Crónicas de una licántropa a sueldo.

29-12-10 (00:58 a.m. ) Al llegar a la punta de los bigotes de Dalí, no alcancé el cielo , pero aterrizé en las estrellas.

24-12-10 Una mañana , al despertarme, alcé los ojos al cielo y supe que el adrenalínico surrealismo que le dabas a mi vida , había desaparecido.

Estoy sangrando, pero no sangre, sino sueños , y todos beben de mi, hambrientos de ese éxtasis que solo un genio como yo podría alcanzar. I'm bleeding, not in blood, but in dreams , they all drink from me; eager for an ecstasy that only a genius like me would reach. [25/01/11 09:15 am]

I don't know what to do, I feel trapped in a heartless wonderland, that puts me on my knees and forces me to keep on begging for a better day, for the day a dream can actually come true. I stare at myself in the mirror , and the light in my eyes fades out, and then I cry , and the tears lighten up this darkness , like little flames of life. Heartless wonderland.... the land that enjoys giving me hope , just to take it away , breaking and tearing me apart, I'm strong, I've always been, but sometimes I sit in the darkness, and break down. I'm getting tired of waiting for the day where being pure at heart, will bring me happiness.

Esta noche me iré a la cama con ganas de revolver entre los sueños y los recuerdos que guardo en la papelera de la pasión. Quiero ver qué es lo que queda de mi viejo corazón, el mismo con el que me enamoré. Pero mi viejo corazón , incluso abollado y fuera de mi cuerpo, me hace soñar más que el nuevo...

Tus lágrimas se quedan disecadas en un cuento de rosas de las que ya no queda nada. Y sientes como el corazón se rompe en trozos. La oscuridad te acompaña y es como sentirse solo.

Because I always feel like running Not away, because there is no such place Because if there was, I would have found it by now Because it’s easier to run(…) Because the thing I fear cannot be escaped, eluded, avoided, hidden from, protected from, gotten away from(…) And because you’re going to see me run soon and because you’re going to know why I’m running then. - Gil Scott-Heron

Hay personas, como tú, que saben muy bien como prender las mechas de mis cabellos , las que estan conectadas con mi corazón de granada. Saben bien que bajo mi aspecto de bomba, soy frágil.

Dear Someone, I loved you once upon a dream and I followed you into that dream until I couldn’t find the light and I could no longer fight, and I lost all control…and that is when, I believe, this thing called love came about. I met it quickly and oh, so suddenly in that dream that I barely knew what had hit me. Now, as I look back on the time we shared that I cherished so, my mind is flooded by your memory… I remember the kitchen and the hours we spent there, the nights sky and the fields and the crisp air off the seas and your fingers in my hair… I remember you; there, next to me. I remember how I wrapped myself around you . And most of all…I remember my heart , and how it felt beside yours and how they seemed to beat as one, and all the while I remember thinking that it could never be done. You, me, our life together, our happiness. What could shake it? I remember it so clearly as if it has only just begun. Or as if it was a dream I have only just woken from. All I know...

Don’t Take Anything Personally. Nothing others do is because of you. What others say and do is a projection of their own reality, their own dream. When you are immune to the opinions and actions of others, you won’t be the victim of needless suffering

You will walk differently alone, dear, through a thicker atmosphere, forcing your way through the shadows of chairs, through the dripping smoke of the funnels. You will feel your own reflection sliding along the eyes of those who look at you. You are no longer insulated; but I suppose you must touch life in order to spring from it. - F. Scott Fitzgerald, Tender Is the Night

"Why don’t you love me?” is impossible as a question (though a far less pleasant one) to ask as “Why do you love me?” In both cases, we come up against our lack of conscious control in the amorous structure, the fact that love has been brought to us as a gift for reasons we never wholly determine or deserve. To ask such questions, we are forced to veer on one side towards complete arrogance, on the other to complete humility: “What have I done to deserve love?” asks the humble lover; I have done nothing. “What have I done to be denied love?” protests the betrayed one, arrogantly claiming possession of a gift that is never one’s due. To both questions, the one who hands out love can only reply: “Because you are you” – an answer that leaves the beloved dangerously and unpredictably strung between grandiosity and depression.

What I want is to be needed. What I need is to be indispensable to somebody . Who I need is somebody that will eat up all my free time, my ego, my attention. Somebody addicted to me. A mutual addiction.