###

I still don't know what I'm doing. Maybe I am just trying to cover the empty space in here but people try to convince me that the space isn't really empty that I can't kick you out at all but time will heal me and new people will fill the rest of me. The new people is supposed to be different and I'm supposed to feel different and fall different for them. 
They told me it is a waste of time trying to fall in love the same way I did when I really did but I can't believe them. I hate people telling me that. They spit it as if love was a granade. And I threw it. And it's gone. And now I am doomed to feel partially in love.
I've known for a while what it feels like. I've told the same things you told me with no intention to harm but people get harm and get angry and it's unfair but I take their pain and their anger because I've been there too. I knew too well the whole process and I try to convince myself that someday they'll understand. I am sure they will. No I hope they will and that it can take them less time. 
I use to get angry every time I have to admit you were right about me.
I hate the fact you knew me better than the way i do. That you didn't allow me to give you back the stupid stuff.  You knew I'd regret it. That you were right when you told me that i'd meet better people. 
I've been trying I swear but maybe I've been trying too hard. I've met a bunch of nice people and they've been with me even before you. I found the sweetest guy and I couldn't keep him because later I got that it's not just about finding better people it's about falling in love like for real. 
I hate you're still wrong about me finding someone. I hate it because you were predicting your own faith not mine. And I freaked out when I noticed and then I cried and then I laugh because I couldn't help being happy for you. 
I always knew you deserve the world. 
I like to think you defeated the speech people try to teach me and I know I deserve it too.
~
I know I should've forgiven you by now. I guess I forgave you but I don't think you care about that anymore. I should've apologized too. I  had to play your role and it's not easy but I didn't know until now. I got so harm I couldn't see a fucking shit. I judged you too hard. I blamed you. I though you were mean -maybe you were- but I underestimated your need of being honest with yourself. 
I wish I could tell you that didn't really mean it that I understand now.
~

The prickling

Como cada vez que no me siento libre, como si esto diera libertad.

I could live this way maybe. It doesn't get ugly till I want to remember.

Gets me sad because I regret the way I was, the things i didn't do, the ones I didn't say. Gets me upset because I still see what I've lost. Makes me feel trapped when I notice I gave up.  It only gets me comfort when I live my present and know I do love my man. But it also gets me bitter when I see my whole truth; the one that gets me crazy, because it makes no sense... is just i'm not sure  if I will ever stop loving -some way or another- the one I loved the most.

Entonces necesito migrar de nuevo.

Algún lugar donde me sienta libre, donde ahora si pueda expresarme de verdad... pero siempre pienso que hay mucho en juego. Podría ser orgullosa, escribirme y quemar el papel, arrojarlo al techo, enterrarlo para siempre. O podría ser libre y nunca más avergonzarme de lo que siento; desafiar al futuro, soltarme y disfrutar. 

No soy libre porque todo mi ser me delata. Porque temo hacer daño pero a la vez muero por ser feliz. No soy libre porque me cuesta un mundo dejar ir; aunque agradezco la voluntad que me permite no indagar, no averigüar, no torturarme pensando en cómo las cosas cambian, y en cómo terminé de pie aún estando derrotada. No sé qué es más ficticio, si lo que dejo ir en mi mente, lo que conservo, o lo que imagino a través de esas pruebas que me negué a seguir recogiendo.

Amaba mi verdad y mi suerte. Mi certeza incierta de encontrar justo lo que siempre quise y más. Sucumbí ante la pérdida y me perdí en mi dolor.

Me levanté porque así lo quise y eso me hace dudar de mi propia honestidad. Sé que no lucho por lo que siempre quise, sino que para conservar lo que he construido a partir de mi propia voluntad; sin saber si eso me hace consistente y fuerte, o débil y cobarde.

But songs don't stay underground.

Vuelvo, añoro y creo.  Vuelvo, desecho y rezo
¿rezo? con miedo ridículo y pasajero.