Fluidity.

Let go. Relax your grip on the infamous control you have... or at least pretend to have over everything. Wasn't that the point of this sudden bout of apparent insanity? Weren't you supposed to be surrendering to my desires, instead of forcibly denying your own?

Show me thee feelings, the ones that run deep, consuming and fuelling your power of will. Feed me the endless oxygen of thee passion to accelerate the unstoppable force of that heart of mine that you own. Somehow, somewhere down the line of our friendship, you ruined me for others with your brilliant personality (so perfectly compatible with my own wicked one), your awesomely sharp and agile (and somewhat one tracked) mind, your absolute need of freedom and autonomy and the endless expanse of your creativity; I fell hard in love for you. Sometimes I think you know that I love you as more than a best friend and are consciously trying to stump any efforts I may take to woo you.

I understand, though. You want many things out of life, and I'm not sure I could give them to you, por even accept them as mine too when you have them. Out of desperation I could offer too, I could resign to my dreams and my way of looking at life; I could and would do anything to see you happy. You know it too. We could be so effing great and epic and awesome together. But we both know that either of us resigning would mean that we change in ways we wouldn't know how to deal with, tearing us apart and altering everything. I don't think I'm ready to risk us yet... or if I'll ever be ready.

There's a certain way in which we hold eye contact sometimes that makes me swoon and get this undeniable urge to just kiss you. Out of the blue, unexpectedly, not giving you time to think what the blazes is happening and getting at least a second for me to taste the sweetness of your lips. Sometimes though, I think that perhaps that's just my longing speaking up, making itself known and loud for aknowledgement. The questions remain: will I ever be brave enough to try? Or will I ever be stupid enough to jeopardise it all and send everything spiraling down to hell? Will you ever be clear and stop giving me mixed signals?

This ain't the typical case of the lezzie with a crush on her straight best friend. Or maybe it is. I don't know. But what I know is that I would like it very much if you'd let me kiss you at least once...

A veces -sólo a veces, mind you- me da por recordar conversaciones significativas.

En mi (no tan) corta vida, he tenido una que otra que me han hecho parar y pensar cosas que no se me habían ocurrido, que estaban sin explorar "como Di_s manda", o que simplemente no se me había pegado la real y soberana gana hacerlo, ya fuera por desidia, pereza, inconveniencia o pavor. Debido a eso, creo prudente y necesario agradecerles a mis amigxs las oportunidades que me brindan para pensar y profundizar en aquellas aguas desconocidas.

Admito que una de las más recientes me dejó incómoda, furiosa y frustrada conmigo misma. Eso de saber -o de obligarse a una misma a reconocer- que no se es como se cree que es una, puede resultar ser un golpe al ego, al orgullo y al autoestima. ¿Cómo lidiar con una situación así?

So... My dad's in hospital due to a heart attack. It's the first Sunday he decided to go cycling after at least 8 weeks of lazing around. Yesterday he invited me to go with him, just as we used to do last year, but I declined.

I should have gone with him. I should have been there to get help sooner. I should have kicked my lazy arse and made myself accompany him. Logically and rationally, I know I wouldn't have been able to prevent the heart attack itself, but I have the feeling that he didn't have help immediately when he first needed it.

I'm writing this while waiting for news in the hospital waiting room. And I am hating myself as it is. And I am hoping that my father hates me a little too, because... I should have been there. And I wasn't.