El motor.

 Miro a la maquina frente a mi, su enorme y precisa existencia, miro las suaves curvas de mis manos que parecen ser un contraste ante la rigidez de sus piezas. 

Un contraste que podría ser aplastado por ellas, pero empiezo a escalarla de todos modos, un movimiento rápido aquí y luego varios lentos por allá, la edad me hace precavido, nunca fui demasiado habilidoso tampoco. 

La maquina esta a mi alrededor, no la domino, pero tampoco me impide el paso, me escabullo entre sus piezas, mancho de negro mis manos.

Reflexión ante la llegada de la primavera.

Acabo de recordar, que dar sin medir las consecuencias tiene su propia recompensa, que ese es el modo de mantener momentos perfectos, de aquellos que valen la pena, que he hecho cosas bien que sobrepasan aquellas en que me he equivocado. 

Que quería escribir cosas cursis aunque no lo sabía mientras trataba de ubicar un recuerdo que coincidiera con el extraño clima de hoy, que dormí montones pero aún tengo sueño y también realice los actos que debí hacer, aunque quizá deba aún sumar otros tantos. 

Creo que aquello de saber que ver dentro de lo que te rodea bien lo vale y seguiré haciendo tal cosa. 

Para no olvidarlo entero

 Soñe con una fuente en una zona boscosa de la Ciudad que pretendía ser La Roma pero solo podría existir en los parques de La Condesa, una enorme estatua de sirena adornaba la fuente, se lo que representaba, es interesante que mi cerebro se niegue a la versión real de aquel signo, lo agradezco creo. 

Las primeras palabras después de la catastrofe.

 Me encontré algunas palabras tiradas en el espacio inmenso de mi mente que decidieron prevalecer cuando todas las demás habían sido borradas, lavadas, perdidas. 

Eran palabras sobre el dolor, pero eran mías todavía y de nadie más. 

Parecía la jugada adecuada. 

Small lullaby

 Sleep now, rest well.

Save yourself for tomorrow, the kind of tomorrow that I won't see, the one in which you'll live by yourself, best case scenario you'll tell the stories of your parents, of me, of us all. 

Sleep now and rest well, I know things that I have to do. 

Thoughts before the weekend when I used to be sad all the time.

 I figured I had to write a farewell note to no one in particular as death takes a hold around those that once made the world as I knew it, as death takes a hold on me that way, 

I dreamt of a younger girl with a face like the one who brought an anime to live...

That's who I'm going to wait for, to search for, that's where this is gonna go.

But right now there is no one holding that place, the lists and that stuff it all crumbled down to nothing and it's fine.

I'd need to work on myself but I don't really know how. I feel lost not because of what happened on the first third of the past month but rather I was lost before, the moment I couldn't keep the deadline that meant something. The moment that broke.

Other things remain

Now I know of things that are probably not going to happen, roads that I cannot follow...

I would have loved them maybe. I cannot tell why I had not the strenght to proceed with that. 

Is the last train going home?

How am I gonna use the gifts that I have left? They are some. 

Why am I doing this?

The reflection after the Impact.

"How did the story end?" people are gonna ask in the future, some people, close to you eventually. 
I am the voice inside your head and that's how I know what yer gonna answer "With a fucking void in the middle of my chest that froze my body entirely while threatening to grow bigger and bigger until it destroyed us whole" 
A hole that eventually grew smaller and after sleeping for a whole day and eating nothing but a toast with ham disappeared. 

A hole whose phantom pain might haunt us for days to come, like that thing with the given job and the crappy winter. 

After said winter hits tho a summer rain appeared, a rain that should give us some peace.

And the truth is, I do feel lighter, the spell is finally broken and I can live with that. 

I don't know where we are supposed to go from here...but I have some ideas, the ideas are not about muses n sirens n women right now and that's good enough, it feels like good enough. 

Whatever the future holds is actually a present enygma entirely and there is beauty in that. 

The path is my own. 

There are no more any S-Tier angel ruling it, there is no more storytelling to be preserved, there is only whole new stories to create starting on a new zero. 

The idea should give us some confort and it does. 

Does indeed.