domingo, 8 de diciembre de 2013

El que abrio las puertas de mi closet

No todos los hombres mencionados en este blog han estado en mi closet ( no en el de mi cuarto en todo caso), tal vez en el closet de mis recuerdos donde escondo alguna travesuras y tal vez no las escondo de todos, solo de la mayoría, y por ultimo quizás no todos los mencionados se merecen la categoría de hombres...

Se me ha vuelto una necesidad antes que empiece a olvidarme de ellos, porque me divierte mucho el recuerdo de algunos, me entristece el recuerdo de otros, me calientan  muy pocos pero... ja ja hay que ser sinceros algunos tienen mas espacio en mi closet.

Mi ex fue el primero en este closet el primero que "abrió las puertas" porque antes se habían asomado tal vez hasta se quisieron hacer espacio pero no!!! mi virtud virginal no me lo permitía... eso y el miedo al sida y a quedar embarazada muy joven.

Tenía yo 19 años estaba castigada por salir demasiado de fiesta estaba aburrida y estaba en una de esas redes sociales donde conocías gente para luego tenerlo de amigo en el msn que en ese momento estaba muy de moda, y bueno cuando la computadora es lo mas cerca a la "window"  que te puedes asomar no había de otra. Me agrego un chico de mi ciudad porque para esto por lo general agregabas gente de países lejos para que ni por chance se le ocurra acosarte.

Me hice medio amiga de este chico por msn hablábamos bastante y luego me decía para que vaya a estas fiestas en no se que discotecas y yo no podía salir, y yo no quería salir la verdad estaba perdiendo mucho peso desde que regrese de Estados Unidos pero aun me sentía gorda y obvio tenia miedo al rechazo real no el cybernetico!

Un día el amigo de una amiga que me enamoraba también por msn aunque nosotros ya nos conociamos, me dejo plantada y no vino a visitarme como quedo de hacerlo, yo estaba muy molesta y llame las JM las iniciales de su nombre. Ya habíamos hablado antes en el teléfono así que le conté que estaba aburrida en mi casa y me dijo que vaya a una de esas fiestas le dije que no podía y me fui a dormir. Al día siguiente el amigo de mi amiga que desde ahora llamare "trauma" volvió a llamarme y decirme que quería verme le dije si podía recogerme de la universidad y dijo que ya y a la hora llamo para decir nuevamente que no podía. Que creen que hice?? llame a JM que gustoso vino a recogerme y luego fuimos al parque cerca a mi universidad ahí hablamos mucho fue mejor que por teléfono nos reímos aun mas y el estaba sorprendido de lo loca que yo estaba. Siempre doy la impresión que estoy un poco zafada en verdad no entiendo porque...  tal vez porque no tengo mucho filtro al hablar y porque hablo mucho, porque digo muchas groserías y porque a mi la gente mas loca me parece la mas normal por ende creo que yo actuó normal.

Luego fuimos a su casa a ver películas la verdad todo sucedió muy naturalmente era como si nos conociésemos de toda la vida el tomo mi mano casi inmediatamente para caminar juntos yo no la quite, y eso que a mi eso me fastidia, fuimos a su casa subimos a ver tele nos echamos juntos en el sofa el trato de besarme varias veces y yo no deje que lo hiciera... si soy sincera no se que porque no lo deje yo me moría de ganas pero algo en mi hizo que me porte como una señorita bien portada, me gustaba verlo sufrir, ademas dejaba que se acercara y luego no respondía el beso y le decía No No!

Que ternura me da recordar esto, JM era un chico tan dulce era tan niño pero se las daba de seductor y eso me causaba aun mas ternura yo lo quise desde que lo conocí. Luego fuimos a la casa de su amigo que era un verdadero idiota y se peleo con el porque lo quería hacer quedar como un tonto delante mío yo que tengo una lengua muy aguda lo ataque con mis frases despectivas varias veces y eso no le gusto nada. Pero tampoco buscaba que se agarren a golpes como querían hacerlo ese imbécil empujo a JM cuando el le dio un palmazo en el hombro para que se calle. Yo salí a llamar a mi papá para que me recoja de la casa de su otro amigo que era el dueño de la casa el era un chico mas cool un pothead. Mi papá llego rápido y JM me acompaño hasta el auto me dio un beso cerca a los labios y pensé que no lo vería mas.

El chico " trauma" me llamo de nuevo quería verme le dije que yo no quería verlo insistió le dije que no, dijo que igual vendría y como era de suponerse jamas vino, yo no estaba nada triste en realidad ni me di cuenta JM me llamo en ese momento y hablamos como 3 horas y nos citamos para vernos al día siguiente donde por fin deje que me besara, todo era tan natural desde ahi no dejamos de hablar ni de vernos eramos inseparables. El chico trauma me mando unos mensajes idiota y cuando los lei por fin me di cuenta que eso de dejarme plantada era una estrategia suya para que cayera redondita cuando se decidiera por fin a verme, el idiota este no sabía que no le iba a dejar abrir las puertas de mi closet jamas!!! 

Así que le mande un mensaje muy sutil: " Dejame en paz, no quiero verte nunca quise verte! y nunca hubiera pasado nada y lo sabes"

Luego vinieron los días mas lindos de mi relación de la primera relación que seria una relación seria porque podía respirarse de lejos el amor que nos teníamos el uno por el otro nosotros; nos enamoramos en el parque la primera tarde que pasamos juntos cuando le dije que no me llame "bonita" que yo tengo un  nombre y que si se le olvidaba se podía también olvidar de mi.

Un día decidí salir con unas amigas a un hostel donde una amiga trabajaba yo no entendía bien que era un hostel en esos días solo sabia que muchos extranjeros se quedaban ahí y que cuando íbamos al bar del hostel ellos nos compraban las cervezas y nos llevaban a bailar esperando algo mas supongo, si me gustaba alguno lo besaba y luego me iba nada mas, solo había ido dos veces las dos veces tuve mucho éxito entre esos chicos y JM lo sabía creo que se lo conté antes en nuestras conversas del msn así que cuando le dije que estaba haciendo hora para entrar al bar después de ver el corso en el parque, me pidio que no fuera le dije que iba a quedarme en la casa de mi amiga porque ya era tarde para volver sola a mi casa y que por eso tenía que ir, me dijo que el quería verme pero que estaba en el cumple de su mejor amigo... en media hora ya estaba en el parque y me dijo que me podía llevar a mi casa asi que deje a mi amiga y los turistas que nos invitaban cerveza y me fui con JM estabamos viendo películas en mi casa y aun no estabamos juntos oficialmente pero habiamos estado saliendo y yo solo esperaba la pregunta, tomamos unos tragos que prepare lo lleve a mi cuarto desinhibida por el alcohol y porque mi mama no estaba en casa,  porque por alguna razón sabía que todo iba a estar bien que al día siguiente no me sentirla usada ni sucia ni asustada ni abandonada ni nada este chico estaba dispuesto a estar ahí para mi siempre y esa era la llave de mi closet, fui muy feliz de despertar a su lado y que me pidiera ser su enamorada oficialmente cuando la mayoría de idiotas hubiera simplemente disfrutado el momento de robarse la virginidad de una chica y luego irse, el quería quedarse, el quería que yo fuese de el siempre, me regalo una pulsera tejida, y jugamos en las sabanas mucho rato tuvimos que limpiar y lavarlas. Luego fuimos aun mas inseparables nuestro amor era puro e inocente, lastimosamente yo madure y crecí y también mis expectativas de la vida y de mis metas personales y el era el mismo inmaduro y tierno... yo con el dolor de dos almas que son una me atreví a separarlas y lo deje. 

Por casi un año abuse de su amor infinito por mi, destruí cuanta relación el empezaba solo por no perder su adoración por mi, jugué con sus sentimientos y lo siento muchísimo JM pero no te preocupes llegaron un par de idiotas que me lo hicieron pagar todo, es mas tu fuiste uno de esos idiotas que un día simplemente me insultaste me ignoraste y aun no me hablas... también me dolió verte tan mal que fumas diez veces mas de cuando estábamos juntos que estas mas delgado y ojeroso que casi no te afeitas  siento que te abandone... pero créeme no fue así solo necesitaba ir lejos y tu me atabas y me sofocabas, no me sentía protegida, te entiendo el resentimiento hacia a mí, pero siempre siempre guardare tu foto en mi velador, los peluches que me diste, tengo contados todos los girasoles que me entregaste y seras siempre el chico que abrió las puertas de mi closet y descubrió todo lo que había dentro, miedo, amor, dulzura, pasión y todo lo que te pude dar. Tu estas guardado para siempre en el.


          .

sábado, 7 de diciembre de 2013

First man on my closet and the yelowish flower carpet

Tac tac tac tac tac.... delete everything and once again I am writting and deleting. I won’t delete anymore : is a compromise.

Everything around me seems to goes fast and everything inside me seems to go slow I am not processing fast enough and I am bitten up, I am torn, I keep going.

When I was seven I prayed every night until the time I start attending university maybe even after that,  the true is that I forgot when I stopped praying; I am not sure I do not believe in god. But I am only sure that I started praying when I was seven. I had a good reason to become a really good prayer…

I was scared, I did not finish my homework and I was too tired to even try, I wonder why such a young kid should have been in a stressed situation like that, homework should not exist, homework should be replace with 1 extra hour in school to do those duties because it might take a few hours at home but it is only because we have TV, computers, videogames and other thousand distractions according to what our parents can afford and want to afford. I was seven and I loved loosing myself on the TV and my fairy tale princesses histories, spending my afternoons with my dolls or my Mario bross Nintendo games, I was never a define type of kid was never too girly or too much of a tomboy either, I was extremely quiet until I was seven as well, I did not wanted to talk, I did not like other kids they were too annoying.  I had a sister we would  painted and destroyed enough things during the week and 2 boy cousins to play soccer on the weekends and destroy more things…

One afternoon I would prefer my dolls and Mario (oh well ok Luigi because I am the younger sister), I went to bed and as I was covering under my blankets and trying to dream of rainbows, it hit me: I never finished my homework. I was half sleep and half desperate to jump off the bed and start doing my homework. But my half sleep  did not let me get up I was rolling around my bed shaking off my laziness I was about to be a good responsible girl and do as I should... my eyes looking at the door, my feet moving to my right to slip of my softy and cousy bed and then a noise a whistle a wind whistle, I knew that but I was only seven it was dark and there was a small window above my doorframe from there I could see my tree it was mine yes, also it was my sisters and my parents, but I love it more than they did,  I sat on the stairs and watch my little tree for hours I used to watch its violet flowers turn fuchsia on spring and turned yellow on the fall... there is no rain in Lima but there was rain for me… a rain of weak yellowish flowers,

I never knew the name of those flowers I always ask people what are they called, they answer and I never catch it, is like I do not mind not knowing what took hours and hours of my time. I used to roll around on those weak yellowish flowers; they were like carpets in the small patio that was in the middle of our first home, of my parents room, the kitchen, my sister and I´s room and the living room, Oh and the one bathroom we had it was a small house 100m2 but it seem so big because we had a garage and the patio and the tree and the small second floor made of wood it was as weak as the yellowish flowers. Flowers that were hanging on those full of thorns branches they were my friends and my enemies. At night they used to show me creepy forms trough my window that’s why I covered my eyes with my blanket before I went to sleep I couldn’t sleep if even a little of the nightlight went through my room and when there was a full moon there was light across those branches making scary shapes. So I rolled inside my blankets again and I look up a little, there was a frame painting of Jesus, it was there for as long I could remember and I knew what I had to do:

“Dear lord I am only a child and I have never asked you more than toys, so tomorrow can you please do me a favor and don’t let the teacher come close to my notebook and notice I have not done my homework. Amen".

Next day I was safe she never ask for our homework I completed it anyways that day; it was good my mum wouldn’t punish me if I was good at school. I know it sounds harsh but my mum would beat us up sometimes, but she was sick she was crazy she was in pain she was cheated on.

I prayed everyday and ask for things go my way. The results were amazing I felt close to god because he definitely listened to me (obviously) it was because I was very good, I have never abuse his love I did my homework always and try hard for things I wanted, I had good grades mostly because I was lucky I was born with lots of brains unlike my sister she was not stupid o dumb or anything she was just normal and my unusual brains made her look less smart when she was never less smart than most people. It just happens I never need it help with my homework and I was quite and I liked reading so I was a small nerd. And she was more interested on painting. I had a secret books were fun, also numbers, but music was even more fun to me but my voice was yet too small, small and shy like me.

One day I forgot my homework but I also forget praying, next day I was grounded for not doing my homework. My mum pulled my hair really bad. I hated her. I feel pity for that now; she is ashamed every time I said to her that if my sister or I ever become violent is probably a trauma caused by her. I do not say this with any anger or intention to make her feel bad I always add that I understand it was wrong but I also understand she was ill. Mistakes come with guilt, with shame, with learning. If you don’t experience the above then they were not mistakes those were your willingly actions.

My parents were in a rocky situation, the divorce was coming soon I did not know what it was but it usually meant daddy goes away, a girl in my class told that to my teacher.

I prayed, I prayed, prayed hard, and even took my blanket to the floor and sleep there as part of a sacrifice to mend my parents fight they tried, she tried. He already fucked it up too much. He was never sorry for her only, only maybe sorry for leaving us. He is my father but he is also a heartless man sometimes. He loves me, and I try to love him as well.

I was a kid and I did not lose hope I prayed for us to be together again, I cried so much I was part of this pain of their epic fights, she kept hurting us one day it was too much my nanny got on the way and she hurt her.

We lock ourselves in the bathroom and held each other , we covered with a towel and cry hours till she got tired and her rage was gone she went to her room. We run to ours my nanny still with us crying with us. “she is your mother, she is your mother"... I hate her I hate her she made my dad went away!

"Don’t say that Cali"
“she is bad she is evil I hate her"

I was mute I was crying I could not hate, not my mum I always said I did, but never did really I was in rage that is all. My sister she really hated, I think she hated the situation she was hopeless and I was full of it even when everything seemed adverse for us.

Our family was gone, I used to think I had lots of memories but the true is I do not my mum she was gone all the time, the nannies change a lot until Camucha, my sister is so close and loving with me now but back then she was a big evil sister she bullied me. I was a loner, a dancing silent singer in the yellowish flowers carpet. I was very unhappy because all I wanted was to be happy. And everyone around me was not, my nanny she was the unhappy.

She was sweet and nice to us but she cried a lot, she could not eat no trough her mouth anyways. I love her, she taught me real pain and real regret she taught me about mistakes and the regret and the guilt that comes with it.

He left and he did not care how much he was hurting us he was not happy either… I guess he was never; he learnt at a young age that he was born from a mother that was maybe rapped and gave away her child to her sterile sister my grandma , she was unhappy as well sort of a saint for the people around her another bitch that hurt my mum to me. Now I see she was being a mother to her child, not the best one but she was so proud of him she would have not dare to correct him afraid to lose him, to lose her beloved child that was never hers.  She died of cancer long agonizing cancer. I am sorry for you grandma I really am they let you died not even in your room... I guess that’s the hell people talk about. I never hated her I just never understood her, she is a saint to many she was nice to me she kept her rol, but she did not love me I was pretty enough for them to want to hold me and kiss me all the time. I was one of those babies people just couldn’t resist, one of those girls that make dads with boys want a girl, a mother with daughter try her daughters be prettier I was insanely cute.

I hated it, being cute was hell, the bites in my nose, the mess in my hair, the lipstick in my chicks, the candy... oh well I guess that was ok.

I still have some of those features my hair still curls, my chicks still chubby, my nose is a round button, and now I wear the red lipstick. I don’t think I’m that cute anymore thought I still smile too much, people who just met me in a good mood cannot believe how much I can hold a smile.

My mum went to a therapist she was less aggressive, I was praying as always, I was smart as always,  my sister was an average at school, she was sometimes bullied, we did not know.

There was a bad teacher once who make her take the blame for something I said that could screw up my teacher I did not understand the situation, I think she did not either and that was why she took the bullet for me... although i was not the responsible but that bad teacher who manipulated us on believing we were the bad ones, Bitch heartless bitch.


My sister stood in front of all the students admitting something she has not done she was so ashamed and I watched and I did not know I was not sure...I should have said something.

It passed as everything it passes I was just a kid , the other teachers were not they knew they knew my sister was not selling stupid paper dolls, my teacher was selling them for money I guess she need it money but you can’t do that in a school is just wrong. I said to people that she was because I did not know it was supposed to be a secret she told me now you said it was your sister, she called my sister and said you will said you did or your sister will get in troubles because they will know she talks too much.

I felt bad for talking so much the true even now I never know when is supposed to be a secret unless you make it clear before you tell me...

I am stupidly honest or I was unless with my romantic feeling now I am more cautious… I used not care I still don’t but some people just freak out too easily I hope someday (I pray someday) I will find someone stupidly honest when it comes to feelings… well the first man in my closet it was a sort of secret relationship, me and Jesus we talked every night for years and now well we are still friends these days. I kept my faith because everytime I close my eyes and feel how hurted I am again by someone, by a lie, by things that are not under my control, I can always go back to my yellowish flower carpet and rolled around because nothing is too bad the world is full of bad situations pain and suffer but also is full of hope, of music of a warm smile of an honest true and then my troubles, in my yellowish flower carpet my oh so BIG TROUBLES become a serious of bad decisions that time will heal and I wish for the world to have it as easy as me.