once upon a bbm

She asked me if I was fine... I wasn't.

"yup" I replied with a garnishing smiley.

I have been battling this for some time now, and it was starting to get the best of me. Excuses.

No longer being able to control the receptors I reside in a limbo of numbness. Days become nights that become light that become dark. In between, there are mild episodes of emotions.

The diagnostic has been give. I know what I have. To fight it means doing something about it. That's the hard part... doing...

Once upon a .com

"Das Dramatische bezeichnet die Konflikt zwischen einer fragilen Subjektivität und dem Überhang an kulturell produzierten Dingen, angefangen von den plüschigen Interieurs bürgerlicher Wohnungen, in denen jede Perspektive erstickt ist bis hin zu einer Waffentechnik, die einmal entfesselt den menschlichen Körper auf seine bloße Materialität reduziert; ein Konflikt, in dem der Traum von einer gelingenden Individuation auf das Maß einer reinen Überlebensfrage reduziert wird. "

I exist only upon unexisting pages.

If the w^3 was ever to disappear, so would I.

Whenever did we stop being physical representations and become mirages of our online personas?
No longer a vision of externality, our Ego is fed by the amount of RTs and vaguely approving cyber hand gestures.

"did you get my message, did it send?"

Where are the love letters, stained by running tears? Where are the endless nights walking and talking?

The more we get into life in The Cloud, the less capable we are to survive outside of it.

Our invisible captivity can never come to an end, or our sense of accomplishment would never endure the wilderness of society.

Glances and half muttered maybes are substituted by smilies and shares...devotion by lack of proximity and upvotes.

We confide in complete strangers, yet avoid vulnerability to those surrounding, in the hope they find it in our written word.

Our world has become enslaved by unintelligent AI. Symbiotic leeches, to them, to ourselves.

I long the day I will feel the sun upon my face and not feel the need to post.

Once Upon an Iron Fist

Nuevamente frente a la pantalla y sin nada que decir... supongo que el documentar se convertirá en mi legado. Las imágenes son sólo para aquellos presentes, pero las palabras...¡Las palabras son vida!

Legendaria, así fue descrita, así la describo... legendaria. Mi lápida leerá "Legendaria". O eso quiero creer.

Aparte de un par de versos, no logro trascender a la inmortalidad. ¿Qué es lo que me hará ser recordada? Una vez el viento sople y lleve el último pétalo con él ¿qué soy yo? más que una pequeña huella en el espacio.

Mi historia es ordinariamente extraordinaria, mi crónica es inexistente... Y mientras más de ella hay que contar, menos vale la pena hacerlo. He vivido, no lo voy a negar, pero ¿de qué me sirve vivir, si no lo torno en épicas a lo Marco Polo o canciones de Ricardo Arjona?

Nadie es más que un grano de arena, pero todos asumimos ser piedras preciosas, ¿de qué sirve ser uno del montón y tener una crisis existencial? ¿Acaso alguien ha encontrado la receta para sobresalir? .... Trabajo duro, dicen muchos... No, no es así.

El 90% de la gente trabaja duro toda su vida, se conforma. Nace, crece, se reproduce (y sus bienes) y muere. Pero el 10%, ese 10% que sale a buscar, que se cuestiona, es criticado y con justa razón. Al final de la vida ¿Quién logró más? ¿Quién está más satisfecho?

Seré yo, Maestro?

Habia una vez un talvez....

Si lograras escuchar lo que digo entre lineas, si esquivaras mis juegos y obviaras mi indiferencia… Si el orgullo no fuera obstáculo, si los peros no se acumularan… seria otra historia.

Y si en un universo paralelo, esa historia se repitiera en un pasado, si el fin fuera lo opuesto, y en esta realidad se reflejaran dos sonrisas que no conocieran actos maquiavélicos ni dudas endemoniadas, lograrías ser escucha de lo que fue dicho entre lineas.

Once Upon a Slumber...

So… here’s the deal; I am 22 years old, and am still nowhere near figuring it out. One might think it acceptable to struggle when young, but after 3 winters resolving not one thing, concern rises.

I still don’t know if I lean towards the intellectual or the creative, I don’t even know if they ally… I don’t know if I’m sentimental. Or unnatached. And have no clue as to what next steps should be taken.

I reached the goal I worked so hard for, now there’s no other ziel. I glide over midnights and live a double life…I’m avatar as I wake up…

I have done things most people only dream of, and now I only long for slumber…

The path to follow has been covered with dirt, impossible to discern. There is no road , so in hopes of not being lost, I keep a straight path, following the horizon… it will eventually lead me nowhere… But at least I’ll be there…

There is one chance of having a light… Of winning the lottery… It is all about listening… And then, the path will emerge, and I will Follow the Yellow Brick Road unto Emerald city…

where I belong...

Once Upon the 5 stages

So... basically I'm stuck between face 4 and 5... I have denied myself, overcome wrath and I have bargained as much as I could. But I can't seem to shake of that one last step, so that I can finally accept grief and move on with it. 

There are a pair of angry reminiscing eyes stuck to a reflection of an irrecognizeble phantom. The voices outside my shelter remind me it's ok to step out of the shadows; that the cage I live in is only made up of self-imposed fears... that if I go out of this room, nobody will judge me...I will be one more...

Still, I choose to turn of my phone and hide in the darkness of obliteration....

The one light that brings me out of this cocoon of misery, determined it was better to disregard the issue and play blind. This time, it is for me to solve on my own... no arms to cry on... 

...No reason for doing so... 

...IT IS TIME TO ACCEPT AND MOVE ON...

Once upon a Conversation-Breaker

"6 numbers, one more to dial, before I'm before you

 ...One of the many, one of the few, to stand back and wait for you..."

The politone of the over-familiar cyber bells tell my heart that it's time to race. For a long time I have avoided the annoyance of human contact via the immediate superficiality of written non-sense... Nowadays I long for it...I long for you...

The first approach is made; The Ice we have been building for the last couple of eternal hours is broken by whoever is less prideful at the moment; 

A simple hello, nothing more, followed by a wistful remark. The epics of a one moon-expedition are exchanged, after reciting high-lights, the inevitable 'Puesi' strikes... Our Nemesis...

If only I was allowed once and for all to reach out to you, and let you in; no 5-foot wall to separate us... If only I got to share what already has to lay 6-feet under, as I once did... If only you could read my mind, as sometimes you appear to do, there would be absolutely no need for the conversation-breaker, awkwardness-riser 'Puesi'...

'I fell in love with the dream that I built of you

playing the part of your queen

taking my own advice

I'm giving up tonight

good luck to you, my king'

But as human as we are I give up on giving up,  and am obliged to continue going around Jericho, once again. Log in, hoping the fortification around your heart and your eyes finally succumbs, and you get to see me for who I am: yourself. 

That way, maybe when you do, I will become the politone that makes your heart race...