Narcissus, you taught me that ink flows from a broken heart.

If I live again, I will tell you

again if the result will be this. Armando, to you who repaired what you didn't break, who
loved me, even though I didn't know how to love me and you never used it against me, thank
you.

Psalms 147:3 He heals the brokenhearted and binds up their wounds.

I never write so that someone comes back, I do it so that I always come back.

WARNING: This product is not a medication. Read at your own risk.

I hope you have never read anything I have written to you, because it would destroy me to
know that, despite that, you have not looked for me . MARIO BENEDETTI

Foreword
Enclosing in letters all the pain that someone made you feel is one of the most difficult
things you can do, it doesn't matter if they are not sent, it doesn't matter if the sender
never holds them or never reads them, not even three hundred and sixty. Five letters
are enough to capture the odyssey of a goodbye. Have you ever felt that pain that pierces
the chest and annihilates reason? Have you ever been drowning without realizing that the
water is barely up to your ankles? There are people who are poison, who are weeds, who
end the life of the small peonies that grow near them, they cover them and .
They end up withering them. There are people who create a storm around you, then
come and pretend they saved you. Yes, there are those who have the lifeguard complex
(I don't know if that term exists, but that's what I call them), people who clip your
wings without you realizing it and then push you over the abyss making you believe
that you jumped without noticing. As you fall, you scream, you cry, you ask for help,
you feel despair, you pray to heaven that someone sees you and decides to give you a
hand. That's when he appears, spreading his beautiful wings and taking you in his
arms and you, as a devout believer, see a miracle, without imagining that it was all a
trick to make you feel incapable of saving yourself. They are beings that send you into
free fall.

They are your parachute, and they make you afraid of everything, heights, water, small
spaces, big ones, they make you believe that without them you can't achieve anything.
They force you to need them and beg for them not to leave you, you are afraid to
imagine the future because they created a dangerous scenario in your head. But the day
comes when you realize that all you need is to recover the wings that you amputated for
love, suture them and fly away, that is when your “guardian angel” loses power, and
you break the chains. But what about abstinence? That is, you are taking away a drug.
How do you survive that? There is only one antidote. Self-love . In all these undelivered
letters .
What you are about to read, Gilraen shows you the value of loving each other and
saying goodbye just in time. Dear reader: I knew Gilraen long after these letters were
written, but I can swear that with each one I got to know her a little more, so come, take
her by the hand and let her show you on her ship how it was all written. . Lissbeth SM.

November Oh, Narcissus! You have disarmed the rose, what lie did you tell her about
her thorns that the poor thing ran to remove them? .

Thursday, November 5, 2012 Dear you: This is approaching its end and we both know
it, but you, as always, act as if nothing is happening and avoid me. I've gone from being
a supporting actress to being an extra who doesn't have a single sentence in your
movie. And it hurts me because I don't know how to tell you what I feel. Every time I
try, you think it's just a drama of a typical misunderstood woman, you roll your eyes and
draw that grimace on your face that I hate more than the taste of milk. You pretend to
pay attention to me and shake your head as if to say “yes,” but I know that all you want
to say is “no, not anymore . ” It's not anger that I feel, it's not .
reproach what I tell you. Therefore, on that date that we have not yet made, I plan to tell
you that I am leaving your life, that I will get off at the next station so that you can
continue without me. "How brave I read," but it's not easy, I don't know if it will be
another farewell that we will retract or maybe I'll say things incompletely and you'll
finish the sentence, most likely I'll regret it, because the truth is, I'm not sure about
this step. Maybe I already realized that you don't need me, neither do I, but how I want
you by my side. Maybe you've already left, but you haven't said goodbye to me, because
you haven't had the courage, you always want to leave the hardest steps to me, I'm
always the one who has to think about how to preserve the bridge that you're destroying
slamming door by slamming door.
 I hope you give me ten minutes soon, I'll settle for five, I just want to ask you a
question for which I already have the answer, but I want it from your mouth. .

November 8, 2012 —Do you still love me? -I asked for. -I still love you.

Day 1: Friday, November 9, 2012 This is the same as when someone close dies, now I
understand why they say "I hope they find resignation soon . " I sit at a funeral, where
my heart riddled with lies lies in the coffin. I still haven't received that blow of reality
where the collapse is assimilated. But what kills me the most is what do you feel?
Seriously, did you want this? Have I always been a product with an expiration date? I
don't know what was harder, seeing you leave, or seeing you smile as you left. I turned
around every five seconds to see if you were coming after me, praying to God that you
would .
but it never happened, because there, in that goodbye, the only pain was mine. Honey,
can I still call you that? Yes, I know it's idiotic, but let me continue writing this letter
with that melancholic and cheesy touch that I usually give to everyone. Please, just
answer me. Wasn't it easier to tell me a long time ago and avoid this tragedy? Your
indifference, the details you disregarded me, the calls you ignored, the messages you
saw and didn't answer, for what purpose did you do everything? Annoy me? Kill me
with sadness until I scream for you to leave? You did! Except for the last thing, since I
told it to you in the most poetically cordial way, because I couldn't betray my nerdy
spirit (yes, I invented an adjective). I thought all this strange behavior was because of
your father's death. However, I was wrong: I wanted to understand you, while you tried
to steer me away until I jumped off this ship to take full control of the helm. It bothers
me that I can't hate you, I couldn't do it before, nor will I ever be able to. It sounds very
illogical, because it is a rivalry of feelings, I love you, but you hurt, I love you, but I left
you and it's okay that you wanted to leave, but why in the worst way? I have the same
feeling as when you finish a book and you don't know what to do with your life. I look
at the calendar, the clock and… I don't know, I feel like something is tearing inside me,
even though you haven't even touched me. Drunk, disoriented and lethargic, .

without having consumed anything. Not even jokingly did I think about what would
happen to me on the first day without you, so I have no plan B, I have no plan for
anything. The thing is that for me there was no world where you wouldn't find yourself,
but I am in that same world now.

Day 2: Saturday, November 10, 2012 For a moment I thought it was all a bad dream,
but I woke up and you're still not there. My phone doesn't ring, you're not outside my
door, there's no sign of you. So, was it a real goodbye ? It was not a joke? Goodbye,
goodbye, goodbye. How long should I repeat it to assimilate it? I can't drink coffee
anymore, my fingers shake as if I had seven cups on them, my hands are sweaty, I've
hurt my lips and cheeks from biting them so much. I'm short of breath and have
lumps in my throat .
They are piling up; I want to pull out my hair, bite my nails, destroy my tongue, be a
victim of autophagy. I feel desperate for a dose of you, one lie would be enough for me,
two serious lies would taste good to me, I accept them all, I would eat them without
tasting them, I just want them. What did I do? Why did I take the last step? What was I
thinking? I would like to turn back the clock, continue as I did ten days ago, looking for
excuses to deceive myself and think that if you are not there it is because you can't, you
have occupations, work, problems, your life, your other story... where I already stopped
acting. I don't know, maybe I did like to excuse you. At least that's how you felt about
me, at least you wrote to me sporadically to ask me about a book. At least you were.
There was at least a slim chance that you would reconsider, but now we utter the
unpronounceable, and I plead guilty for the first goodbye that was thrown into the air.
But you forced me! I didn't want to, I swear I didn't want to, but you put me at the foot
of the bow and I had no escape, I spit it out because I had no other option. I didn't
make that decision, you made it, I just carried out the sentence; Now I have the wound
on my back while you walk upright and with your head held high, pretending to be
innocent. You stretched out the net for me and I got tangled like a sardine. But tell me,
little pervert, ask me for a final hug .

with that face full of ecstasy? Added to your laugh of amusement at my face devastated
by a tremendous scene of terror from which I did not know how to escape. I was your
game, your sport, the fish that you string and throw into the sea because you have
realized that it is of no use to you. I am descending from the step from which I
observed you sweetly. I ran out of the story, your mask fell off, the promises tied
around your neck are in agony. Everyone in my head is asking about you and I know
where you are, but I don't know how to answer them, tell them that I am still in a deep
decline where I close my eyes waiting for the impact of my body against the ground.
There's no point in closing the door on this story if I'm trapped in the middle of the door. .

Day 3: Sunday, November 11, 2012 No, I didn't leave first, you left without even leaving,
and that is the worst abandonment. From the moment I met you you were good with
plans, with math, with problems and difficult levels. Persuasive down to atmospheric
levels. You always took the words out of my mouth, when faced with your arguments
there was no way to contradict you, you debated your position to the death and I
preferred to remain silent. I admired that tenacity to defend the indefensible and win,
but I never thought that one day everything would be used against me. That you would
put this dirty plan into motion with me, that you would entangle me in your equations,
that you would lock me in the labyrinth, that you would put the X on my chest and
shoot at point-blank range. You threw the harpoon right into my mouth. Tell me if I
didn't go from being a mermaid to being a fish for sale, tell me if a fish in a tank is
nothing more than a desk decoration. Tell me if that wasn't me.
Day 4: Monday, November 12, 2012 I hate endings, the endings of books, the endings
of series, the endings of a concert, the endings of movies and even the ending of the
bag of chocolates. You always knew I had a serious problem with outcomes. I don't like
finishing writing novels, I don't like getting to the end of stories, I don't like saying
goodbye to the people I work with, the train home terrifies me, I hate how empty
houses are after moving. Or when a room in a home is vacated, like you, who took the
suitcases and left the main chamber of my left ventricle, I always placed you there,
because it is the strongest, the one that pumps the entire economy and It bears your
name. I don't like when conversations end, I don't like the word end. I'm skeptical
about it, just like you are about ghosts. I have a serious problem with everything that
involves leaving behind. It doesn't bother me to move forward, the problem is realizing
that with the passage of time, the meaning of those moments changes. The difficult
thing perhaps is not in looking ahead, but rather in turning your gaze and
understanding that at that moment what was present becomes the past. Just as if you
closed a book that cannot be read again. I don't know why I explain these things to you,
if you already know them and that is why you never dare to give up .
finished a project, but, even so, you figuratively considered things finished (you know
what I'm talking about) and I don't know if that's worse, a supposed ending that I must
discern at some point because you left all the evidence there. Why didn't you just tell me
in time that it was all over? To be honest, I fear goodbyes because I know that sooner or
later I have to move on, but tell me now, in this case, where should I look? Forward? It
would be the most logical thing, but who can assure me that you won't be hanging
around there and ruining my plans? Can you explain to me how it is so easy for you?
Because no matter how much I think about it, endings even seem like a subjective
issue: as long as one of the two lives, walks and their perfume walks mischievously
through the streets, what purpose can this have? We will return, not like before, not in
that way, but dreams betray, photos get misplaced, paths cross, the world is round, I'm
going north, I'll see you in the south, I'm going east and I'll surely find you in the
west . What's the opposite way, honey? .

Day 5: Tuesday, November 13, 2012 In our story, I was that writer who wants to add
filler chapters and send the characters on a thousand unnecessary trips in order not to
reach the end. A very bad story that should have been closed a long time ago and not
lose more lives. We always knew that there was no alternative path, there was only one
left and neither you nor I wanted to take it. There was a door with a triple lock, which
once closed, never opens. Then we blocked it with stones and you stood in the middle,
neither inside nor outside. And I was more than satisfied, even though you weren't
happy with me and I wasn't at peace, but that was better than changing my routine. I
was afraid of everything that followed after you, of moving apartments, of starting a
new life where my phone no longer rings. I was afraid of nothingness, of movement, of
the sound of leaves passing quickly, of meeting others, of falling in love again, of
trusting, of distrusting. I held on as long as I could with the candle in my hands and
the hot wax dripping off me drop by drop until I became the statue that doesn't move,
always with the same carved and false grimace. It hurts to change suddenly, honey, it
hurts and that's why we stay in hell and call it a sauna, torture and everything, but at
least we now know how it starts, how much it hurts and how much it burns you. Now
the door is closed and I find myself afraid to take the first step. Could .

turn out well or it could turn out very badly, the thing is that I fear so much that I
prefer to cling to the doorknob and return to the tired, but already known story. To the
same pain that you caused me that not seeing you causes me. Day 6: Wednesday,
November 14, 2012 The end was imminent, but I delayed it at all costs, like someone
who snoozes their alarm for five minutes knowing that another hour cannot be added
to the time and that if you are late for work they will end. for saying goodbye But I,
stubbornly, put on a blindfold, plugs in my ears, and let whatever explode, if Tsutomu
Yamaguchi survived two nuclear bombs, how wouldn't I, right? I wanted to hold the
foam between my fingers, to stop you for at least a second, even though that was
costing me my entire life. My chronic degenerative disease is named after you. .

Day 7: Thursday, November 15, 2012 Every date, every conversation to try to fix things
was a stab, you blamed me for my lack of patience, for always wanting to know about
you, for wanting to decipher your sad eyes, for my ridiculous gifts and my surprise
visits where I always chose your worst moments. Sorry, I thought I could reverse them,
but it seemed to only make them worse, I had no idea how annoying my presence
could be, I didn't know that I would always have to ring the doorbell and wait for
someone to open the door instead of pass as someone at home. Despite the years, I was
still alien to your life and so time passed, more distant, more strangers, little by little we
stopped understanding each other as if we spoke different languages. Who would have
thought that at the beginning only one look was enough for us to say everything,
because without words, I understood you, you understood me, what was it? What
language did you start speaking? Your lips told me I love you, but your eyes told me it's
not true, and I believed your voice, I believed my convenience. I know that I am not in
my best moment, but you, dear you, did not make it so easy for me. How could I even
guess? I asked and there were no answers. —Nothing, nothing was happening—. When
everything happened behind the scenes. Now I'm on the sidelines of your life, crushed
like an insect .

against a glass and feeling tiny, tiny and ridiculous, trying to imagine that this situation
is a temporary blip, that I will open my eyes and you will be waiting outside, that this
loop has to be broken before the end of November. But no, this is the game of
hangman, snakes and ladders, a world tourist where I am the player in ruin, I have to
wait for you to roll the dice, maybe we already know who is going to lose. Always me. I
would like to go back. In the era before your arrival. It's not that I was happier, but at
least I didn't feel the immense emptiness that I have now. Day 8: Friday, November 16,
2012 I knew the pain that words cause, but I didn't know how much silence can hurt.
Day 9: Saturday, November 17, 2012 The Mayans say that the world must end this year,
on December twenty-first (I read somewhere). Skeptics say it was a misinterpretation.
Others say that it is indeed the end, but of an era, that there will be a change, an
evolution, a quantum leap, energy portals, alignment of planets, and all that .

Ridiculous energetic things that are invented, although I want to give the Mayans the
benefit of the doubt. Come on, they invented the calendar, the writing systems and they
liked mathematics, in fact, I think I want to lean towards the first interpretation. Let it
all end, let the sun explode, let the mountains melt, let the volcanoes dance, I don't
know, any quick ending sounds attractive and not this one that seems like I'm knitting
with my fingers. Day 10: Sunday, November 18, 2012 I dreamed about the end of the
world. Only the meteorite was you and the impact site was me. .
Day 11: Monday, November 19, 2012 You told me you would never give me roses, and
then you took me to plant

sunflowers.

Day 12: Tuesday, November 20, 2012 The phone rang, no one had written to me for
twelve days. I thought it would be someone from the bank, some service that was about
to be cut off, but no, it was you. A thousand questions passed through my mind in a
second, were you coming back? Why? Regret? Surely you couldn't stand all that desert
anymore and you wanted to return, you realized that it was a mistake and you came to
make amends, it was the most logical thing. Was there something else? I already had
the 'yes' on my tongue fighting to be pronounced. I had new promises, new
agreements, what does it matter, I could leave the past behind, resettle, I mean, it
wasn't the first time, we would do it again and ...

It would be better, but... "Do you want your things back?" Yes, stupid, stupid, a
thousand times stupid. Am I not learning? Can you be more stupid? I lack it, I know I
can be more. But tell me, you, why do I want the things back? What good are they to
me now? The only thing I wanted back and whole was my heart, if you had returned it
to me just as I gave it to you. You have no shame. Day 13: Wednesday, November 21,
2012 I know how much they hurt you, but what was my fault? I don't need to delve into
your memories to know how much they hurt you, at this point all the people we meet
are already broken, with surgeries on their souls and dehiscence due to bad treatments.
You have to know how to differentiate between those who have harmed you and those
who could do it, but that does not mean we are going to go ahead and screw with their
hearts, it is not about survival of the fittest, it is not a competition to see who does shit.
Give to the other first as you did to me. I am not to blame for what they have done to
you, I know that I can be a .

revolver, the most lethal weapon, but you hadn't even given me a chance. You unloaded
the pain of your past on me, it would be unfair if only you carried it, right? That's why
you decided that if you sink, you drag me down too. How many betrayals does it take to
learn to distrust? I hold the world record in stabbing and survival and I fall back into
whoever smiles at me because I want to believe in what a person can be and I don't
realize what he or she is now. There are betrayals that make you strong and there are
others that turn you into a monster with a pretty smile. Day 14: Thursday, November 22,
2012 We should all have an emotional trash can, the place where we throw our anger,
frustration, stress, contempt, vomit out resentment and deliver the fatal blows. Sounds
good… Until I realized that I was your cube. .

Day 15: Friday, November 23, 2012 I have another reproach and I know it sounds like
resentment, but yes, it is a complaint, a complaint that for me has all the evidence for
an incarceration: Why did you kiss me if you already didn't you love me? Answer, what
kind of object did you see in me? You woke up and you tried to lie to me with your lips
when I no longer had any space in your heart. You wore me, like you wear an outfit that
you don't like, but it's comfortable, even though you know that at any moment you're
going to throw it away. Why be so ruthless? Look in the mirror for a moment, honey,
I'm human, you have no more value than me, we can't throw people away after
swearing everything to them, I didn't ask you to chain yourself to me, but I always
asked you to You wouldn't hurt me and it seemed like all you wanted was that, to harm
me with all the instructions I trusted you on how to disarm me. P.S. Yes, I gave them to
you because I thought you would never use them. .

Day 16: Saturday, November 24, 2012 I believed you, love, don't you realize? I
associated you with the most powerful energy, I compared you to world peace, I named
you with the title that is felt, but not defined. They said love and I imagined your eyes
dozing. They said love and I turned around, because I thought they were talking about
you. Day 17: Sunday, November 25, 2012 I must block you from the sites where I can
still hear from you, I am falling into a compulsive obsession to follow in your footsteps,
I tremble all day waiting for a signal from you, I hear noises and run to the door. I look
at your new photographs and count how many eyelashes you have left, if your smile
continues to measure the same centimeters, if there is not a trace of sleeplessness,
something in your eyes that tells me that I am still in you. The worst thing is that I see
you so well, so radiant and fresh that it seems that a blizzard hasn't passed through
your body. I shake like an addict with my phone in my hand, I don't want to see it and
at the same time I want to, every ten seconds I look for you, and there you are, .

living, boasting that the world fits in the palm of your hand. My belly hurts to think that
one day I will see you next to someone; I'll have to be tough, turn the other way and
pretend it wasn't you, although the reality is that I'll pretend it's not me. It hurts me to
know that I can no longer be present in your journeys and your problems, that you will
no longer lie on my chest and I will no longer tangle my fingers in your hair. I will no
longer see you fulfill your dreams, I will no longer be in the front row with applause,
you will not run to me with all those achievements in your hands; I will be a ghost that
can no longer inhabit you. And we will continue to grow, we will grow old without
seeing our wrinkles. One day we will be forgotten. Today we are about to be ashes.

Day 18: Monday, November 26, 2012 I have had six cups of coffee and midnight has not
yet fallen, I make it very strong to feel that I am getting drunk, that it burns my throat
more than your farewell, even though - Well my stomach burns because it's empty and
I'm stinging it with caffeine. Have I stopped caring? I think the question should be
since when? Before or after you? Day 19: Tuesday, November 27, 2012. I wish you
would never read this, but a part of me wants you to read it, I hope that one day while
browsing the internet, you can find me and see all these wills and they are not just a
bunch of nonsense That's what you called him . This time, everything is about you, the
main character is you and I know that reading was not your strong suit or a pleasure,
but maybe one day destiny will put it in front of you. First, I want to confess that when
I told you that you changed my life, I didn't pronounce it the way those cliché phrases
are pronounced in couples, you really did. I did wrong things, of which, today, even
though you are not here, I do not regret. .

When I met you I observed every detail of you, I researched you, I knew your favorite
song so I could lie to you that it was also mine, so that you would believe that I was
what you were looking for. Read what you read, eat what you ate, I studied you as if it
were about passing the thesis. I went to those concerts where they hit you from all
sides, but they call it dancing. If this seems ridiculous to you, wait until you read the
rest; I heard you say that you wanted someone to play that strange console with, and
here was your fool, spending her savings on an expensive entertainment device. Where
is my crown for the stupidest woman on the planet? I'm sure it won't come because I
went too far as a professional. I didn't even know how to grab the control, it was a very
futuristic device for me. But there I was, buying pretend weapons and reading tutorials
on how to look like an expert when I look like a novice. I devoured the sagas that I
heard you talk about, because I wanted to come up with a list and quote some phrase
that you knew and then you would want to stay that afternoon with me, that you would
believe that I was your other half, that nonsense of soulmates. No, honey, there was no
perfect woman, I fought every day to be perfect for you. I longed to hear you talk about
me as the being of your dreams, it filled me with the desire to continue learning from
you, to become what you deserved. I had never been good for anyone, I wanted to be
good for you. I am a fraud, you must know, nothing ever existed, I invented that
woman for you, but I have something that .

say in my defense: yes, maybe I was a character, but my only mission was to make you
happy. I made a new life for myself because I really loved you. Day 20: Wednesday,
November 28, 2012 And who asked the brunette who hurt them so much that they
responded so aggressively to touch? Don't let his smile fool you, because like mine, it is
totally false. Eel, who hurt you? Share your sorrow with me, because like you, I feel that
in any hug I die from an electric shock. .

Day 21: Thursday, November 29, 2012 “There are no petals more beautiful than yours,”
you told me in spring. "You're not who I thought," you retracted in the fall. —I hope
they love you in your four seasons. .
Day 22: Friday, November 30, 2012 Autumn always so sweet, smelling like dry leaves,
making songs with them. I don't know how much I like the season anymore, I met you
in November and I lost you in November. It's like when you start to hate what was once
your favorite song. I would like this to be the last thing I write to you, ending November
and calling it a day for you. Leave everything buried, start living without thinking about
whether you return or that I live in a time that no longer runs, a mirage, an illusion.
Maybe I had an accident and now I am in a coma dreaming of an alternate reality, and I
will wake up and see you telling me that you were always there, that when I hear my
name from your mouth it is not a hallucination, but it is you asking me to wake up .
But I pinch my arms until they hurt me and nothing happens, I have my eyes wide
open because even sleep has packed its bags since I'm tired of asking you to be in all of
them. And it's not that I want to continue on the hook, I already wrote goodbye as a flat
note, but I forgot to say it with my lips... It's just that when I met you I threw it off my
tongue because you would be my forever. Today November ends and I hope that you do
too.

December Narcissus, you planted a flower garden for me, and the next day you left without
giving any explanation. .
Day 23: Saturday, December 1, 2012 Make fun, I give you permission. I couldn't put
the paper down and here I am walking around the room while I try to write our story,
but not like the real one, but like the one I always wanted, one worthy of being in a
novel of eternal love, two boys who They met as teenagers, not knowing where their
steps were heading, but they chose the same direction. When you decided to leave the
city to pursue medicine, I never thought it would be the end of me, you know? You said
you wanted to save lives and you already killed one. I thought about everything except
this, because I admired you, I wanted to be as brave as you and .
I confess that sometimes I wanted to be you. People hailed you so much, they saw you
as a genius incapable of making mistakes, you spoke with such eloquence and
confidence in front of the public, you could say a thousand outrageous things, but
everyone believed you. I remember when you invented a scientific article, people were
speechless, I knew you hadn't read that, but it doesn't matter, it was you who said it
and if they believed you, it was obvious that even I would believe infinite love. I was a
fool who saw your ability to lie and manipulate and I didn't think you would use it
against me. The point is that I wanted your life, I was so shy and small, I was nobody,
just your shadow, the perfect echo of the applause for your acrobatics, that was the only
job you could give me, because if someone noticed me, You immediately caught their
attention so that they only looked at you. .

Day 24: Sunday, December 2, 2012 I made one of the worst mistakes in the world, I
opened the darts trunk. Will everyone have this kind of ridiculous box where they keep
pictures and movie tickets? What harm does this do to us, we are masochists . Twenty-
four movie tickets, two concert tickets, twenty-three bus tickets and all those trips to the
beach, there is still sand in the box and I still hear you speak when reading your letters.
Your voice is an infinite tape that never stops playing, it runs through me and
continues to make me tingle like the first time and it shouldn't anymore, and I hate
that you still have power over me. I want to sign my resignation letter and throw it in
your face, but I'm that employee who is afraid to leave the office because he feels like
there will be nothing else for him. That, right or wrong, I was happy here, you took my
best laughs and my first caresses. I never wanted to regret you, in fact, I thought I
would regret anything, except you. If time went back, you would be the only thing I
would remove, because this eats away like someone who comes out of major surgery
after almost losing their life intraoperatively. You know about that, you've always
known it, and how fucked up it was to know that my weak point lived in you and you
used it to hurt me. .

Day 25: Monday, December 3, 2012 It hurts me to accept it, more than three weeks and
not even a minute you leave me free, as an enslaved soldier I do not abandon my guard,
I miss you. «Distance influenced us» you said. Well, how strange, because that was not
a factor in our equation. Now I feel alien to my hands, because my skin only responded
to yours, my teeth hurt from clenching them at night and if my hair doesn't fall out, I
pull it out half asleep. I have lost my nails and if I am careless I will lose my lips. I
would like to be you, an iceberg with two legs that goes out to party as if I weren't
carrying my fresh corpse in my hands. And how different we are now, right? I no
longer fit into this, your new world of appearances, of important people and straight
necks who only talk about success, money and how unattainable and wonderful they
are. That is your new ecosystem where you will surely find someone who fits you, with
your times, fast food, the smell of alcohol, tobacco and the consumption of
methylphenidate . Me, what can I offer you? So silent and boring for your select guild, a
mole isolated from the sun who has paint-stained hands every day, who wears the first
thing he sees in the closet and says no to dances because he has two right feet. and
vertigo; the one who waits patiently next to the oven for you .

Twenty minutes pass and he screams as soon as the cake is inflated. I am nobody in
your life, nothing to talk about to your friends or those at work, it would not impress
anyone, on the contrary, it would cause deafened ridicule that you would notice and
would embarrass you. I know well that you want to save yourself the need to justify that
by the hand you are holding a student who, to learn the Krebs cycle, repeats a song in a
childish tone, a girl whose mouth is dripping with jam. I was a “while”. Until the correct
one arrives. Day 26: Tuesday, December 4, 2012 Hermes offered me free therapy, he
says it's not right that I don't leave the house. What a surprise that someone noticed my
absence, I thought it was a ghost. I have no longer gone to sing in the bars, the truth is
that I was already about to abandon it before you proposed it to me, I know how sad it
was for you that they knew that you, being a doctor, had that girlfriend who sings tin
man for the bohemians saddened people who leave tips before closing the door because
they think that's what my life is worth. It wasn't the money, love, it was the song, it was
the lyrics, it was breaking them. You never knew how to understand this facet .

As a singer-songwriter, I was always very bad for your ears. I saw the audience rest
their hand against their chin when they listened to me, moving their lips while they
accompanied me with the choir and touched their hearts, I wanted to see your face,
because I always sang for you, even if you never attended. Anyway, I don't want
therapy, I want to forget you, love, I want to forget you. Day 27: Wednesday, December 5,
2012 And although my mouth did not ask you to stay, of course I told you, my whole
body asked you, the rain hitting your skin, the thunder and the little birds screaming
for you. lose their nests to the storm. The gray of the clouds and my tears camouflaged
with the drops asked you. I wanted to be your sunny day, your place of rest, but I am
nothing more than a lost city, the ruined Atlantis in which no one wants to live. I
wanted to stop you, but you had already bought the ticket for the next flight. You had so
much to choose from, you longed for the cosmos, the seven wonders and I am just
rubble that is no longer inhabitable. .

Go, see the world and tell me what's out there, tell me that all this catastrophe was
worth it. Live everything that is not in me. I should do the same, although I only wanted
to live you. Day 28: Thursday, December 6, 2012 Twenty-eight days, seven hours, fifteen
minutes, and I began writing this on the second forty. That's how exact I've become
since I'm after you. I find myself under a type of anxiety where I constantly turn to the
window to see if it's already dark or if it's a new day and thus admit that soon it will be
twenty-nine fateful days without you. And not admitting as someone who proudly
accepts a change, on the contrary, causes me despair, panic, because I don't know
about you or what you do, if you have a great time and you don't need me. It's obvious
that you wouldn't need me if you hadn't already scored, I don't think you'd be counting
the minutes like me, declaring the .

war on the sundial if it doesn't stop, breaking a record for not looking for you and
another for enduring not asking anyone about you. Are you still here or have you
already left? Surely you are gone, you love leaving all the places where you know you
will be missed, because those feelings feed your self-centered heart. You always
believed you were the center of my universe, the sun that guided my orbit and I did not
have the good fortune of being a planet, I was an asteroid that would disintegrate the
very moment it occurred to me to land somewhere. planet. You thought you were the
sun, the sun should sue you for identity theft, and I should stop counting the minutes,
it's been twenty-eight since I started, as well as the days: twenty-eight since I feel like
I'm disintegrating. .

Day 29: Friday, December 7, 2012 —I still love you. and CRASH! There I was, finding
two hundred and fifty-seven little pieces of my heart on the floor, but I was the only one
who saw them. And now it has been difficult for me to fix it. I've been looking for the
pieces to put them in place. Not to think that one sentence was enough to cause this
whole disaster. Have you felt like you are in your body, but you are not there? That's
how I feel, I know it's me, but I can't control my movements or my thoughts,
anything... Even if I try. It's like I automatically wake up, take a bath, serve cereal, and
go out to do my typical routine. I have programmed myself to live, but without doing it,
do you understand me? You took fragments of me in your suitcases and the worst thing
is that you may not have even realized it. Take care of them if you see them there when
you unfold your t-shirts, tell them to send me a postcard, let them travel while I get lost,
while I continue to spread them in all those places where I think I might forget you. .

Day 30: Saturday, December 8, 2012 I remember when I would lean on your arm when
I saw you writing, I loved seeing your hands making those scribbles, I felt that the
sculptors were missing out on a great work of art, because your hands deserved a
monument right next to that shapeless mermaid they made in the middle of the sea,
your hands would do more justice to the waves. But no matter how much I looked at
you as the most beautiful thing in the world, you could never see me like that. The
truth is I don't know what you were looking for, I tried hard, but it wasn't enough, you
always found flaws and flaws, you didn't tell me clearly, but you did hint it repeatedly
under the sleeve of good advice, but sharp as an arrow. . I want to think that I was not
the problem, but that underneath all this, there was your insecurity and desire for
perfection, which is why, seeing me so vulnerable, you wanted to put me in such a
small box, to at least, by my side, feel big. Did you want someone sweet? I justified
everything they said about you, because I believed they didn't know you like I did. He
spoke to them with such tenderness, took the windshield wiper and removed your
name. I arranged your words, and projected my eyes, so that they could see you
through them. Did you want someone without fear? Remember that health class, the
venipuncture class, you were afraid of .

the needles so I drew blood myself without having studied the technique to give my
sample to you and you would shine like never before. Being the center of attention was
your favorite candy, and I even bought them with blood... what an idiot of me. I
thought it was courage, that is, it was a sign that I gave my life for you, I put the steps
so that you would stand out, even if they were my knees, my hands or my wings. Today
I think that, of all my facets, you were always in love with the saddest one, otherwise, I
don't understand why you always tried to make me prevail. Day 31: Sunday, December
9, 2012 I knew you had thorns and I still hugged you. You knew about my wounds and
you reopened them. I knew you had no heart, and I gave you mine. .

Day 32: Monday, December 10, 2012 Hermes came for me, he dragged me out of my
room which smells like a mortuary, I don't know what a mortuary smells like, but it
must smell like this. "You need music," he told me . I hadn't wanted to listen to songs
since the twelfth, because they only made me cry, even if it was The Hymn of Joy, or
that ridiculous Hamster Song because it was the tone of your calls. There I was, in that
singing bar, pretending that I can shine with music, I took the microphone and decided
that at least for those three and forty-five minutes I would forget you. It would be my
little eternity without you. But they say that nothing lasts forever, I was barely in the
first chorus when I saw you; I thought it was a hallucination, I opened and closed my
eyes seven times, but you were still there, at that table in the bar next door, a bottle in
your hands, a lost look and... a girl in front of you. While only " Who can you mend a
broken heart?" came out of my mouth. Ode to pain! I dropped the microphone,
everyone looked in the same direction as my eyes and saw you. You were drunk enough
to notice that I had just been the jester of the night, happy and lost enough to turn
around to see who the hell was singing like a hurricane on the other side. You loved
music, but not from my mouth. We were in the same place, but at the same time so far
away, and we had already .

been like this before, centimeters away, but light years away at the same time. Who is
she? Day 33: Tuesday, December 11, 2012 I love you, I love you more with love than with
hate. Come, please tell me that you hate me, that my name will never be pronounced
on your tongue again, that I never took control of any of your dreams, that you would
never have signed anything where my signature was. Come on, come and shout at me
that I no longer exist in your bedroom, that your smile was never caused by me and was
always a reflection. Come and shoot that last bullet from the revolver, the one I took
from you. Repeat to me, repeat to me, repeat to me that if another life existed you
would do everything to never find me. Take my question marks and leave me a .

Lots of full stops. In my eyes dictate the sentence, ruin the present so much that I want
to run to the future where you already left. Tell me something that will end you,
because every apoptosis of my cells is costing me, and for some it was not yet time.
Annihilate me, so that I can be saved. Come and say goodbye to me, so I can stop
waiting for you. Day 34: Wednesday, December 12, 2012 You didn't love me, but you
didn't want to leave me either. You didn't want to be with me, but you didn't want me
to walk away either. You didn't give me time, but you wanted my time to be yours. In
short, I was that broken piece of furniture that we didn't want to throw away because it
had been in the house for many years. The worst thing is that I was settling for having
that torn piece of furniture. .

Day 35: Thursday, December 13, 2012 I will cry until flowers come out of my wounds.
Day 36: Friday, December 14, 2012 I can't stop thinking about the brunette that night,
the one who took your arm and let her hair fall over your shoulder. I didn't see his face
because my vision became blurry; my three diopters played a role in defending my
mental health. However, I remember her features, a girl with dark skin and raven hair,
straight and long as I could never have it, and in each of my mental potholes she went
and cut my hair, like now, which I have the scissors in front of me and my reflection
implores me to use them, to cut it again. Maybe she's better, right? Was she the reason
you left? EITHER .

Maybe she's just a friend, I was also dating a friend. Maybe you told him how much
you miss me or, maybe, I was just accompanying your sad night and... Fucking fool!
How many more times will I insist on wearing the blindfold as an accessory? I am a
professional at covering my face to continue defending the indefensible. What was
wrong with me? I just want to know that, what did I miss? What didn't I give you?
What did I do wrong? I dont know I dont know i dont know. I'm going crazy not
finding answers. Tell me, did I have the power to change anything? I feel like a failure
because despite all my tricks, I couldn't make you stay. Day 37: Saturday, December 15,
2012 I lay down on the operating room table, I don't want to wait for the surgeon. With
my hands and in cold blood I look for you, I have to find you, you must be somewhere,
I want to heal, love, I want to heal from you. Day 38: Sunday, December 16, 2012 I have
performed an autopsy to determine the causes of my death and I only found remains of
you. .

Day 39: Monday, December 17, 2012 My electrocardiogram is a letter that, translated
into Spanish, says "come back" one hundred and twenty times in one minute. I need to
stabilize my arrhythmia, place a pacemaker that guides my heartbeat to stop screaming
your name at night. What a kamikaze this rebellious heart, which shoots extrasystoles
into the air, does not negotiate with terrorists, manifests itself by blocking the right
branch and threatens to take the left. —According to your knowledge, what is the first
choice medication, doctor?

Day 40: Tuesday, December 18, 2012 The scissors won, I was destroyed. I think what I
wanted was to cut off my arms so I could no longer write to you and in self-defense I
removed the weakest and most vulnerable. He knew too much, he had to eliminate it.
He remembered all the times it got tangled between your fingers and the way it played
with the wind hitting your shoulder. I kept traces of the salt that your eyes evaporated,
pieces of leaves from the first autumn, your fingerprints and all the evidence that you
lived in me. In it is what I never was nor will be for you. Suicides sometimes look like a
bad haircut. Day 41: Wednesday, December 19, 2012 There are two days left until the
end of the world and I can't stand the wait anymore, it's like that period of release of
your favorite movie, but in this case I don't know if it's true or not. The sea looks
exactly the same, there are no big waves, no bottom tide, nothing that announces a
cataclysm, the wind is warm for winter. The Mayans: Were they talking about me,
perhaps? Because outside everything is peace, but inside I do see hurricanes,
earthquakes and hail with fire, locusts and all that budget to end the world twenty-four
times in a row. .

Day 42: Thursday, December 20, 2012 I must keep something from everything we
experienced, I cannot leave empty-handed, you took enough away. Maybe with your
best and most real version, with your best perfumes, because the last one you used had
fewer notes than modern reggaeton. So, I have the satisfaction that the perfect man
with whom I fell in love was only mine and no one will know him anymore, because he
died with me. You gave me forever within my numbered days by inspiring me to write,
even if it was only about pain. I carry several pages and my fingers move as fast as the
blood traveling from the aorta to the cellar, although I humiliate myself by leaving it
hanging on this solitary page with ten visits a day and all of them mine. But I long for
one to be yours, for you to remember this attempt at a vermin writer who plays
swimming in cyberspace, who uses you as a muse and as an inkwell, although your
back will never again be my papyrus. I write through this medium, because they say
that what is uploaded to the network is never deleted. So, here I wait for you, that, if the
world is small, the Internet must be too. .

Day 43: Friday, December 21, 2012 Who is she? I made a mistake, I invaded your
privacy, which you always hated me doing. How much I wanted to change, God knows
how much I tried to abstain from what you were hiding, but deluded, naive and blind, I
wanted to believe you, you had every right to have privacy, but this is something else. I
guessed your password, that's right, I did. I'm not FBI, I'm not cyber police, just a fool
who knows you like she doesn't even know herself; from your favorite book and your
date of birth. You're not that bright either, we have things in common, but today that
doesn't matter. So that was the problem. Wasn't it easier to tell me? Damn, you're not
seeing the crime, are you? You pointed out my faults, you blamed everything bad I did
just to indirectly force me to leave. You made me feel guilty for your absences, you had
me apologizing for nothing, because all this time it was her! I had no idea that I was
competing for your love, it was evident that I had lost the race. You had me on one side
and her on the other, the problem is that she occupied the good side while you let me
break down to give you my pieces on trays in case any of them were of use to you. And
even if you tell her that you love her, you lied to her too, or does she know about .

my? Of your double life, of the fact that you retained my name on your tongue so as not
to tell him. No, he doesn't know, he wouldn't be there. Master of lies: When did it
enter your story that I didn't know how to see? The end of the world only happened to me.
Day 44: Saturday, December 22, 2012 I have been reading all morning like someone
reading a horror story that shakes you because it is based on real events. I have usurped
what I swore I would not touch, but you broke the oath forever , so I have the right to
break this one too. I feel like that cat that loses its life because of its own curiosity.
When I died, you cruelly revived me to kill me again and again. So there are more
'them '. I was baking you cookies, assuming that you would be melancholic because of
all the changes that came to your life, and you were playing in other people's beds as if
you were competing. You have destroyed me. .

How could you kiss me afterwards? How could you look me in the face? You lied to
them about my existence and to those who knew me you have told them... that... that
love ended because of me. You talk to them as if I had hurt you, you leave me as the
worst person, it seems like you hate me. What did I do? I did nothing but love you to
ridiculous levels! Have you left me for being ugly, you say? I went from being the most
beautiful woman in your life to a fat woman who makes you nauseous. This is me?
Maybe life has taken its toll on me and dark circles have been tattooed on my face,
maybe my eyes are duller and my hair is rough, maybe I couldn't be your porcelain
doll, because of all the things I wanted to be Because of you, that slipped out of my
hands, I mean, I never thought about it. I believed that what I was could be worth more
than my face or my body, I believed something else about you. Read yourself carefully,
one day you swore love to me, now, laughing, you say that my face makes you return
the food. You spread the sheet to all of them, I had to assume, you were always so busy,
but I walked away because 'I had to respect your spaces'. What a fool! I remember
stopping my hands from writing to you thinking that you were doing some important
work, saving a life, I know, but you were just building the perfect dart to exploit me. .

I shouldn't have, I shouldn't have, I shouldn't have read this. I would like to hate you,
but why am I hating myself? Day 45: Sunday, December 23, 2012 After writing the last
letter to you, I looked in the mirror. What I saw had no name. He was a monster,
horrible and huge looking at me, detestable to the point that it turned my stomach. Did
you feel this? With no more strength I returned everything I had ingested. I hated
myself, I detested myself, because you are so right, everything is my fault, I am a
disaster, I can't even stand to look at myself, I despise my eyes, my nose and my lips, I
despise my hands, my belly, my thighs and my legs, I hate everything about me, I hate
being born in this body. I have broken all the mirrors in the house, because he is in all
of them: That stupid reflection! .

I don't want to go out again, I'm afraid that everyone will start to realize it, I want to
stay in here, that no one will ever find me and mummify me in the fetal position under
the bed. As you have said, I would do the world a favor if I fulfilled all those threats to
disappear, if I kept quiet, if I didn't dirty the walls with my lyrics, if I stopped polluting
the air with my pieces of noise that I call music. I understand you. You ran away for
your own good. Day 46: Monday, December 24, 2012 Since I returned that last meal I
have not wanted to eat anything else, I barely drink water because even it scares me. I
have weighed myself on the scale, sixty-six kilos, but I feel that the clothes are choking
me, I lift my legs and they weigh one hundred kilos each. I have hit my belly feeling
that it has betrayed me, I have wanted to gouge out my eyes to stop seeing, to slice like
steaks those parts that do not stay in their place. The scissors have come back to life and
will, they have taken ten more centimeters from my hair, in short, I couldn't be uglier.
I've stopped blaming you. Always .

You were frank and I appreciate the sincerity, even if it was indirect. In front or behind
my back, what difference does it make? The pain is one. However, you have lied to them,
right? You called them love at the same time, six or seven, which I managed to count. I
didn't fall for this, you're not who I knew, please, did you eat it or what, I couldn't have
been so stupid to get hooked on someone so mean and heartless. Christmas dinner is
served, everyone is talking to me, but I can't... I haven't even put on my dress, it would
be a waste on my body. I never noticed anything wrong with me until you made me see
it, if it hadn't happened, I would continue coming and going, feeling pretty. What a
fool, I thought I managed to impress you every time I wore a new dress, but today I
would like to throw them all on a bonfire, use them as firewood and let them serve as
heat for the homeless tonight. .

Day 47: Tuesday, December 25, 2012 How did you spend Christmas Eve? You probably
went to your grandmother's house and ate turkey and drank rosé wine as usual. When
I was good for you, you took me to those dinners, we did puzzles, played cards and
dominated the rest of the night, lit sparklers and watched the huge pyrotechnics. When
we were happy. Four Christmases together and I already felt that they would all be like
this, I quickly got excited and idealized my entire life, little naive, you always said I was
naive when it came to jokes, I was naive in love too. Did you wake up with her today?
Now she was the new dinner guest? What have they told you that it was no longer me?
Your younger cousin, didn't he call her by my name? Does your grandmother already
know her favorite color to make a scarf? And you, do you know how many sugar cubes
he puts in his coffee early in the morning? Don't you stop her from eating like you're
doing to me right now? Come on, ruin his life, tell him that he's everything and then
that you were wrong, that he's always wrong, that he's not enough, that you've realized
that he's not what you want and, finally, blame him. flaws, show them yourself in that
huge mirror by your door. No, no one deserves this, no one should be promised a trip
to the moon and thrown off the ship halfway, without oxygen. Day 48: Wednesday,
December 26, 2012 Who thought of putting two parties so close together? Christmas
just passed and now the New Year is coming. Ridiculousness. New Year? Why do we
have to eat every time we celebrate? And why do we have to be counting the years? They
only hurt, they remind me of how many times we spent together and how many times I
still have to spend without you. The food has kept me tense. How is it that something
vital can torment me so much? At dinner they forced me to eat some and I ended up in
the bathroom at midnight putting my fingers on my uvula. My body hurts from the
force, but I want it to be there .

monster leaves me alone and seems to disappear when I go all day without opening my
mouth to chew or when I manage to be left with an empty stomach and a wounded
throat. I'm tempted to open the PC again and see what you've said lately, but my
fingers tremble when I'm close to the keys, I feel like even old wounds are bleeding and
I'm still digging into something forbidden. I feel outside of myself, as if something is
using my body, but inside I also feel that something is disappearing. What kind of
nuclear weapon did you use on me? That, like Chernobyl, after you, I can no longer
inhabit myself. Day 49: Thursday, December 27, 2012 I was supposed to hate her, but it
was the opposite. I saw it and I understood you. I even want to meet her and I say it in
the best way. A woman full of love to the point of overflowing, with eyelashes so curled
that they seem to smile and dance. I understand that you got lost in the waltz of his
eyes and that you didn't want any more violin than that of his laughter. It's beautiful,
really beautiful. Without scars on her arms, with lips that have never uttered curses or
regrets, a woman who, I could swear, has lived in nests of peace, who has been in the
arms of mom and dad, therefore, can offer you a world through .

of the mirror and talk to you about how wonderful it is to live. What can I talk to you
about, if my house is Alaska in its worst frost in history? What can I sing in your eyes
without drowning in the salt and not exactly that of the sea? I look at myself in that
broken mirror and I understand you, I would also proudly take her to the most
important event of my life, I am sure that any color she wears would make that place
the most elegant and formal. How lucky that they look at you, how lucky that you look
at her. That you no longer carry any bag of parts that delay you, I could not offer you
more than this fragile construction that bears my name. You deserve someone
complete, who is not weaving what was cut off, with both wings intact, with a smile
without traces of sadness, without stories of shipwrecks or abandonments in the
middle of the desert. Yes, like her. I saw her and I couldn't hate her, I felt tenderness
seeing in her eyes the same illusion that I had. What can I say? Take care of her, that
one day, many years from now we will meet and she will be able to see you hand in
hand, then I will know that my pain was worth it and that your goodbye was the best
decision. .

Day 50: Friday, December 28, 2012 I wanted to write to you, but it's too late, it's after
midnight, last night, you must be asleep. And I, like a fool with a debate about whether
it would be a good idea to send you a message or not, perhaps from another number,
tell you what I feel and run away from the screen as if I were running miles so you
wouldn't see me. I lacked five grams of courage to press the send button, it wouldn't be
serious, I mean, it wasn't anything bad, one more message, I always did it at that time,
but no, I no longer have access to your time, to anything that is refer to you. I am quite
stupid, but I still have a little reason and judgment left, so I appealed to the decision:
we should not always give the green light to everything that the heart says is a good
idea, because it is crazy, impulsive, a child. who continues to fail the subjects of logic
and prudence. He usually yells at me and threatens to stop if I don't comply with his
whims, but this time, I stayed still, I can't keep running to you when I feel like the
world is falling. You can't be stronger than me. Sorry, but for years my safe place was
you. .
Day 51: Saturday, December 29, 2020 The days are no longer days, the hours are no
longer hours, my time is still on your wrist watch. I'm a mess, I can't find my clothes,
my comb, or the remote control, everything seems to me to be yours, even my alarm
clock smells like you and so there is no one who hates it. We should never have taken
that wrong step, I should never have signed up in your name. We were gamblers
playing revolver, it was your turn for the seventh shot after six unsuccessful shots, and
then I said: I give up. Day 52: Sunday, December 30, 2012 Year, finish it now before you
finish me. I got on the scale after crying every time I looked at it with terror, I'm down
three kilograms. So why do I feel so heavy? Why do clothes sting my skin? And why
doesn't the monster in the mirror leave if I've done everything it asks of me? I put a
little sugar on my tongue so I can go for a walk on the sand, because I'm afraid I'll
collapse and that this time a wave will turn me into foam. I'm hating it more and more
.

food, everything makes me nauseous and fruits hate me, sometimes I see their eyes
and mouths, I hear them insult me and make fun of my grotesque appearance. They
agree with you, and even I have begun to admire you for the time you gave me. Five
kilograms down and I feel worse than ever, I need to go deeper. Maybe, just maybe one
day you can see me and think better, that I can also be something, that I can also be a
little pretty and that I am no longer that eyesore that you told others about. Day 53:
Monday, December 31, 2012 I didn't want this day to come, today my whole family will
come with more and more dishes full of carbohydrates and fats that my tongue cannot
pass. Everyone wants to ruin this race for me that I have set out to win. I don't like
these things because I have to make an effort not to look at anything and not make
noises that raise suspicion. I have gotten on the scale once again and it says that it is
four kilos less, but I feel that it is because I have become afraid of even water and that,
if I drink that glass, I will gain five hundred grams and I don't want that arrow to move,
because when it does I hear more screams .

in my head. And what I want is to be at peace, at least today, to feel that, perhaps, as if
by magic the memories stagnate in the remainder of the year, that spirit of the new
beginning may hit me and feel ready to get out of this hole. Maybe tomorrow I will be
able to go for a walk and look at the ocean without feeling homesick, see it and no
longer see your eyes, listen to it and not hear you, feel it and not think about your
hands, smell the breeze and not think about your neck near my mouth, maybe May
today be the last day. Forgetting you is the only wish I ask of my twelve grapes.January
Narcissus, you can't cover the sun with a petal. .
Day 54: Tuesday, January 1, 2013 Today I opened my eyes and that feeling in my belly
returned, the guilt of having eaten a sweet snack. I got up suddenly to throw cold water
on my face, I didn't even want to look at the mirror, since there would be that eyesore
with new insults. The worst of all is that you are still in my head, the melancholy has
not gone away, your name has not gone away, nor our story. You didn't leave... Damn
it! You're still here, see? It is just another day, ordinary, it is only the first of January,
there is nothing new, nothing happens, nothing begins; Waiting until January to
accomplish something is mediocre, because the day will do nothing if we don't lift a
finger, and that means I'm still sedentary without .
work on leaving you. It's been fifty-four days and I'm still in this loop, I don't know if
this is a duel or the worst battle of my life, but if it is a battle, I'm sure I'm losing, I hear
the missiles impact mercilessly on my body, and there is no possibility of recovering
anything from my green places. I am a devastated city, one that is little by little being
erased from the maps. Happy New Year, to you, who do know how to go on without
seeing your disaster again, catching amnesia and starting over. Not like me who, by
trying to forget you, remember you more. How do I start from scratch? Yes, when I try, I
start at the end. Day: 55: Wednesday, January 2, 2013 I can't spend this entire beginning
of the year like this, I must have willpower and get up, even if I'm still broken.
However, I start and, like a failed diet, I eat it again, but I swear I wasn't always like
that, I've already lost before. You... you have been the only person I am having a hard time
letting go of. .

Day 56: Thursday, January 3, 2013 I hate you, for talking, for walking, for breathing, for
existing. I hate every day you spent with me, I hate your promises and when you said
you loved me. I hate that you walk through the city as if you had done nothing, that you
forget that you hold my blood-stained armor in your hand, and that you leave traces of
me in the form of footprints. I hate your voice, I hate hearing it, I hate being told about
you and pretending that you are nobody, that I don't know you or maybe I do, but
nothing that matters. I hate having your photographs, I hate not being able to tear them
up, do it and glue them back together. I hate still having the movie tickets,
remembering them and smiling, I hate my smile that is about you. I hate you for all the
nights you left me waiting for a call, I hate you because it's not your fault, I should
never have expected anything. I hate you, like I never thought I would love someone. .

Day 57: Friday, January 4, 2013 I loved you so much that my life faded with the passing
of the days, while I longed for your crumbs of love and your hugs of pity, because your
caresses no longer had affection, only drops of condolences for the love that had died
there without burial. I don't know, sometimes I thought you were going to change, I
excused your behavior, I wanted to understand what had no explanation. I didn't want
to resign myself to the fact that it was over, because we swore many times to be there
forever, but what was forever for you? You forgot me even when you had me with you,
and I forgot me even when you lived with me. I forgot to stop being part of your lies, I
forgot that I was a human being, I seemed like a machine at your feet, magnifying you
daily with false ideas that I had about you, because I invented them. How could I not
love you, if all of you were an invention of mine, a hallucination of what I wanted. I
dressed you with virtues that you did not possess, I built the highest step for you so that
you could look at me from above, the worst thing is that I told you, I was happy to be
your little girl and love that idea of you that I created. I loved you so much that I forgave
you countless times without you asking me for forgiveness, I exceeded seventy times
seven, because I believed that after you there would be nothing. Your false promises
became my most precious words of love waiting, .

because that's all it was, a love waiting for something to happen. I don't know if I really
want you back anymore . I am not writing this to beg you, I am not writing to find out
about you, nor for you to call me or to try one more time, I am writing to you because I
can't find anyone to tell all this to. My first love, my first pain, you, my biggest mistake.
I, blind for you and you blind for your ego. Me in love with you and you... Well, you
must want something. Day 58: Saturday, January 5, 2013 Where is that resignation that
everyone talks about at funerals? I need a map to get to it because months go by and I
can't find it. I suspect it is in that X that I looked for so much in algebra. I suspect it's
in that place where all right socks go; because it is not on the clock, it is not there at the
change of season. Time heals wounds, those silly self-improvement books say, but I
don't feel like anything is being repaired in my soul. The analgesic has no entrance to
this site, the sedative and its maximum dose do not sleep at all in here. Even when I'm
asleep you hurt me. .

Day 59: Sunday, January 6, 2013 Sooner or later life will confront us, how am I
supposed to pretend not to know you? Day 60: Monday, January 7, 2013 One day you
told me that you loved my smile and now I understand why you took it. Day 61:
Tuesday, January 8, 2013 The day you left, winter began, the days began to have forty-
eight hours, as everything passed more slowly. The nights became a stay in Sodom,
because there was no worse torture than realizing that you were now made of stone. I
was never strong when it came to coming back, it was easier to swim against the
current than to resist going to you. Me and my silly idea that I was born to be by your
side felt so credible and normative that getting used to the idea of walking hand in
hand with someone else seemed offensive to me. The day you left, coffee began to taste
like water, sweets like salt, and beer like cold tea. I wanted to drown myself in six
drinks, but I only saw you swimming in the glass. How damned it is to see that alcohol
and sorrow are hypocritical friends! You forget for a moment, but when you least
realize it, you are drunk, with his number on the screen and your finger defying self-
control, because he wants more than you to touch his back again. In the end, you
realize that you are stuck, only now intoxicated to the blood and brain. The day you left
I felt outside of myself, as if a part of me was saying goodbye because it only existed if it
was with you. My bed tripled in size, I turn and turn and nothing more... but I can't
find you anymore. .

No one knows they are broken until they beg oblivion to make an appearance. I want to
think that we are just two idiots playing to change leaves, because believing that it has
been easier for you... breaks me more than the day you left. Day 62: Wednesday,
January 9, 2013 The smells get stronger as the days go by and I can't stop thinking
about all the sweet things that stalk me, the candies scream at me, the chocolate begs
for my lips, the Sugary muffins beset me at every corner, my jaw and hands tremble, I
feel nervous and tired. It hurts me to admit that I'm hungry, that I can't stand it
anymore, but I don't want the eyesore in the mirror to appear, I want to get out of this
body, I want you to see me as what you knew. I want to recover. .

Day 63: Thursday, December 10, 2013 You said that distance had finished us, but you
forgot to say that that distance had heels and long hair. Day 64: Friday, January 11, 2013
I never existed on Sundays. You denied me Fridays, on a whim and because, in a way,
you tried to domesticate me. Sundays didn't matter to me. I gave up on you and them
from the first kiss. But on Fridays, I never forgave you on Fridays where I was your
plan B. The rest of the week I competed with your priorities, but I failed in all my
attempts, always ending up erased from your agenda. Talking was useless, because like
a surly cat you would turn your face at me and flee without a trace for a few days.
Everything that came out of my mouth pushed you away, because I was always your
biggest problem. However, later you made me beg for a new opportunity and thus, it
was my never-ending story. .

Day 65: Saturday, January 12, 2013 Mourning a dead person takes time; In the most
remote towns, people sleep on the floor without a pillow to experience the most intense
grief and release it as quickly as possible. But mourning for the living, how long does it
last? Everyone pressures me to make it happen immediately, as if this isn't also worthy
of me dressing in black and crying at everything we've buried. The fact that you are so
busy rebuilding your life leaves me like the little monster in the cave who is losing his
mind. But if they looked inside me, what is inside is the same funereal sadness:
remembering the echo of the memory of your voice with a soft filter of the days when
you woke up here, your photos full of nostalgia knowing that I will never see you again.
the same way. We would all be surprised to see our neighbor walking with a look of joy
one day after his father's death. Why then do they demand that I be completely
restored? I need to disappear you, throw you into space in a figurative sense, so that my
mourning stops and I can return to colored clothes and stop sleeping on the floor. .

Day 66: Sunday, January 13, 2013 It really doesn't hurt me what we were, nor the places
we visited, because my smile lies eternal in those moments that, I know, are captured
in some alternate world. I am hurt by the places that we will no longer know, the trips
that we will no longer take, the meetings that we will not attend, the friends that we will
no longer share, not knowing what you will like, what you will stop liking, what You
will be the one I see sleeping when I wake up first. What hurts me is what can no
longer exist, the promise that I don't know if it has died, but that is in agony waiting for
you. What I swore to you hurts me and you are forcing me to break. It hurts me that
someone else takes my place, that you will take back the cities that you are missing
from their hand, that they will choose another name for your son and design his
apartment with the colors that I couldn't choose. The cat will get used to another voice
calling him, your mattress will forget my figure and will mold itself to another and a
new perfume will fade the last notes of my essence that lay in the bedrooms. .

I hope that when it passes I will be very far away so as not to have to witness what will
no longer be with me. Day 67: Monday, January 14, 2013 What no one told me about
sleeping together is that when I returned to bed alone, it would be difficult for me to
fall asleep and I would roll around all over the mattress to discover that my double bed
is the same one. Sahara, with frozen nights and burning days. Follow your silhouette
on the right side and I continue to respect it as if you were going to return. I stare at it
for long hours thinking that this scenario would be titled “Five Hundred Nights,” like
Sabina's song, even though it was only sixty-seven, what does it matter, it feels like five
hundred. They warned me of so many things, that love is an invention of the .

government, that union is slavery, that monogamy is a myth, but they forgot the most
important thing: that when I went back to bed, the dreams would be with my eyes
open, I would see you by my side like the most beautiful nightmare, because I couldn't
are. The poem does not come because you close the door, it comes because the pillow
on my right is still as you left it and it cries for you, as my hands cry for you with letters,
as the sandals that you left on the balcony and the toothbrush cry for you. that he drank
the rinse because he found out it was twenty-six percent alcohol. No one knows how big
his bed is until he sleeps alone again. Nobody knows that the odyssey is getting out of
the sheets unscathed. Nobody knows that a labyrinth can be a bed. .

Day 68: Tuesday, January 15, 2013 The problem is that you undressed me without taking
off my clothes. Day 69: Wednesday, January 16, 2013 Today Helios asked me out, do you
remember him? The one who used to send me flowers a few years ago and made you
angry, for which you taught me how to plant sunflowers so that I would never need to
love those stems in agony. Likewise, I was quite hard on him, I never thanked him for
any detail, and I don't know why he shows up now, I think I have the available sign on
my forehead. I haven't responded to him, I don't feel ready to go out or talk to anyone, I
don't want them to realize what I really am: this addicted to your aroma whose skin is
peeling from the anxiety of no longer smelling you. .

Day 70: Thursday, January 17, 2013 I need to exorcise you from my memory because
after three in the morning it comes to life, it writhes, screams and throws itself against
the wall. Day 71: Friday, January 18, 2013 I painted my lips red, I brushed my hair, it
had been seventy-one days since I hadn't done it. I wore that blue dress, the only one
you liked on me. I went out... sorry. Yes, I dated Helios. He brought me orange
gerberas and he arrived smelling of marshmallow and lavenders, a white shirt and blue
pants, he is totally different from you. He doesn't have your face, he doesn't have your
clothes or your scent, he doesn't have a single thing similar to you, not even his favorite
day of the week is like yours, and I don't know why I want to look for you in him.
Helios has smiled at me all afternoon like a fool, he hasn't even noticed that in my eyes
you are comfortably asleep, as if he were my .

dark circles were a cradle. The worst of all is that I have smiled at her too and until
today I have realized how good an actress I can be by pretending to have forgotten you,
although my tongue is bruised from all the times I bit myself to avoid pronouncing
your words. name. I left like I did before, I don't have to explain it to you, but why do I
feel so guilty? Day 72: Saturday, January 19, 2013 Helios has been writing to me all
night, inviting me to go for a walk on the beach in the middle of the afternoon. Surely
you want to see the sunset, I have been moving away from the sea so as not to feel so
close to you, but the truth is that I do want to and I hate wanting to, because I know it is
because of my need to see your irises in the waves mixing with the sky. Honey, forgive
me, I have to ask for your forgiveness, because my heart feels like it betrays you,
because I want to keep the oath I made to you, I don't want to feel like I'm failing you
by reflecting on eyes that are not yours. I don't know how you managed it so easily, it's
so hard for me... although I should get on with my life, right? .

Yes, I finally know the answer. To live and love again, just as you do, maybe he is for
me, I say, he was so kind, he looked at me like you couldn't do it anymore, it even
seemed like he didn't see that cow in my body, the one you tell them to all that I am.
Maybe now I'm in the right eyes. May be? Day 73: Sunday, January 20, 2013 Hell is not
far from us, you know? It is very close to the beach, in the background it has a sunset
and a rebellious crescent that appears before nightfall. Helios took me by the hand, I
closed my eyes and imagined that you were there, he hugged me the minute the sun
went down, he laughed and told me how much he had dreamed of a day like this,
where I would allow him to walk my side while we listened to the waves crash against
the rocks. He was in heaven and I was burning in Hades. Don't get me wrong, what I
said was wonderful, but it would be even more so coming from your mouth. Without
meaning to, I think I .

I reciprocated the smiles, but it's only because I was amazed at you the whole time. Day
74: Monday, January 21, 2013 He kissed me, and I didn't run away, but I confess that I
only thought of you. I got lost in his lips imagining that you were back, until I opened
my eyes and you vanished, it was Helios. I reacted late, I wanted to walk away, but I saw
her smile and the shine in her eyes with my reflection in them "you are beautiful" she
told me. And when I heard that word, your voice came to my mind saying the opposite,
and I could no longer believe it. .

Day 75: Tuesday, January 22, 2013 Athena told me that I should give a chance to
someone who loves me, since I gave a thousand opportunities to someone who no
longer did. Everything is learned, everything is practiced, I was quite bad on the bicycle,
I fell again and again, after a thousand scraped knees and bruised elbows, I learned. I
know that I will learn to love him, it may not be easy, but it shouldn't be impossible
either, he has many qualities, he loves art, he builds houses and bridges, he has a
beautiful smile. It's not yours. But he has dark, feline eyes. Which are not yours. But he
has big hands and thin fingers, which... They're not yours either. But I will learn. .

Day 76: Wednesday, January 23, 2013 —Danny? -I heard your voice. My heart was
beating fast, I felt my vision was fading. Danny, are you there? If it was a dream I didn't
want to wake up, I wanted that voice to last forever, for you to continue pronouncing
my name one more time. "Danny, can you hear me?" My voice wasn't coming out, my
chest was already hurting along with my left arm, it wasn't a dream, it was you, I
thought you were coming to ask me for forgiveness, to tell me that you had thought
better of it and that life was difficult for you. after me, that you have also seen my eyes
in the waves and that the coffee no longer tasted the same.

I imagined that you would say that sleep has not returned to you and that the insomnia
no longer made sense if I was not there. It was your voice that was looking for me after
seventy-six days, enough to realize that I was everything you wanted in life, that she was
not for you, that it was a mistake and we would repair it, I would put everything on my
part and we would forget this bitter pill, but... I had to put on a piece of paper, so that it
would not be noticed that I have suffered three times as much and that I am about to
collapse because I only have a little sugar on my tongue to carry me through my day. -
Who speaks? —I lied. —It's me... The phone was silent for a moment, you knew well
that I would never forget your voice, that my .
My performance in front of you was not worth two cents, because when it came to you I
could never pretend anything. -Something happens? "Tell me what's going on," I
thought. Woman, 'fool' was never a suitable title for me! There are no more adjectives
for stupidity! A call that lasted three minutes and I had a love story worthy of
Hollywood, three minutes and I was already imagining us in Oslo walking a Husky,
three minutes and I already saw us in a cabin by the flowers. two talking about how we
would never again let something fragment us, three minutes and I made you in my
present. You just wanted to know if I had accessed your email, since someone had
changed the password . Honey, I would like to know: what key did you put in my heart
that I can't get in to erase your memories? .

Day 77: Thursday, January 24, 2013 Today is too cold, winter unleashed its force against
us, the clouds have covered the sun and the entire coast looks gray, even my bones
hurt. It's incredible, because with you I don't remember ever feeling any winter. Day
78: Friday, January 25, 2013 I have left Helios, I could not continue with that lie in
which I pretended to love him to see if it would work. I didn't give him any
explanations, although his mouth had stopped at a constant question of why. I couldn't!
How was I going to tell him that all this time I was using it to forget you? It wasn't
many days, but it did hurt, and I know that we all deserve the truth, but for his sake, it
was better not to tell him and leave. I left him with all the questions on his tongue.
"You are the love of my life," he told me before closing the door. "But you're not mine,"
I replied. I saw his eyes, his little eyes .

black, that lost their shine as soon as I answered those harsh words, his beautiful smile
had moved from his mouth. Surely he won't sleep tonight wondering what he did
wrong, and I would like to tell him that nothing, that I am the unfortunate one for
wanting to use him as a trebuchet, but how can I tell him that I played with him and
posed as the one who Was I feeling butterflies in my stomach? I reciprocated that kiss,
I accepted the dates, the hand touches. Because? I think you also have that answer:
because you did it with me. Magnificent teacher. Day 79: Saturday, January 26, 2013 It's
not that I wanted to be the center of your world, but I would have liked to be the only
one you wanted to see. Day 80: Sunday, January 27, 2013 Phileas Fogg went around the
world in 80 days and I have not been able to turn our page. Day 81: Monday, January
28, 2013 Someday you will look for me in those messages .

unread and I will no longer be on the other side waiting. Day 82: Tuesday, January 29,
2013 I missed singing so much. Do you remember the songs I recorded for you? Surely
not, because you never mentioned them, your excuse was always that you were very
busy. It's a lie, no one is busy enough, I've been at university for a few days and I don't
find it as suffocating as you made it out to be, it's hard, but your absence seems like
more hell to me. I had a little free time and I went to sing at Bel Canto, I met Apolo, my
old friend from music school, he said I had sad eyes so he played a melody for me.
Who knew, a guy plays a song for me and you never had it .

a song that made you think of me. Whenever I sang, I did a concert for you. Day 83:
Wednesday, January 30, 2013 I have had an appointment with the cardiologist, my
tachycardia is at one hundred and thirty per minute. The medication had been working,
but he says my weight loss has suddenly affected me. How can it affect me? I'm doing
it for my own good, so that my reflection stops looking at me with hatred as soon as the
sun rises. Doesn't the doctor understand? I put on a white coat, I looked in that mirror
at the clinic, what bones? I don't see anything. He lies. The electrocardiogram is not
good, I know that my heart is not good, it can never be good again, it was born
damaged and they ended up ruining it. .

Day 84: Thursday, January 31, 2013 I have been at war since your departure, I feel in
the middle of an attack that will not end. You come to my mind and grenades fall all
over my body. The problem is that I have no weapon to defend myself with and I just
wait for it to pass, but there is not enough rest. I sleep and there you are, I wake up and
there you are, I listen to music and they all talk about you, I watch a movie and it's us, I
look at the sky and there are your eyes, I look at the sea and there are your eyes, because
blue is everywhere, It rains and I feel you. What a shootout is my life. I thought you had
made me happy, but the time you made me smile does not compensate for all these
days of damage. I have no trench or shield from your arrows.

February Narcissus, did you defoliate the daisy just for a game? .
 Day 85: Friday, February 1, 2013 I went out with Apolo, yes the one with the piano, I
don't even know why I said yes, I'm not attracted to anything other than his voice and
his way of using both hands so quickly on the piano. He only talks about music and
that makes him totally different from you. (And I should stop looking for you in others). .

Day 86: Saturday, February 2, 2013 I was thinking and I was overcome with anger
because I never wanted to love you, do you remember? It was you who insisted on
getting closer to me, on filling my head with sweet words and making me feel like no
one else existed. I ran away from you, I hid in the hallways so as not to see your face, I
told everyone that if you asked about me, they should deny knowing me. I hid under
the cafeteria tables because I wanted you to get tired and leave, I was afraid of you, it
made me nervous that you would stare at me, because you had the entire solar system
in your hands to put it in mine, that It was not normal, such tenderness was not
human. I never wanted to fall in love, but you searched for me through sky, sea and
land. And you found me. You wrapped me in your lap of stories, you left me more than
stuck in your networks, now I can't find the key, I am imprisoned, you abandoned me
in the tower and closed the story. .

Day 87: Sunday, February 3, 2013 As a drug addict I have had another relapse and I
have decided to look for your photos because I almost felt like I wouldn't make it to the
next day. I got hooked and drank them all, wanting to treasure them and embed them
in my arms and chest. I felt like a psychopath looking at them from head to toe, looking
at them as if they were going to move or talk to me. I read each of your letters again,
imagining that it is present time, that you have given them to me today and nothing
bad has happened. There I read a pardon me, and if you say it now I would accept it,
even if that were my perpetual sentence. I hadn't touched the trunk for a record
amount of time, but today I couldn't take it anymore, I broke my rules, I got my fix.
That is, I am a woman in rehabilitation from you. This is how it is to get out of an
addiction, you rise and fall, but one day this will not hurt me anymore, and I will
remember you without wanting to look for you, and I will see your photos without
feeling love, and I will read you without crying, and I will sing without the lyrics being
for you. you, and I will look at your face and… and… c a e r é. .

Day 88: Monday, February 4, 2013 Apollo has sung to me all afternoon. But I can't stop
imagining that it's you who does it. I should run, right? Before everything ends like
with Helios. I don't want to be a broken glass that cuts everyone who accidentally
touches it. I am a beast, you had already said it, we don't have that many differences, or
maybe we do, I do feel guilty. Day 89: Tuesday, February 5, 2013 I have read about the
types of wounds and healing, I did not find a suitable classification for me. I only know
that I am closing by second intention, and if it becomes a scar, I will be a keloid. .

Day 90: Wednesday, February 6, 2013 I told Apolo that I no longer want to hear him
sing, that I don't want to see him again, he didn't take it well, it was to be expected. He
didn't understand why, he gave me a "see you later" that tasted like a brew of 'goodbye'
and hints of hate. I've hurt him, haven't I? I swear it wasn't my intention, I was just
trying to forget you, I didn't think the others were so on the verge of wanting to jump
in and fall in love, but I'm sure I make an idiot's face when I see them and your face.
I'm not going to leave the house anymore, I said, this distracting thing doesn't work
out well for me, in the attempt I've hurt two people who aren't to blame. I'm not that
different from you. .

Day 91: Thursday, February 7, 2013 I feel empty, the problem with being like this is
that I have a lot of space left from which more and more words emerge to write. I look
at the date and I am ashamed to think that not a single day have I stopped thinking
about you and talking to you, even though you don't listen to me. If I had eaten my
pride that day and gone after you... Would history have changed? Sorry, but I can't stop
thinking about thousands of alternatives that I could have taken that day and not just
accept goodbye as a way out. Do you think everything happens for a reason? Because I
could have gone after you, like those eighties movies where someone runs to stop the
other right before boarding the plane. Maybe you expected that and now you hate me
for not doing it and letting you run without someone to catch you from behind. My
habit of always wanting to justify you. .

Day 92: Friday, February 8, 2013 Dear you: I accidentally saw one of your recent photos.
You were wearing an almost shiny white jacket, you looked happy, like I haven't been
able to see myself for so long. Your clear eyes dazzled everyone who participated in the
photo, it was impossible not to see you, you smiled from ear to ear, that smile that
closes your eyes a little and forms small wrinkles on your eyelids, that smile that only
you give when you are really calm. I want to feel happy for you, because at least you
haven't been wandering aimlessly like me, who hums at night to avoid hurting myself,
who hides the scissors so as not to touch my head anymore, who vomits everything I It
is flavored and alive with pinches of sugar and salt. I never envied your smile until
today, because it is something I can never have again, even faking it makes my cheeks
sting. I don't want to betray myself again by doing something I don't want, the thing is
that I betray myself by stopping to do things that I do want, like throwing myself at
your neck and begging you to come, because my city is desolate if you aren't the one to
tell it. speaks. I no longer have flowers, I am drying out, my eyes no longer cry because
I have run out of the natural cycle of tears. I hope one day you see yourself reflected in
me, I hope you know what it's like to wait for a response, .

I hope they hug you without love, I hope they kiss you without feeling, I hope they let
go of your hand when you need to hold you, I hope you stay on the phone waiting for a
word, I hope you write letters that they don't read, I hope you send songs that they
never listen to, I hope they ask you for a last hug, I hope they leave you alone drinking
the coffee, I hope you smile when you say goodbye, while you bite your lips to hide the
fact that you are breaking down. I hope you wait for days for someone to realize that
you were really worth it. I hope they tell you that they accept you as you are and then
tell you that you weren't enough. I hope you lie to yourself saying that this is how you
are happy. I hope you look in the mirror and then remember me. I don't wish you harm,
but I hope you fall in love with someone like you. .

Day 93: Saturday, February 9, 2013 I have committed another crime against the
imaginary laws that I impose on myself. I was walking down the street dreaming that
someone would be there for me, you know, just like you, who replaced me so easily. I
saw so many faces wondering if there is someone who was created for me. Suddenly, I
saw a boy wearing a gray sweatshirt, my favorite color, he had dark hair and white skin,
for a moment I thought it was you. I told myself, “if he turns right, it's him.” To my
surprise he turned to the right. Believing it was a coincidence of fate, I whispered
again, "If he crosses the street, it's him." And he crossed the street, isn't that fun? He
was challenging life, destiny or whatever. I got closer to it and notes of mint, vanilla and
almonds enveloped me, very similar to you. I convinced myself, life was giving me
someone else. I wanted to talk to him, but I couldn't think of anything to say and I
couldn't look like a crazy person looking for the love of her life by drawing lots. So I
decided to forget it. I quickened my pace, trying to think of something else until I felt
someone tap my shoulder. —Hello… sorry for interrupting you. -It was him. The boy
who was spying two streets back. I was amazed. I smiled, my cheeks sure filled with
color. -Yeah? —I had seen you a few streets back and I just wanted to know your name.
—Danny. I feel guilty for feeling happy, I have given him my name and my number,
I'm sure he will send a message soon. He has pretty eyes, although they are not yours,
but his voice is deep and sweet. Believe .

that he could see me at his side. What am I saying? I barely know him and I'm already
imagining a lifetime, the same mistake I made with you. I don't want to occupy the
bedroom of my heart that I only assigned for you. I can't give it to anyone else. All
things are in place if you decide to return. I hate that you continue to tie me to the point
of hanging me, I hate that in every decision I have to take you as a reference. Set me
free, can you? Let go. Day 94: Sunday, February 10, 2013 Eros invited me to the movies,
yes, the guy who seems like my soulmate just because he turned right and crossed a
street. I told him yes, I don't think anything will happen, it's just a movie. Again I am
guilty because I think I am playing with fire. I already know that this doesn't matter to
you, you must be happy with the girl with long hair and cinnamon skin and I'm here
asking for your permission. We'll watch a love movie, and this does sound like a bad
idea. I haven't been to the cinema in a little over a year, those days when we shared the
same popcorn and soda. Now I'll go with someone else and wear a dress you won't see
anymore. I'm falling into the same game as with Helios and Apollo, although I have a
hunch that tells me that it will be different here: Eros appeared out of nowhere .

hitting all the things I threw into the air. They say we should watch for signs and this
was one. Maybe I should meet him, I might be surprised, what's more, nothing has to
happen, we can be good friends and that's it, it wouldn't hurt, you kept me away from
the majority. Day 95: Monday, February 11, 2013 It wasn't the best movie, it was
disastrous, in fact. Silly phrases that made me nauseous because of so many cheap lies,
you said the same things as the protagonist's script and look, pure farce. Speaking of
farces… Me. Eros took my hand on the way home, he said that, so as not to separate us
on the road, what an explanation, it didn't make sense, but I nodded. I didn't dislike it,
in fact, his hands were warm and I don't want to say that they reminded me of yours,
they have their differences. I laughed like never before, we ran through the vacant lots
that take the shortcut to my house, we walked along the platforms waiting to see the
trains go by, we looked at the moon and, then, he pointed to the sky, he showed me that
one .

constellation that can be seen as soon as the sun sets, it loves space. He told me stories
of veteran astronauts, strange conspiracies of men who claim that there are armies on
the other side of the moon. As a child, without taking my eyes off, I listened, yes, just as
when you told me stories about your trips around the world, but this was more
entertaining because I was not absorbed, but rather like a teacher teaching me spatial
and quirky culture. Two days of knowing him and I felt like it had been longer, I
wanted to stay in that moment, listen to him for the rest of my life and be surprised
every time he changed the subject. I need to give myself a chance, I can't deprive
myself of living or loving again. Day 96: Tuesday, February 12, 2013. To my surprise,
Eros makes cakes, he brought me one to the university. He put my name with an N,
like you did at the beginning, it took me a lot to get used to putting both because I told
you that it was more aesthetic that way. That boy doesn't stop smiling every time I'm in
front of him, I don't know if he's that happy or if that's how he feels with me. For a
moment I wanted to tell him about that day I saw him, but I was afraid he would look
at me strangely and want to distance himself. I mean, I would do it. The cake looks
beautiful, too bad I can't eat it. .

Day 97: Wednesday, February 13, 2013 It makes me sick to see shopping centers with
that red tone and hearts everywhere. What did you think you were, cupid? Why did you
fool me with the worst of all? Was there no other? You and your beautiful relationship
with Psyche and I turned all my dreams to dust. I don't understand why one day love
and friendship are celebrated with chocolates left over from last year and hard candies
with ridiculous "happy day" messages . What is the purpose? Prepare a surprise
thinking about a silly invented special day. It was the only day you could give me thirty
minutes, because no other day was important, no other day were the chocolates so close
at hand. Because you didn't care enough about me, it was just another routine, having
me so you wouldn't say you were alone. .

Day 98: Thursday, February 14, 2013 Cupid, stop the wild games, take off the blindfold
and, this time, shoot me twice, let me love me as I loved him.
Day 99: Friday, February 15, 2013 “I can't help but drink coffee and think about it, this
aroma was so peculiar to us, back then. But more than that, it reminded me of that day
when he disappeared from my life... after that cup of coffee.” —What is the lady going to
drink? -A coffee please. --Here you go. Would that be all? —For the moment yes, thank
you. I was in a bar full of people and I just felt the deepest loneliness. I recapitulated
our story in search of all my mistakes to blame them on me, because if I deserve
punishment, living in my body is enough. But I look in the scripts and in most of them
you are doing origami with me to see how small I can be. What a destructive love, for
me. .
Because for you it was a recreational love, you raised your self-esteem and you felt like
the king of the galaxy. I don't remember having suffered so much for anyone. In the
end it will be true that the pain you suffer is directly proportional to the love you have,
and of course I was madly in love. It was my first love and heartbreak. I wanted to turn
my coffee cup into a mug of dark beer. The waiter approached again. —Are you offered
anything else? —Is it easier for you to forget something you had or didn't have? —
Ummm... something I didn't have. -Because? —Well, because I didn't know what it felt
like to have 'that', so I have nothing to miss. -Good answer. «I had you and at the same
time I didn't, what do I do, then?» . This is something that waiter couldn't have thought
of, he is so smiling while serving the others... Maybe he's in love. Well, I'll stop
watching him because I think he's already realized and I don't want him to think that
I'm a little bohemian craving liquor, and that instead I calm my anxiety with American
coffee. .

Day 100: Saturday, February 16, 2013 'After the storm comes the calm'... I keep waiting
for it. Why don't I just forget it once and for all? Day 101: Sunday, February 17, 2013 I
would like to find the courage to face you and tell you to your face that I have decided to
give up on you (yes, even though I love you). It's just that I'm not the one to tie you
down or give you the trouble of letting you know that I love you every time I can. I give
up telling you that I love you like no one in life I thought I could love. I swear to you
that I ask God to annihilate this feeling that has grown with me throughout my life; It
is a beautiful, pure love, but, despite everything good it may be, it stings. On the day of
farewell, before beginning that final talk, something inside us premonitorily whispered:
"This is the last time." Then everything was unleashed to have the tragic ending that
Walt Disney would suppress and write in beautiful letters "And they lived happily ever
after...". In that cafeteria, she asked: "Do you still love me?" And he answered yes. Let's
ignore what you answered, our original version was written by the Brothers Grimm.
My love for you has convinced me that I must let you go, keep silent, never speak again
about how much it hurts me to have lost you. No words will come out of my mouth,
never again, at least on this topic, I will try to remain as faithful as possible to my
resignation. And even if you ask me if I still love you, my mouth will be trained to tell
you no. My lips will say that I hate you, that you mean nothing to me, that you are a real
nuisance and I will not be able to open my eyes because I will feel like I am turning
into glass and breaking into two large fragments and thousands of small ones. You
disarm me and you know it. Does this agreement suit you? .

Day 102: Monday, February 18, 2013 Eros is a great friend, he is a good listener, he is
silent until I finish, everything I say surprises him and he always has something to say
about space. Did you know that Comet Hale-Bopp was discovered on my birthday? He
always wants to make me feel unique, he tries very hard and holds my hand as soon as
he has the chance. His hands are very light and with elongated lunules. He wears a
black watch on his left wrist; he stopped the clock just at the moment he met me.
Sometimes I think he doesn't exist and I'm imagining it because so much beauty
seems non-existent to me and at the same time it scares me because that's how you
were. I feel calm next to him, I have imagined us in a cabin in the middle of the fjords
and yes, I do visualize it, it is more adventurous, sparkling and more nomadic. I don't
know if I can keep up with him and in the end it won't be enough. I do not have a
fearless or dancing spirit and sooner or later you will notice it. .

Day 103: Tuesday, February 19, 2013 He invited me to dance, the problems have
already started for me, you know I hate it and even more so places with loud music.
Well, he loves them, he loves dancing to all kinds of music and he's also great at it.
What would I do with a man who dances with other women because I refuse? And I
totally refuse to learn, I don't want to, he has insisted on me all afternoon and I can't
get out of my denial. I told him not to worry, to go without me. He made a gesture of
displeasure, how sullen I was, but you know that I was always a mole who wakes up as
soon as the sun goes down, just to be in my room. Day 104: Wednesday, February 20,
2013 There are more inconsistencies in this little game of destiny: he has an addiction
to tobacco, he has come to my house soaked in that aroma, even his beautiful fingers
had that ink that He leaves the cigarette between your thumb and index finger. Should
I accept these differences? Maybe they are minimal and can cope with them, I say, a
guy who dances every week with as many women as he wants and who plays at
destroying his lungs little by little, but fervently every day. Sounds fun, I guess. There
would be no reason to interfere with his planned suicide. Maybe I should program it
with something else too. Sorry, I'm also addicted to something, I remembered that. I
am also killing myself little by little, this letter number one hundred and four I think is
proof of that. Me too .

judging the poor guy! If I knew this I would have surely given up a couple of days ago.
I'm dating an addict and he's dating a psychopath who writes letters she doesn't send.
Day 105: Thursday, February 21, 2013 My heart is dusty, I watched it from the outside
thinking about whether I could clean it and make way for a new guest, but I stayed at
the door and did not want to enter so as not to fall again , so as not to increase my need
for you and cry at all your footprints. You know, I'm controlling this addiction, the
further away the better, although that also distances me from myself. Maintenance is
urgently needed, the salt is deteriorating everything, I have become an internal sea. Day
106: Friday, February 22, 2013 A fire has raged inside me. All my steps have been
consumed, the red skies overwhelm my mind .

head, the smoke burns the lungs as well as the skin. The fire is getting bigger and is
running through me from my chest to my belly. I would have wanted to blame you, but
the one who left the cigarette half out was me. I have caught fire. I'm helping you
destroy me.

.
Day 107: Saturday, February 23, 2013 You were trying to get that silly story about the
red thread into my head. I told you that they were pure corny and crazy stories of
predestination and with your little eyes you looked at me as if to say "I think you were
and are for me." And I, innocent robin, stupid and drooling to the floor from listening
to you, giving the benefit of the doubt to your absurd story, was already looking at my
little finger and imagining that that noose of evil was in yours. The more I thought
about it, the less stupid the idea seemed to me and I even took a liking to it. Maybe my
skepticism made me distance myself from real and beautiful things. I put aside that
maturity that was imposed on me and believed that we were indeed born to be together;
because I felt complete, because you had everything I wanted, because no one could
love me as strongly as you. And look at me now! My eyelids are purple from crying all
night, while I look at the moon and ask if the old man is there. I suppose that the red
threads, if they exist, break, and if they don't break, they hang you. .

Day 108: Sunday, February 24, 2013 I have told Eros that I don't want to see him
anymore. So, simply and without explanations. His mouth didn't stop asking
questions, so I deafened myself, ignored them and left there, I didn't have the face to
tell him my reasons. He's not a bad man, but he's not for me, even though he had
things that made me feel close to him, we were also polar opposites, none of this was
going to work, he is sugar, I am salt, fire, ice, fish and bird, it was about time. I can't
continue on your spaceship anymore, I'm a bad crew member, I'm not what you're
looking for. I don't know how everything coincided that afternoon, coincidences and
games of life I want to think. I hope you can forgive me, I think I told you in time. I
know that he will find someone very soon, any woman would love to dance all night
with him and live at a mile an hour, I would only be a stone that would make him slow
down. .

Day 109: Monday, February 25, 2013 You are not him, no matter how much you seem
like it, I must stop pretending it, exorcise his ghost that I have embedded in my head
and it becomes so much a part of me that all this time I have not done more than
hallucinate that here it is. But no, you're not him, I just want to hold on to the belief
that he's not gone. Sorry, you are that dice that life throws in the roulette wheel to
unbalance what I have built with broken legos. You are that deck that I didn't see
coming and made me completely lose the game that I thought I had beaten to oblivion
a long time ago. Damn smile! Damn look! Your way of calling me, your way of
laughing, that ridiculous tie and the quotes on your cheeks when you speak. All of you
are a version of something that I loved like an idiot, of something that tore my soul and
crushed every artery that surrounds my heart. You are a memory that I did not live
because you are not him, and I must stop referring to you as if I loved you because for
you I feel nothing more than an imitation of four years ago. .
I thought there would be no other voice that would make my heartbeat worse and
disturb my dreams. But there is, you and that ability to make me turn back time and
drop me in November, but it's February and you... you are not him. Day 110: Tuesday,
February 26, 2013 Have you ever felt empty? But totally without anything inside and
with an urgency to fill it and not knowing how? That's how I am. I made a mistake, I
hoarded everything I could in the supermarket, I brought all the sweets and fried foods
that crossed my eyes and I put them in my mouth like an animal that clings to not die
of hunger even if it only has it in front of it. trash. Then I blame myself, and I put my
fingers in my mouth, but history repeats itself. I feel empty and I return to the window
because of everything that screams at me to swallow it up. My ribs hurt from so much
effort, my teeth and esophagus hurt. I have to stop, I know, but something forces me to
continue this vicious circle. I no longer inhabit my body, there is someone else,
someone who .

He hates, he came because of your words, but I opened the door for him. —Binge. Day
111: Wednesday, February 27, 2013 I feel broken, as if my arms, my legs and my head
are not in me. They hurt me and I haven't hit myself. Even running my fingertips over
my scalp bothers me, my nails fall off just by hitting them against clothes. I feel cold,
even though the thermometer says otherwise, I haven't slept in days and it shows on
my face. I think a whale crushed me at night, I think I am that whale. Day 112:
Thursday, February 28, 2013 I would like to be a lotus flower, suspended in water all
the time, without dying.March Narcissus, of so many things you could sow, it occurred to
you to use the seeds of insecurity, and of so many gardens, you planted them all in me. .
Day 113: Friday, March 1, 2013 Today I talked about you to someone else who is not my
head. I talked about us, what we were and what I am now without you. I wanted to
describe to you how I did when I wrote songs to you, but in a conversation, things are
more fluid and less thought out. I couldn't compose verses, I only said the first thing
that came to mind when I thought about you and remembered your words. The times
you squeezed my tears, when you made me feel small and insignificant, when my
achievements were nothing, and your failures were my fault. When I told someone else
about you, it didn't sound as nice as it did in my head. The truth is, it was horrible. I
was ashamed of what I allowed. .
I was not loved, I invented you. Day 114: Saturday, March 2, 2013 More than a hundred
days and it seems like a week has passed, because I still have the same anxiety about
you and what annoys me the most is having those recurring dreams where I am the
woman before to know you I want to stay there and live forever, even if that means
being asleep all day. Day 115: Sunday, March 3, 2013 They say that you never finish
getting to know someone, and I have proven it with myself, I have realized that my
heart is capable of settling for anything and not I know how to make him see reason. I
would like to tie him up in the underground as a hostage to a murderer who wants to .

reward. He has gone crazy, he shouts pure nonsense, he only says "come back . " How
will what was never there come back? Day 116: Monday, March 4, 2013 I have held the
heart in captivity, I have put the gag on it and deprived it of food, I have to be tougher
on it, it is losing its sanity. He told me to let him die, and then I lost my desire. .
Day 117: Tuesday, March 5, 2013 The doctor once told me that possibly in a few years I
will need a heart transplant. When I heard that, I cried for nights. Like this? Remove it?
And where does it go? To the yellow bags? To the bonfire? I wished that day would
never come, and now it doesn't seem like a bad idea to me. Maybe, just maybe, the new
guy might not be such a jerk. Day 118: Wednesday, March 6, 2013 What are you doing
to not tell him my name? I even call the cat yours, the terrible thing is that he comes
and that means he's already used to me calling you. Day 119: Thursday, March 7, 2013
I left two cups on the table, as you liked, I already got rid of the decaffeinated coffee and
bought the bitterest one. The back door has a double lock because I know how scared
you were that it was open. I passed the cat's bowl near the table and I don't forget to
open it as soon as it gets light. I have left behind jealousy and all those things that you
hated about my character, I don't get angry so easily and I think a lot about what words
not to say. I no longer worry about insignificant things and problems little by little stop
keeping me up at night. Ah! And I already found the pair of my socks, I have managed
to not have so many wrinkles on my shirts, I also changed my favorite song. So, if you
decide to return, no more .

You will find many things, I left everything you liked and the new thing that I thought
you might like, there are more little notes on the refrigerator, those that remind you
how important you are and there are even more paintings in the living room. The cat
understood that he shouldn't sleep on the couch and I already understood that without
you I am a little less myself. With this I am not asking you to return, it is only in case
you return. Day 120: Friday, March 8, 2013 Have you been up until midnight looking at
the sea? There comes a time when you think the waves are talking to each other, they
get angry and collide, forming a kind of war, the fish are jumping in the distance, is
someone chasing them or are they just having fun? I should have jumped like them
when you chased me through the hallways. Maybe, if I were less deluded, I would
continue swimming. Day 121: Saturday, March 9, 2013 I took a snail from the sand,
they say you can hear the sea, I heard your heart beating. .

Day 122: Sunday, March 10, 2013 Of us, you are the one who made the most promises.
I must remind myself that he who promises the most is the most traitor. Day 123:
Monday, March 11, 2013 Your perfume passed by, suddenly, tangled in the wind,
secretly hurting, playing with me, playing that you come back, that you pass by me with
your flirtatious smile, your hair tangled and the ridiculous tie, like the day you spent
the first time with me. I look at it and you're not, it's just a perfume, what a cruel
artifact. Who invented it? A scent and a declaration of war, a scent and an internal
collapse. Your perfume still makes my heart vibrate. .
Day 124: Tuesday, March 12, 2013 Today, when I took a scalpel in my hands, I realized
that I am here for you. You wanted someone intelligent and worthy of you... What
would others say if by your side there was a bar singer and writer with complexes? It
didn't sound very good, I wanted to show you that I can also and that music didn't burn
my neurons, that I can write, reduce fractures, stop hemorrhages and revive stopped
hearts. I can continue singing in bars and also wear a white coat. I know I can give
more of myself. I know I'm worth it. Day 125: Wednesday, March 13, 2013 They have
told me about you... Apparently everyone watched my tragedy movie, everyone knew
that you had such a big void that you wanted to fill with several dolls. Very like you to
be a hoarder. Very silly of me to be from the collection. Day 126: Thursday, March 14,
2013 And who did this polyamory hurt the most? Yes, to me, because I was the only
one who didn't know. .

Day 127: Friday, March 15, 2013 I would like to know if you have searched for this old
blog out of curiosity. I always told you that my words and my heart would be one click
away from you. Well this place was for you. I continue writing because I believe that
you will come in and I would like you to come across this whole journey in which, if I
land, it is only to tell you about my day. Most likely you won't even think about me. I
am attacked by crazy ideas of gathering each of the letters and taking them to the
postman, in short, they are more yours than mine. Day 128: Saturday, March 16, 2013 I
thought I was the only one. I believe many things, except to tell you that I still think
that Antoine de Saint-Exupéry perhaps did meet a small alien whom he decided to
name “the little prince” . I took his drawing of the place where he last saw him so
seriously. I dreamed of traveling to Africa and finding it, but I'm not here to talk to you
about this, it's just a preamble so you can understand my level of... what? Naivety?
Maybe, maybe... I thought I was the only one, I mean, no one expects their function in
the world to be an outfit you wear on Friday nights or the head of an animal in a
showroom. We are not objects, we are hearts. It was Artemis, who you danced with all
the time .

kind of songs, even the ones you don't dance to, to which you told that you were busy
on Thursdays, and maybe you weren't lying, you were busy counting Aphrodite's
moles. It was Aura, who told you that you were the owner of her dreams, you answered
that she was too, even though that night you slept with Circe. It was Selene, to whom
you promised a ring and to take her to the altar, but you didn't even tell her about your
agnosticism and, of course, you didn't tell her that you had also promised that ring to
Calliope. I was the one who always ran away from love, the one who told you that I
didn't believe in it, but you showed me that it existed, only to later show me that I
wasn't the only one, that we had more decorating your agenda. I was the one on
Sundays, whose wings you stole, I, the one who, even knowing that you stole them,
made up for your mistake by giving them to you. It was me, the name you used as a
trophy, like hunters who feel victorious next to a living being, which little by little is
extinguished because it has fallen into the trap. That's what I was, a confused moose in
the middle of the night; a skin on display in a bedroom; a banner with the legend "the
unbreakable fell." We are not collectibles, we are hearts. I don't know what hurts more,
having thought I knew love or having seen my name along with six others, and that,
even with the list in front of you, you continued telling me that I was the only one. (I
almost believed you again). .

Day 129: Sunday, March 17, 2013 Have you been afraid of something? But real fear, not
like your fear of needles, but something that you can't even see from meters away
because it generates horrible anxiety, belly pain and palpitations a thousand miles per
minute. Has it happened to you? I thought I was afraid of spiders, until I realized that I
am very afraid of the scale, seeing it there in front of me, stopping, seeing how
someone moves the gears to determine how much I weigh, suffocates me. The sound
of the scale is like your throat regurgitating. I look at the scale and see your words on
the computer, telling everyone how horrible I am. Sometimes I want to forget how
terrible you can be with words, but I see the scales and I think about them, I see the
food and I think about them, I see my
body without clothes and I think about them. I hate seeing me, I hate seeing me like I
hate you leaving. I hate inhabiting myself. .
Day 130: Monday, March 18, 2013 I knew who you were, your hard-to-break character,
your emotional instability, your contradictory opinions, your beliefs in everything and
nothing. The ease you had to say yes when a minute before, so confident, you said no. I
was not blind, I knew of your hostile capacity to destroy others; I was a silent witness, I
overlooked your strategies, your ability to make me believe that I was always to blame
even if you were the one with your hands on the broken vessels. I wasn't blind, I always
saw it. I was not deaf, I understood what I heard. I was stupid to believe that you would
never do it with me. Day 131: Tuesday, March 19, 2013 My skin was a bunker for you,
but it was also your target of ridicule. My hair was the lavender scent that you adored,
but also the one that suffered the entire attack. My face was the first thing you saw that
afternoon, and there you aimed your poisonous darts, the ones that say that I am
nothing. When I asked to know why you walked away, it would have been good to read
that my character was difficult, that my whims were unbearable, that I understood you
little, that perhaps I left you alone on an important day, that I didn't pay you enough
attention. attention. I would have liked to read something more serious, but it's my
body's fault. .

Day 132: Wednesday, March 20, 2013 How fucked up that something you were born
with is the cause of your martyrdoms. Day 133: Thursday, March 21, 2013 What did
you save me from? If it was you who created the fire and the flood.
Day 134: Friday, March 22, 2013 You were a disaster actor. You abandoned me in the
forest while you left your cigarette half extinguished, you threw me into the ocean when
you had already watched the weather program and knew the storm was coming. You
took me through traffic and took off my glasses so that when I cried out for help, you
would arrive as a gentleman, as a hero, as a lifeguard. All this time I believed that you
rescued me from tornadoes, that you put me in safe places. But it was all a trick, it was
all part of your narcissism. .
What a fool I have been! And today I cry not because I miss you, but for myself, for
everything I allowed, because I never saw it. Because I wrapped you in kisses in the
middle of that whirlwind of water when you took me out, but it was you who put me
there. Day 135: Saturday, March 23, 2013 Because of my sea of tears, I have nothing left
but to become a sailor. .

Day 136: Sunday, March 24, 2013 Once the disguises began to fall, the thousand of
yours and the ten of mine, I could see that you are a little child, addicted to tantrums in
order to get what you want, manipulative , arrogant and pusillanimous. I am not so
cowardly, nor so terrible nor so stupid, but I am a woman with emotional dependence,
a woman who takes value from the words of others. I am not a useless volcano, I was a
sleeping volcano, but your earthquake is about to cause me to erupt. My glaciers will
thaw and my fears shielded between icebergs. Once I erupt I will activate the ring of
fire, I will come back, I will rebuild myself. .

Day 137: Monday, March 25, 2013 You were my dream come true, because yes, I
dreamed of you countless times. Your eyes were two fish tanks in waiting rooms that
take away the fear of going to the doctor. Your voice, rough and sweet, caressed and hit
me at the same time. The lips that I still can't describe and the chin that I wanted to
kiss the entire night. How sad that you can't see yourself from the angles that I could,
that you will go your whole life without appreciating yourself. But life is wise, and you
had better never do it or you would be much worse than you already are now; more
arrogant, more vain, more cruel
and with a cemetery overflowing with corpses of hearts. And it's not that they get
hooked on your appearance, it's because you know how to combine it with your
beautiful lies, beautiful, but lies nonetheless. And now you leave me here, smiling
when I think about them, but crying when I remember that nothing was true. .
Day 138: Tuesday, March 26, 2013 In medicine there are patients who report feeling
pain or stinging in an amputated limb even though it is no longer there. Phantom pain
they call it. I think that's what I have with you. Day 139: Wednesday, March 27, 2013 I
have been able to open my eyes under the sea, I am an expert in withstanding salt
water. Well... tears. Day 140: Thursday, March 28, 2013 I began to make your name
mine, to write it on my fingers and the backs of notebooks like a girl in love; like
someone who doesn't value a tree, since I thought it was worth uprooting it to repeat
your name as a plan. My problems began when all the songs told me about you, when
on trips I became the director of imaginary scenes in my head where we were happy
back in the year two thousand twenty-one. Now I don't know if I'll make it to that year,
my heart has started a countdown .

and this is literal: I want to abandon everything and let myself fall into a dream, not
because you are worth it, but because I can no longer continue. Day 141: Friday, March
29, 2013 A boy asked me about all the things I write. Study with you. Doesn't that seem
strange to you? He lives in your apartment... even stranger. Why don't you just ask me?
.

Day 142: Saturday, March 30, 2013 Every time I wake up, I feel peace in my eyelids and
in my belly. I feel happy to see the sun's rays touching my face as if saying good
morning, burning my nose a little. Everything seems to be at peace, until I remember
that I have been a refuge from your memory for one hundred and forty-two days. I look
in the mirror and I am no longer a watercolor, I am sad charcoal. I brush my hair and it
breaks, I put on my clothes and swim in it, but it squeezes me. Breakfast time arrives
and, when no one is looking, I hide the bread and just drink the coffee. For this reason,
I go back to bed every time I can, to sleep, to implore not to dream and pretend that I
do not exist. Day 143: Sunday, March 31, 2013 Robbins, you failed to describe how
cardiomyocytes have an affinity for lies. Guyton, where is the physiology of a stomach
with killer butterflies? Netter, where do I find the anatomy of a broken heart? Moore,
go explain to the freshmen, with all those colors and illustrations, not to be so rough
with the left ventricle. Vademecum, where is the dose to sleep without dreaming? Day
143: Sunday, March 31, 2013 Robbins, you failed to describe how cardiomyocytes have
an affinity for lies. Guyton, where is the physiology of a stomach with killer butterflies?
Netter, where do I find the anatomy of a broken heart? Moore, go explain to the
freshmen, with all those colors and illustrations, not to be so rough with the left
ventricle. Vademecum, where is the dose to sleep without dreaming? April Narcissus, if
you say you love the poppy, stop making it jealous with tuberoses. .
Day 144: Monday, April 1, 2013 I neither remember you nor forget you, I neither love
you nor hate you, I neither advance nor go back. It doesn't hurt me, but it burns me, I
would like to write a final point, but it eats me up to think how far tragicomedies can
go. I don't want you back, but I don't want you very far away either. I want you to be
happy, even if it's not with me, and yet I don't want to see you with anyone else either. I
want you to cry like I have, but for someone to hug you and give you a handkerchief. I
want it to hurt you, but I don't want you to know loneliness, which, although self-help
books make it .
They overestimate, I think they did not know her thoroughly. Loneliness does have its
own thing, it is that friend to whom you speak carefully because she betrays, because
today she answers you calmly and tomorrow she has a party at your house, she invites
everyone and you only have a little tea and five cookies. A party that can't end that you
can't get out of, where everyone screams and you put your hands in your ears, where
your gums and eyes bleed, no one listens to you, it's just you and her, in silence. But
how it stuns! Day 145: Tuesday, April 2, 2013 What a shame to be a doctor and abuse
the manufacturing of tears (in other people's factories). Day 146: Wednesday, April 3,
2013 I feel like I'm in a fish tank, you know? The water is reaching my neck, I feel
betrayed because it is my tears that are about to drown me. Day 147: Thursday, April 4,
2013 I suture the wounds, but when I feel like I stop seeing your .

eyes, I open them again. Mediocre surgeon . Day 148: Friday, April 5, 2013 Every
morning I swear to forget and move on and a few minutes after getting up, I regret it
and want to go back to bed, close my eyes and implore you to appear, but I must live,
do all those things of adult, even if he finds no more reason. ten percent of me At one
time I think about brushing my hair and reconsidering sitting at the table, and the
other ninety percent I think about all the probabilities that were in my mouth that rainy
afternoon. I don't know how I got home that day, I was so out of my mind that I don't
remember anything... The next thing I know is that I woke up in my bed, with my
mother next to me, she said she felt the need to take care of me because I wouldn't stop
screaming. . And of course, he had been in the biggest surgery in .

my life, without an anesthesiologist who had compassion for me. Do you know what I
mean? People after so much time become a vital organ. It shouldn't be this way, but I
wanted it that way; I saw you as much more than just a companion, my futures were
with you. However, after that goodbye, that medieval and clandestine surgery, I cannot
be the same, I still bleed, I still change the gauze every night and apply pressure. It
should stop, it should follow its natural course, this is the human body, specialized in
surviving, the platelets run to cover the hole through which life escapes, the white
blood cells, like undercover spies and police officers, look for the infectious agent. .
They say that as above, so below and as inside, so outside. Everything happens,
everything happens... I think I am that girl who fell from her bicycle and is having the
most intense pain of her life from the impact, begging for the world to end because she
is not willing to get up. But time passes and when he gets back on the bike, and passes
near that pothole, he smiles, it doesn't hurt anymore. Today the scar adorns my leg, it
looks terrible, but it reminds me where I shouldn't go, what speed to take and that, no
matter how hard the blow was, I will get back up, and I will not be exempt from more
marks like that, maybe They may be smaller or much more grotesque, but I will heal.
Shouldn't the same thing happen with the wound you left me? .

Day 149: Saturday, April 6, 2013 “I miss your collarbones,” you said. I didn't
understand what you meant, if I was in front of you. Day 150: Sunday, April 7, 2013
From the beginning, what we had did not make sense, and that attracted me, and that
same thing drove me away, and that same thing brings me back. Day 151: Monday, April
8, 2013 Why couldn't someone love me for my physique? That is, is it the only
important thing? What about people who don't have traits that photographers look for?
What happens to those who were born with malformations? What happens to those
whose exercise and diet don't make them stars? You hate me because my face changed,
because my skin changed, because my eyes changed, because my clothes looked bad,
because my hair didn't grow, because my nose didn't change. You hate everything you
once wanted to touch. Will someone be able to love me with everything that I cannot
love about myself? .
Day 152: Tuesday, April 9, 2013 I tell you, read me carefully now that you can, because
you don't know when will be the last day that I will finally stop writing to you. P.S. The
one hundred and thirty-seven messages you didn't receive last month were mine. Day 153:
Wednesday, April 10, 2013 Hey, yes, Olvido, what time do you plan to show up? Or do
you just like to act funny and only visit me during exam times? It would be nice if you
could take a few things with you today, which only take up unnecessary space in my
head. You did go to see him and you gave him the premium service, because he is out
there pretending to wear all the skirts possible. She looks radiant, until her new cut and
clothes. In my case, on the contrary, I find a girl in the mirror who seems deranged and
addicted to narcotics. It's not that she didn't seem that way before, it's just that now not
even makeup helps me hide so much sadness. I don't know if I have to make an
appointment or you're just not going to come... Oh, I know, you're a misogynist and a
favoritist, I had to assume. .

Day 154: Thursday, April 11, 2013 What a mistake the mermaid has made by falling in
love with a pirate.

Day 155: Friday, April 12, 2013 My walls have seen too many crimes lately, I'm
suspicious about that thing about them not seeing or hearing. After everything I've said
and done to get you out of me, anything would come to life to laugh or give me away.
As soon as I know how to use some grenades, I knock them down. .
Day 156: Saturday, April 13, 2013 Do you remember Gary? Well, he has died. The fifth
fish since last year that died without warning; Yesterday he swam from here to there
and was blowing bubbles, today he was belly up. I believed that the previous four had
been sold to me while they were sick and that was why they died out of nowhere. But it
can't be such a coincidence that he only chooses those who have little left to live. He
looked quite young and I followed all the instructions that the veterinarian gave me and
many others that I read in that magazine that talks about the animal world. To tell the
truth, I skipped some things... They recommended the small fish tank, but that was
selfish, they didn't take them out of the river so that they now live in a small glass as
desk accessories, so I had them in a huge fish tank. I made everything so identical to
their natural habitat, they wouldn't even realize that they were in an artificial place. But,
for some reason, even with everything he gave them, they died. Will it be a paradox? .

Day 157: Sunday, April 14, 2013 "I don't love you anymore, it's true, but maybe I love
you." -Pablo Neruda. "You will never be like Dickinson, nor like Curie," you said. Of
course not, you didn't ruin their existence. Although, actually, maybe yes, I took
something from them. I want to lock myself away and write like Dickinson and, at this
rate, my letters will also function as radioactive. .
Day 158: Monday, April 15, 2013 I never liked to play the martyr, although all these
letters could be part of a compilation called “ The girl who loved to die every day.” But
today, without so many nostalgic words, I want to say that I am not well, I saw threads
of blood coming out of my mouth, I am also falling apart inside and I no longer know if
this is your fault, I have been misusing my reflexes. I want to say enough, I want to stop
doing it, I know I'm wrong, but I can't. The voices, the voices, the damn voices are
there in the bites. They hate me, they are going to kill me faster than hunger kills. Day
159: Tuesday, April 16, 2013 My veins feel cold, the table is cold, my EKG looks like the
scribbles of a child learning to write. Everyone looks at me as if they saw a ghost, at
least they see me, you made me feel like one. "Why do you do it?" asked Dr. Asclepius.
What could he answer? I wish you could put yourself in my shoes, from here the
reasons are more coherent. I don't want to justify myself, I have to stop, but how do I
say that to the mirror? I have a phobia of glass, a phobia of scales .

phobia of sugar, phobia of you, phobia of life. Phobia of feeling like I'm doing without
you. Day 160: Wednesday, April 17, 2013 I put color on my cheeks, they look like two
synthetic peaches. I went out for a walk, although they prohibited me from doing so,
but between risk and benefit, walking is more benefit than risk. A boy touched me on
the shoulder and told me how pretty I looked, and this is where I don't know what's
wrong with me, they compliment me and I think they're making fun of me. He looked
at my eyes and said that he had not seen any prettier ones, "I'm sure they tell you that
often." Well no, man, no one had told me and whoever told me retracted it. I took out
that little pocket mirror, the one where the monster doesn't fit and looked into my
eyes... .

Maybe that boy wasn't lying: They did look pretty. Day 161: Thursday, April 18, 2013 In
that farewell, the one who said the first goodbye was me. I took the first step when I
didn't want to, I said what I swore I would never say, I turned around first, me, me, me.
I did it, even though I didn't want to, maybe... Maybe I do love myself. Day 162: Friday,
April 19, 2013 You always wanted to make me feel small and useless, although after
your laughter, when you saw that I was not laughing and I looked at you .

You ended up saying "just kidding." Joke... a joke that was hitting my head. Then I felt
guilty for not understanding your sense of humor and being a hypersensitive person
who takes everything to heart. I couldn't keep up with your uncontrolled laughter, I
wanted to laugh with you, but it was always about laughing at me. Day 163: Saturday,
April 20, 2013 Dear you: This is the last letter I write to you. If you have come this far, I
understand your dizziness and low blood pressure after how exhausting it has been to
endure and read each of the pages. I think my desert ends today, I put on my sandals
and enter the garden. I want to say goodbye without hard feelings and thanking you for
what I don't understand and what I still haven't cured because I know that sooner or
later I will find the remedy that no one is looking for yet. Don't imagine me as crazy,
reaching day one hundred and sixty-three also seems unreal to me, but no, it only
reflects a demented woman, a lover of tragedies. It has been a war where I have already
raised the flag of peace, although your memories still propose to me the thousandth
battle. .

It hasn't been easy at all, I thought I wouldn't make it, I thought the words would end
in a month and, to my surprise, I have already seen sixteen pencils and eight pens
disappear. You gave me a gift without thinking, you sewed the pen into my hand, and I
have no way to pay you for such surgery. But today I say goodbye to you again, a little
rhetorically and from a distance, because I had already done it, but now I feel capable. I
renounce everything, I renounce my sick desires for you to return and I renounce
writing to you again. Put the letters away, throw them away, burn them, I don't care,
nothing you do with them hurts me, not after everything you did before. Today I take
the next train without knowing the destination. Day 164: Sunday, April 21, 2013 Laugh,
laugh that I couldn't. Day 165: Monday, April 22, 2013 The pain scale (VAS) consists of
visually measuring the intensity of pain. It's not very accurate, I mean, it's subjective,
because my chest hurts like hell and no one has noticed that I'm about to break the
scale. .

Day 166: Tuesday, April 23, 2013 Today, with all the pain in my mouth and insides, I
got up to watch the sun rise while I drink tea and cookies (with sugar). They have tasted
like regret and sweet things continue to cause me to cry. Today, on my own, I decided
to eat something, that's how you start and the small steps are no less important than
the big ones. You took my smile, but you can't take my life too. What a lunatic!
Claiming a thousand blows that I'm sure you never noticed you gave me, fighting
against you, against your ghosts and against me. .

Day 167: Wednesday, April 24, 2013 Have you seen what the houses that are attacked
look like? When the thieves couldn't take everything, but in the search for what was
valuable they left things upside down. Well, that's me, they also broke in to steal, they
also looked for the valuable things, they also took them and, in the process, they broke
everything. Day 168: Thursday, April 25, 2013 At this moment I realize that I didn't
know you well enough, that I was with someone I invented all the time and you were
with someone who believed you too much. Don't blame yourself, it was all because of
me, no one else tied me, if there were ropes, I would have tied myself with a triple knot
to you alone. I put on the handcuffs and threw away the key, now I'm still with the
handcuffs and can't find the key, but, savagely and cannibalistically, I'm letting go, even
if that means going maimed. It's spring and my allergies know it; The redness of my
desperation is very much hidden with that of my cells in the middle of a war and all to
keep me safe, I don't see them, but they must be releasing all those cytokines, which is
typical of them. On the outside I look like a woman .

He cried all night, I mean, yes I did, but I also have allergies. Today more than other
days, I think about what you should be doing. If they woke you up with breakfast in
bed, if they gave you a kiss at dawn, if they played music for you and lit the candles,
perhaps you are walking on the beach or dancing in a bar and being happy with the
amber-skinned girl. . Will you think about our dances without guides, about our
sleepless mornings, about what I did for you? I would have waited for you all my life if
you had asked me, at ninety-nine years old I would surely have remained just as excited
at the foot of the bed looking out the window, wondering if you would still be late. I
read that loving is a decision and I make the decision not to do it anymore, although
the mere result takes more time, I think things are clear, leaving was the best thing you
could do to me and letting you go was my greatest act of love for me, and yes, Why not?
For you. Now you found someone who isn't me, who won't harass you with questions
and who probably won't write to you for more than half a year. I would have given
everything for you without you asking, I didn't care about your many titles on the wall.
I didn't love you because you were the center of attention in meetings, I didn't measure
your success according to what your co-workers can talk about you, or if you get
promoted or appointed everywhere; I gave you my heart, even if you had nothing,
because I wanted to love you, not your reputation, not your character. Understand, late,
but I want you to know. It is no longer our story, nor our life. Happy Birthday. .

Day 169: Friday, April 26, 2013 May you be happy, may you laugh more than before,
may they hug you from behind and may your thorns fall off. May they love you like you
never thought you deserved, may your fears be amputated and bad memories removed,
may your cheeks turn cherry more times than you cry. May it never rain again, may
they hear you laughing, may you sing again, may they kiss your forehead and ribs, may
they rest on your collarbones and cradle your dreams, may they not leave at midnight,
may they be there for you when you wake up scared by the bad dreams. May they never
leave you alone, may you never extend your hand and there be emptiness. I won't say
that I hope they give you what I couldn't, or that they do what I didn't do. I gave
everything, I did everything, but it wasn't for you. .

Day 170: Saturday, April 27, 2013 I am killing the butterflies… from hunger. Day 171:
Sunday, April 28, 2013 This is the third time I have tried to send you this relief in the
form of letters. At first the postman thought they were invitations, until he saw that
they all had the same recipient. Today when I left the correspondence, only three
minutes had passed and I came back almost out of breath asking for them back. He
told me that it was impossible, that he had already registered them in the system. I
waited there for an hour until he relented, on the condition that I tell him our story.
Day 172: Monday, April 29, 2013 I have thrown away the pillow that has been with me
all this time, lest she go crazy, betray me, and start whispering things that I no longer
want to hear. .

Day 173: Tuesday, April 30, 2013 It's not that you won't find someone like me, you will,
because I'm no big deal. What is certain is that you will not find someone who loves
you like I do, in this foolish, blind and stupid way; and I wish that no one does... no one
deserves to depend so much on another person, no one should love to the point of
forgetting themselves. I hope no one loves you like I do, because how it hurts, and you
are not worth so much pain .
Mayo Narciso, you put words in my mouth that I didn't say to make me believe that I had a
bad memory, to make me feel like I was going crazy. .

Day 174: Wednesday, May 1, 2013 They have told me that I have changed: my
appearance, my clothes, my way of speaking and being silent. Of course, not all of us
were hit by a radioactive bomb. What did you expect? After you, of course I can't be me
again, I walk with a gun in my hands wherever I walk, everyone seems potentially
harmful to me, even the most innocent, because I didn't have the slightest clue that you
were terrorist, what should I expect from those who do look like mercenaries? I will
never be able to trust, I will never be able to look at myself. You took away the small
gears of my love factory, now I don't produce a single drop, not even for myself. .
Day 175: Thursday, May 2, 2013 I am getting there, I have felt that today I have loved
you a little less, even if it is one percent, I am satisfied with that, because not moving
forward means that I am stuck, but in me, To be stagnant is to go backwards, because
the more I stay still, the more I think about you, and I fall in love with you again, even
though you are gone, but when I remember you, everything seems so alive and clear
that I feel like it has happened again. , even though that you died months ago. Day 176:
Friday, May 3, 2013 Most of today, I haven't thought about you. Only now, just a few
minutes before midnight. I could see the sky without thinking about your iris, I could
listen to the violin without thinking about your voice, I could touch the sheets without
remembering your skin, I could pass by the coffee shop in the center of the city without
looking at the window and seeing us laughing. - I did everything, I could wear my
perfume and not think that it made you drunk, I could cry and not because of you. I
know... I know... In the end I did it at the wrong time , but it's better to be out of date
than to have you at all times. I prefer that twenty-three hours be mine and give you one
than that you steal my entire day, even if that hour hurts more than the entire week
combined. .

Day 177: Saturday, May 4, 2013 I have filled myself with happy songs, the kind that
invite you to laugh for nothing, to dance without shoes, to become color blind and see
the pink sky. I bought three books with extreme doses of love, with happy endings, with
the sweet version that my life does not have, I put two tablespoons of sugar in my
coffee and drank it all at once. I ran all over the sand, breaking the record of running
along the coast in an hour and a half. I let the waves soak my clothes, I collected snails,
I made friends with a crab and I returned to his rock (I think it was his rock). I did what
I had stopped doing more than a year ago, I was so me, I felt so alive and with so much
desire to take a blank page and rewrite myself. And why, if I did all that, am I still so
sad? .

Day 178: Sunday, May 5, 2013 Against my will I took that trunk, the one with the letters
and movie tickets now without letters, the one with the photos and the small souvenirs
from the trips. My left hand (the treacherous one) wanted to take it off and hide it
somewhere where I would forget it, but it didn't win the battle. I threw it in the vacant
lot next to the house, covered it with leaves and I hope that time disintegrates
everything, it fills with worms and some cat uses it as a bed. I hope one day passes and
I don't see anything, I hope one day passes and I don't look back to see if our memories
are still there. Day 179: Monday, May 6, 2013 I almost betrayed myself and I'm going to
rescue our remains from the rubble. I had to argue with myself and make me see
reason that we cannot pick up what we have decided to throw away with tears, such a
hard decision cannot be undone just because our heart began to kick and ask for the
dagger as a toy. Beggar spoiled child I have made in my chest. Sweetheart, why do you
betray me at midnight? Don't make me set you on fire too. Day 180: Tuesday, May 6,
2013 I burned them. I destroyed everything! Because I know myself and I would go for
them at any time .

moment. How much madness is in my head where I even distrust myself and fight
with myself! You created two little monsters in my body, the one that loves you, and the
one that loves you, but also wants to stop. Don't think I'm stupid, I mean, I know how
much damage you're doing to me, like the alcoholic who knows he can die of cirrhosis,
the smoker who doesn't have to be told that he's closer to cancer than anyone else.
Well, so I know that I can die from you. Day 181: Wednesday, May 7, 2013 The hardest
thing about you being gone was waking up at three in the morning, stretching my arm
and realizing that you would no longer be around at this hour to chase away my fears.
That night he pierced me like a sword to the mediastinum. The day you left didn't hurt
at all compared to that night, when I realized that my bed was the same Antarctic
desert. .

Day 182: Thursday, May 8, 2013 Yes, of course I was crazy, to the point of jealousy,
hallucinating things, creating movies of you and a thousand others. Of course I was
crazy, for not believing that yes, that I was just a friend, that they were just nights of
drinks, that the secret calls were just because you felt like it, nothing important,
nothing to worry about. According to you, I always made dramas, argued about ghosts.
You made me feel guilty, for driving you crazy for not understanding you, for being so
nosy in your life. You didn't compare me, I misunderstood. They weren't flirtations,
they were my things. Always with my dramas as a misunderstood woman, but how
crazy, what a hindrance I was for you, I thanked heaven because even though I was so
crazy, you kept coming back to me. You made me believe you were an undeserved
award. You didn't humiliate me, I misunderstood, you didn't force me, that's how I saw
it, you didn't insult me, that's what I heard, you didn't go out with others, they were my
inventions, you didn't say that, you didn't do that, I should go to a doctor. I'm lucky you
didn't get tired of me .

delusions, how grateful I felt that you forgave me, how guilty I felt for ruining your day,
crying for not believing you, crying for not believing me, for remembering things that
didn't happen; I even apologized for my existence, I found evidence of crimes and I
threw it away because you asked me to. But I was crazy, wanting to be a net and you,
open sea fish, what a terrible woman, wanting to tie the fins to a defenseless shark. And
maybe I am crazy... but I was also right. —Gaslighting Day 183: Friday, May 9, 2013 I
have broken the last mirror in the room, I don't want to see myself again.

Day 184: Saturday, May 10, 2013 How much have I allowed you to continue lying to me
in my dreams to this day. Day 185: Sunday, May 11, 2013 If you hadn't gone... maybe I
wouldn't have gone through eating disorders. If you hadn't gone, I wouldn't have gone
through that fall to the underworld where I hated and detested my reflection; I would
not have gone to all the bars or tried all kinds of alcohol; I wouldn't have cried until
dawn; I would not have left my scent on other people's blankets; I would not have lent
my skin to strangers; I wouldn't have known the motels nor would I have kissed more
lips than yours. If you hadn't left, we would be on a secluded beach, far from my deep
melancholy and feeling so undeserving. If you hadn't left, we would have two cats, an
apple-scented kitchen, a house on a high place like we always did .
we said. But if you had not left, I would not have grown wings, I would not have
understood that the dead rise again, that one square meter is not the whole world; I
wouldn't have understood that you can get out of vices, that alcohol doesn't make you
forget a damn thing and that cigarettes leave you with the most horrible taste in the
morning. If you hadn't left, I would still be the grayest and most literal, I wouldn't
know how to describe the anatomy of a broken heart and I would still believe that a title
is all I can aspire to have. Day 186: Monday, May 13, 2013 My mistake was becoming a
worker on your level, seeing it and feeling that you should be higher and higher. So
that was half my life: putting more height on the pedestal, even if that meant staying
down. I allowed you to see me little. I always had the pike in my possession to demolish
that tower, in fact, I built it, I know how it breaks. If the tower of Babel fell, how could it
not topple you? .

Day 187: Tuesday, May 14, 2013 I received a text message with the following date:
10/08/12. I don't know the number, but I know the date because I have it tattooed on
my temples: the day my planet stopped spinning and my gravity was lost somewhere in
space. You, who else? Because? Why are you doing this to me? What do you want to say
to me? What secret key is this? You have had as terrible a time as I have, it is a date that
also drives you crazy, the date that you regret having lived through. What is it? What
did you want to tell me? Or were you wrong? Do not do this to me! Don't torment me
like that! Coming and overturning my world when I'm trying to get up from the fall is
not for good people, you are a monster, you always have been. .

Day 188: Wednesday, May 15, 2013 Don't come back in the form of crumbs that make
me feel like a bird, but also like a cage, because they taste sweet to me, but they don't
really satisfy me, they make me feel like I have to fight for more, but no. I find nothing.
You know it, you know that this is torture, you were born on the wrong date, yours was
to be part of the holy inquisition because you know how to kill slowly and make it hurt
like rats eating my insides in my own bed. It's not a crime what you do, it's a crime to
be you! Your mere existence is a crime, where did you come from, evil entity? What
nightmare of mine have you escaped? That all the fears in the world accumulated in
your body. Who gave you my instructions so you know which button resets me, which
disarms me, and which kills me? How come you knew me so much to the point of
turning against me! .

Day 189 Thursday, May 16, 2013 My heart is anorexic. Day 190: Friday, May 17, 2013
The “ comebacks ” are destroying my throat. It feels like six pills fighting each other to
see who gets through first, and in that battle of strength, they drown me. If maybe I
came to you and yelled at you to come back, would you do it? Maybe that's what you're
waiting for, that she stops being the damsel in the tower, and comes down and goes to
where you are. But the doubts eat away at me, and I put myself in the place of the
person who has occupied my position and I feel envious and a traitor to mine for loving
you with me when you make someone happy that I could be .

I. If I had the script of your life, I would cross her out of you, I would tear up the pages
from when you met, I would send her to another planet and I would forcefully write
you in my story, and in the next one, and in the next one. . Look, it's good that I haven't
been given the script of anyone's life because it would be selfish, I would put what I
want above yours. I remember that smile you gave me when you left, like someone
leaving prison after two decades, I could almost notice the discreet jumps as you
walked faster, you radiated happiness like a summer day, while on the other side this
gloomy woman's face fell. weight of winter. I have to recover, I have lost before,
nothing that important, but I have lost. I lost the keys to the house, if you were here, I
wouldn't have cared, because even if I lost the house, you were my home. .

Day 191: Saturday, May 18, 2013 This time I don't even know where to start. The truth
is that I just wanted to write to you, I admit that I feel disturbed and still very full of
anger when thinking about how things happened, but it is natural to feel it when
discovering that our feelings have been played with. You had no right to belittle the love
that I had given you, knowing that it was what you lacked most. But here I am, writing
to you again, hoping to have the courage to finish this letter without pauses, because
usually I get filled with sadness and turn off the computer, I can't imagine if I would
want to write a novel about our story, I guess it would take longer than George Martin
with The Winds of Winter , and you know that's a lot. I imagine what you would say to
me if we were still talking and I told you about my writing: “Why write that? It is an
intimate matter that only the two of us should know about. And, honestly, it would take
a little time to answer that question; I guess my answer would be something like: "And
why not?" But this is not the reason for my letter, it is even more complex. Today,
without meaning to, I talked about you three times, it's been a while since I've done it
so frequently in the same day, and to three different people. Very early in college I
mentioned you, a friend told me who was very talkative today; I remembered when
your intention was always to make me more sociable, and all your scoldings came to
my memory at once. The second was with my psychiatrist, what a shame, it's not that it
stayed .

crazy, it's simply that in each appointment he has made me see things differently, and I
feel much better after each consultation. For the third time, at night with my mother, I
don't know why I remembered one of those many coffees. Now she says she sees me as
more peaceful and not so promiscuous, going out with everyone who can help me
forget you. Hard, but I don't know what else to call what I did Day 192: Sunday, May
19, 2013 And in the end, the best thing you could do was get used to loneliness. .

Day 193: Monday, May 20, 2013 Why did you do it? You didn't have to humiliate me
this way, I have done nothing more than write to you, because I have no other way to let
you go, because, although I ask you to come back, the truth is that I am not sure. I write
to you because I can't find how to forget you or how to turn off the pain that burns red
hot in my throat. In the end, you found me, this little corner of mine that seems more
like yours. You didn't see what there was, you saw what you wanted, you pointed me
out as the lowest, between drinks you called me 'useless'. I am! Useless for loving
someone who has died and for putting on a blindfold in front of a walking corpse, there
was no reason to be so cruel. Because you hate me? When did you start doing it? Why
have you laughed at me without touching your heart? Why did you let everyone else do
it? Why did you call all my efforts to distance myself and annihilate you from my
reasoning as rubbish? Is not easy. For me it hasn't been! I already know that it was me
who lost, I always lose, I always come last, but I didn't deserve this. I looked down once
more at the noise you started. I didn't want to see you, not like this, I preferred to keep
the memory. Because I feel like you betrayed us: our past, what we swore to each other,
me. And I would never have wanted to harm you, to have the earth erased from me
before doing so, but you, you have thrown the bullets out of the revolver and you have
put the gun in my hands. Coward, coward, coward. Coward me! For not raising my
voice in front of you, for feeling love even when I don't .

you deserve How little I have loved myself! I have silenced myself for you and accepted
my guilt before pointing out that you were the shooter of the bullet. Understand me, I
am healing with what I have at my disposal, even if that seems to be on my knees on
the other side. Day 194: Tuesday, May 21, 2013 I don't want your mistakes to determine
your entire person, even if they are the most abundant. I hate myself for not being able
to get you out of me! I hate myself for not being able to hate you! For loving you in all
attempts! I hate myself for giving you my sword and helmet! I hate myself for feeling
incomplete and knowing that the missing pieces are in you! I am full of rage and
helplessness, of anger and violence, of resentment and venom, but never against you.
Laugh one more time, I want to be your morning joke, the one who makes you look
better in the mirror than yesterday. Use me as a stepping stone to your fictitious
kingdom, laugh because I come to write to you what I swear to leave every day .

but I forget how to forget you... I forget the word dignity and what it feels like to have it,
so much so that I give you my words in abundance so that you can use them as
personal improvement, where you see this miserable soul in me and you feel better for
not being me. Day 195: Wednesday, May 22, 2013 I look for water to put out a fire that I
cannot find, but that burns me, where my tears do not stop it, they only fuel it. Day 196:
Thursday, May 23, 2013 Blame me for the sea feeling saltier these days, blame me for
the tide rising, I can't walk along the coasts without breaking my windows, my tear
ducts are leaking. Forgive me for the tsunamis that are coming, I am a disaster
wherever it happens, but you are lucky… .

Because you see me coming a couple of times, I have to deal with having myself—daily.
Day 197: Friday, May 24, 2013 I have left the house and I feel all eyes on me, it is as if
the world knows what happened. Every person I pass laughs, just like you, their eyes
pierce me and their voices lacerate me. You have managed to multiply in the worst
ways, you have played with my mind in the most ruthless way, because I no longer only
run from you, but from the atmosphere in which you put me. .

Day 198: Saturday, May 25, 2013 Now that you know, that you investigated the seas,
swam through the nets and arrived at my desert island, you know well that there was
not a day in which I did not proclaim myself castaway from your ship. You know that I
was learning to live in this space where I consoled myself by believing that I would
never return home, to anything that had your name on it... But like an angry Kraken
that wants to rule the ocean, you started with the smallest and most noble, I, you I
expected and no, not in this already known way. You devoured me in seconds without
using the strength of your jaw, only that of your vocal cords as they vibrated emitting a
laugh. You pointed to my letters on the screen, you invited everyone to participate in
your high wave, to make my lands resound and turn me into a fallen Atlantis; You
turned off my lights and threw down my skyscrapers, the small foundations that no
longer had your eyes as a flag. I want to forgive you, but I fail in my attempts, they
aggravate what I feel on the other hand. I would like to unite with Hydra, declare war
on you and that, for every bullet in my throat, my strength would multiply, that more
vertebrae would emerge from everything you knocked down, but I am a mollusk,
clinging to the bottom of its shell. What have you done to me? What threat could I be
that you knocked everything down before it grew?

Day 199: Sunday, May 26, 2013 Where was I wrong? I have confessed worse errors and
I have asked for forgiveness for many more without even understanding them. But in
our history I look for the fracture and I find caresses. What you loved me for is the
same reason why you hate me now... Where is your coherence? Day 200: Monday, May
27, 2013 I bought some roses at the nearest florist and took them to the cemetery, I
found a small free place and left them there, I made a fictitious funeral where that
version of you rests. She died (you killed her), but I don't want to talk about that
homicide anymore, you had reasons. I leave the roses to the one who made me feel like
a tree in the middle of the moon, who saved me from the drought, and then made me
beg for a drop of rain. I cry to him who died a long time ago and it was only today that
they told me, I cry because no one else knew him like I did, I cry because we did not say
goodbye, because I was his and I still am and I would like to bury myself next to him,
but no I find his grave. I will mourn him for what remains of my tears and what
remains of my heart until .

that my armor melts. I cry for him tonight because I want to say the most sincere
goodbye, the kind that is not said with the mouth, the kind that no one listens to, but
the kind that tear the skin of a kitten to pieces like a direwolf's teeth. May the memory
remain, but here with you, I bury my pain. Day 201: Tuesday, May 28, 2013 You and
your wave complex, to leave and return like a tsunami. .

Day 202: Wednesday, May 29, 2013 Although my feet are tired, I realized that I was
running in the same place, that I wasn't going anywhere because when night fell I was
sleeping in the same bed. I can't continue blaming you, because you haven't touched
me and I opened the door to the damage, I broke the locks so that it could come and go
without needing to knock again, because even if your letter of introduction was
damaged, it seemed good to me. idea as long as you felt like I was stopping you. You
have given me and told me what you have and could, even if they were rubble and
unstitched cobwebs; Because I felt empty, I believed that accepting something could be
good to furnish myself, but it is preferable to have nothing, than to have it and feel non-
existent. I want to begin to understand you, because that's where I feel sorry for you...
I've been confusing everything. I don't feel bad, I feel like I'm in that collision of two
waves that don't take me out and don't swallow me either. I have believed myself to be
an inexperienced fish and I am drowning on the surface. The sea tastes tasteless to me
since I tasted the tears that you made me with your words. I was the ocean and I let
myself be a fish tank; puddle and paper boat when it could be a warship. I had
everything to win, because I had already lost your battles. I touch my skin and feel the
roughness of the scars and it's good, because I'm no longer inexperienced, they would
hire me as a terrorist just by seeing me with the naked eye. I don't need food, just
water, I stay on foot, afloat, I have little fear of death, it shows in my bitten lips and in
the sleeping circles under my eyes. I don't want to be a soldier, I want to be a
mercenary, I want to jump off the ship, swallow the maps and as compensation I just
want to recover. Day 203: Thursday, May 30, 2013 What do you know about fears if they
don't chase you three times a day as soon as you are at the table. What do you know
about madness if the contents of the plate don't become your biggest rival by taking its
toll on you and shouting in your face that it's better to be in the trash than in your
mouth. What do you know about medicine if you made me sick with the sound that
your vocal cords emit when you sing to me the song of the night, the one that repeats to
me that hiding my body is the peace treaty that humanity awaits. What do you know
about dreams if you don't even imagine that mine is being able to sew my lips together
.

with needle and steel threads. What do you know about enemies if you haven't had to
live in the body of one. What do you know about terrorism, if you don't have a squad of
suicides who have no weapons living in your head, but a lot of stories about how a
monster appears in mirrors when bad girls leave their plates blank. What do you know
about being afraid of cutlery. What do you know about epidemiology if you have the
worst virus in history on your tongue. The one that makes you sick from a distance and
without contact, does not give you a quick death, it exchanges it for a slow one, the one
that talks to you and explains how it plans to destroy you, twists your viscera, eats you
from the inside. Where do I find my medication? You save more lives by closing your
mouth, because the disease you create has no cure, it has control, but I have lost it. .
Day 204: Friday, May 31, 2013 I was not born screaming and that was already a
problem. In my first minutes out of the womb, you could already tell that I wouldn't
have much character because of my breathing and my way of clinging to life. I needed
pushes and friction on my back, because when everything invades me I close my eyes
and I don't want to know anything, I just want to stay like that first minute when,
without saying words, I let everyone know that I didn't want to come. I wanted to
disappear before knowing of my own existence. But someone wanted me to be there
and I still don't understand why or what for .
and maybe you don't understand it. Everything happens for a reason, except you... you
went through more than something, you went through everything. I will propose your
name for the next disaster in history, not those hurricanes that leave one or another
palm tree alive, because you are one of those tornadoes that bring flames and destroy
everything in their path, that penetrate you to their core and destroy you in small
pieces. —I'm still looking for mine.
June Narcissus, self-love is not bad, the problem is that you want all the flowers to praise
you, and that is not possible. Narcissus, you are cute, but never God. .

Day 205: Saturday, June 1, 2013 There are many places where I have left pieces of
myself, so many that I feel like bones. I left one on the avenue where, between games,
you kissed me for the first time; I left others in the autumn leaves in which we
promised each other all the futures; I threw another into the broken cup that adorns
your display case. I'm still stranded among your medical books where I, ironically,
intruded. A piece of me lies in the sheets of your bed, in the corner of your lips, in your
eyelashes, on the trains to the beach, .
In the sand that we stepped on, in the lighthouse that we visited, in the mollusks that
we collected, in the stones that we threw, I continue in the waves that crashed between
us, in your skin, in your scars and in your new freckles. There I exist even more than I
exist in myself.

Day 206: Sunday, June 2, 2013 It's Sunday and I ran a marathon without leaving my
circle, but I felt like I was close to reaching the moon. What I would give to live in the
smallest crater and not have anyone find me, to sing songs that you never hear and they
stay dancing in gravity, to wake up late and never have to fear that your eyes will pass
through me on the street and I will fall. in the trap like an elk. If I could, and without
thinking about it, I would go to Mars, what's more, Mercury doesn't seem like a bad
idea to me. Without hesitation I would apply for the experiment of going to space
without a return ticket; Your name will not be heard there. I won't sleep so as not to
miss the shooting stars in the front row, maybe my wish will reach them faster, maybe
I will convince them to pass you by, I would like at least one wish to come true, maybe
not like that You would never hurt anyone again. .

Day 207: Monday, June 3, 2013 If there is something that hurts more than words, it is
the silences, those that you applied to me for weeks, and then came back and told me
that you granted me forgiveness without doing anything, as if it were a kind act that I
didn't deserve, but you gave me. You sang me songs that only heard on Nibiru, you put
fireworks on my chest and made the roses bloom at night, but then you disappeared, I
looked for you even in the roots of the trees and behind the paintings, it was as if the
earth had swallowed you . You would come back suddenly and my questions would
overwhelm you, I was the crazy one, the one who took your breath away and I felt
guilty. I became obsessed with you, with your coming and going, with your warmth
and your distance, with the tilt, the pause and the decline of the game. I became
obsessed with the anguish, and the reward of finding you again, because you
camouflaged yourself as a gift that I shouldn't have, but you gave me, the ecstasy of
feeling that you return, the fear of not keeping you, the crime of losing you. Asking you
to stay was a sign that you were no longer here. .

Day 208: Tuesday, June 4, 2013 With scalpel and dissection you entered me. Finding no
pathology, you cut, stitched, and sutured to mess me up a bit, but it wasn't enough, so
you did it again and again and again. You changed my gears, you reprogrammed my
sleep time so that it no longer exists, you left six leaks and all in my tear ducts. With an
open heart, you made changes in my fibers, sometimes I think you left some clamps
forgotten there, it is not normal for it to hurt so much, the heartbeats should be
imperceptible, but I count them like someone counting the sheep to sleep, even if I
don't manage to. The worst thing about the whole procedure wasn't your bad
technique, it was that I wasn't even worthy of anesthesia. .

Day 209: Wednesday, June 5, 2013 There is nothing easier than breaking castles in the
sand, this is what they are for, since we were little we know that they are not eternal. No
matter how hard we try, it is impossible to keep them intact. When I was a child, I
didn't care, they fell apart and I would make them again as many times as possible. As
I grew, I made them better, the waves and their destruction were never a problem. I
want to develop that quality again, build, build, build, without fear of anything; Let
them destroy what they want, because there is no one who can beat me when it comes
to rebuilding. Day 210: Thursday, June 6, 2013 I feel like I am in the middle of a desert
that burns and freezes, typical of those places and of you . I walk and I don't even feel
my feet, it's like I'm floating or I've died, I don't hear noises, I've found myself in
silence. Bravely I closed the door, but I didn't lock it, because, deep down, and even if I
want to deny it, I'm still waiting for you. Day 211: Friday, June 7, 2013 You don't need
to do anything more than be there, standing and smiling for my dream to turn into a
nightmare. .
Day 212: Saturday, June 8, 2013 I am waking up like a soldier after going through the
war, the one who fell into a deep sleep and they thought he had died. I look everywhere,
dying and with pain in my thighs, seeing the devastation of the city that lies in my
chest, now lost. I have a second chance, I just need to find the path where I no longer
step on ashes. I have taken off my armor, they say it protects, but it weighs me down
and without it I go faster, let the salt eat it and rust, I am not willing to carry more steel
in my body, with which it has infested me I have enough heart. .
I'm getting up, I'm still crying, but not for you anymore, for me, because I forgot
myself for remembering you, because I lost you and I found myself, because I went
fast, I fell and now I'm going slow, I won't push, no matter how much I want it. I won't
heal tomorrow. I am like a veteran who will tell stories to children about how he made
it to another land when he had nothing. I will tell you about my experiences as an
immigrant and refugee, that being one step away from the abyss does not mean the
end, and the end can also be synonymous with the beginning. And although the
Spanish Academy declares war on me, I maintain it. Day 213: Sunday, June 9, 2013 I've
never done as much math with food as I did today, and that means it's a problem. —
Aftermath of misplaced words. .

Day 214: Monday, June 10, 2013 I have made another paper boat, I am about to leave
the desert island and set sail. In the absence of a captain, I have taken the helm, I don't
know how to drive, but I have a compass; Anyway, I've been lost for so long that getting
lost once again wouldn't be bad. In reality, I wouldn't lose anything because I don't
have much either. I will go north, I hope I know when to stop so as not to drop the
anchor in the south, and the storm will come and my shaft will be soaked. I have fewer
fears and that just means I'm not going to sink anymore. Day 215: Tuesday, June 11,
2013 We will see each other again with the same eyes, but being strangers; with our
mouths exploding with words, with questions, our names about to escape like dancing
tears in the water line, but we will clench our fists and we will be hard-throated so as
not to give in. Because we enter a game where we pretend not to know anything about
each other, because it seems that everything that fails and you don't understand is fixed
when you choose the reset button. I reset your memories, the date we met, the
laughter, .

the hugs... the hugs... And we will pass by each other, alone or holding someone's hand,
and we will look at a fixed point ahead, to lie to ourselves that we do not see each other,
that there is no room in our pupils to us, because nobody misses anyone. Life went on,
we go on, ready to press the button at any second, because we will see each other again,
and maybe he will look at you and give you a doubtful smile, breaking a rule of the
game; I have never liked rules, but here you live or die. Living with you was already a
way of dying. Day 216: Wednesday, June 12, 2013 Four in the morning and sleep does
not even appear under the bed. Five in the morning is when memory unfolds, it brings
out memories like missiles. Six in the morning and I want to look for myself inside, to
know that I am somewhere, under the books or between the sheets. I scream my name
at seven in the morning, wake me up because I'm asleep on some roof, bring me back
to my unresponsive body. How do you find a soul that doesn't inhabit any shell? What
photo do I put on the posts? Eight in the morning, my bowl is still empty, .

my mouth does not open and the water does not pass me; I want to run without
direction, stop when I can't feel my legs, scream until it appears, I miss myself so
much, I want to open my eyes without feeling like they are closed, speak out loud and
have someone other than me listen to me. I want to feel like I'm living and not dying! I
want to stop being afraid of numbers, stop grading and failing myself. I want to stop
being past, I want, I want myself back . Day 217: Thursday, June 13, 2013 A few years
ago I danced in the rain, I wore the first dress in the closet, I didn't wear shoes, there
wasn't so much noise in my head, I was so free, your monsters weren't there, I laughed
and did not cover my teeth, because it was not shameful. The bullets are fired in broad
daylight and we put our hands to our mouths when everyone should see our smile...
Forgive me because I want to cover myself up to my ankles and no one sees my brittle
hair, I look at the floor so no one can discover my withered eyes, my foot wants to feel
the music and let himself go, .

but now the looks overwhelm me and the index fingers are like weapons. It intimidates
me to leave my body and see myself from afar and that of all the fingers, mine is in the
front row. Day 218: Friday, June 14, 2013 Four minutes sounds short, but they are
eternal when it comes to looking in the mirror. Try it, hold your gaze yourself, don't do
anything with your hands, don't brush your hair or look around. Look at your eyes, give
yourself two hundred and forty seconds of your time. I fell apart in the third minute, I
apologized between tears, I have hurt myself so much. Where do I get love for myself? I
walk and hear the creaking of my glass and I cut myself on the edges. I feel like my
path is eternal, that they hit me and left me on the ground, but no one has touched me.
Do words hurt so much? .

It doesn't sound logical that someone could squeeze you like that and I don't even
know how to talk about this, who is going to understand? They will tell me to forget
you, and the thing is, darling, I don't love you anymore, I don't beat for you, I don't
want to hug you, I don't want your lips, I remember you not with tenderness, but as the
detonator of my explosives. I don't love you anymore, I'm the clown of this circus, I
juggle endlessly in the middle of the ring, I have a painted smile, but my grimace is the
other way around, I think of you, not as life, but as a cliff, the one where I keep
jumping . This is no longer love, it is an arrow with poison buried in my back that
extends through my scapula, I want to remove it, but how will I stop the bleeding?

Day 219: Saturday, June 15, 2013 The power of full stops has always been in me, I have
even given a period to what should be a comma. I have been able to take my hair and
cut it to the seventh cervical, because I know how to say goodbye to what it has cost me.
If until now I hadn't done it with you it's because I hadn't wanted to. Day 220: Sunday,
June 16, 2013 They told me that in order to forget you I had to pretend that I believed it
and sooner or later it would end up being true. Pretend that you are not here, that you
do not exist, something like if you had died or we had never met. Stop going to our
sites, stop everything that can make me reach you. And I have done everything, but
when night falls and I close my eyes, you appear, with your ridiculous hair, your smile
that bribes my dreams. Do you laugh with me or laugh at me? What difference does it
make? Whatever the reason, what is it supposed to do? How do I support the walls of my
city of .

paper if you are the wolf that blows? Day 221: Monday, June 17, 2013 My tears have
evaporated on my face, they will follow the same water cycle, they will join up there
with all those drops of the sea and the tears of others, they will tell their sorrows and
others will isolate themselves because They were those poured out for happiness. But
they will fall again in the form of rain and will touch your face, they will slide down
your skin, hopefully they will make you bloom, just as I hope it will happen to me. I
know my tears will go to you, but where am I supposed to go? .

Day 222: Tuesday, June 18, 2013 We poets have a certain ability to immortalize when
we make someone inhabit our letters. I will die, you may remember me as the woman
who did not stop writing letters, here I lose, because you will wonder who could be so
worthy of being the recipient, whom I could never see in the face again and I preferred
to leave them for all the eyes that not yours. How crazy, in the hands of the owner they
would not be safe, in the hands of strangers they would be worth a little more. Day 223:
Wednesday, June 19, 2013 A hello at midnight collapses more things than an
earthquake. Is there a need to write to me after my streets were divided in two? Will
Godzilla come to apologize to New York after destroying it and devouring the Statue of
Liberty? Will the knight be able to reverse the number of heads he caused Hydra after
he took ten of her by different means and now the poor thing has to deal with the
voices of a hundred? Can Poseidon mend the ship that the ocean swallowed? What do I
do if the one who wants to betray me is me? .

Day 224: Thursday, June 20, 2013 I have put all the memories in a bottle, the
photographs torn to pieces, your letters reduced to ashes; I have filled it with sand,
because I want it to sink, to reach the bottom of the ocean and no one ever finds the
remains. I never thought that watching a piece of paper burn in a fire would have the
same effect as cutting a ripe onion. One day I will forget if she smiled or if she was
wearing the blue dress, I will forget where it was, I will not read you again, I will not
review the volumes of your envelopes like an encyclopedia, I will no longer rectify
whether they were I love you or I love you. Because saying goodbye is more than saying
goodbye to another person, saying goodbye is saying goodbye to yourself. People can
still be inside, even if they are somewhere else, but goodbye is today that I throw you
into the darkness. It's good that this is figuratively speaking. .
Day 225: Friday, June 21, 2013 I loved you, why did you do this to me? Don't you see it?
You made me believe that I was a monster, you made me believe that I was everything
for one day to be able to let go from the top and break me into pieces, no, I'm not
broken, you just disarmed me . You made me believe that I was ugly, that I was huge and
that everything about me was wrong. You pointed out flaws in the mirror that I didn't
even know existed. You made me hate myself because, according to you, love ended
because of me, because I stopped being what you knew to become this, and I hate
myself every day .
Even if you're no longer here because I can't be me again. It's just that, although I
know they were lies, your words are always in my head when I want to wake up and get
ready to go to work, I can't go out without feeling ashamed of being me, you made me
insecure, absurd, you damaged my mind so that I can never again see me again There
was nothing wrong with me and I know I'm nothing like you said I was, but something
in me keeps repeating your words like a broken record player. Every time I look at
myself you are laughing, and I can't help it, I can't see my reflection again because a
monster is still there. I have to close my eyes and trust that it's not real, that I'm not
like that. Damn, I just want to be me before you! .
Day 226: Saturday, June 22, 2013 I am an oil painting, it takes time to dry, in the
process, small strokes spread across the canvas, my hands fill with ink, mostly red. For
a long time, I felt like an incomplete picture, I believed that someone else had to come
with their techniques to repair me, so that these spots were pink and not a disaster. But
today I am this, this amateur painting, which constantly changes, like the waves that
are the same body, but different shapes. .
I don't want to continue waiting for anyone, I don't want to love a non-existent future
body, today I am a painting unworthy of a prize, a catastrophe, but I painted it. Day 227:
Sunday, June 23, 2013 If you only knew the nights when I have begged oblivion to take
you away from me soon. .

Day 228: Monday, June 24, 2013 You always wanted to be right in everything, and if for
a moment it seemed that I was, you abruptly changed the context, you never wanted to
lose, for the world to be lost and not you. You recruited me for your company of
sycophants, I being the manager, the one who knew how to do it best, and you fought
not to fire me, but also to make me feel miserable, so that I would never ask for
payment and believe that it was enough to be there, seeing you. go and come; That a
sideways glance without sweetness, cold as the South Pole, dark as Atlantis after the
fall, was all I would settle for. You knew how to bombard me with little affections, just
sometimes. Like a pet that seeks the prize, this is how you tamed me. Waiting for
seeds, without a glass of water, swallowing the bitter, enduring nights full of your
silences, staying awake, for just a little... a dose of you. .

Day 229: Tuesday, June 25, 2013 Little by little my long night passes and I see the
glimpses of the sun. I'm still panting on this path, rejecting the crystals and avoiding
touching myself, even though it's an impossible game. I fall and get up, over and over
again for every minute of the day, no one says there is a limit to accidents or
replacements. I don't want to have to chain myself to avoid tripping, I want to enjoy the
fall, put my feet on firm ground. I'm going to fall, but on my feet . Day 230: Wednesday,
June 26, 2013 I would like to stop counting the days, but when something impacts your
world, it is impossible not to make a reference to your before and after. Because,
abruptly, it changes the way you live. Survive . I don't know how others have it, but I
live a little longer, because saying goodbye firmly and with the certainty that I'm not
going to come back even though the force of space puts your number on all the posters
again, causes me a pain. addictive ecstasy like when an alcoholic is days away from
saying "I've been sober for a year." You know, from time to time I like to observe what
happens in my world from the perspective that time gives you and I wanted to do it by
writing. I am overwhelmed by the question of whether one day you will read all these
trinkets, since you only read what you read .

says the professor, and it is not very healthy for you to know the existence of 230 letters
telling what life is like without you. I would also have any crazy person who starts doing
that to me locked up, without hesitation. How long has it been? Almost eight months,
eight months since your giggle of freedom took off in the wind, emancipated from that
nest of problems that bear my name. It was an announced goodbye, although I usually
believe that nothing was final and that is because when I pass through our corners, our
paths, you come back to life. Each bench holds something of us, perhaps not your best
days, but they do carry my fears. I was so afraid of losing you that I rarely dedicated
myself to living in the present. I was more worried about being enough, and now that I
think about it, I was and I never knew it. It was just a constant uncertainty of when you
would leave, how you would leave, and if I would be ready. The best thing about it is
that it didn't catch me by surprise, but even so, I wasn't prepared. Why are we so afraid
of being alone? It's not like the world is ending. I don't know if you've noticed, but I've
seen too many people around me who would rather resign themselves to being
unhappy than risk being alone. And I think that being alone must have a great
advantage over the rest, something happens in solitude that we refuse it, we always
refuse the good... like now. I have it and I don't want it, it's at the door waiting for me
to open it, but I'm not ready, and I don't know how much longer it's going to be
waiting. The head is curious, lately I am obsessed with dramatization. Two days ago I
fell while I was showering, I was immobilized for several minutes, nothing happened,
it wasn't a big blow, I just wanted to imagine .

that no one listened to the cries for help and one day when someone missed me they
would look for me. How long would it be? Better not to imagine it. I insist, human
beings are very afraid of living alone, they are not prepared. When you leave your
parents, it is because you have gone to live with your partner, or you usually look for
someone else to make noise for you when you arrive at your new house. If you separate
from your partner, you normally do it for the lover and if you are the abandoned one
you anxiously look for a substitute. Society is not prepared either. “Normal” people do
not understand that one is one and not two or three. My neighbor looks at me
crookedly because for two hundred and thirty days only I have entered the house, the
ticket agent at the cinema puts on a pitiful voice when I ask her for a ticket, she always
repeats "just one, right?" Wow! Don't make it harder for me, ma'am! If you go out to
dinner, the surrounding tables are always occupied with large families, full of children
running around. As soon as they see someone enter alone, they stare at him, they are
suspicious, they even think that you are a criminal looking for prey, because I have
seen that some even push their children away. As if going to dinner alone was an
absolute psychopath… Let's not take that into account either, let's remember these two
hundred and thirty letters. My landlord sadly told the census takers that in apartment
three there is a girl alone. I heard it, man! He changed his voice to when he was
referring to the next-door neighbors. You see? Nobody is prepared for this. The older
we get, the greater the fear, the greater the dependencies and desires towards the
company's routine. But we were very bad company. Being with you I already felt alone,
I imagine the same thing happened to you. .

Today I confess to you that you were not brave, it is cowardly to abandon without
leaving, just hoping that the other person notices and leaves. And I don't know if I'm
very brave either, it's cowardly to realize it and wait there as if time would cure
something. By the way, the cat, which is yours and mine, is also leaving and not
leaving, he looks like he wants to abandon me. Yesterday I faced the situation and told
him that, if he wants to leave knowing that nothing is safe outside, he can make the
conscious decision, I am no longer going to retain anyone. Day 231: Thursday, June 27,
2013 It's not that I have an empty heart, I am a minimalist. .

Day 232: Friday, June 28, 2013 I have been deactivating the red and blue cables of the
bombs that were scheduled for the next few days. I stay silent much of the time,
because no matter how sweet the music is, you have to learn to turn it off. Sometimes
we use it to not listen to ourselves, that is why we do not know what we want or who we
are, we prefer to increase the volume than face reality, the crises, the whys, the sound
of loneliness. We reject the latter, we walk hand in hand with noise, we marry it, we
cannot imagine life without it. When someone takes them away from us, we try to hit
our foot against the floor again and again to generate that “clap, clap”, we move our
fingers on the desk, anything as long as it distracts us from our inner voice. And yes, I
have argued dozens of times in the last few days. If I had silenced everything months,
even years ago, I would have listened to that other, more sensible self, telling me "go
away." Now he can only give me repair lessons, because my walls need touch-ups. You
should listen to yourself too, you always have the Heavy on at a hundred,
overshadowing even the light music that the pages of the encyclopedia make as they
turn and turn. When I had my first auscultation class, the doctor told us “be careful
what you listen to or you won't be able to listen to the heart”, here is a Nobel-level
paradox. And yes, I put the stethoscope on that patient's chest. "Everything is normal,"
I told the doctor. "Wrong," he replied, "you need to get away from the noise," he added.
Now I understand, fine sounds begin to be detected when we dwell in silence. Yes, like
that .

We will be able to hear that extrasystole, that murmur, that conduction abnormality.
Now I also hear myself better.

Day 233: Saturday, June 29, 2013 The headlight has been damaged, it has not turned on
for three days or illuminated my face. Seeing its flash at night helped me fall asleep,
you knew that, I don't want to suspect that you are even responsible for that blackout.
Day 234: Sunday, June 30, 2013 “Don't be confused, it's not love, it's melancholy.” All
our lives we have heard that remembering is living again, but in a very difficult way I
have learned that remembering is also dying slowly . Well, sometimes the memory
takes the form of a dagger and pierces the armor. With my memories I put together a
landscape and, while I saw you, I admired how sweet you were. Now I must admit that
you are a pleasant pain, because it hurts, but I no longer suffer from you , do you
understand? You were one of those life lessons that you managed to learn very well.
When I remember you smiling at me, I know I was doing well and I can take that into
account in the future. But I don't always remember you happy, I also remember you
ugly, because you knew how to bring out the most rotten part of my being, but like .

They say “I won't do it again.” I learned with you in an excessive way how I should not
be and how I should not let them treat me. Seriously, there is no resentment, but you
are not LOVE, you are a satisfying and painful memory full of MELANCHOLY
Julio Narciso, you've already seen yourself in the mirror all day, come, drink water, you're
withering. .
Day 235: Monday, July 1, 2013 Today the first rain fell on the city, the sea has
overflowed its limits and has taken away a few palm trees. If I ruled the world, I would
name that shapeless beast, gray and blue, so peaceful and voracious, after you. You are
the ocean, although it is difficult for me to accept it, and I am a palm tree, although my
pride burns. Day 236: Tuesday, July 2, 2013 Under my bureau was the last thing I had
left of your essence: a photograph of you where you were on the phone. Your eyes
shone like a lighthouse before it went bad, your smile drawing folds around them. You
were happy, but the power of having more makes us become lumberjacks, cutting
down .
right and left those trees that long to give more tender leaves. When will you be seen
with that smile again, little pyromaniac? Day 237: Wednesday, July 3, 2013 I
understand that physically I cannot fill the spaces, I do not have the eyes or hair that a
Renaissance painter would have looked for. I go unnoticed most of the time; I am gray,
opaque and cold; I don't have curves, I have avenues full of potholes; I am more thorn
than petal; abyssal zone before coast; I am an angler fish, but with the internal light
turning on the darker the ocean is. Day 238: Thursday, July 4, 2013 I look in the mirror
many times, I have to make sure the monster is no longer on top of me. .

Day 239: Friday, July 5, 2013 I think of all the ships that lie at the bottom of the sea, all
that bravely fought against the storms, the icebergs, the whirlpools and the hidden
teleporters. I feel empathetic with them, because I was one, made of paper, but that
does not take away the title of ship from me. I crewed alone without knowing how to
hold a steering wheel, I landed in arid places, I pushed the anchors with my weight, I
got tangled in the chains and submerged with her. The one who made the most
resistance was not the anchor, it was me with all the weight of my fears. Releasing
them was the only option to be able to float and part of my survival was learning to
breathe with another organ other than the lungs. I reversed the roles of the functions a
little, the heart did not pump, it stored, my mouth did not speak, my fingers did not
shut up, my feet stumbled and sometimes walked, my hair imitated autumn leaves, my
eyelids acted as blindfolds and my eyes like tinted windows, because I couldn't see
anything. I wonder if storms ask for forgiveness with the typical calm, I wonder if lying
down without sinking is the forgiveness I needed. .

Day 240: Saturday, July 6, 2013 From now on I must give myself the possibility of
discovering new horizons; You must stop being my answers and I must become a
question more often. I must stop naming you when they ask me what my favorite
perfume is. I must stop thinking when they answer that chaos does not make noise,
because I made noise before the fall. Day 241: Sunday, July 7, 2013 I no longer see your
smile on the waning moon, nor do I think about whether you are seeing the sky,
because I know that the answer will always be no. People like you don't see it, they are
envious, if they could they would throw darts at each star to extinguish them and they
would shoot at the moon until it fell. They would put curtains on the sun so that no one
sees it, they would reflect their photo throughout the space and there would be extra
edges. I no longer have to use celestial resources to describe you, now I bring the Moon
to Earth, I dance on the slopes of Saturn, I fasten Orion's Belt and I put sea foam in my
coffee so I can talk about myself. .

Day 242: Monday, July 8, 2013 This habit of writing to you, more than acid in the
wound, has been like mixing different components of your poison in the flask. How
crazy that the antidote comes from the same substance that you want to counteract!
What killed me, little by little revives me. Day 243: Tuesday, July 9, 2013 And now who
will tell you where it hurts when you don't know how to point it out? Because at least I
have gotten rid of them saying "it hurts" while I don't feel anything. Day 244:
Wednesday, July 10, 2013 Nebulae live in the iris and the black holes that suck in
everything in their path, they can also be the pupils, yours, not to mention. Earthquakes
happen in the sky, on the earth and on my back. Shooting stars are mirrors of our
absences, the wishes we make when they leave and are never fulfilled. Astronauts are
dazzled by other moons, and they remove Pluto from the solar system because it now
seems very small to them, just as we remove others because, even though they are
similar, we look for that difference to exile it. If I had to choose one friend from the
whole ...

galaxy, it would definitely be Pluto, I know what it feels like to be told in 2006 that you
are nothing, but after fourteen years they realize that you can be something; At any
moment they will hit you and send you straight into space. As above, so below. We do
not miss the opportunity to make anything feel bad, what does it matter if it is a body
more than two thousand kilometers in diameter.
Day 245: Thursday, July 11, 2013 Who brought this package to my home? I made it so
mine, although I had no recipient name, but many senders. My father sent him, the
women with chimera heads, the faceless man with many hands, you sent him. I should
have returned it to the postman, not assume that something is mine because I know
you. What do I do with this intruder? .
Day 246: Friday, July 12, 2013 The problem with unwanted guests is that people like
me, with that rehabilitation site instinct, cannot take them out, we take them in, we ask
their name and surname, We observe his eyes and how it has three shades from the
center to the periphery. We heat them morning coffee, give them sandals and a towel.
We let the stranger feel at home. The thing is that when they leave, they leave the
property (only the property), but my skin still feels their footsteps, they don't evict my
true home.
Day 247: Saturday, July 13, 2013 Sometimes I don't know what's worse, seeing the
monster in the mirror or seeing me. Day 248: Sunday, July 14, 2013 I don't need
friends, I am alone in a squad of people only trained in looting. I plunder forgetfulness
and make them present. Experts in joining fragments of shredded pages, they stick
them to my windows, they recite to me what I decided not to say again. I thought
fighting you was difficult, I didn't know myself well enough. .
Day 249: Monday, July 15, 2013 I should have raised the red flag as soon as I noticed
that my heart was crying out for a lie, that it would comfort me, calm my hostilities and
at least one night I would sleep. He asked for a lie like someone asking for bread after a
post-cataclysm. You deciphered my request in the small lines and gently gave me
seven, something to make me stop begging and return to my post. I wanted that lie to
become the truth. How foolish to believe that she could, and not being able to was not
bad. You couldn't intervene between you and your love for yourself, the only genuine
one in this love triangle, because yes, it wasn't competing with the brunette, nor with
the blonde, it was competing with you. I should have raised the flag, asking for help
didn't make me a coward. Until it was impossible for me to get out of that labyrinth. I
should have launched the rocket when it was floating in your fish tank. .
Day 250: Tuesday, July 16, 2013 I have always felt attracted to fire, to explosions,
lighting candles, lighting pyrotechnics, having it in my hands until the last seconds
before it explodes; boiling water, hot soups, the sun at its peak. Today I am a fire, which
is getting bigger as it advances, it could devour the mountains, I would make a bet on
the waters, that I will evaporate them before they extinguish me. I could talk face to face
to the sun and look into its eyes. It wasn't time, it was me. Thanks God.
Day 251: Wednesday, July 17, 2013 I have agreed to eat, it is difficult, I do not deny it, I
am a salmon swimming against the current. How is it that I have argued with a basic
and vital need? Well, that is the level of my foolishness. No matter how many steps I
take back, I will take twice as many steps forward. I will not allow my body to growl at
me with fury again, I will stop resisting life, it is already tired enough, I have to look
after it, just as it always did for me. .
Day 252: Thursday, July 18, 2013 Be everything and feel drawn by the midpoint. Be one
and insist that I am a point five. Being a woman and feeling that alone I am no longer a
bottle. Take out the trash and miss it because maybe it could have another use in the
house. I'm not half, I was always whole. I could always do it alone. No more cellar
instead of heart. Day 253: Friday, July 19, 2013 You were not a fool, you did not act
without thinking, you knew my shortcomings, you knew that my chest was a black
construction and that my ears were seasoned with harsh and abrupt words. You
whispered my name, you gave it that touch of sweetness and charm. You savored every
syllable to pronounce me. You knew how to make pictures using your lips, you made
me your pupil, you subliminally taught me that my world began in your head and
ended at your feet. Who would love me, but you? Who could understand me, but you?
Who could bear to be with me, but you? .

I had to give thanks for having you, I had to give my life to keep you. Thank you, thank
you, God, for removing it, even though I asked you not to. Thank you for interrupting
the life I was designing at your side.
Day 254: Saturday, July 20, 2013 I escaped from the maze as a blind mouse with no
sense of smell. The mad scientist experiment. I still don't understand how I found the
exit in a circle without doors, how I knew that the sun was still shining and the rain was
falling. I escaped and I missed the cage, I escaped without knowing it, I escaped, but I
still practice feeling free. Day 255: Sunday, July 21, 2013 When you saw the potential I
had to become the sun, you wanted to convince me .
that it was the most beautiful match you had ever seen.

Day 256: Monday, July 22, 2013 I haven't completely forgotten you, but I don't love you
either. Maybe I love you, that would be a gain. .
Day 257: Tuesday, July 23, 2013 I sat down at my desk to write as usual, I woke up
forgetting that it was my birthday. I have been in this process for so long, with my eyes
on the wound, that I have forgotten who bears it. The days have passed like water
through my fingers, but also like a snail running the longest marathon of its life. As a
gift, maybe I should buy myself a dinner, put a mirror in front of me, look at myself all
night, get to the point where I explode and run to hug myself. Time is the proudest lord
we can know because it does not return a single minute to us. I hope that these days
are stairs that I have climbed without noticing, that one day I look down and get dizzy. I
should blow out the candles, make a wish, although you and I already know what I
would make. Return to me: feeling the owner of my body, feeling at home, even if I
leave home. I want to learn to knit and cover what I feel cannot be sealed, wrap myself
up when winter comes and never think about your arms again, mend my wings, even if
they are no longer useful for flying. I want to look at the sky and not be afraid of the
stars, look at the moon and not ask if you see it too. I want to get up every morning and
open the windows, the internal ones. The earth has turned towards the sun this day, so
that I can change a number to my file, so that it is one step closer to my first wrinkles
and my gray hair, and it is good that I have not arrived at that time with a thousand
doubts and stones on my heels, because from being a beginner I am now a veteran. I
will sail the seas that I lack without fear of sinking, because I already know the bottom
and I already know how to get out; that, even if the ship breaks down, I can breathe in
the water; that, although not

There is solid land nearby, I know how to lie down and float. Happy Birthday to me.

Day 258: Wednesday, July 24, 2013 My blood has stopped, before I despised it, now I
question it. Who kidnapped her? My belly is swollen since I agreed to have three dates a
day with me at the table. Spasms run through me, as if lightning were striking me
again and again, whipping me as punishment. I have rejected myself so much that I
have taught my cells to despise me, they hold demonstrations to stop the operation,
they throw grenades and demolish monuments, iconoclasm, freedom I have already
deprived them of and now I want to pretend that I have done nothing. .

I will pay the sentence, I am in debt, because they have charged me when I didn't even
want to, because they were patient and I hurt them, because they remained silent in the
face of my insults. Pass me the bill, I won't resist.

Day 259: Thursday, July 25, 2013 What do you do when your worst fears take the ax to
become present and attack you right in the womb? Now I am vulnerable to changing
numbers on the scale, now I have to add another medication to the ones I already have;
I'm becoming a pharmacist, all my rejection has had effects. My body is self-
sabotaging, even though I don't want to anymore. .
Day 260: Friday, July 26, 2013 It is not in my mouth to say “I regret it,” but without
saying it I am feeling it. I never looked for emergency exits in establishments because I
thought nothing ever happened to me and now there isn't one on my map. I have
wasted my energy on excessive self-hatred, and the consequences will take time. Not
wanting the only shelter that my mother and father gave me has been the worst
contempt I have ever committed, while I was resentful for what others committed
when the teacher in dismissal has always been me. I don't blame you anymore, but this
is still your story. If life one day gives you a leaf, remember me. .

Day 261: Saturday, July 27, 2013 I wanted you to be the love of my life, but a puzzle
piece cannot be a king in chess. And it's a good thing we don't live on a board, because
it would be the crazy, beginner queen who would sacrifice herself, even though all the
pieces were still in play.

Day 262: Sunday, July 28, 2013 Do you know? I always wanted dad to love me, he was a
stern man to the teeth. If one day I put on a crown, he was in the front row to break it
and tell me that, as a princess, nothing, as an insect, everything. But that was love,
right? The same love that I searched for with you. Day 263: Monday, July 29, 2013 Dear
you: I want to call you dear, because, even if I wanted to, I cannot accumulate
resentment no matter how much the cards seem like something else, I think it has
been more of my whim to continue with this game, where Now I know that you read
me and .
You think I'm on my knees telling you come, and the truth is I don't give a damn. I
write because the words cannot be finished and I fear that one day my hands will touch
the pen and there will be no movement. The seismograph keeps emitting signals from
my fingers, do you know what it means? It doesn't take long for a volcano to appear at
the borders of my plates, lava is already coming out of my nails.

Day 264: Tuesday, July 30, 2013 I am sitting on the same bench where we let go. I can
almost see the mirage of you running towards freedom, a prisoner who was released
from prison, and the prison had put padlocks on itself to be the inmate. How the roles
are reversed, right? The one who was free was me and the prison was the one who ran
with happiness. Maybe I was crying with happiness and didn't know it. Day 265:
Wednesday, July 31, 2013 If goodbyes were surgeries, I would find myself in the post-
surgery, in the recovery room, where the anesthesia is leaving me and I open my eyes
still with blurred vision , trying to guess what the silhouettes that are formed are. I hear
the
tick… tick… of the monitor that indicates that I am still beating, everything indicates
that I will recover.

August Narcissus, why are you blocking the sun from my sunflowers? .
Day 266: Thursday, August 1, 2013 I'll tell you something, I despised people who were
grieving due to lack of love, it seemed like the most ridiculous things to me. How come
they don't get over it the next day and that's it? The world keeps spinning. A person
who leaves is nothing, the clock ticks, the stars explode and form a thousand more.
What a mind of mine. That is why when we go through this, we remain silent so as not
to seem like cowards, weak beings who collapse because someone leaves. But the
connection between two people, short or long, healthy or sick, leaves traces. The
withdrawal syndrome, the attempts to repair with other skins, with substances, with
isolation, with sleep, with forgetfulness, leaving food, leaving ourselves. May everyone
forgive me for having minimized this phase of their life, because .
I had to stay and listen to the same story over and over again. Because I would like
someone to also hear the same version of how that minute in the rain watching you go
was the most eternal. That I have been a sailor since that day, that one “I” is still in the
rain and another on an island looking for what he did not lose. Another is in the
morgue performing an autopsy on what did not die, another is an astronaut visiting a
sun that lives inside her. I would like someone to sit down and tell me: I understand
you, I lived it and now I live more than ever. I hope they are there for you when it
happens to you.

Day 267: Friday, August 2, 2013 What attracted me to you was not your physical
appearance, nor your interior, you indoctrinated me to desire you, to wait for you and
long for your return. Day 268: Saturday, August 3, 2013 If I was all those grotesque
things, why did you stay by my side for years? If I had known who you were, I would
have been gone in four minutes, but it took me four years to untangle myself from the
spider web, and another few days to understand that love never tangles you, only
spiders. And the thing is, you are convincing, if I listened to you without knowing me .
I would also believe that I am detestable without asking you for proof. You have an
incredible gift, the problem is that you use it as a weapon.

Day 269: Sunday, August 4, 2013 I used to be afraid of the sea. I preferred swimming
pools, I couldn't conceive the idea of my feet not touching the ground, in fact, the idea
of not knowing what was beneath me terrified me. Swimming in the sea is throwing
yourself at fate, even if they tell you that sharks don't enter there, you can't believe it
one hundred percent, they don't respect human laws, anyone who wants to sneaks in,
they and I have rebellion in common. That's why I was left in your pond, bad, but
familiar, with no strange algae that tickled my plants. Now that I think about it, just like
heights, it's not that the bottom repelled me, but that it attracted me. If I had nothing,
without hesitation, I would let myself go with the flow, reach the other side of the
world, get to know the darkness and its fluorescent lights. But that's the problem, "of
not having anything." What did he really have? I have understood the
importance of traveling light, nothing belongs to me, I have nothing. In a puddle with
limits of one square meter, nothing is mine. That the handcuffs, even though they were
placed on me delicately, I didn't have to love them. You took me for a sardine, when I
was always a mermaid.

Day 270: Monday, August 5, 2013 And I return to you, tired and with nothing, with two
left hands that no longer hold the pen, I let my breath fall on your back, I talk to you
about all my days, the hells and heavens, you never clean my tears, but you absorb
them, you make my sweat yours, you keep all my stories, you never rumor them, and I
hope you are never granted the gift of speech because you destroy me, sink me and
imprison me. Only you rest my head like no one else, you remember me and let me
forget, you find me and leave me lost. who like you, who waits for me every night ,
You don't move alone until I arrive. More faithful than a cat, more patient than me
waiting for a I love you that no longer exists. This is not for you, let me write to my
pillow.

Day 271: Tuesday, August 6, 2013 You walk around with the stethoscope, pretending
that you hear heartbeats and diagnose them, that you are a taster of heart sounds, that
you describe faces in a medical history, that it is painful, that it is fascie sad... What
would you do if it arrived on your stretcher? With what courage do you write down my
etiology? .
Day 272: Wednesday, August 7, 2013 Harming each other is something that human
beings are good at, if not, look at the countries that are at war, but we minimize it and
leave it as attacks. What you did with me was a small sample of what a nuclear missile
is made of. I was a total destruction, where walking my streets was no longer safe, I
lived as a refugee in my own body, full of rubble after the cataclysm, And they may say
that words are air, but I give you thesis of why they are iron, gunpowder and sulfur. I
keep walking, and I still haven't taken out the bullets, because I can't find them. Cold
days wreak havoc and also when boiling water soaks my back. I know it might sound
like this is all invention, the flourish of someone writing a poem, and I wish it were too.
But the literal surpasses the figurative. The problem was not your goodbye, that was the
least of it, the problem was your stay. Surgeon, addicted to suturing ellipses. .

Day 273: Thursday, August 8, 2013 Dear you: So you have done the same thing as me,
but in record time, I continue grafting pieces of fabric into which you continue leaving
surgeries half done. I don't know her, I saw her out of the corner of my eye, I was
furious at the time and today I feel sorry for not having warned her what wolf she was
messing with, and it's just that not so long ago I came to find out. Just to think that
someone like me has gone to bed crying all night because she doesn't understand what
she did wrong, that she has looked in the mirror and believed that her face, her waist,
her legs and thighs are to blame, that another - she will ruffle her hair and tear her
arms with her nails under the shower because she feels used, replaced by another,
more shiny doll that she has found in some showcase.
Unfair that because of honey our mouths now taste like gall. He will hide in the silence
and look like you, because I know your tricks. I know that you are looking for girls
marked by abandonment, by lack of love, with parents who did not love them, who are
dazzled by a man like you, who smells of vanilla and juniper, in a dark suit and who
speaks like a violin accompanying a symphonic. The princess in the tower and you the
dragon disguised as a prince. We are not stupid, we longed for love, we were astronauts
in search of a planet; you, asteroid 2504 striking down our ship. How good you are at
telekinesis! You detonated the weapon and there are no fingerprints to prove your
crime. .
Day 274: Friday, August 9, 2013 You said that my eyes looked duller, my lips drier, my
nose more hooked, that my face had more moles, my hair was more brittle... I was
always the same. At that moment you blamed me. You blamed me for not admitting
that what you wanted was to be a room tourist, you blamed me so that, when I found
out, I would hate me and you would look innocent. Day 275: Saturday, August 10, 2013
I have never understood the last requests before the final point. The last hug, the last
kiss, the last minute staring into each other's eyes. Why make things more difficult? It
is not cordiality, it is remnants of masochism. We want to give ourselves the preamble
before the collision. The eighth-note silence before the saddest symphony in the world.
The seconds of maximum calm before the most terrible earthquake in history. I told
you no, although I wanted it with all my might, to feel you in me for the last time and
to take me as much as possible. Why did you ask for it? Maybe you would have realized
that it wasn't the best decision and your tin heart would have melted, but I would have
evaporated. I don't regret having refused .

because it was my first victory in this war, although I didn't know it until now. Just
because the bomb explodes does not mean defeat.

Day 276: Sunday, August 11, 2013 And when I no longer wanted to give you anything
from me, I ended up making you immortal. Because you can pass, but you are still in
the letters. Because I have described your eyes, your hair, your voice, your perfume and
your clothes, the sound of your heartbeat and the smack of your lips. Because they will
read and watch you as a movie without sound. What power this is in the hands of
writers, leaving little pieces of people hidden in the lines and indentations. So many
have wanted to be a muse and those who never wanted it were protagonists of the
greatest pain in the world made into an epistle. .
You never wanted to read me, you folded the pages badly and left them for later. My
voice notes reciting at midnight were ignored, like a red light at three in the morning.
Why write to someone who doesn't even want to be named? I could have given the
main role to the postman, or to the boy who gave me sunflowers when you got lost, I
could have given them all the opportunity, but I chose you. We don't always have what
we deserve, you deserved less than what I gave you, I deserved to take you away from
me, but no one fit in like you did. A daffodil leaving dry petals with words that are read
by whoever deciphers it. And I wonder if at this point you are aware of what it feels like
to be read and have your soul stripped bare, because who but me can explain it. .

Day 277: Monday, August 12, 2013 In your trophy case, where you have the skins of all
of them, I hope it gives you pride to see my spread wings adorning your living room.
You were a collector of birds, you say you love them, but when you have them in your
hands you cut their feathers, you can't say that you appreciated their flight when you
have the crime scene in your fingers. It's nothing else, but envy, because no matter how
much you flap you don't take off, so either you look for someone to carry you on their
back or you go for the easy way, that everyone walks the same as you. Keep them, you
know? Enjoy seeing something you weren't born with.

And I may not be able to take off when jumping off cliffs, but thanks to all the times
you pushed me overboard, I now know how to fall and that will always trump flying . .
Day 278: Tuesday, August 13, 2013 I can't go back to the bookstore and see all the
books as something inert. Now I feel like everyone is crying.

Day 279: Wednesday, August 14, 2013 So much drama to find the love of life, yes, I also
took the hammer and the chisel, I wanted to make you like me, that you fit all the
requirements, that you were the layman who completes a puzzle I wanted to give you
the outfit that didn't fit you, to force it on you. Paint yourself color after color, pass after
pass, even if the background was still visible. Sculpt you inch by inch because I wanted
it to be you so much, but I didn't realize that I was only designing in great detail the
heartbreak of my life. .
Day 280: Thursday, August 15, 2013 Say why you did it, write the counterclaim or alibi.
Speaks. Say that I am the culprit and present the evidence, say that I went headlong
against you and that you were always sincere, say that I was wrong to imagine the life
that you did not promise me. Tell me that you are not who I think you are, yell at me
that I am lying, that I am hallucinating, that someone so harmful cannot exist, defend
yourself, that the more I think about you, the more foolish I feel for having given you a
free pass for me for so long.

Day 281: Friday, August 16, 2013 "You are capable of changing the course of history as
long as you have something to write about." And if. Maybe the author of this disaster
was always me. Day 282: Saturday, August 17, 2013 There are those who return to the
place where they were happy. I keep returning to the platform, the place where the
word happy left through the back door. .
Day 283: Sunday, August 18, 2013 My heart raced and I put my hands firmly on the
steering wheel when I thought I saw you there in the middle of my route. I was about
to crash and I thought I would fall towards your chest. The address did not respond to
me, I could not allow myself to fall with the same stone twice. But false alarm! It was an
iceberg, nothing more. I confused you. Day 284: Monday, August 19, 2013 Since the last
month, a number usually dials me right at midnight, not that I think of you, but I know
it's you, because you used to do it when the national clock read 00:00. At that time the
silence was knocking on your door and you felt like you were in the desert, you wanted
to

whoever told you something good, and I, I was the one who had too many words and
when they ran out I invented new ones, even a language where the only pronoun was
you. I have decided to turn it off at eleven fifty-eight. Because I don't even want to press
the green button by mistake and have my little kingdom burn before your dragon
breath. .
Day 285: Tuesday, August 20, 2013 What's so much mystery with the Bermuda
Triangle? Let them investigate you, they are the same, everything that happens near
you you swallow and it ends up in another dimension. —I keep trying to come back.

Day 286: Wednesday, August 21, 2013 I don't think Atlantis is a legend, it was also an
empire. My ruins lie lost under the water, although there are remains, I exist. —Heart of
Atlantis

Day 287: Thursday, August 22, 2013 Like someone opening an old book, with that
suspicion that perhaps what is inside is no longer relevant, well that's how I opened our
conversations. There we continue, me loving completely and you loving that I repeat to
you the virtues that you do not possess, but happy, in the end. What is happiness? You
can't tell me that in that ephemeral moment I wasn't, because yes, my heart was racing,
but it didn't hurt, and I felt like there was no other more important moment. Now, all
that is nothing more than a myth, because, although it happened, what you said was
not true. What will become of this information in a hundred years? Someone will enter
the cloud, gossip about love stories and come to us, maybe they will be more cunning
and decipher the ending, because I was that character at whom everyone shouts in the
movie theater "don't open the door . "
door," and here I am, trying to close it.

Day 288: Friday, August 23, 2013 Sometimes I relapse, I give up food again and I
believe I am a plant that lives on photosynthesis. But relapses aren't bad, right? I mean,
I'm on my knees asking for help, for someone to listen to me. There are days when I
feel myself and others when I don't get out of the trap. My vision becomes cloudy, my
head feels heavy and I have no path to follow, everything is erased and the continents
and the world no longer exist, there is only me in the middle of nowhere. My body cries
out to survive, but it's so hard. I want to feel loved, but I feel that food is the barrier that
prevents me from doing so. I already know not, and I don't know how to get that other
me who took the wheel out of my head. Day 289: Saturday, August 24, 2013 .
Who comes out of love unscathed? The one who did not love.

Day 290: Sunday, August 25, 2013 “Take care of yourself.” The last thing I told you. I
still hold it. I would like life to give you a few blows, not to wish you bad, but so that
you open your eyes and realize that a homicidal heart cannot remain loose, you cannot
shoot everyone you want to replace, Do it, but don't pull the trigger. Day 291: Monday,
August 26, 2013 I'm afraid of people who, when something breaks, immediately buy it
again without even trying to repair it. Because then, in his hands, I can be that which
does not deserve any attempt. .
Day 292: Tuesday, August 27, 2013 You have to be very stupid to think that the heart
ignores what the eyes do not see.

Day 293: Wednesday, August 28, 2013 I would like to be a starfish, reborn from my
fragments.

Day 294: Thursday, August 29, 2013 Having spines is not much use, I have learned that
the sea urchin has predators. Day 295: Friday, August 30, 2013 You broke my heart in
three hundred and sixty-five different ways, you never noticed it, but I always forgave
you. Day 296: Saturday, August 31, 2013 When we escaped to the sea that Saturday, you
knew I didn't know him, so you took me, but I always felt in him when I reflected in
you.

September Narcissus, even if you tear off the petals, we all know that you will always be a
flower, never a tree. Stop denying where you come from. .
Day 297: Sunday, September 1, 2013 You should write your own book on how to drill a
heart in three steps, and I should write one titled “architecture for the heart” —I'm
learning from reconstructions. Day 298: Monday, September 2, 2013 No, I did not
idealize you, I knew who you were, but I trusted in what you could become, that's why I
stayed. .
Day 299: Tuesday, September 3, 2013 I have not accepted myself enough, I keep
waiting to be a woman that I am no longer and will not be, I become obsessed and
cling to a silhouette that does not return. I am this, this woman with skin trying to peel
off from the bones, with dark circles under her eyes competing with the craters of the
moon, with poorly cut hair, opaque and gray eyes. A woman with a sad appearance, and
that's not bad, this is what I am today and this is what I must love, even if the girl with
the charismatic smile never returns. Today I am not well and I do not want to refuse a
hug, today I want to cry and I do not want to continue swallowing my tears or keep the
lump in my throat that prevents me from breathing. Today I am traveling with a
broken compass. I am an orphan girl extending my arms, telling myself “come,”
imploring not to be like the one who said he loved me and accidentally left. Today I
choose myself, I am bad, but today I love myself. .

Day 300: Wednesday, September 4, 2013 I have a cat that looks like you, he loves me
when it suits him. I have anorexia, bulimia and all the disorders of the party world in
my head. I have arrhythmias, I am very cold, and I prefer to be disheveled than to stand
in front of that demonic portal. I am convinced that I am not the one standing in front
of me. I write letters I want to send, but I snatch them from the postman after signing.
I want to heal and I don't want to either, I want to stop writing from martyrdom, I want
to write with the wound, but closed, open it sometimes and take out the raw material that
is needed . Are all artists like that? Do you want to see the sun, but you cover your eyes?
Do they want to get wet in the rain and take off their clothes to catch the cold and stay
in bed longer with paper and pen? We look for our own evils, we recognize what is
wrong, and yet we are still here. We tattoo seasons on our foreheads, we put
commemorative dates on dates that hurt, and we make enemies of some day of the
week. We want to skip a day of the month, and we find ourselves in every song on the
radio. I want to make the sky green and let no one contradict me. I want to love again
and continue writing to you .

because in this space, without realizing it, I have found myself. That's why you left, so
that I could come back, I was always ink and blood, because my fingers have memory
and language, they write in languages that I didn't understand that I knew. There are
no coincidences, there are no endings, there are jumps to another book. Heart, brain
and vital organs, I found myself. Day 301: Thursday, September 5, 2013 It wasn't that I
felt love with you, it was a placebo effect. You know, like a sick person who is given a
pill with sugar and is cured. Nothing was ever really given to him, just as you gave me
nothing. .

Day 302: Friday, September 6, 2013 If only there was some machine that takes away my
memory, something that destroys my memories, it doesn't matter if it leaves me blank,
anything is better than this. I would prefer to forget everything, until the day I learned
to tie my shoelaces, just so I don't remember you again, because it hurts me more to
continue living and pretending that I don't think about you. I go out into the street and
the first thing I would like is to see you at least from a distance. I go out looking for
your gaze, some sign that tells me that you are close, but you don't know what pain it is
to ask that you appear and at the same time ask God not to listen to that request. I
would like to forget you, take you away from me completely, not love you, not miss you.
We reach another autumn and you continue talking to my head, not even my dreams
are free, and neither are my texts, I want to write about the sky and I end up talking
about you, I write about myself and I talk about you again. I write about you because
nothing else comes to mind, and even what is not for you, when I finish it and read it,
is for you. .

Day 303: Saturday, September 7, 2013 Have you heard of gunshot wounds that
surgeons prefer not to remove? They're not doing as bad as it sounds. Today a patient
asked that it not be removed, he wanted to wear it as a sign of war and strength.
"Nothing will happen," said the doctor. He didn't know it, but he taught me a great
lesson.

Day 304: Sunday, September 8, 2013 I looked for you in the places where it was obvious
that you were there, but not the way I wanted. I looked for you in insomnia, hoping that
you would also think of me in that empty hour around three and in the silence, when
you begin to miss everything that made you happy. Happy. I looked for you in the most
melancholic songs, because you hurt me, but I like it, because I chose for you to hurt
me. You were not a lucky chance, it was loaded and I launched it knowing that you
would fall. You were the arrow autoclaved in some hypochondrium, which I can take
out when I decide, but I don't want to yet. I looked for you in alcohol, I don't know who
the hell invented that you drink to forget, I always drank to remember, because there
are times when I feel like I no longer listen to you and I don't forgive myself for
starting to forget you, even though all my mental health depends on it. . I looked for
you in every place we visited, hoping that you would return there, but obviously you
have no reason to return, because none of this marked you like it did me. I looked for
you, hoping not to find you, because I love the memory .

but I don't love you. You are a new you, and I am a new me, who does not love what
you are now, but misses so much the one who gave me tickets straight to the moon and
left me there. Day 305: Monday, September 9, 2013 You are going to remember me ...
Even if now you pretend that you had no past and that I remained a forgotten page on a
shelf, even if you say that my arms, my laughter and the nights with me were not more
than an insignificant passage. The day you feel cold and she doesn't want to keep you
in her arms, when you have to write what you feel because there is no one to listen to
you, when you want her to read it and she doesn't have time. When the autumn leaves
rustle and you want to go to the parks to walk on them and you don't want to go out
because no one values walking in the afternoons anymore, .

because no one will see November the way you see it. When they leave you alone at the
table with the words in your mouth, you will think about me, about that day you woke
up and said that you were tired of listening to me and that it was already late. You will
think of me, when that song plays in the bars and you tell her to listen to the lyrics and
she will continue drinking the beer and will never hear what you wanted to say, just like
you did to me; because a song is not important, a poem is not important, a letter is not
important. Do you remember? And I know that you will think of me when you can't
sleep, when the darkness falls on you like a weight, and she tells you "we'll talk when
it's dawn." You will remember me because I am sure that one day you will love as I
loved you, and you will realize that no one deserves to have their letters ignored, to be
denied a hug, to not listen to their songs, to walk alone, to leave them in the middle of
the night with fears. You're going to remember me, and you're going to want to call
me, and, maybe, I've finally forgotten you. .

Day 306: Tuesday, September 10, 2013 Dear you: Today I wore that dress that you
hated, because according to you, I looked like a little orca. And I saw myself... like I
couldn't look at myself in a long time. I was not that animal, nor the other one, nor the
monster. There was my face and my fragile battered body. I hugged myself like
someone who hasn't seen each other for years. I walked around in the same place
because, even though it's not my best day, I look better than many others. It's not that
I'm recovered, but I'm walking towards the goal, which I still don't care about reaching.
Let the path be lengthened or shortened. I have seen myself, I am still with me and that
is enough. It's not that you've disappeared, I still hear you, but in the distance. Your
words sound, but they no longer touch me. There are the stains on your fingers, but
they are fading. Today the room was mine; and the world, the cake on my table that I
finished in one bite. Today I went out with the dress, like a tightrope walker for the first
time without a net to stop the fall. .

Day 307 Wednesday, September 11, 2013 I took the red lipstick, which is a few months
away from entering its expiration date. I placed it on my lips and my eyes lit up. Even
my hair seemed darker and my skin more serene. I shed a tear and not from sadness.
It's not the color, much less the makeup, it's just me, seeing myself again. Day 308:
Thursday, September 12, 2013 You riddled me with your egomania and your arrogance,
on top of that you painted fake wounds on yourself to hastily tell everyone that in that
crime I was the murderer. Coward falls short. .

Day 309: You come, September 13, 2013 In the end I have to thank you, I guess.
Without your dagger tearing my chest I would never have realized that poetry was
bubbling from my wounds. Day 310: Saturday, September 14, 2013 You excuse yourself
by saying that at home they didn't teach you about love and I understand that, what I
don't understand is that you use that reason to hurt. .

Day 311: Sunday, September 15, 2013 I realized that pain is never an enemy, it just
torments you so that you realize that it wants to be a painting, a song, a poem or a
sculpture, a channel, I don't know, a partner. , maybe. If it is not shaped, it will
continue to sting your eyes and chest; but he's here with me as a roommate. He plays
the violin sometimes, sleeps during the day and wakes up at night to accompany me as
I leave our history behind. Don't think that I'm asking you to come back, I would never
do it, first I would cut off my tongue and give it to the piranhas.

Day 312: Monday, September 16, 2013 I have been very hard on myself by requiring
myself to turn one hundred and eighty degrees every morning, I go too hard, turn
around completely and continue in the same place. They say that Rome was not built in
a day, I believe that my heart is much more complex and I cannot demand that the
roads or skyscrapers be accelerated, not because it is not possible, it is possible, but it
would be negligence and any imperceptible tectonic wave, for me, it would be a
disaster. Therefore, I want to go slowly, learn from the turtle that little by little returns
home after being released. They all demand that we wipe away our tears and stop
suddenly, as if that didn't cause vertigo. Staying in bed for ten minutes looking at the
ceiling is not a bad habit, it is the shock of having woken up. One more day, it's not
anything like yesterday .
You felt like you couldn't even put your sock on. I will let myself go at my own pace, a
year, two or four. It is not wasted time if you make progress every day (at least a
millimeter). A snail told me.

Day 313: Tuesday, September 17, 2013 How much talent there is in those poets who
describe love with the same delicacy of fingers caressing a violin. Let me write about
the pain, even if it doesn't help anyone, or help me. Let everyone spend it like in
museums: appreciating the scene of someone who is holding the rubble of his house
on his back in the hope of gaining strength and putting it back together. That painting
of a study surgery where the heart was joined to a watch, but the surgeon forgot to put
batteries in it. Let them listen to the song that has no words and no melody, but is
danced slowly and with your eyes .
closed. A photograph in the main entrance of the first captain who piloted the largest
ship made of paper in all of history, but with the tragedy more famous than that of the
Titanic. Because when he saw the iceberg he did not turn the wheel, he had already
collided with bigger things before and he knows that there is life after the impact.
Jumping overboard without a life jacket is sometimes the only emergency exit. That is
better than throwing yourself into arms that, when you are about to fall, take them away
and blame you for having trusted. Leave this job to me and save the planet from
drought. that, even if she is dehydrated, the tears never end.

Day 314: Wednesday, September 18, 2013 Chronic-degenerative diseases, such as

hypertension, diabetes and lack of love, do not scandalize the doctor in the
consultation. They will tell you in the most calm way possible, that is, it is not that there
is a treatment that will cure them, but they can be controlled very well, they just need a
little discipline. —We lack self-love, doctor. I am hypertensive and I get sick with salt. I
am diabetic and I jump into the pie without a parachute. I'm sick of you, and I keep
looking at your photographs. We look for our evils. Day 315: Thursday, September 19,
2013 .
Every day they ask me: “What will you specialize in?” Today I thought about it...
gynecology? Internal medicine? What do I have a face? Forensic doctor, sure. Addicted
to performing autopsies on the past.

Day 316: Friday, September 20, 2013 Who asks the shark about his pain? Who carries
him on his back for a while to rest? If he stopped swimming he would sink and
suffocate. Who hears their song in the abyss? What if the sea is salty because of her
tears? What if the remoras know something about them that we don't? Predator and all,
but he gives them permission to be by his side. Who says it's bad? .
Day 317: Saturday, September 21, 2013 Jellyfish are made up of water and nerves. I've
been crying jellyfish all this time. Who was one of them to lack a heart, and never die;
not feel pain and have the courage to sink ships. May they break me into three or four
pieces and, like a hydra, grow more heads.

Day 318: Sunday, September 22, 2013 You taught me that the more you love, the less
you lose, even if that person leaves. That forgiving is a quality that I have for everyone,
but never for myself. Your favorite bird was the phoenix reborn from the ashes and in
your cage you turned me into the bird reborn from pain. You taught me that the most
beautiful poetry is the one that is not written, but the saddest is the one that is never
finished. That blank pages have more problems than the Middle East because I don't
know what mess to start with .
nor which one to end with, and I better close the notebook. You taught me that I'm not
stupid for believing lies, even though I believed you could be more than just a mask.
That the truths that are not told are also lies, that the unknown numbers last night are
cries for help that we no longer want to hear, because when we shake their hand, they
pull us to the precipice. That you can say goodbye and never leave, but you can also
leave and still be here. That letters do not always have to be sent, sometimes they must
be read by people who do not have the name of the recipient. Postmen have seen more
tragedies than a lifeguard on aggressive beaches, and coffee can be the alcohol of those
who vowed never to drink again. That being awake at three in the morning is not
dangerous until you want to write to someone. That we should not promise, so that
there are never reproaches for what was not fulfilled. That two minutes seem like
nothing, until you have to look in the mirror. Saying “I don't love you” doesn't hurt as
much as if we added an adverb (now) I don't love you. That zombies are not fictitious
things, all of us who walk with our souls detached from our bodies are. You taught me
so many things that you don't know about. because you are a book, that only those you
hurt can read. Day 319: Monday, September 23, 2013 Kintsugi: Technique of Japanese
origin that consists of repairing broken ceramic pieces. Nobody wants broken things, it is
difficult for them to return to normal, in fact, they will never be like before, which is
why it is very easy to throw away and be consumers. We do it with people. We fear pain
because after we crash, instead of putting the pieces together, we walk without them.
Repairing does not guarantee you being the same as before, the line that indicates the
union of the pieces will not be hidden, but, once you master the technique, we are
capable of facing anything, because we can always be that vessel that tells stories in
Braille. . That is the intention of Kintsugi: to highlight where the crack was, cover it
with gold and beautify it. That I don't know .

We forget that there was an arrow that crashed into it. And the good news is that the
repaired part is now one of the most solid and durable parts of the vessel. Day 320:
Tuesday, September 24, 2013 How many chemicals on the market to make scars
invisible, as if it were a reason for shame. Scar seems synonymous with crime, why do
they want to hide it? I hated the one on my leg, from when I fell on my bike while
playing airplane on a ramp. The one on my back, that of the emergency surgery, my
reason for anguish, even if it meant that I had survived. I no longer want to keep them
in isolation like leprosy, I want to be the whale with its fins scratched by the blades of a
boat, but still swimming. Let them breathe, let the wind caress them. .

I want to be the voice that lies locked up, in those of the skin and in those of my soul.

Day 321: Wednesday, September 25, 2013 Dear you: I have acted all this time like
someone who cannot get over a death, you may say that is an exaggeration, but did I go
through days of wake? I dressed in mourning and cried at the things I didn't say and
others that should never have been said. We died, you died to what you went with me
and I died in your eyes that last night. Friends, do not blame me for having gotten
entangled in this whole cycle, but I feel as if I were at the end of the train stations,
accepting that there is no turning back, that it was for the best. I have stopped denying
it, I have thrown away the anger, I have looked for my medicine or my placebo, I have
gone through the side effects and the nocebos. I don't cry for you anymore, I cry
sometimes, but I write now without my hands shaking. I go to bed without missing you
and wake up giving thanks for being alive. Doesn't this happen to the person who left
roses in the cemetery? .

Day 322: Thursday, September 26, 2013 The pain scale is useless when something
hurts that isn't even inside you. You hurt me. It wasn't the chest, nor the head, nor the
eyes, it wasn't the arms where you were no longer there, nor my back where your
weight no longer fell. The empty bed hurt me, the coffee that was no longer useful;
your feet going to another room, your fingers on another face, your eyes that didn't see
me. I hurt for the house we won't live in, the cat we won't rescue, the cake we won't
bake. Your kleptomania hurt me from day to day to take little things, until it left me
empty. Your mythomania hurt me, saying that it wasn't you, that it wasn't your words,
that she was nobody, that I was everything, when it was the opposite. Now I understand
those who tell me "I don't know what hurts me, doctor", because now I do know. .

Day 323: Friday, September 27, 2013 It is easy to avoid problems, hide the garbage
under the rug, fill ourselves with activities so as not to want to think about that
important thing that we must fix. For this reason, there are fathers who prefer to work
overtime, even if they don't need more, as long as they don't have to talk about the
problem with their wife and escape with a "I'm sleepy, we'll talk later." That's why we
love to change the subject when we know where the conversation is going. We watch a
movie when we are sad, it is better to distract ourselves than face it. Humans spend
millions going to Mars, launching satellites to other galaxies, photographing the soil of
Saturn, waiting for the birth of another moon, making the internet faster, flying cars.
And so we act busy when others are throwing missiles like it was nothing. That's how it
was with me, I tried to ignore every sign that warned me that ours was collapsing. I
gave myself more homework, turned up the music, and watched every series possible.
All for not facing me. .

Day 324: Saturday, September 28, 2013 Who will count your eyelashes before looking at
the color of your eyes; who will read your lips before hearing your voice; who will kiss
your fears before your mouth; Who will appreciate the smell of your skin before the
vanilla of your perfume? Who will embrace your heart before your body, who will write
to your defects as if they were islands to conquer? Who will love what you hate about
yourself, what no one can stand about you, what you say is not true? Who will look at
your face without using his eyes? Who will believe you when everything seems like a
lie? I'm no longer here, and I didn't lose anything... the one who lost by leaving me
stranded was you. Our love story had everything: fiction, horror and suspense, but
never love. .

Day 325: Sunday, September 29, 2013 I never understood Picasso's art, until now that I
am thinking about it. That is to say, I'm not looking so good, but not so bad either. —
Abstract repair(art). Day 326: Monday, September 30, 2013 Heart of a fakir, it is not
necessary to pretend that it does not hurt you to continue receiving alms.

October Narcissus, I didn't have any pests on my leaves, the only harmful thing in my
environment was having you by my side. .
Day 327: Tuesday, October 1, 2013 Roses emerge from among the tombstones. Who
planted them? It's not a good place for rose bushes to live, but they do. I also feel that
they are coming out of my ventricles and passing through my ribs. Do not speak of
death to me, who has revived twenty-four times in a single day. .
Day 328: Wednesday, October 2, 2013 The seismic alarms no longer sound, the tectonic
movements of my systole and diastole are one to three on the Richer scale, that is,
normal. The ruins are the least important thing, the important thing is that I have
myself, that the asteroids did not break my bones, that the tornado only left me
disheveled, and that the hurricane watered my stems. The fire burned my fears, there is
no more fog in my eyes, they look greener after the rain. I'm still chaos, but with pretty
eyes.

Day 329: Thursday, October 3, 2013 The matrioshka doll has not realized that, if she
looks inside, she has never been alone.
Day 330: Friday, October 4, 2013 Dear you: I am so afraid of one day being with
someone else and harming them as a result of the consequences you left, that is, like
those giants who destroy the most vulnerable in their path because It gives them
pleasure. I feel like a cigarette that could be the end of the entire Amazon, again. I have
not forgotten the nails that, far from being useful in a painting, I left injured in some
room. Day 331: Saturday, October 5, 2013 Sooner or later, the stories that you thought
would remain secret grow feet and wings and, if they are cut off, they crawl around and
get a megaphone so they can be heard in all cardinal points. Telling a secret is not safe
even with a deaf person, because if he can read your lips, you are lost. I understand that
you wanted to leave, that you found it exciting to slice my back, but you used my own
sword. I understand that you replaced me, that you compared me and that you spoke
viciously about my defects. What I don't understand is why you told everyone that I
have unfinished surgery on the fifth intercostal space. One night, vulnerable to the
teeth, I vomited up all the cobwebs that I had dragged since childhood, the hooves that
tore my cheekbones and my panties. .

I was pages with diagrams and maps before you, I recited my life to you because I
didn't know where else to spit out what was overflowing from my throat. My tears were
already about to collapse the dam. And you opened your hands and welcomed me into
your chest, instead of taking care of me you have turned me into showbiz pages where
everyone knows my ill-told past, since it was very easy for you to invent chapters in
which I ended up as the promiscuous one, the animal in zeal, the untreated
nymphomaniac. I give up, I get off the rails. Today I'm burning my eyelashes, because
yes, friends have betrayed me, but no one for whom I would have given all my vital
organs in a transplant. I understand that it was not good, that it was not perfect, but I
do not understand this: Your hatred without restraints, your tongue that moves not
only in caves, but that reluctantly waits for the door to be opened like a bull that has
been slaughtered after putting eucalyptus and cinnamon in the eyes, you have gored
me and I am not talking about women. Say it, let go of everything, I assume it, my fault
for believing you were an angel, I forgot that demons were angels too. I gave you the
arrows and I drew the target. A fool who doesn't stop your mouth, a piranha who asks
you for more details. Today I discover that there is one more chapter missing from that
program of a thousand ways to die, this one, the one about your tongue being a spear
with rodenticide on the tip. .

Day 332: Sunday, October 6, 2013 It is inevitable to feel how winter falls on me, with
one of the worst frosts since 1924. I feel like the tin man is exchanging his armor for
my heart and I give it to him without reading the terms and conditions.

Day 333: Monday, October 7, 2013 When the heart cries, we inevitably feel like new
mothers facing a being that does not speak; He only feels and expresses in rapid
heartbeats that something inside hurts, we try to understand him, rock him, sing to
him, look for something that makes him feel snuggled up again. I cry with my heart,
because I don't understand it, I don't know how to repair it, I don't even know if it
broke or something is wrong with it. Insomnia, it was difficult for me to understand
that the heart does not speak... it writes. .

Day 334: Tuesday, October 8, 2013 You are a child who was compensated for the lack of
time, with toys, they taught you that love is in the inert and not in heartbeats and
hands. You didn't know what it was like to drink hot chocolate while a voice tells you
about Hansel and Gretel's childhood. You didn't hear the sewing machine give its best
stitches that were the drum touch-up to wear your new outfit. No one called you by your
name and then pointed to the stars. They didn't sing the song of the planets to you, nor
did you smell the blackberry pie in the oven. You, a gambler, who gambles with your
eyes knowing that everything is lost, I want to have compassion for you and look at you
with tenderness, you are nothing more than a scared child with the light off and you
have no one to light a candle for you. I want to forgive you, because you don't realize it,
because, even if they gave you the best explained encyclopedia in history, you would
continue to believe that the reason will always be yours. I can't face a child who has lost
his eyes in the cards, because, even if I turn on the light, he will say that I am lying. .

Day 335: Wednesday, October 9, 2013 The problem with seeing you everywhere is that I
see danger signs even in hugs. Day 336: Thursday, October 10, 2013 Every time I cry I
give thanks, because it means that I am still the sea, that even in the worst droughts I
continue to give waves.

Day 337: Friday, October 11, 2013 I have sung again in the light of the moon and the
line that separates the sky from the sea has echoed back to me. I have walked all night
like a soul without regret along the pier, with my hair tangled in salt and sand. I have
felt like a mermaid and never again is a fish spinning around in your fish tank. I no
longer chase shiny hooks, nor am I dazzled by boats now that I no longer need life
preservers. They have asked me if I am not afraid of the night and the silence, I
couldn't after so long of living in the broken heart of the ocean. I still have the wounds
on my cheeks .
of the pike I got stuck on when you were fishing.

Day 338: Saturday, October 12, 2013 I saw two sunrises, one in the sky, the other in me.
Day 339: Sunday, October 13, 2013 Rainbows also form in the eyes after the storm. Day
340: Monday, October 14, 2013 Nothing happens in here anymore when the songs play
in the station waiting room, a symptom par excellence that I am healing, that you no
longer have a part in my story, that I I am rescuing .
From the tower itself, the dragon has fled to hide under the bed.

Day 341: Tuesday, October 15, 2013 I cared too much about being the woman of your
life, changing my weight, my hair, taking off my clothes and putting on new ones,
exercising excessively, stopping eating what I want, whipping myself to correct myself ,
mold me to your schemes, make your family feel proud of the accessory called
girlfriend that you carry, that you would raise your face when naming me and
mentioning qualities that you forced me to have, omitting the real ones. I got tired of
competing with what you said I was, maybe I could, but no. I am this, someone who
plays at being a star, who always has ink on his hands, who stays up late for nothing,
who doesn't know where he is going. Maybe I will never be anyone important and my
name will be forgotten and will never become relevant next to yours. But this is what I
am, I want to be the one .

the woman of my life .

Day 342: Wednesday, October 16, 2013 I pass my hands over my lips and they feel arid,
deserted. Who can kiss them again and make my legs not tremble? Now they will do it
out of fear and not out of nerves. .
Day 343: Thursday, October 17, 2013 Now that I've thought about it all night, that I've
survived the bullet in the chest, I don't think anything can hurt again when everything
already hurt. And that is on my list of thanks for you, like that deadly surgery from
which you come out alive, like that woman after experiencing the birth of her
macrosomic baby who will never complain again about being burned by a match. Day
344: You come, October 18, 2013 My body was the autumn that you used to bloom in
winter. Day 345: Saturday, October 19, 2013 I have spent a lot of time looking for
someone who loved me, and it is good to receive love, but it is not the most important
thing, alone you laugh again, alone you dance again, it doesn't matter if no one ever
comes ,—I am learning to live in myself. Day 346: Sunday, October 20, 2013 I will
never hide my left foot again just so that some tin soldier wants me. I will not play
dumb so that no one feels less or I will blow on myself so that my fire goes out just
because the candles are bothered by it. Day 347: Monday, October 21, 2013 I feel
chrysanthemum blooming in the middle of October. Day 348: Monday, October 21,
2013 I'm wondering if I loved you, or if I loved the character I thought you could be.
Who else will see you as my eyes saw you? Who can love your vanity, your ego and
understand that you were just that abandoned child? Who will touch your forehead and
tell your past that it can rest? Who will tolerate your light turned on at night out of fear?
Who will be the one who reads you between the lines? I hope it's her, I hope it's that
one, I hope it's all of them. Don't play like someone who has rag dolls in their hands
anymore, one day you will be charged for everything and quite dearly.

Day 349: Tuesday, October 22, 2013 I could see you without feeling anything, but not
without crying, and it is not for you, but for me. If you hadn't passed through my life, I
would still have my girlish smile and I wouldn't feel like this sober adult who is
disgusted by the smell of vanilla rum. I would perhaps be dumber, or, perhaps, it
would have been someone else who accelerated my dark circles and my internal age. I
see you as someone who sees a tough, stubborn teacher who wants to be right and
teaches you what you should not be in life. Know? Sometimes I felt stupid because,
although I have been fucked in other ways and my skin has been beaten open, your
words hurt more than the previous ones. The abuse is not only physical, and the abuse
of words destroys you like naval mines that you touch with the tips of your fingers
because you thought you were swimming in safe water. Although I don't hate you,
you're still here; I may never stop writing to you, and that doesn't mean I want you by
my side. I keep our story of heartbreak, as one of those that deserve to be told. You are
the protagonist, hero and villain, ghost and monster, dragon and bird dead with envy
that gnaws at the wings of others. .

Day 350: Wednesday, October 23, 2013 Don't be confused, just because I keep writing
doesn't mean I love you or want you back. I write to let you go, to let you go, to
continue saying goodbye and for goodbye to fall whenever it wants.

Day 351: Thursday, October 24, 2013 I thank you, because through you I learned what I
should not accept again; that I must doubt those who stare at me and those who taste
my name like candy; that lies are sometimes in the eyes and not in the words; that
whoever hates you can give you kisses that taste like love. I thank you, because now I
know that resilience wears my face and nuclear bombs wear your voice. I thank you for
leaving me in ruins, today I dedicate myself to remodeling my empire with the plans
that I want. Thanks to you I learned that full stops do not indicate that someone
stopped writing, but rather that they started a new book. .
Day 352: Friday, October 25, 2013 I haven't been able to put the pieces back in place,
but we are all dancing in the room. (Maybe we're better off that way). Day 353: Saturday,
October 26, 2013 I am a siren again, and not an ambulance, I am breathing again
under the tears, I am returning to the sea like someone returning home and not to the
place where they were shot. Day 354: Sunday, October 27, 2013 What a mistake to think
that after you I could no longer love myself again. .

Day 355: Monday, October 28, 2013 Feeling short of breath, dizziness, tachycardia,
anxiety; You eat your hair, you bite your nails, you look at the screen every five seconds,
your hunger goes away, you have nightmares, a fever, your hands shake, you don't
think things clearly, your head is bombarded with a thousand ideas, you hallucinate,
you see double. We are missing a drug, but the problem is that it is a person. Isn't this
a withdrawal syndrome? That's why we return to the same place where we are not
loved, because it is a thousand times better to embrace lies than to feel everything else.
That is why we are so afraid of saying goodbye, because we do not want to cross the
desert that is coming to us and we prefer to continue as Pharaoh's slaves. I said
goodbye more than sixteen times and came back because everything was going crazy,
because I felt like I would die if I didn't have you. It's not love, it's dependence. I didn't
love you, I was an addict. I'm still in recovery. —Delirium tremens .

Day 356: Tuesday, October 29, 2013 You would have broken me more, cut all the ways
where my blood mixed with the inkwell. You would have stolen all the pieces and
thrown them into the sea, where I could never find them. You would have told me
more terrible things, completely annihilating my heart; You would have grabbed him
between your fists and left him with no way out. You would have done it and I would
have gone straight to intensive care. But look at me, I have enclosed everything in
letters, in oil, charcoal and music, dance steps and origami. You would have given me
the seventh shot of the revolver to show you that, if I could stop bullets between my
index finger and thumb, I should have put more ammunition in your hands.
Masochist, tell me, but you were the raw material for my paintings and my poems. I
have built submarines in the middle of the night, because I already knew the surface.
You don't know it, but you have become immortal pieces, and who but you, arsonist
who used me as a dart and now I can't go out. .

Day 357: Wednesday, October 30, 2013 We are all a little laboratory monster, several
pieces assembled, equal to Frankenstein's monster. Not only do I have my
grandfather's eyes, my father's smile or my mother's moles, but now I listen to
Beethoven to sleep, because he was the only one who took away the weight of guilt. I
don't put sugar in my coffee, because you said that there are already enough sugary
drinks without ruining the one that has the most beneficial properties. I plant roses,
because you never liked cutting them. I like to write about the sun because you said
that he must feel jealous after everyone dedicates songs to the moon, even though it is
because of him that she shines. I stopped believing in good and bad luck because there
were dozens of both in my yard and that didn't save me from you. And I know that
keeping fragments of you is not wrong; Another could come and the same thing will
happen. I will not detach myself from the little good they can leave me. .

Day 358: Thursday, October 31, 2013 I have gotten rid of the scale. If I'm learning not
to depend on anyone, I don't want to depend on her either.

November Narcissus, I'm leaving you, broken and with scars, but I'll be fine. For him who
comes out of hell, now everything is heaven. .

Day 359: Friday, November 1, 2013 I stopped drinking the salt water to quench my thirst.
Dear you: All this time I have clung to oblivion. Chewing the word as if it were going to
come to life and with dememorizing will selectively take away your name and your face.
I have hit myself in the head to achieve amnesia, but you came back stronger. And
today I understand that nothing is going to go away, that in the fall the day I met you
will arrive as a sepia film and I will smile because it was more than I could write in any
script. As November passes, like someone speeding up the cassette, I will see you go
again, and that's okay. Because now I remember you and you no longer hurt, I cry and
not because you come back, but because .
I water my flowers, because now my pieces paint, sing and write, because, although I
will never return to being who I was before you, I am left with this vulnerable and
broken version from which roots grow like those that break the asphalt. That I no
longer care about my appearance, nor about being the perfect woman. I owe so much
to my body that has carried my weight and my guilt all this time, it has endured my
insults, my cuts and blows without leaving, it hugs me and has fought to keep me alive,
because, although everything looked dark, it stood up in the middle of Chernobyl. I
came out of the clutches of the wolf, worse than the stories told. I have thrown away the
cape, because I no longer want to be that girl who hides her face. You were never more
than I am, and in this story we were both cowards, but today, if I don't let you go, I will
jump overboard... I will stop carrying you on my shoulders and, even if I don't love you,
maybe I do love you. I don't know if I will ever stop feeling (you), but I don't care, I love
you and you are free from me. I will stop writing to you one day, but as long as I
continue learning, like a madman I will be returning to dear you where I will never
mention your name, because it is not a candy that I want to taste. I forgive you because
I know you don't fully realize it. I hug you, because I understand you and, if one day we
look each other in the face, I will pretend not to know you. I don't know if my eyes give
me away or if a tear plays a trick on me, but I'm fine, in the end, I'm always fine. Day
360: Saturday, November 2, 2013 Keep calling me weak for having .

I spent almost a year rowing in this salty ocean that is not called the sea, because my
heart seemed like a fish thrown onto the sand. I am, I admit it, shout it louder, that you
call me a coward for being shipwrecked in memories and plundering my forgetfulness,
for having said that I loved locks and for pawning you my smile in exchange for
nothing. Say it. Let them know that you are afraid of this desert state, you would not
cross it, even if they swore that there would be running water, because you are afraid of
vulnerability and you swallow the lumps in your throat because you hate being knocked
down. Tell them that your back is full of mollusks that you never picked off because
you don't want to go back to being that child who cries for his mother. Let them see
that you are a mask of strength that prefers to point to the one who has strongly said
"geysers are born from me." You have been weak for laughing at the one who hit him
when he was off guard. Weak when shooting without your opponent having a weapon
in defense. Weak for attacking me from behind when, you could wait for me to look
you in the eyes. Weak for using the weak points I put in your hands, knowing you were
one. Weak for not closing my mouth about the life that I wrote in secret and you were
able to read. Call me a coward again now that I have learned to fall on my feet and
never on my knees. .

Day 361: Sunday, November 3, 2013 I understood that I didn't stop eating because I
looked pretty. I believed that only then could I be worthy of being loved. Day 362:
Monday, November 4, 2013 I am hugging myself, stroking my hair and singing while I
spin around my room. I'm on tiptoe, believing I'm in for an important dance and I
haven't left the house. I want to love myself, I want to love myself more than I ever
loved you, I want to stay with me and not betray me or leave me forgotten just because
pretty eyes buy me a coffee. I am caressing my soul, speaking sweetly to my wounds. I
have forgiven myself for scissoring my hair and hitting my stomach. Today I want to
live. Day 363: Tuesday, November 5, 2013 The cherry red has returned to my lips, I
smiled to myself and it was a good attempt, day by day I will manage to do better. I
wore the first thing I saw in the closet, no matter how I look, I feel like myself. My legs
want to be taken anywhere, my eyes want to see something more than these walls. And
yes, you are still here, occupying a part of me, but that is no longer stopping me,
because it is inevitable, in our hearts there will always lie remains of those who come
and go, like little books in a library where I will go sometimes. Sometimes to read
something that is useful for my present. Now you occupy a .

book… Okay, volumes, but nothing more. Day 364: Wednesday, November 6, 2013 I am
going to set sail again and this time not to get away from anyone, but because I want to
know all the seas and leave my flag on all the islands. I put on my hat and purposely
forget the compass, I have no direction, but I have no doubts either. Day 365: Thursday,
November 7, 2013 When I think of you, I don't want to see the broken adult who is
cutting everything in his path, I want to see the child, the one who invented heroic
stories because he wanted friends. A boy who made a wish on falling stars, ran to sleep,
woke up and realized that he was still alone. I want to understand you, I want to
understand you, I want to understand you . Your frustrations, your wounds, you put
them all on me, the most vulnerable thing you had at your side. It's not that you hated
me, now I understand, you hated that I reminded you of the town where you were
born, because now, you deny your origin to everyone. You hated that I knew about your
broken family, that you cry like a little child, even though you stopped being one two
decades ago. You see in me everything that reminds you of what you really are. You
don't hate me, you hate yourself, you live on appearance, on acceptance, on your perfect
paintings that hide the cracks that the earthquakes left you; Now I understand, for every
attempt to destroy me, it was an attack on you, because I can bring you back .

each of your ghosts, because good or bad, I met you and I know what point makes you
stumble. I renounce being a garbage can, and I know that after you, I will not allow it
again. You were right, everything happens for a reason, you went through this, after
you, nothing will be the same, I am growing and seeing everything with different eyes,
I am loving myself, not completely, but I do take some steps. I realized that yes, we
have a survival instinct, because I knew how to say goodbye when I felt like I was
walking through fire, even though I didn't understand it. Or there may be no reason for
you to stop by, but I want to make the most of this. You were the dancer who stepped
on my toes and nothing more, but now I know that, even if I'm alone, you can still
dance.

Saturday, November 9, 2013 Dear you: I fell in love with you and it wasn't your fault,
you didn't do anything, I just accelerated, I jumped in knowing that I wouldn't fall for
anything good. I fell in love because I wanted to, I saw something in you, I don't know
what, don't ask me, but I chose you out of all of them. You weren't obligated to feel the
same as me, but you weren't obligated to tear me to pieces either. However, I opted for
that option, and it wasn't your fault either, there are humans who like to destroy the
most vulnerable, for some reason there are fewer green spaces, and for some reason
the roses are covered with fences and metal mesh, so that no one like you comes to
want to cut them and remove their leaves. I should have done the same with me, but I
trusted. I don't condemn you anyway, I'm not the one to do it. It didn't hurt me to love
you, it hurt me .
love you, because yes, I wanted you with me. How selfish of me to think you were by
my side all your life, it's too much to ask; These things are never asked for, they are
given and you realize when you have the last breath of life left. Dear you, if I were
granted the wish to change something about us, I would not do it, I would go through
everything again, with semicolons, because, although it was not pleasant, it is my most
beautiful story. Nothing was in vain, look at me now, what I was before you no longer
returns, and I am glad, because I am loving my new facet, where my mouth will no
longer utter a comeback , because it already knows how to let go. To mature is not to
stop loving yourself, nor to leave your mind blank, to mature is to talk about yourself
without my voice breaking, to mature is to ask God for you and not to count the
mistakes you made with me, because I absolve you, because I forgive you.

You will always have a space in my heart, not because I continue to love you, but
because you taught me everything I needed to let go of to be happy. .
Who can break what is broken? Nobody. I am unbreakable.

I thought I was experiencing the saddest heartbreak in the world, but the reality is that I
was surviving a narcissistic attack. I'm still broken, but I continue.