De guaridas y refugios

Todo el mundo tiene al menos un lugar en el que se encuentra en paz y a salvo, tanto física como mentalmente. Un lugar, un rincón en el que no eres ni 'hij@ de tal', "amig@ de cual" o "¿Tú no estabas saliendo con ...?", sino que da igual quién seas.

Pero todo eso cambia cuando llevas a alguien especial. Desde ese mismo instante, ese lugar deja de ser solo propio. Ya no te sientes igual. Eso es porque has perdido ese santuario. Para siempre. Porque acabe como acabe esa relación, ese lugar dejará de ser solo tuyo. Pasará a ser algo compartido.

¿Y qué se hace entonces? ¿Qué haces, una vez que has perdido tu refugio secreto? ¿Buscas otro? No es tan fácil. No estoy hablando de un lugar en el que poder sentarse a leer el periódico o mirar tus mensajes mientras pasa al lado gente sin parar. Me refiero a un lugar en el que puedas estar durante horas sin que te vengan a la mente recuerdos sobre personas que ya no están, o que podrían haber estado y no estarán. Un lugar en el que pensar en lo que quieras porque es en lo que quieres pensar.

Yo perdí el mío hace tiempo. Dejé entrar a alguien que luego se fue, pero a la vez nunca se ha ido. Ahora la único guarida que me queda está en el interior de mi mente, donde nadie entra sin mi permiso, a donde por el momento no sé si quiero ser capaz de dejar entrar a nadie. La pega es que ahí dentro controlar los pensamientos que van y vienen es más difícil.

Y así estoy yo. Huérfano de santuario.

Sail away

I have seen the signs.

Anywhere I go, old and new mistakes and memories of a past best left forgotten fill my head and overwhelm my senses, preventing me from seeing anything with fresh eyes.

That is a curse I don't want to learn to live with, for it's the death of any attempt at happiness.

It's time for me to travel away, overseas if need be, to another shore, far from here, far from where there is no future for me.

What used to be just a wish has become a close to desperate need. What would have been a year abroad could become a permanent move.

I must find another beginning, somewhere to start anew.

A place where I can set foot on safe ground without breakin anything.

I shall find a place to build something big, strong, with deep roots, so I can reinvent myself for a new life.

As there is nothing to do when you don't want to live with yourself, there is nothing left for me here.

Please don't stop the music

There's this state of mind, you know, when you passionately listen to music. You are at peace with or oblivious to everything else. Your only concern is to the tune, the lyrics (if any) and the pace. So much that after switching the lights off and the music on you start humming, or singing in silence, and tapping with your feet against the floor, the wall, or against themselves, or with your fingers against a table.

You don't even have to know the lyrics by heart.

This state of mind or calm overcame me at a small inn, very few minutes before I wrote this down on paper. And I just couldn't leave it inside of me.

Más allá del horizonte

Quiero irme de aquí. No para siempre, pero a pasar una temporada fuera no le haría yo ascos.

Desaparecer una temporada, tomarme un respiro.

Aquí ya no me quedan lugares sin recuerdos, buenos, malos o ambos. Es difícil encontrar algún sitio en el que poder estar totalmente en paz, con la mente en blanco.

Irme para saber de qué soy capaz si empiezo desde cero en algún logar lejano donde nadie me conozca.

Ver cómo soy cuando nadie sepa quién era yo, sin tener que arrepentirme de nada porque acabo de llegar.

Como si hubiera perdido la memoria por completo y empezara de nuevo, una oportunidad de ver cómo soy, sin que nadie me presione ni espere nada de mí.

Nero

Tormenta de agosto

Martes, 6 de agosto, 2013, barrio de amara nuevo. Casi la una de la madrugada, y está cayendo la de dios es cristo: lluvia, rayos, truenos, toda la fiesta.

Y mientras escribo esto y veo cómo cae (todo a la vez, soy así de bueno) lo único que puedo pensar es que molaría mucho salir un rato a correr, echar un partido de fútbol, o a nadar en la playa.

No sé qué tienen las tormentas, que me animan. Y más aún si son nocturnas.

Pero en cuanto me despisto, mi mente, sabedora de que es verano y de noche (hora de divagar), se descentra con un inigualable talento hacia algo que no tiene absolutamente nada que ver.

Volviendo a lo que nos ocupa: que resulta que a mí me gusta estar al aire haciendo deporte cuando llueve.

Las noches de verano

Es lo que nadie recuerda ni echa de menos del verano: las noches. Calurosas, y difíciles a la hora de dormir.

Y por eso, mi cabeza hace lo único que puede a esas horas de madrugada: divagar. Sobre el pasado que no puedo cambiar ni olvidar, el presente en el que me siento totalmente incapaz y el futuro que me aterra porque no sé lo que vendrá.

No soy capaz de olvidar lo que dejé escapar, lo que no pude ni supe retener, de cuando no fui lo bastante diplomático, o de cuando no repartí unas cuantas hostias cuando tocaba. Hubo también cuando no supe dar media vuelta e irme tan pronto como debería haber hecho.

La única palabra para definir mi presente es incertidumbre. En lo que a algún que otro asunto respecta, sigo tan perdido como a los diecinueve. En otros, sé lo que debo hacer, pero me faltan voluntad y cojones, como siempre.

Y con el futuro, si viene de mi presente, casi puedo darme ya por jodido.

Por noches como esta no puedo evitar añorar considerablemente las frías noches de diciembre, o de invierno en general, esas en las que lo único que importa es mantener el calor y nada más, sin divagaciones que no ayudan en nada bueno, sino todo lo contrario, contribuye exclusivamente para joder.

¿Cómo se resume esto? Fácil: el día en el que a la gente se le enseñó a seguir adelante en la vida, a mí me pillaron mirándome los mocos.

Bonfire

Feelings are like a fire. If you keep tending to them they shall not die.

But if you abandon them, they will extinguish.

Shutting feelings down is a lot easier than giving them life.

Sparking a genuine feeling is like trying to make a fire in the middle of a storm using wet wood. Close to impossible.

But some bonfires are not that easy to kill either.

Not while the spark that gives it life remains close.

As long as it does, the fire shall never perish, no matter what lies around, rain, storms, the end of the world itself.

Another time, another life

Sometimes, I miss the old days. Those days when everything was simpler. A time when I could not be affected by anything, when I felt invincible, with no adversity I would not dare face, nor a problem without solution.

I could only offer indiference and cold to the rest of the world. I had no care for critics, opinions or insults, nor I longed for a single bit of public acceptance. I was on my own out there most of the time, and I learnt to work that way.

No fears, no worries. No joy, little laugh. It wasn't a happy time, but I never cried myself to sleep. I showed up every day, did my part, left without making noise. I managed.

Now, looking back, it feels like an entirely different person walked inside my skin. Same face and same name, but different mind, soul, heart. A boy who had seen enough, but still with a lot of learning to do, about so much.

Nero.

The Outcast Chronicles

I was first called a weirdo when I was a kid. I tried desperately to fit in, miserably failing every time.

I felt like a pariah, always suffering when people reminded me. I still believe some of them got some devious pleasure from that.

With time, it only got worse: the harder I tried to be like anyone else, te more I understood that such a task was impossible.

Eventually, the time came when I made the only right choice that could be made: I embraced the weirdo everyone saw in me. I took the thing I disliked and I turned it into my shield, the one trait that would define me. I decided that I would follow my own path, wherever it would lead me, set my own rules, I would be my own man, on my own, as I learned to do.

Suffer, learn, adapt, survive, thrive.

I would no longer give a damn about what people thought of me.

I wouldn't be weak anymore, nor I would give up.

I would do what I believed that had to be done, regardless what people would say.

Now, whenever people freak out because i act differently, I smile with pride.

I'm different, I act differently. it's what I am, what I do. I don't try to fit, I don't even bother or try.

I was born an outcast. Grew an outcast. Will die a bloody outcast.

Nero

The Tribe

Nobody is an island. The only moment you are all alone is in death, no matter if you are a king surrounded by your faithful knights, or a humble farmer with your family, nobody can accompany you to the void.

People will be beside you in life, not before, not after, so you have to find someone to stand along, people to whom you can trust your secrets without fear, so that they can do the same with you.

But that is not an easy task, especially at a young age, when kids would have betrayed their own mothers for some popularity in a heartbeat. At that age you will suffer. That is certain.

You must not give up, nevertheless. Some day, you will find people that will have your back, and you will have theirs in turn. Not out of obligation, but willingly. Because you chose to do so, as they did. Because that's how it works between friends.

Still, you will not be friends with everybody you know, is not possible. The only rule that apllies for this is the one I read once: Everybody’s a freak to somebody. You just gotta find your tribe and try to do right by them.

And there is nobody else I would be prouder to stand beside. People with whom I share mutual respect and trust. I would not change that for all the gold in the world.

Nero

The Beast

Today I felt something I had not felt in a long time.
Something I missed, that I believed gone.
What made me smile when rain fell on me.
What made me forget all my problems.
A wild strength that made me indestructible.
With a feral smile, like a wolf.

January the 5th, 2013

I'm a screw up. Always have been.

I never learnt how to completely get over anything or anyone, or how to say what I really think face to face.

All because of fear, because if I don't know what will happen, I'm too scared to act, to talk.

And that fear kills me. Every day. It's an agony.

But I can't or won't shake it off. Either one of them. Both of them.

I'm at a loss.