Hoy ha sido un día raro. Ocupado. Por un momento pensé que llegarías hoy, pero tu mensaje a las seis de la mañana diciendo que habías llegado a Bucarest me sacó de mi error. Tener que salir de un curso para coger el metro e ir a otro podría ser la definición de toda una generación: no me da la vida, y eso que ni siquiera me pagan. He vuelto, he almorzado y he aplicado a una beca en Dublín para algo. No sé el qué. Tiene que ver con comunicación e investigación sobre calidad de trabajo y de vida. He empezado la segunda aplicación, esta vez en no sé dónde de Italia, algo que ver con la comida. Qué apropiado que todo tiene su departamento de comunicación. He mirado el calendario y tenía dos tareas pendientes: ir a hacer la compra y depilarme. Pensé que lo de hacer la compra mejor mañana para no sentirme culpable por usar la cuenta conjunta cuando tú no estás aquí, así que pensé lógicamente en depilarme. Es temprano, pero también quería arreglarme el pelo, echarme potingues como si no hubiera un mañana. Y la cosa es que no sé por qué lo estoy haciendo. Por qué voy a cerrar el ordenador y me voy a pasar una hora metida en el baño acicalándome como si fuera una niñata que va a su primera cita. Tengo la sensación de estar arreglándome para un funeral. Pero vienes mañana y yo no quiero tener pelos en las piernas. Como para que sepas lo que vas a perder. También lo pienso y me pregunto cuánto de esto es mi decisión y cuánto es constructo social. Me gustaría que tú también te arreglaras cuando sepas que vas a verme, pero no lo haces, no sientes ese je ne sais quoi de que todo irá mejor, de que causarás una mejor impresión si estás recién afeitado, si te recortas los pelitos, si te echas desodorante. Yo lo siento de vez en cuando y creo que está bien, sea mi decisión o no. Me gusta tener un motivo para arreglarme, independientemente de lo que eso signifique para cada cual. Pero ahora mismo no lo entiendo. No quiero acostarme contigo ni que me digas que estoy guapa o que vaya pelazo que me traigo o nada de eso. Sé que no lo vas a hacer, pero no quiero provocarlo. Quiero que llegues y que te vayas. O no. Pero sobre todo sí. La cosa es que empieza a hacer buen tiempo y hace sol y empieza a anochecer casi a las ocho y me gusta esta época cuando aun hace frío pero apetece estar al sol. Apetece usar pantalones cortos y morir de frío con ellos. Apetece follar sin manta y que me comieras los pies. Apetece hacer pizza y recordar el tinto y las aceitunas en la ventana de Santiago cuando no podíamos salir de allí. Apetece ir a Mairena, todo sea dicho, pero no lo haré. Apetece coger carretera y manta con esas flamantes luces nuevas. Pero respecto a ti no sé qué me apetece, si que te quedes o que te vayas. Por ahora me voy a depilar y voy a intentar convencerme de que lo estoy haciendo para mí y no porque crea que así tengo más posibilidades de que me hagas sexo oral (lo cual, ya lo sabemos de sobra, es una quimera).
Amor y otros desastres
miércoles, 26 de marzo de 2025
domingo, 23 de marzo de 2025
Last words
I thought... I really thought you could be the one. Crazy, huh? You were so different I could never be bored by your side. You were so handsome I could put you on a frame and just observe you for hours. You were so funny I wouldn't need jokes in Spanish anymore. You were so intelligent you could even try to win me at trivial (though you wouldn't because of the lack of cultural knowledge). So I thought you could really be the one. The one to get married to, the one to have children, beautiful, anxious and terribly smart children with, the one to share a life with.
But that was when I was being very optimistic and naive. Those glimpses of time when it didn't bother me that you took so long to feel something for me, it always made me feel lower, less than the rest. All my life, because of just the fact of being a woman, as every woman in the planet, I have had to work more to get the same result as the guys. But I didn't expect to have to work more among other women to get your affection, like I was always missing something to make you notice me. It is not your fault and I am completely aware of that, but that doesn't mean it doesn't hurt because I will never understand why you are with me after all these crazy absurd love affairs you had with other people and the line of thought usually ends up with the classic "there wasn't a better option there at the moment".
And now I don't feel anything anymore. I lost my capacity to cry, to laugh, to be anything more than a jellyfish. I'm exhausted by this bureaucratic life, full of CVs and cover letters and applications that end nowhere. I thought you could be my stone through this. Through the masters, through the cinema and through the endless search for a proper job. And I wanted to be that for you in return. But you never really were. You left in the most crucial moments, when I had to deliver papers and I barely had time to make food, when I was the bussiest, when I spent the nights crying out of frustration over the British job working system and I thought all my decisions were wrong, when I just wanted to go back home. You weren't there when I made the shopping for the studio. You weren't there when I made the first dinner. I spent the first night there with someone that wasn't you, but it should have been you. I wanted and needed you to be there.
And, you know, in my anxious mind everytime you did something like that I wonder if you would have done that to any of the other girls. If you would have made them wait. You yourself told about that great time when you cross your country just to give a girl a surprise that ended up badly. Would you give me a surprise like that? You have never given me a surprise. Not a single time in two years. And I'm supposed to feel glad precisely because of the amount of time we've been together. How can I when you did and felt and said more in two months than in two years with me? And then it all ends up the same: I'm crazy, I'm jealous, that's just not true.
Sometimes I wonder if you really understand why I'm so pushy about certain things. The job. The language. The house. Beyond obvious reasons, all of them are proof that you are being serious about this relationship. I didn't make you pay for the studio, I opened my house to you, I helped you with all the administrative proccesses I could, I think I made my part. But you still feel like a guest here, a very comfy and long-lasting guest. And since you don't really make any efforts in learning Spanish, or getting a job, or actually care about anything in the house, I should not be what you're making me be: a mom, a handmaid, a whore.
miércoles, 19 de marzo de 2025
Twin Peaks
Twin Peaks is coming to Filmin. It was about fucking time, to be honest. And my first thought, of course, was "I can finally show him", followed up by the obvious "he's not gonna like it", to be summarized in an even more obvious "it doesn't matter anymore". You're leaving as soon as you come back and I won't have to see you again. It's strange how that feels, swimming between the inevitable of the situation and the fear of realising everything is true. I thought it would be complicated to not see previous partners considering how close we all live, but the truth is there has never been an accidental encounter. And yet, this feels way more real, if you go for sure I'm never gonna see you again. And I think that's okay. You drive me crazy to absurd limits, your lack of understanding, of care for details, of passion... I just can't understand why you can't love me like a normal person. Why do you have to be such a lovely human being just when I'm about to break down. It's not fair. I find myself being humilliated over and over just to get your attention, to get you to love me because that became my objective, but I don't know if what I got was love or it was just a natural reaction. Because you never felt them, didn't you? The butterflies. You never felt the longing, the need for connection, for words, for everything that was related to you. You were too busy being sad because you weren't able to be with someone else. And now you don't feel the need of structure, of caring for eachother, of having dates, of finding things together. Of travelling together, when it is so easy to travel for free without me. You know? I thought about new things to do, since you're always saying my only plan is going to the cinema (at least I have a plan): I found a swing dance class, I made a list of day trips, I checked cheap flights for easter, I even downloaded a very complete PDF of something called "partner summit" which I thought could make us both cry for quite a while, I even spent 15 freaking euros in multiplayer games for us to try, I looked for 2 players boardgames in English. I don't know, I tried. And I never got to tell you and now it doesn't matter.
lunes, 17 de marzo de 2025
Me dices goodbye en tu nota tan ricamente
Hace ya años que empecé a ver mis patrones, a darme cuenta de qué papel tengo en todos los círculos (pequeños o grandes) sociales en los que entro. Y es que ya por 2012 Celia me decía que era la madre del grupo, la que se preocupaba de que todos recibieran la comida en el sitio de cenar de turno, la que siempre tenía pañuelos para los dramas inesperados, la que les compraba condones a sus amigas para asegurarse de no ser tita antes de lo previsto. Soy la que no quiere hablar pero habla en un grupo nuevo, para que nadie tenga que ponerse en la tesitura de hacer el ridículo. Soy la que invita a casa, la que abre las puertas, la que ofrece desayuno, merienda y cena y tiene miedo de cómo vayan a dejar el sofá cuando se vayan. Y lo cierto es, todo sea dicho, que no me desagrada tener ese rol. Mis amigos me apreciaban por ello y los que tengo ahora también lo hacen, aunque en una forma mucho menos efervescente y más callada.
Sin embargo, no es lo mismo estar en un grupo de personas en las que cada una asume un rol distinto, con más o menos acierto, que ser solo dos personas. La dependencia es enorme. La injusticia también. Tiendo a asumir este rol absurdo por culpa del complejo de salvadora que dios me ha dado y no soy capaz de romper el círculo. Ya con Sebas lo vi, incluso con Julio, y eso que éramos unos críos. Pero todo fue siempre idea mía, todo surgía de mis iniciativas, desde los viajes a las obvias rupturas. Siempre he sido yo la que ha llevado la maquinaria pesada mientras la otra persona se dejaba llevar. Ahora no iba a ser menos. Ahora es exponencial la desigualdad. Ha llegado un momento en el que me siento una máquina de hacer personas más preparadas para la vida real. El problema es que por el camino suelo salir malparada. Leía hace un rato que pedir reciprocidad no es algo malo, que tiene sentido en una relación equitativa. Siempre he leído lo contrario, que todo lo que haga tengo que hacerlo sin esperar nada a cambio, que debo ser solidaria hasta unos extremos enfermizos. Suena también a doctrina católica. Y tiene sentido, ¿no? Porque en ese acto tan simple de pedir reciprocidad toda la culpabilidad se abalanza sobre mí. Hago un esfuerzo sobrehumano por ignorarlo y mirar por mí un poquito, pero cuál es mi sorpresa cuando veo que nada cambia. Así que espero. Y vuelvo a hacer de tripas corazón. Y nada cambia. Y me empiezo a sentir no ya culpable sino estúpida. ¿Cuántas veces el pie y la piedra?¿Cuántos chocazos contra la pared? Demasiados, demasiados.
martes, 31 de diciembre de 2024
Dónde estabas entonces
Imagino que el dolor pasará tarde o temprano. Bueno, no imagino, lo sé. El problema es que esta vez es diferente, no puedo irme y anclarme a otros grupos, salir, beber y el rollo de siempre, a la vuelta estarás ahí. Tener que esperar hasta el 11 sin arrepentirme se va a hacer cuesta arriba, eso también lo sé. Mi propósito de este año era tener una relación sana contigo y henos aquí, 31 de diciembre y viviendo en un limbo de decisiones y, sobre todo, indecisiones. Tú somatizas y yo me bloqueo. La vida se me hace bola en este último día del año, sin ganas de escribir, de traducir, de vivir. Tu apatía me supera. Y tú sufres y no ves que yo soy la destrozada, en una inmensa cantidad de amor tengo que elegir el dolor de dejarte atrás. Si al menos me dieras un resquicio de esperanza al que aferrarme...
jueves, 24 de octubre de 2024
I am wasting all this time
Should I tell you what I really think?
Would it change something?
In these past couple of days I've been reading my evolution since we met, the problems we (I) had at the beginning, the mistery, the fear, the pain and it all came from the same: an absolute lack of communication. You didn't let me in, you had your reason and that's fine at this point, but the problems evolved and the cause was the same. Me needing information and you not giving it away. Just a bit, just enough to not be paralyzed during the whole day because you're on the other side of the continent not wanting to come back.
In the end I was right: I don't miss you, I miss the idea of having someone that gives me conversation and companionship, but it could be you or someone else. We haven't built anything and people are starting to be very adult and I just feel stuck with you. Stuck in the monotony of blaming someone else for our problems, stuck in how easy it is to live at someone else's expenses and I'm seeing you getting too comfortable here and I need to get out of this place. This is not your home and it's not mine either anymore, disassembling the bed was definitive proof of that. I need to get out of here and you don't seem to understand it. Because you come and you go as you please and want a job that you like and at this point in life that's too much to ask for.
We will go to Mexico and we will have a good time, I am sure of that, but I don't think you will stay for much longer after that. I told you if you didn't get a job before Christmas it would be over and I stand by that, because if at least I would have seen you trying, things would be a bit different, but you decided that we would make the NGO and that would be everything when, since day one, that wasn't the plan because we knew we couldn't live from that for now. What do you want me to do? What would you do in my shoes? Love isn't everything, it never was. I have my masters and I know that's no excuse but it is my reason (and the savings I have from the time I actually worked), what do you have? Anxiety? Boredom? Lack of motivation? I don't care, I told you I would follow you wherever you could find something and I refuse to believe you are useless to everyone, you are just not trying and that is killing me. Because you keep taking me for granted and I am not, you think I will eternally forgive you and say things will get better while you play your things and forget that looking for a job is, in fact, a job.
But I am getting very tired and I definitely do not need you. I never did, and at this point (I'm sorry) I'm pretty sure you did actually need me to become a bit more mature and a bit more like a normal human being, and that was a very fun experience to be part of, but it took away my mental health along the way and it is still doing it, you are still making me feel sick and it doesn't compensate the times I feel good. So if this is who you are it is fine by me, it really is, if this is all you can aspire to be then by all means be yourself, but you will have to be yourself without me, because I want more than this life of expectation and sadness.
sábado, 29 de junio de 2024
No hay música
I am in a limbo again. I wonder between the possibilities, hearing and reading about contradictory points of view, asking myself what am I going to do, but at the same time not wanting to answer. The sky is grey today, it's cold and wet and there were people dancing in blue vests in the middle of the park, it looked like a cult. I should've told you that, right? But we are not talking, we haven't talked in over a day. I want to ask my mum if she speaks a lot with my dad when they are apart, to have some perspective. I have Ro's one of calling each other everyday, but I still think that's excessive. But if I ask her she will know something's wrong and I don't want to talk about it. So I don't know if this is a mature relationship or just one without passion. I mean, I would speak to you all the time, but I don't because I am pretty good at controlling myself and I don't want to end up like last year, with a bag full of yes and no. I tend to compare with the past but there's no point, I feel I'm at a different life point right now and nothing from before is valid.
I see the red flags and I am scared of them, I just feel everything is wrong, from the beginning it was wrong and I just decided I could fix everything, like always. I can get your attention, I can make you fall in love with me, I can learn to love you properly, I can make you want to be with me for the rest of our lives... but I forgot about being happy in the process. I forgot about the compatibilities and that maybe if we were fighting so much it meant something. If I always felt left out, ignored, and I had to be mean to catch your attention, maybe there was something definitely wrong.
Creo que, después de tanta reflexión y tanta tontería, toda esta situación podría definirse en dos sencillas frases: no hay música y mi instinto dice que aquí no es. There's no music and my instinct tells me it's not here. La música no deja de sonar cuando estoy sola, al igual que sonaba con frecuencia con ellos. Los grupos cambiaban, de Manel a Twenty One Pilots, pasando por Smash Mouth, Estopa y Fun, pero siempre estaba ahí. Cuando pongo música no te mueve nada y tú nunca pones música. Cuando bailo no me sigues la corriente. No tenemos grupos en común.
jueves, 27 de junio de 2024
Exhausted
It must mean something, mustn't it? If every time you leave I want to leave you.
At first, believe me, I was convinced it was just a way my brain was using to catch your attention since you were barely talking to me, so I tried to not think too much about it, not give it too much importance.
Then I thought "oh fuck, there's a pattern here, let's try to break it, let's try being mature and rational about it, he's just busy, he doesn't have wifi, he's not him and after three weeks of not answering you he will say he doesn't want to see you again, he only takes five hours to answer, not two days". "Only".
Then I started listening to my guts and they were doing a demonstration trying to tell me to get the fuck out of there. That it doesn't make it right to take that much to answer without saying anything before just because there were people before that were even worse. That is not fair to justify not showing me off hanging to the "what they may say" and then post things that could make people talk even more. That I don't deserve to be temporary ghosted every time he leaves, having a good night and an I love you the first day and then barely nothing for the rest of the week.
And then, finally, I spoke to Ro. And I didn't tell her anything, but she started talking about her situation and I saw the similarities and I saw her trying to justify herself, clearly hurt by what Gigi did but saying she understands. And I realised the problem is not me, it's the society and how it has told us (women) to hang in there because is worth it. Because our man can be complicated but oh, isn't he nice when he's nice? Isn't he cute in his independence, but then he needs you like he needs a mother?
So I am done justifying myself, saying "he's still learning, poor thing, he hasn't been in a proper relationship before", I am so done with that. Mostly because no one has ever said that about me. Isn't that curious? I have always known my stuff, how to handle things, how to cook, how to clean, what to say when my "man" needs fucking reassurance, but nobody wonders how I got here, how I got my heart broken over and over by men that didn't think I was worth it to hang in there for, how after months and years I was still the one adapting to the guy's needs, because they are always more important, because it's going to be easier to bend myself and shut up than trying to explain that I also need some fucking reassurance, some stability, because they wouldn't understand. I would be crazy, I would be in those days of the month, I would be lead by my hormones.
I am so done with all this fucking shit.
lunes, 24 de junio de 2024
This is the last time that I will say these words
Me miro en el espejo entre todas las fotos que he ido recopilando a lo largo de los meses. El pelo comenzando a encresparse, las clavículas siempre presentes, independientemente del peso, la forma rara que tiene mi boca en la unión entre el labio inferior y la barbilla. Te veo donde estoy, cada mañana en calzoncillos peinándote y con legañas aún en los ojos. Me veo desde la cocina mirándote mientras preparo el desayuno, día tras día, admirando tu belleza cambiante.
Cuando te fuiste te dije que tenía miedo de que volviéramos a pelearnos y tú lo solventaste con un simple "vamos a intentar romper el patrón", pero nada ha cambiado, ¿no? Tú sigues no contándome qué pasa en tu vida y no interesándote por la mía. Ya ni siquiera siento celos. No me da miedo que te acuestes con otra persona, me da miedo que esto sea todo a lo que podemos aspirar. Una vida simple, sin pasión, en la que en realidad no nos escuchamos. Una vida en la que algo tiene que pasar para que haya la suficiente iniciativa como para salir por ahí. Una vida en la que nos lo pasamos mejor cuando nos echamos de menos que cuando estamos juntos.
Esta vez no sé si te echo de menos, mucho menos si es de una forma madura o no. Vuelvo a hacer planes a medio plazo y no sé si te incluyen.
When am I going to learn from my mistakes? When am I going to be able to break the freaking pattern, since you are not doing it? I love you but... That it's just not enough. And the worst part is that I have my one year ago self screaming at my ear that what the fuck am I doing. Well, maybe not a year ago, a year ago I already knew how things worked with you, but maybe a year and a half ago. Anyway, she's there, looking at me with disapproval and telling me I will regret it. She doesn't know what I've been through with you, she still doesn't know about the lies and the yes and no as answers for months and the unknowledge of your situation around me. She just knows about your smile and how much she wants to rip off those clothes of yours. She wasn't in love with you yet, she was just sad, horny and destroyed. But I am not anymore, now I am angry at you for not even trying, for thinking that a "how's your weekend?" is gonna erase the fact that you have barely been in contact since you left. Again. But this time I am not going to tell you about it, this time I'm gonna let you enjoy while you can becase I'm afraid this is the end. I gave you an ultimatum, a last opportunity and you haven't taken it. And I am tired of myself trying to catch your attention by doing this. I don't need your attention that much. You will come and you will leave again and this time I don't want to see you again. I don't want to wait for you anymore, I am tired of waiting for something that is never going to happen. And I will be strong enough to keep my promise because you have to leave sooner or later and you actually don't have a ticket back, you don't even have to leave the keys. I am exhausted of trying to find something that should be there when obviously is not. I'm sure you will find someone that can love you the way you need to be loved and you will love them the way they want, but you just don't love me how I need right now to be loved. I want more. I need more than what you can offer me and it is not your fault. I just don't want to feel like this for another month. I don't think I can handle it.
lunes, 29 de abril de 2024
A very productive Sunday
We are still very far from each other. The initiative is there, but it's not real. You say you're less sure than other times (good to know, now, that you weren't that sure before) about breaking up being the right choice, but you don't give me alternatives. You don't give me valid reasons. And I don't know if I have the strength to carry on trying given the past experiences. I breathe once or twice strongly and I do my best to remember why I want to have a life with you. It was easy to see it with the others, professional routes were taking us to different paths but things and a culture in common kept us together. We don't have that but we talked about having a professional project together. The idea of making an NGO with you sounded like a dream, specially with the disenchanment of the masters. But it doesn't seem like something you actually want to do, since you haven't done anything about it. And the masters and the cinema completely drained my energy and I promised myself that the moment I finish the semester I would join and work alongside with whatever you had created by that time. But you haven't done anything in all these months, how do you expect me to trust you if the pillar that is supposed to support our life hasn't even begun to be planned? We could apply this question to almost any aspect of this weird and dysfunctional common life we have created. I opened to you since the moment you let me and I vomited to you all the emotional charge I was carrying for months and I know it wasn't right. But there were tremendously important stuff for a relationship that you didn't tell for months. You should have told me a lot of things a lot before. And now all you say it's reduced to a lie because I can't know when you will surprise me again with some exclusive news you should have told me almost a year ago.
You have been lying to me since we met. Sometimes by omission, sometimes openly, but you never told me the whole truth. Our relationship is based on you telling me half-truths despite the fact that I only asked honesty from you from the first moment, and me forgiving you because by the time I found out about the first lie I was already so in love with you that the idea of being in Croatia without being able to talk to you, touch you or kiss you simply terrified me. On the other hand, I know we could be more that this fear. I know the intention is there, but I'm not sure we have enough will and resources. I love you like I have never loved anyone before, I have seen you grow as a person and a partner without losing your essence, but there's too much at risk. And I took off the ring. I read myself and remember all the bad, I read about attachments and the resources to build a healthy relationship and I trust there is still hope, but not too much. Because, after all, all I can think about is you flirting with (or rather being flirted by) all the girls on the exchange, getting drunk, having sex with someone at the hotel, we know you have experience on that. And everything goes to shit again.