Imagine the Posibilities. How beautiful the world could be!
In front of me three rivers slowly flow, patiently waiting to merge into the sea. Three streams of worry also run over my chest. The clean substance of which they’re made becomes dark when I think of something mundane, or everytime I go out to the street. But, contrary to the movement of the first three, the latter mentioned flow upwards, climbing up the hills, and carrying the dust and sand and stones to the places they’d belonged when I was born. These three forces sculpt me, sometimes gently, sometimes not quite. They direct my feelings and leave a wound wherever they go, whether it is to my ears, my lungs or my eyes.
Thank god I came to England. I can’t imagine how my life would be if I had stayed in Bogotá. It came the point when I realised that the crucial moment in which everything in your life turns around and gets better was not going to happen unless I did something.
I stopped buying that bullshit all those Hollywood films throw into our brains. Like beautiful stories about love, war, weirdos who become superstars and so on. So I said to myself: If you don’t do anything interesting with your life, well, your life is going to be the same shit it’s been so far.
And that’s how all this started.
I’m proud of having made that decision. Not so proud of being a fucking *(censored)* here and splash out my parents’ savings, though. But if I do an overall evaluation of my experience, I could say and conclude the following:
I’m falling asleep again, even though the book I was reading is really entertaining. It must be the lack of sleep -good rest, I mean- that’s causing this tiredness.
I like the book very much, though.
Reading with that fucking feeling of tiredness is really frustrating. I’ve been trying to understand one line and by the time I get to the last word of it, I can’t grasp the meaning. My eyelids keep falling down and almost immediately I start deluding myself, distorting the story I was reading into many senseless shapes, phrases, ideas and colours.
Drunken flatmates.
When you feel like shit, you realise there’s someone worse than you.
To Let Go
I love you. I just can’t help it. But I can’t help to stop me showing it either. I’m absolutely afraid of what the outcome of saying something -for the second time- might be. Things have changed a bit, I know they have. But, have they changed enough? Did it matter that they changed?
I’m utterly confused about you. I don’t know what I will say when I see you. Probably nothing that make sense, I’m positive on that. I can’t stop thinking what will it be like to see you again. To feel you so close again, that vague and precious moment in which I totally get you. I wonder if you feel or think the same. I’d kill to know what’s going on in your mind, in your heart.
Sadly I made a promise: to never act in front of someone as If I was someone weak, someone who needed other people’s respect and good opinion. As if I needed to be with someone in order to be happy. Now I can say that’s bullshit. Something I’ve discovered here is that happiness can’t be found in someone else. It’s in yourself, right there. You just have to decide to be happy, and fight to be happy and have a meaningful life.
So tonight I’ve come to the conclusion that, given the circumstances, I want to let you go. I don’t want to be tied up to somebody who is not in the same wavelength that I am. Although I know, and I’m pretty sure about this one, I know I won’t ever find anyone like you in the whole world, although that, I feel joy to think that you are happy with or without me.
It is the mind that is vast, not the universe, not the world. It is the knower that is great not that which is known, and the seer is greater than the seen. That which is known is contained within the knower, and that which is seen is contained within the seer.
The vast expanse of the sky isn’t out there, it’s in the mind, because the mind is everywhere and there is nothing outside of it.
Ask yourself: Is THIS why I am here? To turn a dollar from the sweat of my brow, so as to afford to keep the sun from my back, the rain from my head? Here I am, here to watch the daytime television, to buy the designer clothes, to consume industry-approved placation after placation? No. I believe There is more, and more still.
This is how my name looks like in Ancient Egyptian Language. Taken in Brighton, in the Pavilion Museum.
