¡EN CONSTRUCCIÓN!

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(Como la mayoría de los cerebros...)

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Radio silence

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The sweet spot, the second before everything explodes. The bright lights, the echo of other voices, the rain hitting the glass, messing around, led by the wind. The silence. The heartbeat racing. The taste of something rotten at the back of the tongue, sliding down the throat. The obvious. What everyone sees. What certain eyes can never see. What certain eyes are blind to, just looking at something else. Always something else. A wound. The blood. The mess. Something that feels like home. Jazz notes. A hand gripping the hair at the back of a neck. The slow poisoning. The quiet whispers of what cannot be said out loud. Another defeat. Muddy boots. Slow pace. Quick pace. The darkness observing it all. Thousands of lights following the beat. A gleam in someone’s eyes. The truth. A lie. Walking for days. Crossing back and forth, between the sea and the imagined land. The borders that some observe with hatred, unsure if they ever meant something. Just a line to be crossed. Again and again, d...
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wrapped 2024

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  January. An empty page, Twilight -like. Vampires. A trip to hell, to all the things we didn’t talk about. A trip to awkward silences. February 15: 341 minutes of Stubborn Love on loop. February 25: Numb. Tired of carrying it all. Alone while you hold me with dead arms. So lost in my head, spiraling into myself. I killed the love. It’s over. 7 p.m. Danish classes. Exhausted. Feelings in the freezer. Friends holding the pieces together, cooking for me hand-in-hand, day after day. The shy smile, the funny joke. The sun is out. A run. 5K. A pastry. A podcast. Women building culture, sharing knowledge. 7K. Taking extra shifts. Working in the stockroom. Working in a school. Patchwork of jobs: shifts and gaps. Full-time hours, part-time pay. Broken rhythm, weekends on a Tuesday morning. 9-hour shifts on Sundays. Crying myself to sleep. No prospects. Nightmares, dreams of you coming back and saying yes. A seller. A substitute. A wasted master’s degree. Avoiding eye contact. Going to...
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5 kilos.

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  She weighed her love in kilograms. The ones she lost or gained depending on how much love she had to beg outside. She was hiding in the crags of her many times broken little heart, looking at the numbers on the scale, and waiting patiently for her new adventure. She unconsciously punished herself by fasting. She would hear her intestines roaring, and she would repeat to herself: guilt, guilt, guilt, chaining the syllables and turning it into a prayer. She was convinced that in the lightness of her flesh, in making her fragility visible to everyone, she would find a way to fly away from that dark sensation that was latching onto her throat. She remembered that the lust that was consuming her every day never touched his body; she just gave him a glimpse of it, and that was enough to scare him for life. She told herself over and over again that her body was not deserving of the warmth and that she would never be touched with the passion she expected. She saw herself in front of th...
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