Category Archives: hell

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Ten things I don’t know

1. I don’t know how I survived the destruction, the solitude, the abandonment. And yet I did.

2. I don’t know how this new stage of change will end, where it is leading. I feel there is nothing set, nothing established.

3. I don’t know how to change the things I am doing wrong. How to make others believe I can and want to change, and , more importantly, how to believe it myself.

4. I don’t know if i should have carried on. I was feeling so weak, so tired, so jaded. I don’t know if I could have. I don’t think I could have carried all my responsibility on my back and drag myself to the shore as well.

5. I don’t know how to face life again. I am afraid. I am hurt, incomplete.

6. I don’t know why I keep being optimistic in the face of adversity. I sometimes don’t understand myself and why it is that I hold on to life so much, so dearly. I don’t know why I still believe in happiness and love.

7. I don’t know what the limit of love is. I don’t know if it is true it lasts forever. That should be good if love is the promise of beauty and growth and the (re-)creation of life. It is not if it destroys the soul of the one who loves. It is not if it brings hell.

8. I don’t know what makes me so different to other people: I understand what goes on in them. But what goes on in me, is difficult to see for others.

9. I don’t know if destiny exists. But I believe that good things come from life. If one expects them, they come to our lives.

10. I don’t know if other people see life the way I do. If they enjoy the wind blowing their hair, feeing its coolness against the skin. If they feel that caress inside themselves. If they see the leaves of the trees dancing rhythmically and they think beauty, they think freedom, they think God.  I don’t know if life is too beautiful, too sweet, too short and too precious to others as it is for me.

My life has been what it has been. I have cried. I have failed to understand the cruelty and the intentions of others and sometimes myself. But I am alive. And I will find my way out of this darkness.

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80 Grados… qué calorrrrrrrrrrr!!!

Ya sé, ya sé. Tanto me quejé por el maldito frío y traer cuatrocientas capas de ropa, que ahora no debería quejarme por el calor inmundo que hace. Todos me dicen: “deberías de estar acostumbrada, vienes de México”. Pues no, les digo, ni vivo en el desierto ni vivo en la selva, no tengo porqué estar acostumbrada al calor. Además, después de año y medio de sombras, por muy acostumbrada que estuviera…
Y por otra parte, creo que el calor húmedo es mucho peor. Es bochornoso, pegajoso, sudoroso, no te secas jamás.
Eso y por increíble que parezca hace mas calor en el jardín que adentro de la casa, así que solamente me limito a ver para afuera a través de la ventana y espero con impaciencia a que baje el sol… a las 8 de la noche.