Thoughts of home and the family that chose me

I’ve been away from home for about 13 days and even though that span of time may not seem like much to most, it has felt quite longer to me. I’m not Just away from home, but a very far way along from it. Its funny how a couple hundred miles can really put your heart in perspective on JUST how far from home you are. I believe the correct term would be named “homesick”. Its really got me thinking on some points. Strange though… on how thoughts can come and go but the feeling sticks around longer than you’d like. To have one understand I s’pose it could be compared to heartbreak or longing. See you think about that person or thing that gave you that warm fuzzy feeling in your stomach or that ache you don’t mind at all in your chest.. But with time the thoughts fade and you can’t seem to remember everything in full detail anymore, yet oddly enough, that feeling still remains. Well I guess it could be described like that. Don’t get me wrong, I’ve seen so many wonderful things. The world seems like such a big place.. So many people.. So many stories.. Beginnings and endings. Its fascinating really. But in the end, I suppose you cant even fool your heart when it really misses home. You try to think “ this is the opportunity of a bloody lifetime and your thinking about home?!” . Well you do.. You wish the people you’ve left behind had come as well thinking maybe it’d be a lil’ less pain in the ass and you’d at Least stop thinking about it. But eh… this is what I got. Jajaj. S’not like I regret coming, heck no. But its like that sayin’ “Home is where the heart is”. I once you used to believe that your family where the ones you’re stuck with. The ones tied to you by blood and bad luck. Jajaja or good luck of course. But recently in my life I’ve come to realize I have a much bigger family than I thought. The family you choose. The family I Chose. Sometimes I think I didn’t choose them at all. Sometimes I think they chose me. I was never the one who liked to be tied down by anything, much less anyone. But it seems like finally.. I have. And my chosen family is back on that unnoticed tiny island called Puerto Rico. Maybe not so unnoticed. Tourists seem to be quite fond of our beaches ^_~. Nah but I always thought of myself as the type that could leave some random morning and never hold regrets about doing so. You know like those aimless travelers that don’t really have a place to call home. The ones who just keep going and going and going… and eventually someday die in some random foreign country who everyone thinks your weird cuz you don’t look like any of ‘em. So they bury you in some unmarked grave because no one can answer for your body and you’re forgotten. Only earthworms and erosion appreciate your decayed corpse in the end. Jejej. Sounds depressing doesn’t it. But I thought it would have been cool. To be that person that saw it all and didn’t give a fuck about who ran into her wake. Just keeping moving on.. Going and going.. And going. Homesick?.. What’s that? Yeah..that’s what I’d say. But no.. No that’s not me anymore. I wonder if I’ll ever be like that again. I wonder when it was that I learned to love those people so dearly that it would make me sick to even play with the thought of leaving home. Love ? Does that have to do with it even ? Who knows.. But yes.. Im a lil homesick.. And being a hell of a lot over pensive. 13 days. 13’s my favorite number, did you know that? People say its bad luck but I always found it to be a charming number. jejej. They’re crazy you know.. The family that chose me. Every single one of them. Down to the last hair… crazy. But I’ve found that the crazier the better. The crazier they’ve become the more I’ve come to love them. They can drive me up the roof in an instant! All the same they can make me smile. I wonder who’s lookin out for who? I used to think it was me over them. God KNOws they need lookin after. They’re friggin insane! But again.. It would seem I’ve found myself being taken care of by them more than me taking care of ‘em. Recently anyways.. Why ? Fuck if I know. And what of the family I have by blood. Of course I love them. For them I’d die for, no questions asked. I wouldn’t even have to feel even slightly inclined to do so. I wouldn’t even think of doing otherwise if necessary. Its more of an instinct to do so than anything. Like its programmed into you or something. Some people say they don’t feel the same. Perhaps they’re feelings for their own families are different than mine. But even though I’d even die for them.. I don’t feel this attachment to them. I could be away for days and not have such a feeling. Perhaps its because I know we’ll they’ll always be. Perhaps because in the end, they’ll be my family weather they want to or not. Perhaps like me, I know they have such instincts as I do. As if it were demanded. Some unwritten law. I Do love my blood family.. But it’s the ones that I adopted I’ve come to finally appreciate. We’ve even been known to be separated for months at a time (some of them).. One time even a year. And all the same I can honestly I loved them all the same, if not more, when it came time to seeing them again. It’s a crazy way of being I know. I myself don’t fully understand it. Perhaps I’m behind when it comes to simple things like this. Things like affection and attachment. Actually I know I am.. Still ain’t very good at either jaja. But I think I’m getting somewhere. I have no idea where this’ll leave me. It’s a lil’ exciting. Not seeing the end of a path. Actually I’ve come to adopt that way of being too. Day by day… minute by minute. Forget planning, though of course it wouldn’t do any harm from time to time. Live what and when you can.. You never know when that moment might be your last. No regrets, but you better learn something too.. I have a bunch of old fortune cookie, Confusous, bullshit hidden in this fucked up head of mine, but I think that’s it for now.. God puts theses people in your path for a reason. He lets you make the choices you need to even though sometimes it means scraping your knees a lil. But in the end everything tends to come into place. But I wonder.. This family of mine, these friends I’ve come to so dearly love. I wonder.. What would lie in our wake now? What will lay at the end of this path? Are we all damned in the end anyways? Or is there an actual plan we may not Miss in the end. I wonder.. Oh how I wonder so much.. Too much. I should stop thinking.. We’ll start that process by stopping the Writing! Jejjej.. For now..

Hospitals

I don’t like hospitals.. They’re always cold, the lighting is always depressing, and the doctors always seems like they’re on edge of a mental breakdown. They have this look on their faces that just let you know they’re friggin’ tired of dealing with sick people…dying people. How can someone take all that in, you know? Certainly they’ve seen many patients pass through.. Some on their own two feet, others in big black bags. I hate to sounds so gloomy about it.. I’d like to be the type of person that views hospitals as the place where people go to get better. But I was one of those people that saw someone go in and not come back out. Someone I loved.. very much.. I have nothing against the people who tried to save his life. I have nothing against God or his choice to take him away. I just…hate hospitals. You can forgive all you want, but the whole forgive and forget saying kinda doesn’t work. Not all the time anyways.. not This time…

And so I hate hospitals, and I know its something I should work with. But I can’t help it. It reminds me of the waiting…When you’re not the one in trouble, you’re the one waiting to see what happens. I’ve described what happened that day to so many people that its never going to really be unclear to me how that night went down. There was a time when I was just angry.. plain angry, and I figured I couldn’t go around bashing everything I saw, so I picked up writing.
Like I said, you can’t really go around doing everything you feel like, but it Does help to get it out. Talking is one way but its not always the best. See when you’re talking you don’t always have the exact words you want to say when you need to say them. When you write, things are different. You have time to reflect, restructure and even re-understand what you feel. You can even com to a point where you learn things you didn’t know about yourself. I like to write. I like to write and I show people what I write. Not everyone of course. There’s a saying that says the eyes are the doorways to the soul, well I’ve learned how to keep ’em locked down.. But my writing is pretty much handing over the key to my souls safe. I can’t help but be entirely honest when I write. Its like.. I wouldn’t be able to face myself if I wrote anything other than the truth.
But I’m going a bit off topic.. Here’s what happened…

I can still remember the sad yet hopeful looks everyone kept giving me as I walked through the hospital halls. I was cold.. Very cold and I knew it wasn’t the air conditioner. I had already had a bad feeling about it. I already knew what would happen.. But I wouldn’t voice such things until much later. So here I am with my mother, on my personal request because I wanted to see him. She got to talk to him one more time before it all happened. I didn’t.. But I at least wanted to see him.. He was still critical I think. They were still testing him for options because they had diagnosed him before and had been incorrect. But I think they finally were able to figure it out by the time I went to see him. Too little too late of course.. But I’m not there yet.
There are two things I really really hate about hospitals: their smell and the temperature. How the hell is anyone supposed to get better when you can’t tell the differences between scents. Everything always smells like disinfectant or stuff they use to cover up the stench of death. And honestly! Who can get comfortable when its that friggin cold! I dunno, I ain’t into criticizing much, but when I think about it, it kinda ticks me off...

My old man had been in the hospital for about 18 hours if I’m not mistaken. Maybe a little more. If I’d have shown up about 10 hours earlier I could have seem ’im while he was still conscious. But I guess I was just listening to everyone when they’d keep telling’ me he’d be ok. My gut knew better but I assume it was wishful thinking. So back to retrospection.. I was walking down the halls and everyone’s giving me that “ oh poor thing” look. Like it was just as bad to be a visitor as to be a patient where we were goin’. I ignored them.. I ignored everyone really. Hell I wasn’t even payin’ attention to my ma’. She’d be talkin’ about how he’d be ok and they he probably wasn’t going to look to good right now but he’d be fine. I know this because she told me.. But if it was left up to me to remember I wouldn’t be able to. I was too far gone.. My father the one person I’d come to fully trust and need. I depended on his fully.. I was exactly like him.. He was immortal in my mind. And the one person I would have dread to ever see in such a state. But in the end, life tends to hit you where it really hurts. God has this way of always proving you wrong once you think you’ve got it all figured out. And what I had figured was that he wouldn’t Dare take the one thing that meant everything to me. Daddy’s lil’ girl, some people would say. I grew up knowing how to fight for what I believed in.. He taught me that.. Hell I grew up practically fighting all the time. But that’s another story.. Point in this one is my old man was in the hospital which I had already come to loath and there was nothing I could do about it. And so we’d have to wait..…I hate waiting..

Eventually we reached where they’d placed him. He of course didn’t have his own room because he was still in intensive care, but the nurse had just cleaned him up so he should have been more comfortable. Of course.. he wouldn’t know.. I Wouldn’t know. They had already had to put him in a semi-coma. Apparently his lungs had failed and they had to hook him up to this machine so he could breathe. I didn’t know the details.. Actually I still don’t. Ma’ doesn’t like to talk about it.. So here I am.. With my ma’ and some friends from church, staring down at my father who looked like some sort of a fucked up version of Darth Vader hooked up and a crappy machine. Ok.. So maybe he didn’t look That bad and onn a personal note I think my father was Much more attractive than the original actor of Darth Vader in the 6th Star wars movie…Then again Anikin had sorta been burned alive o.o.. heheheh.. ‘Scuse me.. can’t help but be cynical sometimes. Anyways… I guess its time to get serious.. Maybe not .. Who knows…

He was very pale.. All I could remember was me staring right at him for minutes without blinking. Eventually I would ask everyone to leave.. I needed a moment alone with him. My mother didn’t seem too sure about it but respected my wishes. There’s this theory that says that people that are placed or fall into coma’s can still hear their surroundings. A lot of people have been known to come back from their coma’s due to being spoken.. But my father’s was induced. See he had this tube stuck into his mouth all the way down into his lungs cuz he couldn’t breathe and they needed to keep him K.O.ed so the tube wouldn’t trigger that gag mechanism or make him uncomfortable. So no waking up for this guy. Nope..he’d be out till the end. I know I may sound cold about all of this sometimes. But you can get tired of being sad all the time.. You can get tried of crying, or hell even of bein’ angry. I’m not sure what I am right now.. But I always miss him… Here I am goin off track again..

Alone with my father.. I was staring right at him trying to see what the fuck I can say. Hell I didn’t wanna wake him.. He’s got a friggin tube down his throat. I wouldn’t wanna wake up to that. I start talk anyways. I can’t remember what I said because all I could really think about was how bad his last respiratory attack had been… His tube was covered blood. Did it hurt? It probably did.. Coughing up blood is never a good sign.. And yet they still have the nerve to tell me he was going to be ok. I eventually stoped talking… I don’t know if he could hear me but I do know I choked.. And I couldn’t talk anymore. For a second I figured maybe I was getting asthma.. I inherited part of my old mans breathin’ condition and sometimes I get these stupid asthma attacks.. but I have had one in a while so its probably not as bad as his… I was choking.. Because throughout this whole process I already knew he would die and I couldn’t cry about it cuz there was no proof. Technically there still wasn’t.. but I knew.. I saw him.. I saw the blood covered tube.. I saw how the machine was the thing making his chest rise and fall in order for him to breathe. I saw how pale he was.. Yes I definitely knew.. I have other reasons to believe I knew.. Yet again another story but I’ll fill you in on a few details. My ma’ says its some sort of gift, some friends say it’s a sort a sixth sense, some would even dare say its in my bloodline somehow. I didn’t care.. still don’t. I always just, know.. it’s a rule though.. I can’t tell anyone.. Who’s rule? Mine.. I’d rather be right and know myself then wrong and seem crazy…

So in my knowing…I cried…for those who know me, they can tell you how extremely hard it Is to make me cry… And I was crying.. Very hard… The thing is about crying.. is that in the end its good for you. Unfortunately for me, only in rare occasions could I ever bask in such freedom of feeling. So I took every second I cold to just Cry. Then I realized I couldn’t take anymore.. I couldn’t see this.. I didn’t want to be staring at my dying father knowing he would die and not be able to tell anyone. So as a good girl raised in a Christian home.. I prayed.. Maybe not the best way I should of.. For I cursed the moment I knew of what would happen. I cursed everyone that kept telling me there was a purpose in everything.. I’m not sure if I had the gull to but I’m pretty sure I even cursed God and his ridiculous game in purposes and will. His will non the less. I told him to take my father as quickly as he could.. My old man never did a damn thing to deserve a painful death so he should take him now and get it over with. Course as humorous and egocentrical as God is.. and I mean this with no disrespect to him only in truth as we as humans can understand it.. He would Not take my father in that moment. Only after.. When I would grow tired of crying.. When my mother took my by the arm and led me out. Visiting hours were over.. I wanted to stay… I wanted to say goodbye.. I wanted hear him one last time.. But I wouldn’t.. I’d never voice such desires. Again not until much later.

And now it was time to wait… Everyone still had it in them to tell me we’d just wait until body would start responding to the treatments and he’d be fine. Everyone waiting for him to come out… I didn’t though. I guess you could say I’d gotten over the denial of it all. I knew.. Don’t ask me how but I did. So I sat quietly waiting.. God I hate waiting. I hate the cold.. And that stupid smell. We went to my aunts house a bit after to wait there too. And we waited and waited.. And at 10 pm my ma’ got a call. I pretended not to listen.. But I was right up the stairs. They called her to go to the hospital. Of Course they wouldn’t tell her over the phone… But I’d have to wait again until she got back and confirmed what I already knew.. He was gone. Again.. I don’t know the details on how his death was… weather it was painful or peaceful.. Did he ever wake up? Never really asked. I guess I don’t really want to know if he was in pain before he died. Ignorance is bliss..

So what’s the point in all this? Why did I tell my old mans story ? Mostly everyone I know knows it by now I think. I guess there’s real no point. I just hate hospitals. I hate remembering the reasons why we’d always have to be there. I hate the cold.. I hate the Smell. Maybe hate is a strong word for it.. Hell I could just say I have a strong dislike for them. But I don’t think it would quite cut it… In time I believe This hate Could turn into a strong dislike.. Maybe even simply not care.. But for now I’ll simply state and affirm what has been told…

Felicidades pa'

Oí tus pasos, lentas y pasadas, muy temprano en la mañana. Oí como entraban a mi habitación, con esa paciencia eterna sin acelerar ni un momento. Mantuve mis ojos cerrados por miedo que fuera falsa mi ilusión. Aun estaba entre sueños y despierta, donde una vez nos prometimos encontrarnos. Oí como pausabas al lado de mi cama y como tu respiración profundo ya no se esforzaba para recibir el regalo de la vida que el aire nos da. Esperé escuchar tu voz, esa voz tan profunda y potente que siempre se llenaba de ternura al hablarme calladamente. Esperé escuchar mi nombre, gentilmente pidiéndome que me despierte pues ya el sol se asoma para saludarme. Sentía tu mirada sobre mi, tan tierno y cariñoso, tan humilde y paciente, tan amorosas. Pero no abría mis ojos, ahora, por miedo de llorar. Por miedo de dejar caer la prueba que te extraño. Esperé… esperé, tus pasos daban hacia atrás tentativamente. Ya era tiempo de partir, pues el lugar donde aguantaban los sueños e imaginación tan cerca a la realidad ya desaparecía. Imagine tu sonrisa de despedida, medio tristón pero aceptante de la realidad. Oí tus pasos partir hasta que solo el silencio consumía mi audición. Esperé… esperé a que la realidad me abriera los ojos a un nuevo día. Aun abriéndolas y viendo mi habitación vacía mis oídos buscaban escuchar tus pasos. Nada.. Esperé… y al esperar me di cuenta de que eras tu quien me esperabas. Eras quien querías que yo hablara, pues hoy es tu día. Yo tan egocéntrica… discúlpame...
“Felicidades padre… has cumplido un año mas en mi corazón.”

Frases favoritas de amor

Ámame cuando menos lo merezca, ya que es cuando más lo necesito.

El amor no es fantasía, el amor es poesía y es por eso que te digo que yo te amaría, aunque tú no me quieras.

El amor es una condición en la que la felicidad de otra persona es condición imprescindible para su propia felicidad.

Si realmente quieres a alguien, lo único que quieres para él es su felicidad, incluso si tú no se la puedes dar.

Ama hasta que te duela. Si te duele es buena señal.(madre teresa de calcuta)

Te amo para amarte y no para ser amado, puesto que nada me place tanto como verte a ti feliz.(gorge sand)

Muy frecuentemente las lágrimas son la última sonrisa del amor.(stendhal)

Si no recuerdas la más ligera locura en que el amor te hizo caer, no has amado.(william shakespear)

Cuando no se ama demasiado no se ama lo suficiente.(blaise pascal)

Las cartas de amor se escriben empezando sin saber lo que se va a decir, y se terminan sin saber lo que se ha dicho.(jean jacques rousseau)

Lo contrario del amor no es el odio, sino la indiferencia.(Elie Wiesel)

Se me olvido..

Se me olvidó!
Que desesperación, que frustración!
Que desencanto con esta emoción!
Se me olvido llorar!...

¿Como liberar todos esos dolores?
¿Como aliviar esta presión dentro de mi pecho?
Este sentimiento que me lleva a la locura,
Que me invade los sentimientos,
Y me despierta esta ternura.

¿Que haré?
Si no puedo hacer que pare el tiempo,
Ni que esta angustia cese,
Que se lleve mi aflicción el viento,
Ni que mi cuerpo no me pese.
Pues sin ti no puedo volar,
No puedo andar, ni caminar.
Y lo peor de todo es,
Que ahora no logro llorar.

Se me olvido!
Ay que tortura! Se me olvido!
Mis lagrimas no forman al yo quererlo.
Lo que crece es el escarmiento de lo pasado..
De lo aprendido de tu sonrisa,
Al siempre querer yo verlo.

Me siento y analizo,
Propongo y desafío.
Pero no lloro..
No nunca lloro..

Mi corazón lo pide ya,
Liberación de lo que está.
Pero el tiempo se me va,
Y ni una lagrima no se me da.

Sin embargo al pensar en ti,
Lo que quiero es soltar un llanto.
Por que hasta sueños pusiste en mi,
E invades oraciones de mi canto.

Te recuerdo siempre,
Te olvidare nunca.. jamás.
Pero en tu ausencia y silencios,
Es inevitable mirar hacia atrás.

Se me olvido y no recuerdo

No puedo Llorar!!
Lo necesito,
Anhelo soltar a gritos lo que siento.
Decirle al mundo que te extraño!
Gritarle todo que llevo por dentro.

No puedo llorar,
Pues no recuerdo como.
Pero el ardor que hace mi guitarra resonar,
Inspira las canciones que aun entono.

Se me olvido…
Se me olvido llorar..
Es algo que aun me enloquece,
Pero sin ti.. es algo que nunca voy a lograr.

Extrañar es amar

No sabes cuantas veces al dia yo pienso en ti al tu no estar.
Las veces ke te extraño de momento, y luego me dan ganas de llorar.
Pues no te tengo en ese momento y te recuerdo sin cesar.
Esto definitivamente querer..esto es amar .

Mis manos..

Mis manos son muy ásperas,
Muy duras.
Por el tiempo y la práctica,
Por mi arte.
Por mi amor y pasión,
y razón de vivir.
Creando melodías e incoherencias,
Forcejeando con quien me obligue.

Casi no queda ese toque gentil de mi niñez.
El toque delicado que aun intento asimilar.
Esas manos suaves y tiernas,
Tan inocentes y sin dañar.
Ya solo quedan memorias de esas manos,
Pues ya no está,
Y lo que queda son mis intensiones.

Estas manos,
Tan brutos y fuertes,
Que expresan frustración por violencia,
Que se desahogan con golpes
Que gritan y se ríen a la vez al recibir su pago de dolor.
No se podrán escapar de lo que merecen,
Pues el precio de sus violencias será alta.

Estas manos tan rotas y abusadas,
Le quedan poca delicadeza
Y no se atreven tocar tu cara,
Tan bella y tierna,
Esa obra intocable.
La obra preciosa que no tiene precio.
La que encontré y ahora escondo del mundo.
Pero aun no atrevo dañarte con mi toque brusco.

Estas manos..
Tímidas y reservadas,
Que expresan amor por caricias invisibles con mis melodías.
Te protegerán.
Con las canciones creadas y aprendidas al azar,
Te traerán paz mientras lo busques.
Hasta sin preguntar lo harán.

Estas manos…
Ya han aceptado la realidad.
Manos ásperas, manos duras,
Manos apasionadas, enamoradas,
Manos violentas y descuidadas.
Solo con mis canciones..
Solo con mi pensar.
Sin esas creaciones,
Nunca te podrán tocar.

Why..!

Authors note: Emotions i felt quite some time ago. Time has passed and i have indeed moved on..but the power of such sudden emotions are still clear to me..


Why did you have me believe he'd be ok!
Why did you make me think he'd come home the next day.
Why did'nt i say Goodbye the last day of his life!
I told you to take his suffering away, but i did'nt mean for you to take him away. I did'nt know you would. I did'nt think you would.
I wanted to hear his voice again. You did'nt even give me the chance to hear him speak again. I wanted to make him laugh and smile, and even fight again.
I'm so mad at you..
I'm so terribly angry at what you've done.
WHY God! WHY!
I can't think straight, or even pray. Cuz each time i try, I end up fighting with you all over again.
I don't think its fair..though you're will says it is.
I think thats what makes me angrier.
...
I still needed him. WE Still needed him.
You made mom cry, and my sisters too.
She says she's just healing, but it feels like stabs to an open wound.
I'm so angry..
I'm so angry.
I'm so angry at you.
I'm writing this down because i find no other way to tell you without scaring half the neighborhood. I want to scream and yell and throw things around. I'd break down the house, the hood, the world if i could. I can't though. i just can't.. I know he would'nt want that. But its how i feel. How i think i could get the message through to everyone, that im NOT ok. not now anyways..maybe not for a long time.
I'm SO BLOODY Angry!
I could Yell it out Forever , but i bite my tounge instead.
I need you to know, it does'nt mean i don't love you, but im so mad.
Full of scorn, and resentment.
I can't hate you cuz i love you, but it makes it even worse. It makes me madder all the same.
My eyes burn from all those tears.
I have no voice from all that screaming.
I've had enough!
Just know this..
I'm angry at you
So angry..
And im tired od asking 'Why'
I want him back!
But you won't bring him back from his new home. I know you would'nt do that to him either.
I know you won't...
I'm angry.
I'm crying..
And i miss him so much..
I'm angry..I'm Angry
...I'm so angry it hurts..
Please....please make it stop...

Pocas palabras..decir mucho

No fue un hombre de muchas palabras. Hasta mi madre me lo ha confirmado. Siempre fue directo y bastante franca en su expresión verbal y era poco común de él adornar con palabrerías. Pero cada vez que abría la boca para hablar y su voz potente pero siempre gentil se escapaba de sus labios, el mundo se callaba. Con lo que decía era suficiente. Pudieron haber sido par de oraciones como unos simples palabras. Te dejaban pensando, aunque no lo quisiera… mejor dicho, especialmente cuando no querías. Sus palabras penetraban la mente, revolcando todo lo tradicional y cambiando el pensar vago y conformista en que uno esta acostumbrado. Si.. De eso era capaz. No eran palabras que te trataban de convencer por medio de discusión y discurso, sino eran de pura verdad. Hasta con sus silencios lograba hacerte contemplar su punto, haciéndote romperte le cabeza al tratar de averiguar su mensaje escondido.


Era difícil discutir con él. Por lo dicho, no hablaba si no era necesario y te podía hacer callar con esas pocas palabras que frustraban y agitaban al siempre contener la verdad. Era un hombre justo y firme, por lo tanto sus palabras solían ser igual. Y cuando me ponía terca y no quería escuchar esas verdades, simplemente me miraba fijamente, con esos ojos tan oscuros y profundos, hasta por fin captar mi atención. Con la misma paciencia repetía su pensar y te dejaba contemplarlo. A veces pasaban minutos antes que el volviera a hablar, pero no pasaba mucho tiempo mas después de esto que nos sacaba de tal estado de pensar. Le gustaba hacernos reír, y para finalizar esos momentos de “seriedad” siempre ofrecía un abrazo y esas pequeñas palabras de cariño y consuelo. Con esos brazos tan poderosos y grandes podía convertir toda la frustración y molestia previa en tranquilidad y ser un pequeño refugio por ese momento.


No fue un hombre de muchas palabras… Siempre humilde, siempre callado. Era un hombre más de acción. No hacia promesas que no podía cumplir, pero cumplía con mucho más de lo que prometía cuando actuaba. Con sus gestos, tan simples y sobrevisto por muchas personas, eran y son los mas que ocupaban mi mente al recordarlo.

Seré como él. Me tardaría toda una vida por perfeccionar su teoría de vida y manera de ser. Y tal vez nunca lo logre. Pero lo intentare.. Por que lo amaba, y aun lo amo. Lo extrañaré y lo recordaré en cada movimiento y pensar. Seré como el. Lo haré orgulloso. Ya veras..

imperfect angel

It isn’t about how you can change the world,
Its about how you changed mine.

It isn’t about how many lives you can touch,
Its about how the simplest of strokes and gestures,
Had the deepest of emotions erupted within me.

It isn’t about how strong one is by holding in tears.
Its about how true strength comes from the tears you let fall,
And how pure the feeling is.
It takes more than just bravery to do such things.
It is your pain as well as joy that you share with each tear and smile.

And oh how your smile can do more than just express.
Creating the spark of joy within another, no less.
But also giving strength to those who have non.
Making light as bright as our grand sun.

So gaze to the horizon,
Ignore your broken wings.
Perfect in your imperfection,
And beauty among all things.
Trapped in human reality,
My green eyed fallen angel..

A lil' reminder

Roses are black,

my bruises are blue.

Believe it or not,

they remind me of you.

Of the times we beat eachother up,

for no aparent cause.

Laughing our asses off,

and smiling with no pause.

In case you did'nt notice,

yes i still remember you.

Of the times we used to sing,

and jam with our babies too. (our guitars ^_~)

So if you have a little time,

or a spare moment to think.

Remember that i still care,

and would'nt let these memories sink.

Becuase even as time go by,

and things around us seem to fly.

I'll always slow down time and smile,

and sit back and remember for a while.

Knowing that deep down your my sis,

one that i've come to dearly miss.

So here it is,my reminder to you,

a little something you should think through.

To relive our memories,

is a way to keep hope.

That one day i'll see you,

till then you better not choke.

Hold ur chin up,

and give me a lil grin.

In the end,

you know we'll always win.

Even if we lose,

hoping is not a sin.

For in the end,

you'll always be my kin.

Entre sueños y despierta..

Surgen muchos momentos donde aun me pregunto como seria si estuvieras aquí. ?Podría hablarte de igual forma en que solía hacerlo antes? O tal vez seria una hija rebelde que no le dirige ni la mirada a sus padres? Hm..jejej.. Ese pensamiento me parece ridículo. Te amaba demasiado. Si..demasiado. Aun me despierto por las mañanas pensando en que te voy a ver, luego caigo en cuanta de que esa ilusión simplemente era formulada por mi estado de mente..Entre sueños y despierta..

Ahí es donde siempre me recuerdo de ti. Me parece injusto porque solo dura unos pocos segundos. Me parece una eternidad en el momento..pero no lo es. Es un momento demasiado corto para fingir que aun sigues aquí. Solo tengo ese momento para sentir que aun te tengo. Y luego despierto y te extraño, por que se que aunque te llame no abrirás la puerta de mi cuarto para asegurarte que estoy bien. Entonces..recuerdo.

Recuerdo todo y contemplo el pasado que nunca aprecié ni valorice mientras estabas aquí. Y ahora que es muy tarde no puedo detener mis pensamientos mientras el silencio es un recordatorio constante de que ya no estás.

Como seria si estuvieras? Me he acostumbrado a pensar en estas cosas. Hasta con las cosas mas tontas. Como.. “que dirías si supieras de mis días?”. Me pregunto si te contaría todo. Lo mas probable es que no. Soy como tú..casi no hablo. Contemplo muchas cosas en mi silencio como lo hacías tu..pero no hablo mucho. Pero de todos modos el pensar en escuchar tu voz una vez mas me hace preguntar estas cosas.. “Estarías orgulloso de la persona que soy?, Seria la misma? Quizás no seria igual al tenerte. Pero sigue siendo un deseo en mí quererte oír.

Entre sueños y despierta… Te digo que me hables. Que me digas todo lo que te ocurre, y si no, que me cuentes de tu día, que me digas tus chistes ridículas o comentarios con el detalle de sarcasmo feliz que tanto me hace reír. Y que mucho me reiré contigo.

Tu risa! Quiero escucharlo. Era una voz potente y profunda resonando por toda la casa como un trueno de alegría. Me recuerdo bien de eso. Me hacia sentir como si me llenera con un calor inmenso y que mi ser sintiera la fortaleza para hacer lo que fuera, lo difícil, lo imposible. No hay muchas cosas que pueden lograr eso. Con un gesto tan simple.. Algo tan natural.. Y que tenga la capacidad de influenciar tanta potencia en mi. Lo hacías con tanta facilidad que aun no entiendo en el día de hoy. Haría todo lo posible para hacerte reír nuevamente.

Entre sueños y despierta.. Le doy gracias a Dios por el momento que me dio para estar sentada junto a ti a la orilla de aquel lago inmenso, a simplemente hablar. No..Nunca ocurrió mientras estuve despierta y mientras dormía solo me consumían mis memorias. Al pasar el tiempo recordar como sonaba tu voz se me hace mas y mas difícil. Que horror!.. Que desesperación..el pensar que se me olvida el sonido de tu risa, el tono de tu voz, y la calma que esa voz me traía. NO! Me resisto! No lo hare!…

Entre sueños y despierta, gastamos el tiempo en simplemente estar, en existir…en vivir. Sin dirigirnos ni una palabra. Solo de sonríes. Con eso basta, porque con tan solo eso, me dices que me amas. Me dices que de igual forma que yo te extraño a ti, tu también me extrañas.
Pero nuestro tiempo es corto, y antes de que me pueda acercar para recibir tu abrazo de seguridad, me despierto y me encuentro sola nuevamente. Y lo único que puedo hacer es esperar hasta nuestro nuevo encuentro, de yo volver a estar entre sueños y despierta y recordar en los momentos que te tenia a mi lado. Luego pensare en los momentos que te necesito y nunca volverás a estar. Te extraño.

Ahora esperare pacientemente, hasta que llegue ese momento de estar, de encontrarte… entre sueños y despierta.

I am..

I can hear them yelling and screaming even now…They cheer, they boo, they demand more blood. And yet I am the one placed with the title of a savage… a barbarian… uncivilized. They think I don’t understand such words. They believe I cannot speak. Heh, funny what people will choose to believe when one simply keeps their silence.

It’s almost my turn… My nerves are on edge and my senses heightened to their fullest. I can feel the hairs on the back of my neck stand on end. My body begins to perspire as the adrenaline within me already begins to build. My breath comes steady as I close my eyes. I can smell the bitter scent of blood, sand and dirt. My thoughts and stillness overcome any fear that would attempt to invade. The men around me are trembling. One of them is so terrified that he is urinating on himself. I pity him.. He reminds me of an abused mutt. He’ll be among the first to die.

I hope it is a quick death. Fear is a handicap. It freezes your bones and cramps up your muscles. It only rarely can be put to any real use. When placed within your enemy. I have no use for it though. I refuse to bring forth such a miserable and pathetic death.
The cheers roar loudly once again. Those who’ve fought before us put on a good show it would seem. The people are pleased. Such a disgusting display of what human nature can become. My stomach churns with the thought of how cruel each and everyone of them are. Curse them. They’ve created what we are. We exist because they choose to have us continue on like this. We have no choice.. Fight or die.. This is all we have.

The cuffs on my wrists are removed. I could kill the man watching of us if I wished to with a simple movement. But I don’t. It isn’t his fault this evil game exists. He wouldn’t last a minute if ever told to participate. I open my eyes now. I’ll need them. I need every inch of me to be aware. And yet I know in the end I lose myself in it all. And I will not return until its over. And yet if I fail to make it to the end.. I won’t be coming back at all. I do not fear death for it is a glorious thought to die in the midst of battle. And yet that is not the reason why I do not fear it. It simply is not something to fear. On the contrary its something to embrace. Oh, what an adventure and trial it would be! Its one I wish to take someday. Not today though. Nor the day after. So long as Cesar gives me a sword and shields my body with even the worst of his armor, I will fight. I will kill. And I will live. With only the memories of my past before this life to keep me company.

No.. My life was not always filled with death and the need to live. The life I have now should not even be called as such. This is not life.. It is survival.. And even then I think it’s a poor excuse to live. And yet I do. For I am filled with far too much pride to allow anyone to simply take my life. But the memories before this.. Then I truly lived. And perhaps one day when my arms are too weak and my freedom is granted I shall see but a piece of that life again. Though it is a fools hope to believe in such things. I shall surely die before that time comes. But I simply refuse to lay down my weapons and wait to be slaughtered. I believe it to be my pride that keeps me this way. I am no animal to be murdered before the public. If I am to be killed may it be in the glory of combat!

The gates are opening.. I can hear the sound of some sort of chained weapon being swung around and around at ready to take the life of any fool that would happen to run out blindly. My heel lightly taps each time the end of the weapon comes around. I hated these sort of men. They had no sense of honor. The smell of sweat was beginning to irritate me so it was a relief to feel the dry gust of fresh air as finally the gates swung open. I knew who I would kill first.. That disgraceful honor less excuse of a human waiting to take lives unfairly right at the entrance of the gate. It is time. We charge. Some yell and howl out their native battle cries, others simply scream in pure terror. Not more than a fiew seconds go by and already three have already been killed. Blood splatters upon my helm and soaks into my skin as I cut away at my enemy’s. I’ve already beheaded the honor less coward at the gate. A quick death.. Not one he deserved. But I have no time. I never remember how many they are, how many I’ve killed. What would the point be I wonder? They’ll only be more. Their faces once haunted me in my dreams. I could remember their screams and see the images of their blood being spilt at my hand. No longer though… With time the terror of murdering dies within you heart and only the will to live dominates.

It is ending, there aren‘t many of us left. I have killed my opponents and am weary. But we’re not quite done. The last of our enemy is very strong. A veteran at taking lives. The grim reaper of our kind. Not for long I think. Two men charge at him. “No you fools! Do not take him on directly! Damn!”. I run as fast as I can after them from another angle. I am too far away to reach them in time to help much less save them. But it was their choice… And I will use it. Both were struck down in two clean blows of the reapers twisted bloody blade. I wonder if he himself fears the death he brings with such ease.. I leap into the air as he spun around to face me. His eyes wide. I cannot see his face for it is masked but still through the slits I can see his surprise. Such acrobatics are not expected in a battle of life and death. He is aware now and shows no sign of expecting to lose. He does not believe me capable of claiming his life. I yell out each time my sword collides with his twisted and deformed blade. I have never seen such a weapon before. It was made for him certainly. Made to inflict the most pain possible. To humiliate its victims as it butchers their flesh. To die by this ones blade would give me no pride. I will not die. Are weapons continue to collide one blow after the other. My arm is tiring fast. He is much too strong to defeat in this manner. I need to think quickly. And so I retreat in hopes that the dolt will follow. And he does. I don’t run very far for his pace would risk slowing if he saw he could never truly catch up. And I need his speed. I need him to be clumsy. He’ll make a mistake. In fact he already has. Now! I suddenly come to a halt and spin around, dropping to my knees feeling as his blade missed my head by mere inches. I hold my arms out firmly as I thrust my blade into his belly. The idiot didn’t use armor that protects there. My blade slides in with ease for the only think stopping it was fat and lard. I growl as my arms suddenly feel the pressure of the dying reapers weight. I haven’t the strength to hold him up so I twist my sword free tearing open his oversized belly and rolled out of the way. Down fell the dying killer, and it was done.

The people suddenly burst out in cheers and begin to chant. It isn’t my name though.. I can hardly remember my name. It is merely a title and I care little for it. Still panting for air my eyes avert from my fallen victim to my surroundings. Four.. Only four lived this time. Two will die tonight from blood loss and I cannot see the other very well but it would seem if he fought again he would surely die due to inexperience and his current wounds. Now I close my eyes again. My brow furrowed as I escape once more into my thoughts. Blocking out the cheers and yells and drums of my surroundings. I calm my breath and allow my senses to numb.

I am in the fields again. The smell of metallic blood is replaced with that of dew and grass. The air is warm and the sun has begun to set. A gentle breeze brushes through my hair and kisses my skin. Slowly, very slowly I think of home. But before I can see my humble refuge upon that hill at the distance, I am shaken back into reality. They’re taking me back…

The cheers are now muffled by the underground walls. My eyes hold a cold stare. I know this because not even those who held me prisoner dare look into them. I am sitting now… Staring straight forward and contemplating what I’ve become. I shall never be who I once was again. But this is to be expected… I am strong.. I am ruthless.. I am a killer and survivor.. I am Gladiator.