Sudamérica, el inicio: 15 de febrero de 2014

Sudamérica, el incio:

I think I’m afraid of people not doing what they say they will do.

When I’m high my perceptions are warped, there is a great difference in mind state while sober. You can’t think high is better than sober. But you also can’t say that one or the other is better at all; they are equally expressive and should be respected!

I feel like there is something about this city that is hiding from me, and I’ve been searching but I never can remember for what. It’s elusive. I also feel like the whole city is haunted. There is a secret here, the city is filled with pain.

I don’t want to tell anyone about my world; I don’t want to be a part of my world anymore, I want to be a part of this world.

This height is so airy, más claro que antes. Astral project into other people’s bodies. Visit the same places multiple times. Wear a hat if you’re not wearing sunglasses. Limpia la pipa de esa resina sucia. Listen to the song “Sea Legs” by The Shins. Three fingers caressing closed lips. Poetry as the compilation of words that sound beautiful when placed with other words.

When it steadily flows from pencil tip and it’s like I don’t even have to think about it. Respira el humo, feel your eyes drying. Remember that revelation you had? That you can write anything, in any way? That powerful feeling, my own master creating a force stronger than me and used for something good.

Sometimes it’s better to focus on the questions of what and how, rather than the why.

Sometimes they try to take you by force, sometimes they try to take you by charm. Doesn’t matter if you don’t want to be taken in the first place. Thinking intently of escape routes, that fear banging inside your chest, eyes bulge and bug out, skin crawls everywhere and the blood seems to expand in your veins, an outward pulsing pressure. The bathroom stall is the only safe place.

People care too much, push in on me trying to love me, but it never works. It only makes me feel like I can’t breathe and everyone is touching me and I’m squirming and shrinking inside myself.

Writing is stopping time to figure oneself out.

“Leave Pesadilla alone and come to your other nightmare.” -a boy, to me

Pesadilla absorbiendo mis malas ondas. Is she mutually benefited?

Drinking water en un vaso con bombilla, cold water from a 1.5 litro botella. Uruguayan rock music. Smoking a joint on the balcony alone, a break from work, a ponytail braid, jean shorts, a striped shirt found behind the front desk.

Listen to Caetano Veloso.

“I haven’t thought about it thoroughly enough to give you an honest answer.” -Me