MauroCubaFer

Mauro, todo bien con vos.

Cuba, todo mal con vos, te odio.

Fer, ¡te quiero tanto! Te lo dije recién y te puse incómodo pero no importa, ¡¡te re re re re quiero!!

whole lotta losin'

Desde hace casi una semana, Mauro y yo nos veníamos chamuyando, primero en joda, después no tanto. Hoy le di. Nos quedamos todos haciendo puerta, y como a las 2.15 nos apartamos y nos dimos. Cuando me fui, me saludó con un pico. Sabiendo qué significa eso, me preocupo un poquito, porque yo no quiero nada, solo darle. Ni sé si quería darle, me gustaba el juego de tirarse onda, y el resultado final para mí es como daño colateral. Me dio igual, la verdad. Fue raro no sentir nada. Me acordé de cosas que me había olvidado, de cuando estábamos vos y yo. Me dijeron que te jodió un poco esto de Mauro, que le habías dado permiso pero que le habías pedido que no fuera en frente de él, porque no nos querías ver. Aye me contó que le dijiste que nunca supiste bien qué pasó, ni qué sentías por mí. Argüello me contó que cuando abracé a Mauro te calentaste porque fue como cuando te abrazaba a vos.

Tengo demasiado miedo de hacerme ilusiones, pero aunque no quiera ya me las estoy haciendo. Sé que se me va a pinchar la burbuja en algún momento, pero hasta entonces estoy en una etapa regresiva, en la que todo lo que avancé lo retrocedo. Hoy hasta tuve el vacío otra vez. Te extraño tanto. Tantotantotanto. Quiero una oportunidad, en la que estemos los dos en pedo, para decírtelo. Así voy a tener la excusa de que no sabía lo que estaba diciendo y se me escapó, pero a la vez vas a saber.

Pero sea como sea, no me olvidaste. No te chupo un huevo. No desapareció de la nada todo lo que tuvimos en el verano. No sabés cuánto significa eso para mí.

Todavía te amo.

PD: creo que no le voy a decir a Fer lo de Mauro. Lo va a lastimar al pedo.

Hoy

Hace tres meses lloraba, vacía, no veía salida, me ahogaba. Me acababas de cortar. Hablaba con Aye a veces, a veces con Marina, o con MC, o con Juli. Una semana después empecé a hablar con Fer. Le debo tanto a Fer. Me hizo tan bien, sentí que le podía contar todo, todo de todo, y que realmente me escuchaba, y le importaba. No me importaba qué me aconsejaba, pero poder contarle a alguien. Él también me contó todo. Fue una relación por Messenger. Empezó con un A:"¿cómo andás?"

F:"y, más o menos"

A:"unite al club"

Y nos contamos todo. Después de hablar con él me desaparecía el vacío por un rato, era increíble. Estaba todo el tiempo que estaba despierta con el vacío, salvo después de hablar con él. No sé qué hacía. Me hizo sentir querida cuando más lo necesité, acompañada cuando me sentí más desolada. Todo eso, por MSN. Suena superficial y ficticio, pero esos dos adjetivos son los que menos califican a la relación.

Hoy, tres meses después, algunas cosas se han agregado a mi historia. Me astigarché a la razón de tanto sufrimiento y dije que lo había superado, pero nunca supe si lo había hecho apropiadamente. Prácticamente dejé de llorar, eso sí. Seguí bloqueándome mentalmente al verlo, y seguí ideando situaciones en las que él me decía que quería volver, en las que yo le daba un sermón que siempre quedaba inconcluso, porque en realidad no sé qué le respondería. Fer, aunque no me lo dijo explícitamente, me tiró tantos palos que me podría armar una cabaña amueblada, y no sé qué decirle si llega el momento crítico. No quiero estar con él, pero es muy sensible, y no quiero lastimarlo, porque admito que le seguí la corriente. Me ayudó tanto, y la verdad es que lo necesito, no quiero perderlo. No merece que lo vuelvan a rechazar. No sé qué voy a hacer.

Why d'ya have to be so cute?

It's impossible to ignore you-ou-ou.

So unfair, you're se beautiful. My friends tell me you're not hot, you've just got what we call "facha", which would be stile and attitude I guess, but they don't undestand that any flaw they may see just makes you more (if possible) irresistible.

Today you told Vinchu he smelled like me. Yeah, he told me. You remember my smell. A few hours later, MC had this weird smell on her hands. We were with Mauro, Nico and you. You all agreed it smelled like pussy. I thought it smelled like dick, but didn't say anything. It was weird, you knowing how my pussy smells, I laughed for myself.

You have a crush with Majo. That cracker faced, boring whore, what the fuck's up with that?

I don't know if I love you anymore. I don't know anything really. I've just thought too much, drawn too many conclusions, now it's all a big mess, so I don't know if I love you, if I miss you, if I'd ever want to get back together with you.

Tu calor

Te siento todavía. Tus brazos nunca me soltaron. Siento tu olor, tu pelo oscuro en mi cara, mi nariz pegada a tu hombro. Me preguntás qué me pasa, te digo nada, me sostenés más fuerte, y respiro hondo. Una lágrima en tu remera. Dos. Tres. Hace dos lágrimas que me soltaste, pero sigo entre tus brazos. Puedo, si quiero, levantar la cabeza y rozar mi mejilla contra la tuya, y sentir dos días sin afeitar. Tu calor. Una mano la tenés sobre mi cintura, la otra más arriba en la espalda. Me tenés más fuerte, más fuerte, más fuerte, ya no respiro. Tu olor ya es mi olor, tu latido, el mío. Tu calor. Sollozo, te mojo el pelo. Mi mano con tu cuello.

Un minuto. Dos. Tres. Hace dos meses que me soltaste, pero sigo entre tus brazos. Hace dos meses se quedó todo conmigo. Tu remera gris, tus manos acariciándome, tu piel con su olor, la presión de tus brazos en mi espalda, tu pecho, subiendo y bajando lentamente. El abrazo terminó hace dos meses, pero sólo lo sé porque desde hace dos meses que hace mucho frío.

The march of progress continues

Well, a fair amount of hime has passed since last post. A fair amount of things happened. I got drunk, you got high, you took my hand and led me to a doom, closed the door and started undressing me without turning on the light. I said "Wait, no. I'm not your girlfriend."

You said "Oh right... but I'm not gonna fuck you!"

"I know, but still..." I soon stopped pretending I didn't want you, and gave myself to you. This was a friday, about a month ago. That next Monday you thought I was gonna claim my dignity and tell you you were a jerk, but I talked about something else instead. I told you I didn't care about that night, but that you'd really hurt me since you'd left me, pretending nothing had ever happened and making me think I was invisible. You told me that you'd really felt what you'd said, but had just stopped feeling it. I told you that wasn't my point, without specifying whether I believed you or not. I said I felt like I hadn't mean anything to you.

"Ana, you did mean something to me, you meant-"

"I don't want you to tell me what I want to hear. I - I just wanted to tell you that."

And I left you there and walked to the classroom, just like you did two months ago. We haven't spoken since.

I claimed to be over you after that night. I said it was what I needed to forget you, and it was true, mostly: I stopped feeling empty, and I almost haven't cried for you since. Another feeling replaced the emptyness: numbness. An ugly numbness. I convinced myself that nothing had ever meant anything, that you'd never loved me. That way, I knew I'd been stupid, but I stopped torturing myself.

A few days after my speach, Aye told me that you'd asked her to find out whether I was over you. I wasn't really sure, so I skillfully skipped to another subject without answering. I guessed you were just trying to make a point in telling me you did care. Yeah right, yeah right.

You went to a couple of parties I wasn't able to go to, and you didn't make out with anybody (you could of, easily). At Vinchu's, a week ago, Lara sat on top of you, stretched her legs on the sofa, and you started whispering in the corner. You were fidgeting with her stockings, and tore them a bit. Juli looked at me meaningfully, and I looked at her back, like saying "I know, I've been looking." I don't know if it was because of you're good nature, or Vinchu's tact (he interrumpted you two and said something, and you stopped flirting), but you didn't make out. I cried in the car that night anyway.

Last weekend was extra long (4 days), and I dreaded going back to school. I spent most of the time with Marina, and I was so happy.

On Wednesday we went back to school, and it really wasn't that bad. I casually said hi to a friend from the afternoon shift, and Nacho GG asked me if he was the guy you were jealous of, the gayish guy. I couldn't believe my ears. It wasn't him, it was Fer he was talking about. I laughed out loud, I couldn't believe you'd been reading my Facebook wall (you saw a few messages he'd left me) and I could not believe you were actually jealous. Or kinda. Whatever. It made my day, but I pretended not to care.

On Thursday Juli asked me what Nacho GG had said. I asked her how she knew, and she said you'd told her, and that you'd gotten really pissed at GG when he found out, that you didn't want me to think you were jealous in the "wanting me back" kind of way. I said I knew that, I'd never take GG seriously. Juli told me she thought you still loved me, but that you claimed to be over me. Over me? You'd left me! It made no sense, I told her. She agreed. I've learned to not pay attention to Juli's specilations about you wanting me back, they're just never right. Anyhow, I loved her for saying that, even if I asked her not to, because she was confusing me. She and MC told me you didn't want me to dye my hair. I dyed it anyway, today, from blond to darkish brown.

Today Lara was all over you again. On the subway, Juli told me matter-of-factly that she was totally hot for you. I agreed. She said that she'd thought you were hot for her too, but you'd denied it.

"You could of been lying" I thought.

Meanwhile, I've been feeling like crap because of our group of friends. Well, your. I'm only there because I'm friends with the ones from my class, but I'm honestly incapable of sotializing with a large group of mostly guys, who are cracking whitty jokes every minute, I just stay silent. And Juli and MC are best friends now, so I'm excluded, and the other group of girls is just boring, so I don't know where to go when I'm left out. I have Marina, and I have Fer, but neither are there during the day.

Fuck, if I could just know what you've been thinking... all I know is that you de-friended me from Facebook.

Today's count

Last night I wound up crying a fair amount. No, I was a mess. So yesterday's count is

Eyes watered: once

Cried: once

Today

Eyed watered: never

Cried: never

It's probably because I bearly saw you, you went to the "marcha" at 8 and came back at 12.

Last night, after we had our Physics thingy done, we were all walking to the subway, and you mentioned something about the fact that if I were in the night shift I'd actually be happy (can't remember what Mauro and I were talking about exactly) because I'd be with my best friend. I was SO touched that you said that. I know it's really dumb, but you remember (not that you could forget Marina). And that was like aknowledging that we'd had previous conversations about her, and all that that implied (that I used to like her, that I told you so you knew I was bisexual, that we actually talked at one time) And that you were listenting, and that you thought it worthy to add that. And I don't know if that commentary was like some indirect sign of recognition that you unconciously sent me, or maybe you just felt like telling Mauro that I have a best friend, and she goes to school in the night shift. I don't know, maybe Mauro already knows about Marina and I, maybe us not being together broke all privacy rules and now all the guys know I'm semigay. Not that I care, really. I wouldn't be surprised eather, you being the way you are these days. Lara's right, you have changed.

Today's count (so far)

Eyes watered: once

Cried: never

BIG improvement

Again, didn't even say hi. I stared at you a lot though, you're sosososo beautful. Saw you talking to a couple of second years on recess, what the fuck was that all about? You were laughing. You touched Juli on the back. I'm so sick.

That acid post-it I mentioned a few posts back? Well, it was humungus today. I still have it on me, my hope that I can ever have one last dose of you is quickly fading away, I can't ignore reality. You kill me, I wish you knew just that. I wish I could tell you how much you've made me cry, and the hole you've left inside me, that grows back right when I think it's finally healing. And I wish you had an idea of what you did to me, what a dick you're being, I wish you could see though my eyes for a day. Not so you fall for me again, but so you can at least say you're sorry, or not even. So you care a bit. You see me every day, and you think it's just a big akward. Fuck akwardness, you don't know what it's like for me, seeing you. I know I fucked up big time a few months ago, when we first started dating, but really. This? I think I haven't talked to you only because I'm not the one to talk, judging on last november. That's why I want somebody to tell you you're a dick, but not me. Right, that's not happening eather. People love you.

But they don't love you like I love you.

Today's count

Eyes watered: about 4 times, all after school, listening to Taylor Swift, lol

Cried (actual tears running down my face): 1 time, also listening to Taylor Swift (Tears On My Guitar)

Did not speak one word to you, didn't even say hi. Got annoyingly anxious when you gave your Geography oral. I was gesticulating the anwers you didn't know, but you weren't looking. You got an 8 anyway. Heart gave a big leap when I saw you come in the class. You got the highest grade in the class in the Math test (6,50, still didn't pass). Was so happy. Got a bit annoyed when I saw you with your arm around Marie Claire, but all I can do is ignore the fact that you two are practically best friends.

School was pretty good. After school wasn't, but that's just me being a cathartic masoquist.

I read this today:

"Of course you don't want to get him out of your head, that's why it's still so painful. It's like an addiction, it doesn't matter how horrible it is later, the agony of abstinence, the mental and physical damages one had to suffer during the process, you remember the good feeling that you had, and (God!) that loving somebody is one of the most beautiful things that can ever be felt, so you still want at least one last dose before you can quit. It's not the hope of the poor guy that waits for the day when luck smiles at him and his life changes, when all is magically solved, it's the hope of the addict that dreams of feeling it one last time, even if death comes after. Too bad you can't go to the ghetto and do some lines of love."

He wasn't talking to me, but it was like he was.

Monday Morning

It's Sunday night, I'm seeing you in 12 hours. It'll probably be like it's been for the last month. You may be asked to go to give some oral and I'll cry a bit from my desk in the back left corner while I see you, beautiful, and hear your voice, and pray you don't make any mistakes. Maybe Marie Claire will notice again, and ask me what's wrong, and won't believe me when I say "Nothing, really, it's just stupid." Because it's been a month now (a month and nine hours), and at this point it really is stupid to be crying over you. It's embarrassing, and I've stopped talking about it with my friends, I don't want to be a bore, I don't want to seem weak.

And you come in, at seven thirty, and greet me with a casual kiss on the cheek, just like everyone else, but not really. We don't say "hi", we don't make eye contact, and we keep on kissing people like it's no big deal. At least I do. For you, I guess, it's only natural, and you don't think about where we would be kissing if everything were like it's supposed to be. And you don't realize how my heart skips a beat when you walk in the classroom, and three beats when your cheek touches mine.

I don't know if you ever really thought it over, how you consume me every morning, from seven thirty to twelve fifteen. And then we both go our seperate ways, and I cry at home, and you play your computer game and skype with Guido four miles away from my tears. Every day I get a fresh reminder that says "I still love you, and I'll never have you again, there's no hope. I'm invisible to you." It's a big flourescent post-it on my chest, and it's glue is like acid, it's burning it's way through my skin.

That's how it's been for the last month, and that's how it's gonna be tomorrow, and the day after, and the day after. But, still, I can't help hoping that maybe somebody will tell you what a mess I am because of you, and you'll come up and talk to me, because you actually do care for me. And I'll tell you what you've done to me, so you'll know, and you'll say how sorry you are that it had to be this way, and that you still think about me sometimes, and that you miss being my friend. That way I can prove that I didn't dream it all up, because I'm really starting to reconsider my sanity. I had you, I was in you arms, you told me you loved me, you needed me, you asked me that I never leave you. And suddenly you took it all back and pretended it haden't happened. You can't take something like that away from me, they were the best days of my life.

You Were the Light

You are the dark now, but you used to be the light. I'll never regret falling in love with you. Love is all they say it is, the good and the bad. I'd never been so happy. So, even if I'm broken and empty now, for making me discover real, pure happiness, I thank you. I knew from the start that all good things come to an end, and it was fun while it lasted.

I may want to hate you, I may pretend I do, but I can't, and won't. It's just easier to pretend, it hurts so bad that you don't care, that you can pretend nothing ever happened, after all you said to me. You loved me, you gave yourself to me, and I did the same. The difference is I never got myself back.

You are the best parts of all the songs I love.

I Am Broken Parts Of Many

You have me. So you are me. So I am you.

You are inside me.

You pour out, out of my eyes and nose and mouth. I see and breathe and speak you out. I sing and laugh and touch and cry you out. So you are me. So I am you.

I am inside you. I'm unwelcome, but you won't get rid of me. Pour me out. Let me be me. Let you be you. But you don't know. So I am you.

You don't feel me inside you. You don't feel you inside me. You only feel you. So I am you. And I am me in you, and I am you in me, and I am we, but we are they. We aren't. You are. I am. I am many but not really. I am broken parts of many. But you, you are. I won't be me untill you are me.

Of Heartbreak

At least for now, this is a blog about heartbreak, but not for long I hope. You may see the light and come back, but my soul is too fragile to fill it with false hope. I'll get over you one of these days. Seeing you every day certainly doesn't help though. I'll come back to me, stronger and all grown up. So they say.