i am kinda trying to write a book or something like that, here’s one chapter of it

speaking of which, bubbles!

According to wikipedia, A bubble is a globule of one substance in another, usually gas in a liquid. Due to the Marangoni effect, bubbles may remain intact when they reach the surface of the immersive substance. Soap bubbles can make rainbows in and on itself, what can be seen by observants surrounding it, with the help of sunlight or artificial lightning.

But, there are other types of bubbles, and anyone is susceptible to be raised or live in one. This type of bubble separates one from society, bringing the possibility of a lost of important strings that were possible to everyone outside the bubble, either the lost of chances to form those strings, or the cut of logical and emotional attachment of both sides of that lining.

Of course there are ways to break bubbles, it requires effort, as expected, it’s hard, it’s somewhat dangerous, and one will most likely be affected negatively by doing so. To leave a social-dynastical bubble, one must break their pretenses, know the world, go against everything that they’ve experienced before, just so can see the other side of the fence, and that is what hurts the most, going against the tide means going against something that supported one all their life, monetarily or emotionally, and that will most likely deny the descendant -at least in the beginning- , because such bubble wasn’t made out of nothing, it was built in a set of emotion, presets and knowledge that had much effort built into. Seeing that bubble implode out of thin air hurts, even more that the inheritee will sustain in his whole journey, collectively, and the builder will take the pain out of once, instead of with time -in case of the pupil-, and that pain will sore and scar one for life, reminding and draining the force of the mentor their whole life, until they finally drop dead or finally give up into madness.

And that strength that frank never had.



he was there. By himself, kept saying to himself that was his choice, his isolation was condicioned by the willingness to be alone, said that he couldn’t identify himself with nobody, and that no one would understand his thoughts. He projected his emorions into the personality of others, just to create a excuse to not talk to them, he wasn’t self aware, he couldn’t be, he had no experience of the path of self knowledge, people criticized that to his face, he tried to change, but, as he expected, people don’t change, maybe that negative thought prevented him to change; wasn’t his fault neither, he was raised in a very protective enviroment, that never had him to develop a personality and self thought until he started learning things for himself, to manipulate hard ocasions, even though the hardest it would get didn’t really matter, since he wouldn’t suffer any backlash, hence increasing the boy’s god-complexed, infant and careless personality. Personality which he carried even after his self-aware awakeness, he knew the importance of changing over time, rather than abruptely, he only didn’t know that people don’t change, only appear to change.

so he did end up alone. In his room, masturbating, crying, dancing, cutting, writing, gaming, doing whatever he could to hide his sadness, even though everything he did was a cry for help, his body hated him, his appearance was deplorable, his conversations limited themselves to one or two replies, because he couldn’t care enough to talk to anyone (even though he used that as a argument to the “i chose to be alone” point), his works were becoming a lot more inconsistent in means of schedule and quality, it was noticeable, too noticeable, his sleep schedule was even more inconsistenr than his emotional state or the times that he was putting himself on a pedestal, as he would do in public, to avoid getting hurt or using self deprecation that no one cared about, his refferences were becoming as obscure as they could get. He wasn’t fine, he’d only admit it to one person, and crypted that message to whoever followed him on social media, even though nobody cared anymore. “You will never be 100%”, he knew that, he knew that he was mentally unstable by interacting to other people, and never he could be fine again, “is 80% okay?”, he did think that as he made some poor life decision that led him to the worst time of his life, he wasn’t protected anymore, this was real, blood left his throat, temporaly vision empaired, everything that led to his choice of being alone.

But he had a life, had friends, had family, couldn’t abandon all that because he was down, if he did, the consequences for them would be extreme, probably prison, and, since he thought that much of himself, suicides and drug issues. there wasn’t anything that he could relate anymore in this world, he lived by the things that the others recommend to him, he liked a lot of them, he disliked some, like a normal human being, but with a single twist: his own personal taste was dispised by most, not even his close ones could enjoy what he really liked, what made him become more lonely, nobody were to blame, he understood that, yet, he blamed humanity for not liking and producing more of what he liked; “Thank god for his god complex” was a thing that no one on their right minds would say, which isolated him even more, at the point that he was living in his own little niche bubble, and, in the case that  he would interact with people outside, he would be analised as strange, peculiar, rather weird, but smart in a kinda way that i can’t explain, because it doesn’t make any sense to me, to hear those words that come out of that ignorant little mouth of his.

Interestingly enough, in all of his period of loneliness, he was either with really close friends that knew way too much about him, and of he knew too much about, or with a girlfriend that knew a tad more than his close friends, but never was introduced to them. and so he was alone because of him, bringing the fault to himself, to protect the others from his instability, that alone is enough to destroy a man, and so it did, and with more stuff to cover, it becomes less friends, untill he was really alone, couldn’t talk to anybody, drained out of his forces, it was like he was atlas and he was holding nix from colapsing into the earth, nix being his insecurities, his abnegations, his collection of sorrow, everything bad, and the earth being everything that he deemed worthy. All that without the responsability of paying the rent, having to work, having responsabilities, he could only imagine what a hot mess he would be, even though everyone around projected that he would be really succesful, like everyone around him. The thing is, he only thought of killing himself after finishing studying.

-ActuallyYou, this is not over




I am sad

Tears staining my bedsheets, i don’t wanna be this way, living hurts. The cuts, the agony, the headaches. Is this good enough for you? That’s a question that i have never asked to  anyone. Yet, i seek that answer everyday, for some reason…. I pretend to be good, i pretend to be happy, i pretend to be supportive, to everyone around me. I’m not. Now i only stay alone, hiding that i’m just not able to function, with videogames and videos. I would love to see myself smiling genuinely on the mirror again, i would love to see her smiling just to me once again, still think that i’m too selfish if i ask her that, since i can’t give one back to her, i wish i had the strengh to share this with anyone, to search help, to seach confort, but no, i can only write about it, hide my sadness into the laughter of youtube videos, into the chat of my clan, into my alone time before bed, into emotion-empty masturbation, into the times that i isolate myself to listen to music blazing loud, so i can’t hear the outside.

It’s that façade that tires the most, to the others, i’m just fine and avoiding people, but the truth is: i’m just saving energy, putting up a smile or whatever, projecting your voice, dealing with adhd to make a conversation more bareable, that all demands too much, half hout of talking and interacting means 2 hours more of sleeping in means recover myself, which can be hard sometimes, there is such thing as girlfriends, friends, projects, videos, games and homeworks. Sometimes i don’t care, sometimes it’s worth it, sometimes it’s needed, netheless, it’s still a burden, some people wouldn’t believe that, because i was very extroverted untill 2015, the truth is: i never had enough sleep, my eyes were wether red all the time, or i was so slow that i could never understand what was going around me, that with the Adhd thingy destroyed any chance of me being self aware and caring of another to the point that i hurt myself a lot of times, sometimes bringing some other persons with me, physically or emotionally.

And now i can cry.

Never could before, now it seems like i am crying one time a day. Cried listening to musics, reading messages, playing videogames, for that i am thankful to my last relationship. But crying isn’t just that childish impulse anymore, now it’s triggered by certain feelings and by my mind,

The brain decides whether or not that is worth crying for, if that made a significant impact in your life, enough to change yourself and the way that you treat others. In the other side, the heart gives the impulse to cry, a reason, even if it isn’t logical, so, if they agree, i loose my composure.

A mutual agreement between my heart and my mind that i have to put my emotions out there…

Even if i don’t really do so, which makes the tears drop. The more that i  supress the feelings, the more that that emotion-putrid water leaves my eyes. I guess that the tears are to mourn the loss, my whole life i grew to think that when you loose anything, you really shouldn’t look back and fight to get the next best thing, so you never stop, never appreciate life, never empathize with anything near ot across your eyes, cry with the death of main protagonists of my life was the only acceptable time, without any coercion.

But then, i was enlightened. the same as in relationships, and religion, i couldn’t live with that much pressure every day, nobody should. I did resort to drowning myself, i did resort to overwhelming myself, i did overcompensate sometimes, i’m not ashamed of it, it molded me. Everyone should cry, but they need to understand why first.

It’s not the same anymore

Of course it changes constantly, we are humans, but, usually, those are small chages, barely unoticeable, only experts can realise that it changed, even needing to analyse multiple times. When it changes too much in too little time, one can’t really stand on that quicksand that already left his feet, so he falls, and falls, and falls, untill he can get enough effort to jump on the next piece of semi-solid land, or he falls in depression and sorrow and gets addicted to drugs, to videogames, to loneliness, which weakens the quicksand of others.

I’m crying, i shouldn’t, be strong fot others.