
"Anxiety attack" is an ugly term when you think of it; she much preferred "Unexpected self-inflicted sabotage of the feelings". 

Reaching for her purse she found a pair of vintage Ray Bans and put them over her baby blues, still thinking about that piece of paper. 
Surely by now it'd have flown with the wind, hitting some unsuspecting stranger in the face; maybe even a couple of young lovers holding hands to numb the pain, gripping tightly to something that they'd never own.

"I'm not a bad man", she heard him say over and over again.
She tried to lock him out as she walked down the street, but so far she was having as much luck as a blind busker trying to earn his living drawing caricatures.

You know how sometimes you think to yourself how the breeze is real nice today but after a couple of songs on your iPod you're now chilly and wish you had listened to every mom in history and put on a sweater? 
Well, right now, while rubbing her own arms for warmth, she certainly wished she'd have listened to hers.

The sound of the not-so-distant waves brought her back to reality. "Getting close, 'atta girl", she mumbled.
Funny thing is, when she woke up today, a trip to the beach was the last thing on her mind.

Her Jimmy Choos were not as comfortable as their price tag would have you believe, so she took them off. The feeling of sand between her toes was strangely off-putting.

A jolt of nostalgia ran through her body all of a sudden.
If she had to assign it a color, blue would definitely have been it. Clichés are clichés for a reason.

What was the name of that sticky candy she liked so much as a kid? 
"Salt water taffy", she heard herself say.
Yeah, that was it. God, she hadn't had one of those in forever.

She didn't know for how long she just stood there, watching the water come and go; wishing she could be more like the sea foam and less like everything she had ever been.

"Well, here goes nothing", she thought to herself while taking her first steps into the sea.
Funny thing is, we always think our parting thoughts will be all deep and meaningful and moving; and not "God damn, this water's cold as fuck"

Meanwhile, on the other side of town, some napkin was just laying on the floor; crumbled, filthy and unread.

"I don't think two people could have been happier than we have been..."

Funny thing is, she never even was that big of a Virginia Woolf fan.