The Heartbreakers. The Heartbroken.

Vaya, ha pasado tiempo desde que escribí.

"¿Cuántos corazones has roto este mes?"
"Saldo blanco"

Soy una presencia observadora y silenciosa, vigilando con sigilo desde una sombra las relaciones amorosas problemáticas que se desenvuelven, nacen y mueren en mensajes electrónicos. Había una pareja de amor a distancia en MySpace, cuyo romance yo seguía con atención. Se trataba de una finlandesa viviendo en Suecia y una alemana. Me tope algún día con el MySpace de la finlandesa y vi los mensajes iniciales de una relación. Cada semana o algo cíclico por el estilo, iba y checaba los nuevos comentarios que se habían enviado. Se juraban cariño eterno, la finlandesa era muy linda y tierna, la alemana era apasionada pero distante al querer hacer un drama. Alguien terminó rompiendo el corazón de alguien, como suele suceder. Dejé de poner atención en esa relación por meses, hasta que volví de metiche a la vida virtual de estas dos. Me enteré de que la finlandesa había ido a Alemania, a ver si había cuento de hadas al cual rendir tributo. Me enteré también de que ahora se había perdido esa relación. La alemana ya tenía otra chica, los mensajes se habían hecho más cortos con el tiempo, a tal grado de que ya no habían mensajes recientes. Me quebró el corazón. Se hablaban tan bonito. Ahora la finlandesa está saliendo con una chica que lo último admirable acerca de ella es su físico. Tal vez el amor no tenga una cara bella, pero tendrá entrañas reales y palpitantes.

Otro caso... dos niñas suecas. Se amaban demasiado, pero se amaban en tonalidades grises, en susurros de poemas tristes. Amor al fin y al cabo. Se echaban piropos, decían que no podrían vivir sin la otra. Fue un amor de verano que terminó con tintes de otoño matte. Una engañó a la otra con una morena, rubia, ojos verdes, cuerpo perfecto. Caroline se sintió herida, olvidada, agredida, reemplazada, comparada y terminó por borrar su perfil de la página donde yo las espiaba. Ahora el usuario "kexicups" tiene otra chica a su lado, pero por sus mensajes, veo que perder a Caroline le ha costado caro. Pero se hablaban tan bonito...

Así que te pido que no sólo me hables bonito. Quiéreme en formas gráficas, sonoras, y tal vez me arranques la verdad acerca del amor, algún día de silencio.

Jag ger up.

Hej du.

It's so easy to torment me with the pettiest things in the world and while something might seem insignificant and worhtless to the common eye, it could be the meaning of life itself to me. I'm trying to exaggerate here, because the shock was that big in the beginning.

There have been two times in my life when I was stressed over something and then came a moment of light and reason, and suddenly my worries were sublimed and lifted up to the degree of dust and laughter. The first of those moments was when I was seven years old and I was bullied by the girls in my classroom. I had done or said something improper to them and I couldn't sleep that night, just thinking about the way I was going to go rebel on them and tell them to fuck off and leave me alone. But it was torture for me. I was sitting up on my bed, sweating and shaking, fearing that I would get my self esteem beaten up, that I was going to be left friendless and pushed out into the circle of misfits. I was so scared to face the girls in my classroom, but at the same time too fed up with them, that I couldn't go through that night without asking myself so many questions, such as "What am I going to do if they leave me alone?", "How am I going to survive the pointing and sneering?", "Who am I going to hang with?", "How are the rest of the children going to see me?", "Why do I have to be seen as the loser one within their circle?", and all those terribly questions a seven year old girl shouldn't be asking herself. But I was.

And then I remember I turned to see my Disney clock on my desk, it was 2 am. I fidgeted, I couldn't sleep, the world was shaking on my back. My lack of reputation wasn't the point, it was my lameass reputation. I was a nobody, I wasn't popular. I just hung with the "cool" people, but i wasn't cool myself. I was only seven years old and being alone and left out was killing me. Then came this moment of clarity, and I realized I was tired. It was 2 in the morning and I was thinking of the stupid girls in my classroom, and wondering what would be of me in the days to come. I couldn't take that shit. I just remember I said something like "Whatever, I'm tired and I'm going to sleep now. Tomorrow will be another day, and I don't care anymore if they pick on me again. I'm used to it. They won't be the first ones or last ones to harm me, so I'm just gonna get over it, Bye"

And I lied down and pulled the covers and fell asleep in a second. That was it. I was fucking tired. Torturing me with all those questions and shit was useless. It did no good for me. While those girls meant a lot to me, I meant nothing to them. Although my bullies, they were the only people I had. I didn't want to be alone, because lonely people were all losers in my opinion.

But I hadn't seen yet, that I was already on my own, without someone to lean on, without someone to really love. I didn't have friends, I didn't have someone to laugh with, someone who understood me, someone that liked me at all. For a while, going to school was hell. I was a shy, really quiet, really shaky girl. I was afraid of everybody and I hid behind my mother, behind my dad, behind some tree. I didn't want to meet people, because I feared all people were the same. As time went by, my parents sent me away to another school where I slowly made some friends. My mom and dad didn't know that while I was in the previous school, I got home from school crying, and panting and shaking and swallowing my childish pain. When I was ten I told my mother all the mean and cruel things those girls had done to me, and as I explained her, I cried and she asked me "Why didn't you tell me before?", and at the time, I didn't know the answer, but now I know. I think it was something I had to deal with myself, without someone's help. Those times shaped me and made me the person I am today.

Nowadays I'm not so social, I am still quiet, but i open up fast. I like trusting people and I like thinking that the people I meet are nice and kindhearted. I'm a bit scary the first time people meet me, whether it is for my appearance or for my presence, but as soon as they get to know me, they know I'm one of the sweetest girls ever. I'm human and I like sharing my share of tender and naïve wisdom with them. Being beaten up in the past could have led me in two directions: Being a psycho, taking revenge on everybody that hurt me and being a cunt with everybody I'll meet, or recycling those blue feelings and develop a sense of compassion and joy towards the world. I chose the latter. Because one day, I just gave up and let it all go, I just let it all go. "This isn't for me" I said. I lied down, pull the covers and rolled on my bed because I had had enough of it. Enough.

Fast forward several years later and I'm in pieces for someone I will never be with. This time it's a romantic issue I'm dealing with. This person has absolutely no idea about the things she's made me thought, done and dreamed, but anyway, it's not like she gives a damn about it. Why I fell in love with her, I do know. I'm aware of it. However, the reasons why I should forget about her outnumber by far the reasons why I should keep her in my head. Still, we all know the heart follows no logic and is reluctant to listen to reasons. Our ephimeral and silly story was supposed to end the day she stopped answering my messages, but I didn't want to let go of her, cuz she's all good looking and "cool". After months of randomly thinking of her, like an on-off obsession, I came to the conclusion that I could never really wash her off my mind.

Some days ago I saw some picture of her that made me think a lot. I started again, breaking my head wondering if she was trying to say something with that picture, wondering if she still missed me, wondering a lot of things. I spent the night with my bare eyes, thinking of her, seizing the possibility of an encounter, of talking again, of anything. Some pink and sweet feelings grew in me in just minutes. I spent tow or three days partly excited, partly confused. It has been months since we last talked and I had never really let go. Not even in my better times. Then came the moment of infinite light haha, and I could even hear the heavenly chorus roar "Hallelujah!" cuz I realized something important: I AM TIRED.

I am tired dude, I'm so tired of going back and forth, back and forth, back and forth, asking myself the same questions and getting to the same answers. I'm tired of bringing things to some synthetic closure just to know really, that I'm still stuck in her (less over time, but still). I'm just plain tired of knowing that she won't let me in and I'm tired of hoping and dreaming and considering her in my future, and just tired of devoting the bright side of my poetry to her. I'm tired. I was so afraid of not having someone to feel pathetic and foolisghly in love with, that I didn't want to let go of her. But since I was too tired of myself, I decided to just fucking give up.

I gave her up for the better. She was the first one I thought I loved, but she won't be the last one. Many after her will like me and harm me and drive me mad. Many will love me and school me and hate me and such. Being aware of it allowed me to let go, overnight.

She is (and this won't change) one of the most beautiful girls I could ever lay my eyes on, I can count with one hand the number of girls who've taken my breath away like she did. And I'm sure her time to bloom is yet to come and she'll realize how talented she is and what a marvelous icon she could get to be. I forever wish her the best and I want her to be as happy as she could be. She won't ever know how much she meant to me, nor why it took me so long to get over myself. But I thank her for the way I let myself break loose, in a time when I thought I was doomed. She doesn't belong to me, and I don't belong to her, but she's one of those girls that go down on the story of my life to fully comprehend why am I a better version of myself today. So thank you.

And now, I think it is tome for me to lay down, roll on me bed and give it a sigh. Pull the covers and hope that tomorrow I will be a bit cooler and so much wiser. I'm sure I'll talk about her in the future and I'll remember her when I hear someone saying her name. And I'll bring her back into the conversation and into my days without feeling cold, stupid or lost. I'll bring her back from time to time with a smile and a "Yeah well, I know..." kind of attitude.

It's cool to give up and just let it go. One day.

Mitt hjärta är från Venus, min hjärna är från Mars

Ayer, mi madre acude al umbral de mi cuarto y toca mi puerta dos veces. -Toc-Toc- Total, que le abro y veo que estaba probándose ropa para ir a la oficina. Se había comprado en la tarde un pantalón negro en una tienda farola. Vestida con ese mismo pantalón y una blusita mona, me sonríe y me pregunta "¿Qué te parece? ¿Cómo se ve?", ella toda entusiasmada esperando una respuesta expresiva y motivadora de mi parte.

Simplemente le contesto "Se ve bien", seguido de un encogimiento de hombros desinteresado y estéril. Ella congela su cara y pone enseguida mirada de Droopy. "¿Sólamente bien?", me pregunta medio desmotivada. "Se ve... bien" le reitero. Pone semblante de fracaso, como si le hubiera dicho que la ropa que ha elegido es un asco tremendo. Lo que me hace pensar que a las mujeres se les debe de hablar con las expresiones, tonos de voz y temperatura al hablar, más que con las palabras. Es por eso que ellas usan más emoticones en mensajes de msn, y es eso lo que las orilla a los sentimentalismos dramáticos.

Ya, entonces mi padre ha escuchado lo que acaba de pasar y me dice con una sonrisita malévola "Eres de Marte, no de Venus, piensas como hombre y por eso nos entendemos". Y bien, tal vez lo acepto. Las mujeres son complicadas porque tienen el afán de poseer al mundo no porque el mundo les escriba las palabras "soy tuyo", sino porque el mundo la rodea sin tener que decírselo.

Entender a los hombres (heterosexuales) es demasiado fácil. Un punto a favor de las mujeres heterosexuales es que la mayoría de los hombres son IGUALES. Su pensamiento sigue una lógica impresionante. Son prácticamente operados por monedas, son máquinas y funcionan de maravilla. No hacen más de lo que se le spide hacer. No dicen más de lo que se les pide responder. Si una mujer le pregunta a un hombre "Me veo bien?", el hombre le dice "Te ves bien". AAHHH no, pero ella espera un "Te ves mil coqueta amorsito, ven para acá que me has dado unas ganar de ponerle nombre al niño solo porque combinaste bien esos colores, OMG" O sea nel, eso no pasa. El hombre ha cumplido con contestar la pregunta, ya, mujeres, dejen de joder. Se ven bien, de ven dables, ahorrense las ganas de expresiones megalomaniacas.

Hombre: "Te pasa algo?"

Mujer: "No"

Hombre:"okay" *se va*

Wey, no te irrites! Tú misma le dijiste que no te pasa nada. Sigue la lógica masculina, es sencilla y no requiere mayor pensamiento. ¿Quieres que te escuche? Dile que sí, que te pasa algo, que te pasa mucho. Dile que es un cabronsísimo porque no te llamo cuando quedó de hablar, dile que le chilla la ardilla, dile que te caga tu menstruación, dile algo! Si él no ha hecho nada malo para irritarte, no te irrites. No necesita hablarte diario para que sepas que le gustas. No porque no te hable en los primeros tres minutos luego de conectarse a msn significa que eres de relleno en su lista. Demonios, no analices las cosas tan intensamente, los hombres son lo más light. And I'll resort to some saying I read recently:

"Quien ama menos en la relación, es el que la controla"

Así que chill down. No te hagas detestable :B Cuz I've been there lol.

Esas mujeres überemocionales me desagradan, por eso me gustan las que dicen "neta tienes muchos defectos, eres floja, te olvidaste de mi cumpleaños, no me gusta tu corte de pelo, pienso que estás loca por perforarte y tu gusto por la moda me da roña, pero me gustas porque eres franca". Eso es todo. Esa es la actitud! Bitch just say it.

Esta niñ@ se despide mujeres! :3 Pasen una buena vida.

My Personality Disorders

Hello creatures!


Tomé -de nuevo- un test de desordenes de personalidad y salí alta en tres. How awesome. Aunque el ser narcisista contradice en algunos puntos al ser schizotypal.


Schizoid - Schizotypal - Narcissistic.


Básicamente... esto soy:


People with schizoid personality disorder avoid relationships and do not show much emotion. Unlike avoidants, schizoids genuinely prefer to be alone and do not secretly wish for popularity. They tend to seek jobs that require little social contact. Their social skills are often weak and they do not show a need for attention or acceptance. They are perceived by others as humorless and distant and often are termed "loners." D'aawww... Ain't I so adorable?

Many believe that schizotypal personality disorder represents mild schizophrenia. The disorder is characterized by odd forms of thinking and perceiving, and individuals with this disorder often seek isolation from others. They sometimes believe to have extra sensory ability or that unrelated events relate to them in some important way. They generally engage in eccentric behavior and have difficulty concentrating for long periods of time. Their speech is often over elaborate and difficult to follow. I'm a riddle, yah


Narcissistic personality disorder is characterized by self-centeredness. Like histrionic disorder, people with this disorder seek attention and praise. They exaggerate their achievements, expecting others to recongize them as being superior. They tend to be choosy about picking friends, since they believe that not just anyone is worthy of being their friend. Narcissists tend to make good first impressions, yet have difficulty maintaining long-lasting relationships. They are generally uninterested in the feelings of others and may take advantage of them. Love me :*:

Y me gustó mucho ésta frase :

"Self-reliant, each loner swims alone through a social world—a world of teams, troops and groups—that scorns and misunderstands those who stand apart. Loners know better than anyone how to entertain themselves—and how to contemplate and to create. They have a knack for imagination, concentration, inner discipline, and invention—a talent for not being bored."

Haha! I rock in a deranged way.

Childish Peversions

in·fer·no (n-fûrn)
n. pl. in·fer·nos
1. A place or condition suggestive of hell, especially with respect to human suffering or death: the inferno of battle.
2. A place of fiery heat or destruction.

In the beginning... tomé el sustantivo de "inferno" y lo coloqué como mi apellido falso. Lo sustraje en primera instancia de una canción de Billy Talent.

Into the river below...I'm running from the inferno...

They'll think I'm insane, but you'll all know my name!

Into the river below...I'm running from the inferno...

I'll take all the blame, the front page and the fame!

Y de cierta forma, me sentía así. Inferno became me. No ha sido algo que me incomode, y siempre que escribo mi nombre impuesto, Ione Inferno, me siento bien. Me siento cómoda. Me siento caótica.

Hell is in the heart of the beholder.