Stop Suffering

Last nigth I made a decision, i decided to cry till get tired. As well as widows spill their pain and sadness because of their mourning, I cried. And I did it convinced that it should be the last time I would cry for someone who never appreciates my feelings. As well as widows go with their dead men to the final resting place, I went with my memories to a remote place called forgetting to leave them there forever.

I have decided to stop suffering and head for the goal that is waiting for being aimed by me in somewhere. But I discovered that if I want to do it I have to change myself then, i will do it at any price. And if I want this change to be permanent I will need to know when my innocence and naivety were destroyed at all. To find out this, i need to rebuilt my own history. Perhaps, I find who took it them from me and exactly how they did it. Perhaps, i will discover if I had any responsability on it.

It's time for changing, but I also need to know accurately "what" and "how" I have to change. "why" and "what for" are already defined. I change because it needs to be done, i change to survive. I need to became a more sensible girl able to enjoy life without any complication.

Let's get down to it!! Let's rebuilt history now, tomorrow is too late.

To begin let's talk about men and my unusual way to mix me with them. The following list has names of men whom have played a very relevant role in my life. Of course, not all of them have been my lovers I haven't even kissed some of them, but they were important in one way or another. Soon i will describe how was my relationship with them. That is part of the process...!!

1. Papi, my oldest brother, the most loved
2. Nene, my youngest brother, the authority
3. Scooby, the most recent
4. Tuti, my life's love
5. Coco, my first love
6. Howard, who caused me a night of insomnia
7. Darious, the non-sense choice
8. El perrito, who literally destroyed my world
9. El santo, my supposed best friend who married my supposed best girlfriend
10. Bill Gates, my platonic loveel amor platonico
11. El flaco, who almost killed me
12. Lorenzo, who loved me so much as his best friend
13. Chito, the first of chain of a chain of erros
14. El infantil, who knew exactly how obtain for me that he wanted (unfortunately it was never sex)
15. Ojitos, who never knew what he wanted
16. El subdito, just desire
17. F. Lay, who could be more than a friend but never it was (we tryed, never worked)
18. Flavio, cute foreign
19. El profeta, who used to wrote me love letter, but finally got married with another girl
20. Chayanne, my first love best friend

Let me explain that not all of those guys were my lovers, I didn't even kiss some of them, with some I just had some fun (Of course, it doesn't mean sex) but they are parte of my history...

Let get into the history and stop suffering...!!

Happiness for ones it's sadness for others

My heart is bleeding. Today my platonic love - Scooby, the man who makes my hearth beat faster has left the country, perhaps I won't see him anymore but rigth now I just have a picture in my head: His shiny smile.

When we met last nigth for chance - really it wasn't, because i already knew he was in the school party - I was aware that nothing special would happen between us, (though my soul retained the illusion that at least we could hug that was just an illusion, a fantasy, a hope) something inside me was shaking.

I was plenty of emotions, filled up of sensations which were making me live a dream and nigthmare at the same time. I was happy because finally i could see him after eight weeks but also this would be the last time.

As soon as I arrived at the party i looked for my teacher who was waiting for me, i just looked around to see if i found someone known. I didnt wear my glasses but i inmediatly knew he was there. My heart jump as if it was tryng to reach the moon. My breath became heavier.

For a while i couldn't even think, I was completly frozen.Finally, i decided to aproach him. I said Hello, and as He never did before he gave me two kisses on the cheeks as some european people use to do. I was excited but I felt i died. We had few words nothing deep, nothing important.

After drink one beer and he met some of his friends I asked him to make me a promise "I want you keep on touch" - I said - and he replied with a big smile in his face "I think we can do that".Maybe ten minutes later, because i was confused about the time of his flight I said to him "Good bye, and good luck". He explained that was a misundertanding, he wasn't leaving the party at that time and maybe we could have some words later, he would be around. That was the last time we talked to each other. This is the last memory i have about him.

I danced a pair of songs, then i left the party and went home. It was by 10, very early in my opinion. When i got home, i went straight to bed. I didn't want to talk to someone, so i did. I slept just four hours.

I woke up about 3 am. and after i couldnt go sleep back.During four hours i was thinking of how much happy was Scooby, and how my deep sadness was being caused by his happiness. Oh my God, the las time i saw him smiling in that way was the first time we went for a walk at the beach. Now, after many weeks living in the hell (as he describes the situation with out his family) he was happy, much happier than ever while i was trying to survive my own pain.

The day has been sunny but i havent been able to see the sun, i hope tomorrow i can do it maybe i will feel better. I was the whole night refusing myself to cry, but now my eyes are full of tears....

I swim inmerse in a pool of feelings, my own mixed emotions, what is a reason for him to be happy is causing me the deepest sadness... It is ironic, isnt?

Is Maternitiy or motherhood for every woman over the world???

My latest life's love - who from now on i will call Scooby- is leaving very soon, he is going to re-start his life in the country he left few months ago.
Because i am really insane about him I texted him asking for one of his pictures, a photo of him when he was a young child, but as always i didn't express my ideas properly, so everything was a misunderstanding.

This was our conversation

The Crazy: I want a present from you, a young child Kid (obviously i had forgotten writing the word picture)

Scooby:
Make a baby for you? are you kidding? no way.... (ha, ha!! i cant imagine the man's face, he should be scared.... or shocked??)

The Crazy: Are you drunk?? i didnt mention any baby. I can't!! I meant i want a copy of your picture when you were a child. the one which you are wiht you brother. Let me explain something. I am insane about you but, despite of that and my strong belief in family, i dont believe in marriage neither in maternity. I am convinced that to be a mother a woman needs vocation and capable biology. I don't have any of them and i think no baby deserve me as a mother (i didnt write that but it wasnt because of the baby, obviouslyif it is because of me, i couldn ever be a good mother). so, can i get the picture?

Scooby: yes you can. why cant you have a baby??

And that's all... and i didnt answer the question perhaps because i know that if i'd want it i can. In case i would i just need some strong treatment with hormons or in a very extreme case a surgery in my ovary which three years ago was as big as a "mango".

Yes, like a mango, that was the comparisson that my gynecologist used to described my oversized ovary. I would never forget it.

But the point is if i come from a traditional family where every woman has dreamt about become a mother, why maternitiy is for me a nightmare? why i can visualise myself with my own baby in my arms?? why i dont dream of a family as everybody knows it?? why?? i know how to look after a baby, i did with my nieces and nephews, i know how much dedication a baby demand from you, and even my longing is one day work pro childhood.

I perfectly know the answers but just try to think about them make my hair stand on end. I want to take them out but i am uncapacble to do it. I always neglect myself to think about this topic.

Yes, it is fear. i dont want to be a mother like my mother or my sisters have been (i am saying they are not good mothers, on the contrary they have done pretty well eventhough i dont agree with the methods used by them).

I dont want to be a frustrated woman that lost freedom because of children, or maybe i dont want an inocent person being unhappy because of my traumas... this is fear!! and now new question pop up ... why fear?? what do i call freedom?? what does frustration mean for me?

So, at least this blog is making me facing myself afterward...

My first time...

First time i kept a diary i was 9.
It was just a few months after my oldest brother's death, the firts time i experienced abandonment in my life

So writing was for me the better way to cure myself . It was like having a soft hand taking care of my wounds, when everybody at home was trying to overcome this situation, the big brother, the dearest one had left and there is no oportunity to see him again, y mother was lost, my sisters too and my brother who was servind as a missionary in a christian church was facing his faith's doubt.
My family was completely destroyed, everything had changed and i wouldnt see my family again as i knew it once. That was my first time as a writer, the most painful but not the last.

But writing was also a reason to be in problem, one day i started reading the pages i had already writing on, oh my God i just found paragraphs plenty of hatress, pain, and sorrow. It had been too much for a 9-years-old child. i couldnt believe it, so i was ashamed of myself. Therefore i decided to burn my dairy and i did, but unfortunatly the stupid diary didnt burn at all and some else found it, suddenly my darkness and deepest secrets were now on someone else hands.

The experience of having some one on my neck all the time was very unpleasant for me, she blackmailed me even emotionally, i hated myself for push (with no intention) me into this situation and i hated writing.... after that, i stopped doing it but sadly as a consecuence, i became a prisioner of myself, of my thoughts, of my feelings because ecah time i tried to write again to be free i was just scared of someone reading my soul and taking advantage of it. So each time i tried to write again i simply gave up.
But today i have a huge necesity of fly through a clear blue sky, i need my wings again, release my soul, to be released from my feelings, let them go away and then being in peace with myself as i used to be when i was 9.



That is the reason i chose a blog, to expose my naked soul whit no fear, if i reveal my secrets by myself there is nothing to hide and so if you are reading this page it is mean you are a gossip person who doesnt have any other way of wasting time (in which case, i envy you for being lucky) or maybe because you have receipt my personal invitation to come in my live and discover who really i am.
My stories dont have any chonologih order so, just enjoy them and don't try to link any of them. i will write as i feel, remember this is just a window for someone to have a look in my life. don't expect i only write about one topic so you won't be disappointed in the future. some times i will write about sex, faith, religion, politic, personal, experiences, thoughts, emotions, relationships, some else's story or just i will share a funny anecdoct.
Thanks to my friends whom have motivated to write again, to my beautiful blonde teacher who always enjoy my writen and has hardly encorauged me to write in english and to everybody who has poping in my life to
make each experience worth so much, i am pretty sure you will recongnise your contribution even if i never mention your name. you know as every important writer on the world who write about real life i have to protect your identity to avoid put you into any problem.

From today my life is a story that can be read like a open book. don't be afraid of your comments as well as you, they are all welcome