Otra lista de vibras: 10 de febrero de 2015
Other people’s wrong assumptions, the silence boredom brings, vibes of safety and security sprouting from my mother’s written words, tobacco in a soggy pouch under my upper lip, cool air after the rain, water collected in the ashtrays on the patio, open windows, a giant mural, drawing with colored pens, fixing my hair, Birkenstocks and a corduroy skirt,
a quickly dying iPod, looking up words in Spanish, sneezing in the sunlight, playing fetch with an agile cat, searching for inspiration in words and pictures on Pinterest, wondering if I should be doing something specific, walking up and down the stairs, looking for what’s missing, flicking the ants out of the cat food, waiting for questions that never come,
laughing tiredly as they take my energy, refusing to choose the music, asking questions and getting short replies that don’t reveal anything, tapping my feet to strange remixes, cereal in colorful bowls, the doorbell arousing my curiosity, avoiding anyone wanting to dance with me, daydreaming of my green magic lover always seemingly just out of reach,
painting my nails, biting my nails, handing out resumes, smiling at strangers, ignoring the compliments of creepy men, wandering the streets without aim, eavesdropping on other people’s conversations, not leaving the hostel because I don’t know where to go, thinking about how I have no desire to give anyone the slightest bit of information about my person, waiting for questions that never come, reading three books at once,
eating people’s leftovers, cooking as a chemistry experiment that always seems to work out more or less, running to the park, saying no to offered cigarettes, judging people by the way they approach my cat, waiting for something to happen, bothering people to get a reaction, kissing boys that get too close, squirming away from them afterwards,
seashells and succulents, drinking ice water and thinking about turning it into juice, making faces at the little girl on the terrace next door who seems incredibly bored, winking at my coworkers, loving the tranquil vibes, letting things be, letting things happen, making lists, checking my schedule, wanting a restaurant job so I’ll be forced to speak in Spanish,
marker stains on my fingers, scratching mosquito bites until they bleed, picking scabs until they bleed, waiting for questions that never come, reading everyone’s minds, dried flowers, wet grass, sweeping the patio, shaking out the rugs, telling people my name is Juana, thinking I’m a seagull named Jonathan, designing tattoos in my mind and being unable to draw them on paper,
chasing the cat around the yard, not taking a shower, wondering who’s read the words I’ve written, staring at nothing, sitting apart from the others, people telling me I’m timid and me thinking maybe it’s true but maybe it’s not, feeling comfortable being alone, being excited about new check-ins and the departure of people I’ve found to be boring, judging music as being good or bad quality,
downloading movies, wiping the tables, lighting incense, changing the garbage bags, tapping my pencil, wondering where I’ll be when I write the last page of this diary, watching people drink from my mate cup, hoping someone will post an interesting photo on Instagram, thinking Lana del Rey has a beautiful voice but horribly cliché lyrics,
wishing I could speak French, wishing I could speak Spanish, wanting my family to visit me, opening the fridge, looking through the guests food like a vulture in human form, murmuring words to myself, dancing alone, brushing away flies, waiting for questions that never come, wanting to take a class at the university, making videos for friends,
smiling slyly at people I know find me attractive, yellow eyes staring at me from leafy green and muddy brown, heating up old coffee, writing down questions to ask the people that I think may know what’s going on in the universe, turning the lights on, smoking the resin from my pipe until there’s nothing left, spying on people from my window on the third floor,
romanticizing the present moment, feeling others watch me as I write, sprinkling salt on ripe palta, throwing away moldy cheese and fruit, deliberately ignoring the idea of the future, coloring in between the lines, staying up late and sleeping in, staring at my reflection in puddles, watching other people cook, having nothing to do and feeling calm about it, waiting for questions that never come, having nothing more to say.