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Adiós, Me Llamo Román!

No encontré una fotito que se viera triste para la despedida. Así que una de dos Romanes.
No encontré una fotito que se viera triste para la despedida. Así que una de dos Romanes.

Tiene mucho tiempo que tengo descuidado este Blog y con una buena razón: Ya no tengo ganas de escribir en él. Siempre tuve una audiencia aquí, que obviamente fue desapareciendo conforme fui prestándole menos atención a este espacio. Es normal, mis intereses ya no son mucho escribir como lo he venido haciendo en los últimos años. Decidí tomar acción al respecto y poner a descansar este blog al fin. 

Una disculpa a todos los que actualmente lo disfrutaban pero ya no quiero hacer esto. Aunque, no me retiro del mundo bloguero del todo. De hecho hace unas semanas comencé un blog nuevo, aunque es más para mis opiniones sobre temas que no caben en Twitter y que no quiero compartir en Facebook. Al igual, seguro escribiré alguna u otra cosa como las habituadas en el presente Blog.

No cerraré este espacio porque pretendo dejarlo para el recuerdo. Es bonito porque no nada más se trata de mí, bueno, sí se trata de mí completamente, pero en cada escrito hay el recuerdo de una persona distinta que ha significado algo para mí en algún punto. 

Hace unos dos o tres años presumí por este medio que habíamos alcanzado un millón de visitas. Hoy día ese número se triplicó y hay 3,045,321 visitas en total.

Los tres artículos más populares fueron Podríamos atrapar estrellas fugaces, Sueños como Globos y Carta de Amor a Nadie. No puedo decir que entran por lo menos en mis 5 favoritos pero bueno, ustedes son los pinches raros.

Este blog vio muchas cosas de mí, algunas malas y otras buenas, miró las personas que pasaron y se fueron, miró a mi papá fallecer, miró a mis ex novias, miró a mi novia y mejor amiga. Miró uno que otro sueño <casi> realizado romperse por el hecho de que mi papá falleció, aplazándolo consecuentemente. 

Los países que más me visitaron fueron México, Estados Unidos, Argentina, España y Chile en ese orden. Los países que menos me visitaron fueron Bélgica, Holanda y Portugal, los tres empatados con sólo una visita.

En fin, gracias a los que se pasaron la prueba del tiempo, y a los que no, si vuelven a visitarme, les digo hasta luego. Si gustan, aún me pueden encontrar en mi nuevo blog (la verdad no sé cuanto dure, dudo mucho que dure lo mismo que este) o como siempre, estoy en Twitter quejándome del mundo y de la pobredumbre humana. Les regalo una fotito mía reciente. 



StarfallLiquid lights fall over me, drenches all of me, I’m not worthy of such empathy, what have I done to deserve it? – – They leave the sky burning, the sun comes upon as a liquid amber fury and it burns, it scorches my veins and eyes.
Dear sun: Why are you so angry?
And how do you know the anger I feel?
Where is this gentle warmth you used to give me as a present every morning? Please don’t burn me anymore.

The sun goes away to the horizon that belongs to him this time, the lady moon comes to try and comfort me in a cool embrace with the ocean breeze. Dear moon: Can you help me?
Can you save me?
Why do you calm my rages from afar?
How do you know what to say?

She tells me to hush, to sleep a dreamless sleep, rest and learn from the hurt, don’t let it hurt you, sleep, rest, forget and protect. — Nature has always reflected nature, while dead stars fall blazingly from the sky, in depths perhaps darker than space itself, more clandestine than the entire span of universe. A starfall is like watching a thousand miracles happen, falling stars like little tokens of liquid light for everyone of us, many wishes that they could fulfill. I guess I’m just trying to say that a falling star still falls down.


I’m Tired.

windows22There was never a road to paradise, just a path we paved for ourselves and a shadow, the same one we thought was the person we loved but all it was, all it will ever be is an unfulfilled dream or fantasy. You’ve always been kind of like a jewel on a crown to me, without you, it’s all incomplete, like a fish without fins or birds without wings.

I’m tired of feeling lost, afraid and misunderstood. Tired of wondering if I’m letting someone down by the choices I’ve made. I’m tired and tired of getting my feelings hurt, my ego bruised and my heart broken. Tired of showing these called emotions. I’m tired of being me and weak… of trying to be this person I cannot see. Tired of the pain and all the struggly I’ve put upon myself. Tired of not being the person I used to be, of hiding, of hoping, of healing. I’m just tired.

If it’s okay to be who I am, then why is it not okay for someone to keep me close? I get turned away. My soul is tired and my body is very wasted. My collar heart is sinking low and these eyes of mine got teary just because I know I could have done something different, could have said something different, could have been someone different.

I’m tired of all the hard work of healing, tired of failing and falling. I’m tired of things, people and their notions. Tired of their motions and their commotion. I’m tired of everything inside and out, of hating.

All I get is heartache whilst all I want is happiness, all I want is for someone to. – I don’t want to be rejected. How can I not be the problem after so many failed relationships? I’m too nice maybe, or too emotional, I worry to much perhaps or I talk too much. Maybe I’m too faithul. My heart hurts and it shouldn’t right now. Not now that the fight is so hard.

Big Old One

grinwich horrorAn entity, its real form, not revealed. It shapes its body into an emotional attached thought, gets into you, penetrates your deepest feelings, since the ancient times it’s been haunting the lesser men… It keeps its watch when the sun hides away into the horizon, when all light becomes nothing but a deep darkness in your close surroundings, when all is quiet, when it can make noises to make you lose sleep and make you frightened.

This is no fairy tale of monsters crawling from under the bed, this one has a mind (arguably), locks and knobs are useless. Don’t lower your guard for it can crawl during your sleep and lay beside you, poisoning your heart and mind, make your dreams living nightmares and the horror, oh the horror, it paralyzes your extremities, you’re useless against such reckless evil, and you can’t see it for it’s everywhere, it’s the wall, it’s the night stand, it’s inside you.

Called in the older days the Blind Idiot although popularly knownas the Big Old One, with multiple origin stories and yet, none of them can accurately tell from whence it came from, it’s often described as a tall and menacing entity with the ability to shroud itself in fire, darkness, and shadow. Others claim it’s the soul of a man that was seduced by evil beings who corrupted him to their service in the days of old. Stories are numerous, but one thing is certain, this lesser (although nonetheless powerful) daemon sultan will feast on whatever you carry with you.

Nonetheless, there are precautions to take, being awake and conscious doesn’t mean you’re free from its wrath, leaving you without bruises and unbattered. It spawns anywhere, hanging off the ceiling, starring at you with a horrific smile, and mind you, when it stares at you frowning, you will start to feel the life inside you hanging by a thread, being sucked from your chest ripping through yourbones and skin to seek refuge of the choking menace lying there, by the door, when all is dark and you’re voiceless.

Its behavior is extremely passive-aggressive. It stalks, follows and your torment will find no solace, once it spawns, it stays to forever haunt you until your very last day – – Firstly, the nights will be sleepless, thus severly damaging your social and professional abilities, soon enough your physical condition will reach your very one brain, memory loss and the inability to track long periods of time. You’ll lose everything, and some could consider the following the fun part: it will never stop until you give in, it will gnaw hungrily in inconceivable, unlighted manners beyond time and space against you, maddening, beating and drumming your inner thoughts with the thin monotonous whine of his eyes. Death awaits.


I am writing this under an appreciable mental strain, since by tonight I shall be no more.
May the merciful gods, if indeed there are such, watch over those hours when you be powerless and save you since that is not dead which can eternal lie,
and with strange aeons even death may die.

a veces

Me quitaron la vida del ayer,
Sonrisas que se convirtieron en sollozos, 
Sollozos convertidos en cicatrices,
A veces abren, a veces cierran. 

Desentendido y olvido,
Me arrastro por la línea del tiempo, 
Pretendo llegar a un lugar mejor,
Algún espacio donde todo se vuelva mierda,
Allí terminé. 

Porque sí entiendo y no olvido. 

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