I have changed.

Some things are good, some not quite so.
I only remember the latter.

Like how I used to read books everyday,
but now I watch TV series daily.
How I used to reflect on world issues with friends.
Whereas now I only care about myself.
I also wanted to help those in need,
but now all I can think of is leaving this place.

I can no longer claim to be an "intellectual",
but a product on your shelves:
a replaceable being
who will not contribute
to important things
or anything at all.

*
It's hard to focus, now.
I can't remember the last paragraph
because I'm keeping busy
with "work" and "exercise" and "digestive" issues.

So I can only wish
for the day when
I'll grab a book,
turn over a page
and lose myself again.

I'm tired.

I'm tired of being
stuck
in the same way
as I've always been
and pretending I'm
as good as I can be.

I'm tired of being
jealous
of all the people
who've worked
hard
to be where
they are now.

Whereas
I am still
in the same place
that I was
at
before.

What she wanted.

Sobbing uncontrollably, mumbling words he couldn't understand. And that pissed her off even more. That he wasn't a mind reader, that he didn't understand she wanted to be with him most of the time. The hell with the status quo, she wanted him right there, penetrating her in that street without anyone being outraged because life is an orgy and let's do as we please. But she did not dare say these things because she knew she was being unreasonable. Because, according to him, she wasn't making sense, so please, could you repeat what you just said?

And here she was, still a mess, even after all this time. Her eyes puffy due to the tears and her clothes completely soaked. The voice in the back of her head was whispering: "You don't want to be safe and calm. You want spontaneity, to be amazed everyday by wonderful things, even if you feel triggered. You want to be pushed further. You don't want to be like this, in this abhorring calmness".

They were wonderful together. A lovely couple, really. All of their friends were jealous of them, the never ending laughter and smiles. But she'd always sought adventure. She was not satisfied, even though they had everything that you ought to have. She was falling back to where she once was. The "bad stuff" had been stored away temporarily, but it was still in there somewhere, forcing its way out.

Why couldn't he read her mind?

I'll love you forever

He hugged her, lifting her off the ground. She looked flawless, all recovered and sobered up.
She smiled.
"Think of me. I may come back someday."
She touched his right cheek, and he started to cry.
"Think of the mild rain that is falling right now. Remember everything we had."

*

"What is it? What's wrong?" He tried to pull up his pants but she kept on pulling them down. "Please, stop it. Stop it, now!" He grabbed her wrists. She groaned. "...Tell me what's wrong."

"Can you fuck me already so we can be done with this?"
He instantly let go and looked straight into her eyes, baffled.

"...Is this all it is for you? Objectifying yourself? We used to make love. What is this?"
She didn't reply.
"Sarah, look at me, please."
Pause. She kept staring at the ceiling.
"Look. At. Me."

"What?", she snapped back, ever so cross.

They gazed at each other for a minute. He then switched off the lamp and lay in the opposite direction. Talking about it would be pointless. She couldn't talk it out.

*

He kept on crying.
"You can't leave... Please, don't".
"I have to. It's my dream", she replied, brushing off one his tears with her finger. "You knew from the start that I'd go with or without you".
She put her arms around him and touched his nose with hers.

*

That day, he was frightened. She had that guilty stare on her face. The stare that meant trouble. "Honey, what is it?" Pause. "...Tell me, what is it? Is everything okay?"
"I think you ought to know I'm leaving this weekend."
Pause.
"...That's in three days."
"I know."
"...Where are you going?", but he knew the answer already.
"Where I've always wanted to be."

*

He leaned to kiss her, but she swayed, so his lips brushed her cheek.
"Please-don't-go."
"My mum is coming back in an hour to take me to the airport."
"Please-don't-go."
She sighed, detaching herself from his body. Her voice was fast-paced:
"I'm all packed up! I don't know how it'll be when I get there, I'll stay in the city for a couple of days, hopefully meet up with some of my old friends-"
"Take me with you."
She stopped talking.

*

It was breaking dawn. He yawned and moved to the other side. His stretched arm felt a pillow. It was cold.
She wasn't there.

"Sarah?"
He could hear her giggling.
"Sarah, what are you...", he half-mumbled, trying to see her.

"I'm in the bathroom. Don't you dare open the door. I'm warning you!"

He laughed.
"Oh, it's gonna be all stinky and disgusting-"

"Shut your face!"

The water was running, and he saw her silhouette near him a few seconds after, the giggles getting stronger.

"I..."

"What?", she asked, laying on her side of the bed.

"I can feel you smiling...", he scratched his head, half-asleep. "...Wait. I'm feeling something on my cheek... Oh-oh, not the neck, not the neck, it tickles!"

The never ending giggles embraced him once more.

*

She was staring at him, again, while he sobbed. The seconds passed. The wind wasn't blowing. She kept on staring.
"...You know I can't stay. The ticket is already paid, so it's impossible for me to delay the flight. My mum is gonna be pissed, she's already miserable because I'm leaving her, please don't be like that too!" She then clasped her hands around his and squeezed them. Her fingers were ice-cold. "Please lie and tell me you'll be okay, please say that you're fine..." The rain was getting heavier. Still no wind. "Sweets, please, say something!"

He stopped crying.
"I can't lie to you."

"Then tell me anything. Anything."

"...I'll love you forever".

"Guilt"

Perpetually sick.
Even after all the promises.
After all the help you've received.

You do it to yourself.
And that's what really-really hurts.
You can't deal with the world.
Even though most people are doing far worse.

You'll always make yourself the victim
out of any situation.
And you can't win
when you're dealing with yourself.

Lima

Sometimes I think my boyfriend is the only reason why I tolerate Lima. If I break up with him, nothing else will keep me grounded. My escapism will take over.

I like planning our getaways, walking with him, eating in nice places (I was gonna say "eating cheese on toast" but I'm afraid not many people would understand) I can't take my eyes off him, because I refuse to see the city. My room is my sanctuary (where I can be all smelly, whiny, teary-eyed and procrastinate in peace). Everywhere else is unbearable. The slums, the ugly houses, the Baroque churches, the clothes and body shapes of most people, the fact that my clothes don't fit properly anymore... My neverending nightmare.

I want tress. I want less pollution. I want to talk in English without feeling alienated. I want to transport my bedroom someplace else. And study what I want.

"La monotonía de la existencia adulta siempre me había dado lástima; cuando me di cuenta de que, en un breve plazo, ése sería mi destino, la angustia se apoderó de mí".

"¿Cometía una falta? En un sentido no, y sin embargo las palabras de mi padre me roían tanto que me sentía a la vez irreprochable y monstruosa. (...) Sin embargo, mis padres conservaron el poder de hacer de mí una culpable; yo aceptaba sus veredictos viéndome al mismo tiempo en otros ojos que los de ellos."

 Simon de Beauvoir - "Memorias de una joven formal"

Eat that up, it's good for you (lyrics) - TDCC

You would look a little better
Don't you know
If you just wore less make-up
But it's hard to realise
When you're sky high
Fighting off the spaceships

And so you're drinking in your room
To make it all go
It didn't end too soon
You've got the next one
You're holding on too long
You've got to let go
Your other love is gone
And you know
It's too late
It's too late
You've got another one coming
And it's going to be the same

The man who made love with his socks on

He liked to stare at my feet
He liked to take my socks off.

And I know there are plenty of men out there.
But it's quite curious how they like women's feet
Yet they don't take their own socks off.
It's a mysterious part of the ritual.

It's not that complicated.

He wrapped his arms around her.
He smelled her hair. It had the smell of shampoo.
He run his fingers through them.
She was deeply asleep, so she didn't notice.
And it felt so soft. There were no knots,
no imperfections.

He wondered if her mind was active at that moment,
or maybe it was blank.

From the outside, she looked so perfect. So simple to understand.
There were no complications; no dirty spots or knots in her hair.
She was just sleeping.
She wasn't having nightmares (he hoped, of course).

But, what more is there to it? He had found a lovely girl,
a girl who liked his music, a girl who was very pretty.
But was there something else besides that?

Before, he had been subject to different cycles of love
He had been trying to find ways,
trying to help... her.

But now he was with this woman whom, so far, hadn't given him any problems.
She was so peaceful. Maybe it was just what he needed.
He needed a break; someone he could be calm with.
Someone who didn't offer problems
and made things more complicated just because.

But he couldn't feel full. He felt a bit empty, a void.
The void of all those extra complications,
and obliterations.
Maybe it wasn't enough for him.
Or maybe it was.

He had become so used to being all over someone else,
thinking about that person the whole time,
trying to solve her problems.
And now he had finally found peace.
He had to learn to live with it.

These eyes

They're glowing red eyes.

"Latina"

I identify myself with that label much more than Peruvian. I do not adore ALL aspects of South America, but I do love some parts of it. I really like Central America as well, even if I’ve only been there twice.

But Peruvian? No, please don’t label me like that. Peruvian history before the Spaniards is awesome, I’ll give you that (the Incas and Machu Picchu ftw), but afterwards… It’s all effed up. I do not like Peruvian food that much, even though most Peruvians will tell you it’s amaaazing, the best thing you will ever try. I don’t like it partly because it hurts my tummy, it is too creamy and spicy for me to handle. But food is cheap here, so that’s good!

The way people behave on the streets is simply too annoying. I am very tall compared to other women, so I immediately stand out. Lima is supposed to be a “big” city, but people do not ignore you on the streets like in other major cities. Instead, they scan you all over. It is an incredibly hostile environment, except when you are indoors.

The education system is shit, even at university level. The government is shit, the democratic system has managed to eff things up. My fellow Peruvians’ system of beliefs is SHIT (very conservative while I’m ultra liberal), oh and the landscape! I do not like it, no, except the portion of Peru that has the Amazon jungle. I do not like the Andes because it’s too rocky and I don’t like the coast because it’s basically a desert. I like green stuff, I adore forests, and there’s none of that here :(.

So yeah, if you ever mention me in a conversation, I’m your Hispanic or Latina friend or I’m your-very-alienated-Peruvian friend :P

Thanks for reading my rant!