I wish

God bless me.

I miss what we could have been

I miss those times when the time was our enemy and used to count the hours to touch our hands. I miss those times when all the words were unnecessary and the wind used to be strong and bring a nice smell.

I miss so much the person you were in me and me in you and everybody else in us. I miss so much to wait for you to come and to hear “me too”, that was better than the silence. I miss so much look at my image reflected in your eyes and see me in your smile.

I wish the distance was smaller than my arm, so I could stretch myself and touch you. Along my self to find you, even though it was late enough to turn off the lights in the street. I wish I could come back in time to make it all different, even though doing it just the same.

Nowadays I feel you closer, but I can’t see you anywhere. And all that is left is this indifferent presence of your body in my bed, which turns back while sleeping, and doesn’t even notice it.

desperately

unexpected

First of all, I didn’t remember of him that fat. Ok, he’d never been that kind of man just slim and elegant, but he wasn’t fat. But I could have deal with that anyway; I’m not that kind of person which only cares about beauty and elegance.
But, wait! I didn’t remember about his teethes. Ok. I remembered, but not this way. After some minutes, I couldn’t look at anything else than his teethes.
Ten minutes after being by his side for the very first time in 6 months, I realized that it was going to be a mistake. Not a mistake because he was a pain in my ass, or something like an insupportable situation, but because it was never going to be like I’d imagined at the first time.
Well, when he came walking in my direction: oh my god, he’s really here, oh my god, he’s hugging me and I can feel he’s shaking, but… oh my god… what would be this smell?
Ok, people don’t smell really good after a 15 hours flight, so I thought that he would have a shower as soon as we got home. But he didn’t. Actually he didn’t even notice that he was like stinking. And after the 6th beer he had this smell like a mixture between passion fruit, alcohol and barley. So I gave up on kissing him on the first night.
But at the day 4 he was still stinky, and oh god, at the road to the beach I had to smoke in my bright new car because I’d rather to feel a smoke smell than his smell, and I didn’t know what to do with the fact that all my teenager’s dreams about the 7 days love-history with a foreign guy was falling apart. I felt so empty. I felt so lost, what would I do?
So at the day 5 I told him that his shirt smelled like a dead rat. I’m sorry, am I crazy or the only one to believe that we shouldn’t have to warn someone that using proper deodorants is a good thing to do? Maybe I’m just too concerned about cleaning?
In the following days I started to see him like a dumb guy. Always talking about him self, always making stale jokes about everything and, sometimes, being a little self concerned about the fact of being a European. “Could I buy this island with my exchange?”, or “oh, you said that you’re deeply in debt because of your new car? But it’s so cheap!”, and oh my god, I wish I had a Glock right now to shot this guy in his face! God damn it!
Where did all my fantasies about him go? How could it be so different from what I was expecting? Did I idealize so damn much about his coming? How many days it would take for him to go? And why he kept on wearing the same stinky shirts?
Ok, I have to admit, I kissed him. Better than this, I tried to kiss him, because I couldn’t. Ok, our lips touched each other, but there was no tongue there to make things more exciting. I felt like an old actress which no men really kisses in a soup-opera, there was only a hard chafe of lips, and I wish I never tried to put a tongue on it. Because his tongue was a like a dead body: a hard and unmoving piece of meat.
He came with that hug for all the nights, till the end of the days. And when I tried to run away from his attempts, he looked at me with that face. That face! Do you know when you are picking with a toothpick and you feel someone looking at you? Well, he was always looking at me with that face! That shy smile, those shine eyes!
But I felt guilty. Because in one way or other, I know I gave him hopes. Ok, I know that! And I’m regretted! It was not a nice thought that the guy spent like a thousand dollars to be here with me for a week, and I was praying for the time to fly and for him to go back home a.s.a.p.! God, what does it turn me into? Dear god!
Ok, fuck him. Isn’t he the rich European who could buy an island with his exchange? I wasn’t giving a shit. But the truth is that I was feeling really bad about sometimes loosing my patience with him.
I worked really hard on not letting him notice my humor. But sometimes it was getting really hard to do it. He didn’t want to go away. He made several jokes on this, offering his flying ticket to a friend of mine, kidding that he was just going back home to take some more clothes.
He went away, and when he was saying goodbye I really felt ashamed of my self, because I was not sad, I was not regretted about my self, I was just… relieved. And looking forward to come back to my reality. Whatever it means.
The fact is that I realized that none reality can beat a fantasy. Every time I take refuge in my own dreams I’m just fighting against my self and my real life. Every time I choose to look at idealizations I’m just barring my own cove.
Because my dreams will always be more colorful and pretty than reality. No matter what, my mind will always create something beautiful and weird to confuse my mind and makes me live in my tiny pink world.
I really need glasses.
I must start to see the world as it really is.

fabule

Ok, let’s start from the very beginning.

She meets him at her job. He seems to be a good guy, even though there are people who think he’s a dull. There are very important differences about them, but she doesn’t really cares, she never cared enough about differences to get scared with new ones.

She’s a fancy lady from the big city. Sometimes she hates the big city, but she’s been learning how to relate with it, she can’t deny its facilities and good services. She loves her hills; she loves her job that only matters in a city like a big one. Sometimes she wonders if she wouldn’t be happy in a small place, spent all her teenage in a small coastal place, and sometimes she misses the lull and the tranquility which are never present in the big city.

He’s a cowboy from the countryside. He loves horses; he loves cows. He loves to be in the middle of nothing, hunting frogs and others strange species which he swears taste good in a barbecue. He has less money than her; he’s never been in foreign places and can’t speak other languages; his family is not so cult and polite as her, but she doesn’t care. She’s been trough similar situations before.

And with all these differences, he seems to be happy in a way she’s not. And mysteriously when he smiles to her, she feels safe and protected in a way she’s never felt before. She thinks that he could take care of her. If he wants to.

Someway they start a relationship. But the job is over, and they have to maintain the relationship trough a 300 miles road. She seems to be ready for that. But he’s not. Although he’s 12 years older than she, sometimes he look’s like a child. And she’s never been so patient with children.

They broke up without saying a word. She gets disappointed and doesn’t return his calls anymore. He seems to get the idea and stops calling her. But sometimes he sends her messages in which he tells her how he’s been missing her. Sometimes she’s cute with him. Sometimes she’s not.

She travels with a girlfriend and meets a guy. He’s German, he’s cute, he’s attentive, he’s cult. He’s a backpacker that has almost been in every tiny winy place all over the world. He treats her with a kindness that the cowboy has never treated her. They get separated, each one continues on one’s way. He comes back to German; she comes back to the big city. But they don’t stop communicating.

The job that united her and the cowboy is ready to happen again. Some days before traveling to work with him she receives the notice that the german is coming in some months.

She and the cowboy meet again. He was very anxious about her coming. He starts to treat her like a princess, with all the glories. She can’t help on wondering what would happen if she let him kiss her. And she lets him kiss her. And it’s great. And they live a month together, during the job, like a real couple.

But she can’t be blind to all those differences again. And she starts to ask her self, what are you doing? At the same time, he seems to be more in love than ever. She decides to think about it when the month is over.

The month is over, she comes back to the big city, but the cowboy is decided to not let her forget him. He keeps on calling her and telling her that he misses her. And she starts to get nervous: what about the german guy? He already bought the flight to come to see her. And even though they’ve never even kissed before, he’s giving her enough reasons to believe that it will happen as soon as he comes.

Well, it’s a week to the german guy arrives. She’s been planning all the details about the trip they’ll do together. She arranged a great show to both go together. She’s even on a diet to meet the german. And suddenly the cowboy comes to the big city to make her a surprise. And she wants to see him, so they meet. And they have a fascinate-glorious sex night.

And he tells her things that he never told before. He asks her if she have ever betrayed someone. He asks her if he could hardly break her heart. He tells her that he’s afraid of loving her.

She wants him to stop talking, but he doesn’t seem to share her wish. And when he goes away, she starts to think if she could love him like she loved before; at the same time, she wants to receive the german guy. She wants to see what will happen, she feels she needs to take the risk. She has good thoughts about him.

She's always been a love-lover idea. But now she's wondering, "would it be possible to love two at the same time?". And she can't help on wondering what would happen if...

Secretly she thinks that the german could offer her things that the cowboy couldn’t. The german guy has culture. He speaks 3 languages. He knows places in all over the world. He could save her in a way the cowboy just can’t.

Secretly she dreamt about moving over with the german. About having the foreign life she always wanted to, but has never been courageous to search alone. But the cowboy keeps on playing the seduction game.

Its 2 days to the plane arrives.
She sits down and writes some things.

She needs to sleep.

about love, non love 'n almost love

I don’t know what’s about this subject lack, but I think that in the past few weeks, when all the stress about my job is getting weak to get strong in the next few months, everything I think about is relationships: present ones, past ones, future ones.

Argument: I think it’s something about this anxious concerned to the fact of blue eyes are coming, and the guilty for knowing that brown eyes are always around, tiny winy closed of smiling to me every time I see them. I mean, not really around, because they are quite far away, but they’re closer than the blue eyes. Like, two hours. By car.

Fact: Ok, it’s time to admit: I’ve been feeling a little guilty. I’ve been feeling this way, a little unfocused. Focused on love, what a strange thing to a scorpion girl that always jumped by head on the relationship pool, without knowing if there was water inside of it.

There are not arguments against facts: guilty is an awful feeling, but something I can understand when I get into his place and think, oh God, she’s a bitch. While I’m dying for her, she’s been planning all the details about the blue eyes stay in here? Bitch! But the truth is that I am not lying when I tell him I miss him. My healthy part tells me that if I was satisfied with one I wouldn’t be anxiously waiting for the other one. But my psycho part argues that we definitely can love two people at the same time.

Opening parentheses: I get enormously confused when i try to describe love. This kind of love we can only see in movies, this one that people say we feel only for few ones. I heard some people say that each person has only two great loves in her entire life. If it is the way it is, I’m so fucked up. Two options, one truth: I’m going to end up completely alone, rounded by a thousand cats, because I have had like six loves before… Or I have never been truly in love. And if it’s true, for god sakes, I’m absolutely scared of loving someone! I can not imagine a love bigger than 2 or 3 I felt before. I’ve had suffered a lot for love! Or almost loves, I don’t know. If it wasn’t love, it’s been the biggest non loves I’ve ever had. Closing parentheses.

Mental exercise: to imagine a true big love. Oh God, the only example that occurred to me is a couple of actors that live right by my door. At least they look like happy, every time I met then at the neighborhood market choosing their tomatoes and potatoes together. And that’s all. So cute, but they are good actors, I cannot swear to God that they are truly happy.

Admitted fact: I don’t know any real happy couple. No relationship that I envy at all. That’s terrible, I, right me, that am always guiding my self through references am not able to find a good one in the relationship field. Maybe that’s the point: do not have references, let it flow till it works. Or not.

Little paradox: the difficult part on let it flow has been the fact that none of them – blue or brown eyes – are around. Blue eyes haven’t come yet, and brown ones are already gone. The interesting thing is that all my last relationships involve far away living people. Maybe it’s some kind of trick from my unconscious? A sadist way of not putting fantasy and reality face to face? Living in the eternal “what about…?” that is so close to me?

Optimistically way of living: my mother’s chakra therapist told her that she saw a man in my life. But her prediction has value for the only next 6 months.

Questionable point: if even a fortune telling has validity period, what can be said about love?

putting face to face

After all, it is not that he’s coming? When he said the first time I didn’t believe so much, when he said the second I really wished him to say the third, just to dream about how good it would be. And now that I already know the flight number and schedule I’m feeling butterflies in my stomach and, oh!, my God.

Butterflies in my stomach because it’s such an unpleasant work to put fancy and reality face to face. Oh, how anxious can gets the idea of falling in love with a handsome European with blue eyes, oh doctor, how painful! But one thing is the idea of falling in love with a handsome European with blue eyes, and another one, completely different, is to really fall in love with a handsome European with blue eyes. Oh, the differences between fancy and reality, oh!

The idea is wonderful: we live a love history during seven days in the tropical country that takes off the breath, we discover being twin souls and have the most glorious sex that ever happened. Later he leaves with the promise of a sooner return. I start to dream awaked about our next meeting that can happen – why not? – in a tiny German city on the next September. Ein was für to prachtvoller tag, oh- Gott!

From that for the promises of eternal love and the touching goodbyes in airports, snowed mountains faced through glassed walls… Oh, I already see my self seated by a fireplace in Külmbach, eating Swiss chocolates and chatting by the phone for hours with my sister, seeing the snow fall down all around… I and my big pregnancy of 8 months, with our beloved Hanna or Yürgen – or both – peacefully resting inside of me. Oh, I already see myself!

Yeap, it would be a dream, because in the real life things would be a little different.

We live a love history during seven days in the tropical country that takes off the breath, we discover being twin souls and have the most glorious sex that ever happened. And then he goes away with the promise of returning soon…

And I go crazy. I start to imagine all the pretty and blue eyed ladies that live there, in the same block of, and start to pull my hair out. I try all the possible combinations of passwords - dates of birth, names of the nephews, the year where his football team left the second division in the Champions League - trying to enter in his e-mail box. The few chats in msn (that had always been few) change into proofs that he is already forgetting me, and when he gets more distant (we can't forget he's German) transforms into a guarantee that everything hadn’t been more than a dream. Soon, it’s all gone; we are back to the long and continuous road, in no curves, no danger!

Ok, now the optimistic version, the love story would continue straight ahead, and if we really discover being twin souls I will have that to take the decision of giving a shot in the dark and move over, leaving my tiny winy tropical country that I’m always complaining about and, oh god, what do I do? Marry or buy an umbrella? How am I going to live without the dinners with my girlfriends? What about my family? What about my pets? What about my summer dresses and aaaaaaaaaaaaaaargh! I’m going to get enormously fat! Will I get a job? Will I be able to fluently speak his language? Aaaaaaargh, what I’m going to do with all my cute sandals and my dresses at all? Aaaaaaaaaargh! No, I think it’s better to stay here, instead of leaving everything precisely now that I just bought a new car and am deeply in debt!

The truth is that, many times, we fall in love with the idea of falling in love, while falling really in love gets more to a labyrinth just equal to that from the “shine” movie, that I watched again in another day and gave me nightmares the three followed nights.

In the ideal world, falling in love seems to be pretty as a sunset in a desert island. But in the real life, sometimes it gets more to an Impressionist scene of a giant and incandescent sun falling on the top of your head. And if it’s really a desert island, you won’t have anyone to help you on fighting the fire of your beautiful hair, treated with affection and Lancòme products.

Ein was für wundervolles gefühl!

when one plus one is not two

Which part of me is light as leaf, which part of me is heavy as rock?

Everything started so long ago that I don’t remember when I stopped being plume to start to be a weight. Being a waste.

How do you decide a situation in which exists two, but none by your side? How do you decide which one you will loose if you don’t have anyone? When no one is around?

When one plus one is not two?

I always had this dream of living in a place whose landscapes I only knew by books, walking by streets with rocks in the street pavement, with castles on the back scene and white mountains in the horizon.

It’s funny, since I was a little girl I speak in English with myself, as it was my mother language. It’s been a long monologue between the two of me, always arguing, with no peace, no resting and no agreement.

I always imagined living in a place I felt safe. With someone I felt protected by. By whom?
How do you discern fantasy from reality? Hope from intuition? The sixty sense from desire?

He’s coming, even on a wheelchair. And I’m waiting him heart opened.
I never imagined that I could get so far. I never imagined that I could betrayal in such a way. Betraying someone but not my self.

He’s coming, and when I’ll be driving my car to pick him up at the airport, I’ll make a prayer. To my fate happens, in despite of my desires.

I want to be who I always wanted to be. Who I was meant to be.
As important as knowing where you want to be is to know how you are going to get there.
You have to wait and think a little.

Than you’ll realize that waiting is a waste of time.

let me be with you

Who told you that would always exist a happy end?

I’ve told exactly the same to so many people, but I don’t honestly believe that. Some people have not a happy end. The only have an end. And that’s all.

I don’t know if I will have a happy end, but I think that’s ok, because I never thought that my mother would have a happy end. And she’s quite happy now, even though I’m not sure if this is her end. I hope it is, because he treats her like heaven and it’s amazing to see her eyes smiling after all this years…

I’m always looking for love, on despite of not admitting this fact for other people I know me and I know what I’ve been looking for. And love is all that. Maybe I have not felt beloved by my parents? What would the psycho fucking something tell about me? I’ve heard so many things about my self that I don’t know if I believe then anymore.

The question is: how do we know if we love somebody? How do we know when it’s time to stop searching and just enjoy the sensation of being with some one else? Not only be, truly be with someone. How do we know? How do we know which are the imperfections we can deal with, the attributes we cannot live without?

Sometimes I feel like a flower, light as a feather, but a warm person told me that light things are not worthwhile.

Sometimes I feel like a rock, a stoned-hearted person that can never be in love again. Or maybe I just don’t know what love is, maybe I just had glimpse of what love can be and what it can do for me.

I’ve been inquiring after somebody, and my biggest fear is to discover that this somebody doesn’t exist… Like this ridiculous and sarcastic happiness that is always rambling around, with no direction and no reason of exist…

I hope you all understand me, because I cannot.

Can you let the burden of my years feel soft through your arms?