Mi vida consiste de esperar.
My life consists of waiting.
I've waited my entire life.
I've continuously drawn a self-portrait of myself... though I use the term "portrait" lightly, because my face is never visible.
Since middle school, I've drawn a girl sitting--slouching-- but facing away... in the middle of nowhere... completely alone.
The scenery changes according to what colors I'm feeling. Sometimes it's a snowy park, or the middle of the desert, maybe a dense forest at nighttime, once it was even at the edge of a cliff overlooking the Bay of Biscay.
That's me.
Wilting.
Her brain knows it's never going to come... perhaps it already departed without her... but point is, it's never going to come.
Her heart though... her fucking stupid heart... keeps her sitting there. Hopeful.
Fucking stupid heart.
Each time I find myself patiently waiting on someone... when I'm dressed up and ready, each tick of the passing seconds sinks my heart a bit more.
But maybe... they'll come... now! Or... NOW! Or... I'll just wait a little longer... just a little...
I can wait for hours. Days. Weeks. Months. YEARS.
Seeing how someone breaks a promise, breaks his/her word, without a passing thought on how I might feel... I can't control myself, and I cry.
The carelessness does not infuriate me... it breaks my heart. It constantly reminds me...
It's happening again... You. Don't. Matter.
Those are probably the most bitter tears I shed. Those hurt my soul the most. Those cost me the most.
I wait.
And wait.
And wait.
Each day a little more wilted. Each day a little more tired.
Each day wondering why my heart refuses to just give up and accept the cold, hard facts.
Move on. Be a cold-hearted, self-centered jerk. At least it won't hurt that way.
My life consists of waiting.
I've waited my entire life.
I've continuously drawn a self-portrait of myself... though I use the term "portrait" lightly, because my face is never visible.
Since middle school, I've drawn a girl sitting--slouching-- but facing away... in the middle of nowhere... completely alone.
The scenery changes according to what colors I'm feeling. Sometimes it's a snowy park, or the middle of the desert, maybe a dense forest at nighttime, once it was even at the edge of a cliff overlooking the Bay of Biscay.
That's me.
Wilting.
 |
| And this immediately flashes through my mind... |
Her heart though... her fucking stupid heart... keeps her sitting there. Hopeful.
Fucking stupid heart.
Each time I find myself patiently waiting on someone... when I'm dressed up and ready, each tick of the passing seconds sinks my heart a bit more.
But maybe... they'll come... now! Or... NOW! Or... I'll just wait a little longer... just a little...
I can wait for hours. Days. Weeks. Months. YEARS.
Seeing how someone breaks a promise, breaks his/her word, without a passing thought on how I might feel... I can't control myself, and I cry.
The carelessness does not infuriate me... it breaks my heart. It constantly reminds me...
It's happening again... You. Don't. Matter.
Those are probably the most bitter tears I shed. Those hurt my soul the most. Those cost me the most.
I wait.
And wait.
And wait.
Each day a little more wilted. Each day a little more tired.
Each day wondering why my heart refuses to just give up and accept the cold, hard facts.
Move on. Be a cold-hearted, self-centered jerk. At least it won't hurt that way.
Love is bullshit. Emotion is bullshit. I am a rock. A jerk. I'm an uncaring asshole and proud of it.
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