All posts filed under: (un)written

short stories – essays / cuentos – ensayos

Lost in the Comment Section

When you get paid to be on Facebook for most of your day, you can’t avoid the comments of all the articles, photos, and videos on your feed. You lose your sense of time and space while you read opinions that navigate from rage to praise, through something that might sound smart and something that’s illegible. Even the topics that you would consider safe, like recipes, have managed to be polarizing. You’ll read violent hatred from strangers that comment on the headline of an article. These individuals are passionate about nonsense! There are videos on YouTube that their only appeal is the comments. They are what everyone’s thinking. Comments have become a new measurement on what people think about certain subjects. What is the real purpose behind the comment section? It’s immediate feedback from consumers. It’s an outlet for everyday life where you can pour your thoughts for someone else to read. It’s to leave a print so small that your comment is more likely to become data than it is to be read. Most …

Dios, el amor y ella

«Yo sólo puedo quererte». Así te respondí aquella noche de febrero cuando en mi insolencia eras para mí un fantasma parisino. Te busqué, te besé, me equivoqué y traté de disipar esa espesa niebla. ¡Ay de mí! Pensaba que tenía otra opción. Fui un insensato. En mi ansia una bestia me rondaba por el día agazapada entre las sombras que proyectan los árboles y de noche a mi lado, sobre mi cama, le cantaba hasta que ambos dormíamos sin querer. Creí nunca dudar de tu naturaleza superior y cuando al final te tomé de la mano temí poseerte y luego perderte, como el mendigo que se aferra al incipiente recuerdo de un pasado podrido. Perdido en esa punzante angustia. Así, celada sed, para cuando llegaste ahogado de pena y desconsuelo estaba. Pero ¿será que te pierdo? Sólo deshabitado de mí en la blasfemia, con cada soberbio e imprudente trago. Voy andando al encuentro de mi ausencia en ti, mientras tú, divina, que no estás aquí pero sí allí donde se mira con el corazón… … …

Whishing you well

I wish I could write you an email. Just press send and be done with it. But apparently I have too much self-respect, or at least that’s what I tell myself.   Sometimes I think is just fear paralyzing me as usual.   Sometimes I wish my pain were unshared. I wish I were the only leaving soul with this wrecked heart and I knew for a fact that no one had their existence questioned because the pain of moving on was unbearable.   I wish you thought of me every time you fuck her. I even wish you couldn’t fuck her at all. I wish you could crawl to my feet and I would have the strength to crush you as you crushed me.   Is this human?   Nothing else compares to the need of being loved or set right.   Even when you thought that you moved on you’re set back by the most insignificant thing. Again you become the worst version of yourself, the one you swear you can’t recognize but …

El quinto vagón

Hay un silencio voluntario a las 4:55pm en el metro de la ciudad de México haciendo antesala a la tempestad. Las puertas del quinto vagón se abren con dificultad, a veces alguna no lo hace del todo. Algunos entran para encontrarse con los pasajeros que viajan en este vagón.