Sweet Addicting Words .

Hello "me" :)

Long talkings turned into hi and cya . The subjects seem to have faded away, like if all of our words had gotten freezed somewhere in time . Absence of excitement . No sweetness, no daily messages .
Now and then short prepared texts, nothing really original . No music, or any other type of candy . No "have a nice day" e-mails, nothing on my walls . No drunk calls . And I hope I don't become just one more life's obligation . I've never wanted to be similar to a "I've gotta go to school" phrase .
Passion has been tasting like everyday rice and beans .
Guess it's important to remind that this love has been built by written words . And these are the words I don't have anymore . These are the words I miss more than skin touch . Addictive words .
Everything is growing cold . And now we seem to be one of those snowmen that stands in the snow, smiling to the emptiness, waiting for the next Spring, to finally melt away . Melt away, turn into water . The water that comes back to the ocean, to finally desappear in the blue skyes .

Neither Vogue nor Scientific American !

Hello "me" .
I don't know what has been happening lately, but seems everyone is getting engaged or married . And the few married ones are getting pregnant . I don't know why, but I've never been close to any . That makes me wonder if maybe my will is to be a scientist, the one who doesn't marry for having a general love for humans, and not for someone in specific .
I remember I've been fascinated for science since very young , and since then I'd shock people saying I wouldn't get married or have kids . First time I said that I was 6 years old, according to mom .
Girls used to play "mom and dad", and I'd rather be the "crazy scientist", making my parents buy me all those chemistry features, that most of the kids didn't have any interest in . I still love science, but nowadays I start wondering if it's a good choice having nothing, but a brilliant lonely brain as company in the sunday evening or saturday night .
A life with a whole bunch of dirty nose loud kids, and a big belly husband sat down in the sofa, with the beer in his hand, complaining that your food doesn't taste as good as it used to, and that besides that you've been needing a diet, has always sounded like a miserable life to me . Cause a family will never be a a real normal family if the house ain't dirty( full of socks and glasses everywhere ), if kids don't cry during lunch time( they always have been hating lunch ), and if you and your husband don't argue for the most little idiot things twice a week( at least ) . I used to think someone who chooses such type of life might have some mental disturb, but nowadays I wonder if having a brilliant lonely brain as company in the last day of your life will make you feel fine .
I don't have a clue of what it's the worst of the ideas : if the idea that you spend a lifetime building a scientifical theory, that probably won't have any value tomorrow( cause scientifical knowledge has always been discardable somehow ) , or if the idea that you spend long years fucking the same man, that out of the blue looks at your "ugly just woke up face"and say " I don't love you anymore " .
Both cases don't seem too much pleasant, but I guess the " I don't love you anymore " may sound the most terrible thing to a normal woman . Well, we gotta remember that all genius that has lived in this Earth had nothing but a scholarship inside their pockets; the 3rd degree cousin they didn't even know about may get rich with the "now famous", and yet dead, books . I wonder how cool might be to a the dead scientist to see, from the dephts of hell, the 3rd degree cousin or uncle getting the Nobel( "representing him", course ) .
Thinking that way, there's no much glamour in science . Will you ever be on Vogue magazine for cleaning kid's butt or for not letting them eat dog's shit ? Well, maybe the paparazzi and the whole world would even find some "ecologicaly correct" reason for your action( cleaning kid's butt and not letting them eat dog's shit )...in case you were Madonna or Gisele .
And after all I still don't know what is the best option...does anyone ?
That's probably why Einstein and his friends has gone crazy . Maybe going crazy is the 3rd option .

Smile: It's You in the Newspaper !

Hello "me" .

What do you hide behind your smile ?
Cause yesterday I looked right inside your ears, and I thought I found my best-friend .
Today I've heard that every single word that came out of my suffering heart has become a cancer .
A cancer that has been spreading all over. For your evil tongue may not shut up .
And now it smells . It smells as bad as a wine hangover's vomit .
It ain't the smell that comes from my cancer, but from your soul .
So yes, I've got a desease...and you are the sick one .

PS -> That's what happens when you trust wrong people; you cry out your pain, they see your wounds and make it become a cancer as they spread it away .
For some people there is no "news"...you are their own news . It's you in their mouth, and in strangers' ears .
I'm very thankful I have at least a few good friends .

Me, You and My Demons .

With big strong arms
To protect me from everything I can't run away from
To defend me from my ownself
And everything else I fear the most

With big shoulders
Like a roof above my head when the world falls apart
To make me feel sure of better days
And everything that may come

With big hands
To touch me in bed
And to be "The God's helping hand" when I'm bad
Cause all of us go through pain and pleasure

With big eyes
To look at me and see how ugly or evil I can be
And still show mercy
When the last one has left for regarding only my sins

With big nose
Like the wind that blows away the fetid dead flower
Bringing new air
Instead of throwing it away

A big one
Big enough to walk beside me
And strong enough to walk beside my demons

Flowers as a gift...You shouldn't forget them at home .

"You don't bring me flowers
You don't sing me love songs
You hardly talk to me anymore
When I come through the door
At the end of the day

I remember when
You couldn't wait to love me
Used to hate to leave me
Now after lovin' me late at night
When it's good for you, babe
And you're feelin' alright
Well you just roll over
And turn out the light
And you don't bring me flowers anymore
...
And baby, I remember
All the things you taught me
I learned how to laugh
And I learned how to cry
Well I learned how to love
even learned how to lie
So you'd think I could learn
How to tell you goodbye
You don't bring me flowers anymore

Well you'd think I could learn
how to tell you 'goodbye'
You don't say you need me
You don't sing me love songs
You don't bring me flowers anymore..." ( Barbara Streisand and Neil Diamond )

ps: Love is in the eyes of those who bring flowers .
I see flowers in the eyes of those who have their heart fulfilled with love . I see daisy flowers in the young lovers' smile .
Maybe not this time . Maybe next time then .

Purple hopes and shining stars .

Hello "me" :)
I'm starting a new blog cause I got "tired" of the other one I used to have , but this one is also meant to be a "lonely one", I mean, where I write from myself to my ownself. Eventually the other only 4 friends that know I write may come here sometimes, but well, it's impossible not to be "found" sometimes .

One of these days I was thinking about self-searching .
Why do humans keep on an eternal searching for themselves ?
There's absolutly nothing to be found .
Do you really want to find who you are ?
I describe my inside as a dark sky full of purple hopes and shining stars , and these stars have a very bright light so then all may get blinded . You'll never see what's behind and beyond . These stars glows for minutes, days or years, and they rise and fall, as a doubt shows up or fades away. They come and go . All the time. Everytime . My heart is full of singing sins, big sized doubts and simple desires . That's what a forever-working-mind is about . And when it comes to the stars, all I can say is that they are compounded by feelings, dreams and air . Lots of fresh air and doubts .
I really hope no one ever finds me . I don't wanna be caught by my ownself either .
While I wonder about all the growing stars that fufills me, I know, I'm nothing but empty skyes . Young, ignorant, full of fears, and desparattely begging Mother Life, Sacred God, Alá or Shiva to give me a 90 years old lady's experience . Rewritting old ways, walking around in circles . Trying to erase the dead, long ago buried . Predicting the same next old mistake . Already missing what is yet to go away . 'Cause Time is the type of father that never will show you any mercy . And who wants to feel that cold northern blowing wind cutting every inside vein ? I don't really believe someone will ever wish to hear pain's annoucement by bleeding . There's should be better paths then .
So, please, you may touch me with your sweet rough hands, but never with your bitter tender eyes .