On fear.

Here’s an honest post. I don’t think I had ever been this aware of how full of fear I am as I am right now. I am a human FULL of fear. And it sucks. It does. It really does, because I really wasn’t this aware before. And now I just keep seeing my fear in my thoughts over and over. I’m afraid to get myself out there and showing my work (even if I try to do it anyways). I’m afraid to offer photographic sessions, even though I know I’m a great storyteller. I’m afraid while actually thinking about a session itself. I’m afraid about really being capable, about being mediocre, about getting blocked. But not only about that. I’m afraid to talk honestly with close people. I’m afraid of sending letters I’ve wrote from the inside to one that was once my best confident. I’m afraid to give my true opinion often, because people don’t want to hear it. I’m afraid of raising my voice and letting truths out. I’m afraid of wearing clothes that could make me, well, visible; any kind of clothes that are out of my comfort, plain ones. I’m afraid of getting outside of emails, of facing face-to-face situations, of talking on the phone. I’m afraid in meetings, so I often act shy and that makes me seem like a boring, not prepared person. I’m afraid of looking for a side job even if I need the job because it will involve asking and human interaction. I’m afraid of asking for help. I’m afraid of being honest. I’m afraid of creating opportunities for myself because of what it involves. I’m afraid of being weak, or worse, of looking weak. I’m actually afraid of publishing this post. BUT.

Captura de pantalla 2015-08-23 a las 13.54.54

EDIT: I just keep running into more fear wisdom:

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C.

(side note: I should probably take this course)

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I want to remember.

I want to remember the moment I started valuing and infinitely loving the time I spend with him.

I want to remember the pure joy of silence. I want to remember this one time we jumped as if nothing else mattered. DSC_3145 I want to remember that despite everything, M will always be my special one.

I want to remember conversations with C. Movie afternoons with C. Traveling with C. Holding hands real hard when life comes around.

I want to remember the magical wonder of my Instax photos.

I want to remember that I started seriously thinking about giving a try to scrapbooking or art journalling. Basically because I starting giving myself some faith.

I want to remember I wanted to try analogic photography because I found my father’s camera and felt completely in love with it. No news on that yet.

I want to remember I did kinda awesome stuff with a kinda shitty camera. That people started believing in me way more than I did on myself. And that I still dreamt with Canon 5D and 50mm f1.4. And that I forgot my SD card at a concert.

I want to remember that long meetings gave me mental breakdowns. That people should learn to stop repeating themselves and to shut up more. And especially, that people should learn to appreciate others’ time!

I want to remember that I loved the guys in my life.

I want to remember that I did have friends that cared about me when needed. Pretty rad friends. IMG_20150428_234635

(they even made a group and I so didn't expect any of that from them and it felt so special)

(they even made a group and I so didn’t expect any of that from them and it felt so special)

IMG_20150428_235407 I want to remember I was all excited about the #gettoworkbook. Checking their instagram and Elise’s blog daily kinda excited. Bc you know, I’m a non-willing to work / planner lover kinda gal.

I want to remember I faced and won going to the gym. Even if it took 45 minutes back and forth to the dressing room. And feeling the progress. Screenshot_2015-04-28-23-46-58~2 I want to remember this: Screenshot_2015-04-28-23-46-44~3 I want to remember Albert’s wisdom. He’s like the wisest man. (Except for José Luis Sampedro, of course). Now seriously, he’s such a special human being.

“De pronto lo vi claro. Pensando se crean los problemas y bailando se solucionan”

“Espera! Te puedo escribir un proverbio? Pero solo  puedes leerlo un jueves. Solo un jueves. Lo prometes?”

I want to remember this one time he told me “You are such a lovely mess”.

I want to remember my “the universe salutes you” t-shirt because it was such a rad purchase.

I want to remember that I took on the 100 day project with my #100daysoflifethroughme and that the process sucked because I was doing some shit but that I kept going on anyways.

I want to remember and re-read often this incredible Elise’s post about growing. She is such a wise woman.

I want to remember that lil sis was complicated, but that I kept loving her like the first day.

I want to remember that I started believing I could actually have confidence with unusual clothes with Clarissa’s blouse.

I want to remember the excitement of new cutie baby soon! I want to remember I dreamt with doing a project that made a little change in the world and that made me passionate.

I want to remember forevermore Start with why.

I want to remember my good things notebook.

I want to remember my grandma.

I want to remember my grandpa, and when I sneaked into his room just after dying to take his wrist clock. I want to remember the incredibly special night I went to visit him at the hospital. I wish I had done that much much more.

I want to remember how grateful I felt for my parents on my 19th birthday and the photo I took of them dancing.

I want to remember “Short trips and long dances…”.

I want to remember dancing with him.

I want to remember myself. IMG_20150428_234625

C.

Qué difícil vivir, qué difícil…

Qué difícil mantenerte en un estado confortable por dentro, no? Qué difícil no acabar saturada, qué difícil no pudrirte del malhumor, qué difícil pensar cuando la realidad te agota y ocupa tanto. Qué difícil tratar de respirar sin estar sola en un prado tumbada, qué difícil. Qué difícil intentar ser una mejor tú cuando sientes que no puedes porque inevitablemente lo que te rodea no te deja. Qué difícil cuando lo que más necesitas en ese momento no está cerca. Qué difícil intentar no hundirte por tener que volver a la realidad tan pronto, por tener que afrontar tu epic fail académico (un enero más), por la decepción, por que solo un poquito más de descanso, porfa. Ay, que ya me estoy overwhelming. Tan pronto. Tan tarde. Qué difícil solo respirar un poquito más con esa paz.

C.

Reflexiones intensificadas post-Divergente.

Hay un pensamiento que lleva atormentándome durante hace bastante tiempo. A menudo intento apartarlo de mi cabeza, como si pudiese girarle la cabeza y seguir andando; cuanto más lo intento, peores son sus manifestaciones nocturnas. No paro de pensar en el futuro fatal de la humanidad, en cómo precisamente estamos perdiendo aquello que nos hace humanos (humanidad en sí misma) a manos de qué, ¿dinero? ¿la buena vida? No logro entenderlo. Y esto me lleva a preguntarme qué lleva a una minoría de artistas, cada vez más creciente, a recrear futuros –cuanto menos–distópicos. Libros como Un mundo felizDivergenteLos juegos del hambre; películas como HerGattakaJust in time… ¿Es que nadie más se da cuenta? ¿Es que a nadie le preocupa? Me encuentro a mí misma teniendo sueños horrorosos que desaparecen en cuanto me despierto de golpe, consciente de lo que estoy soñando y negándome a volver a dormirme. ¿Por qué a nadie más le preocupa el futuro de la humanidad? ¿Por qué tengo verdaderas crisis existenciales sobre esto cuando al resto parece no importarle lo más mínimo que estemos perdiendo el norte? ¿Por qué nadie va a impedir que este sea el futuro al que acabemos sucumbiéndonos sin ningún tipo de resistencia? ¿Por qué no se nos ponen a todos los pelos de punta cuando se habla de la posibilidad de que se haya creado el SIDA en un laboratorio para obtener beneficios con el medicamento para no morir por él, cuando se habla de que se ha logrado crear vida artificial tras la reproducción total de un genoma de la levadura, cuando se habla de quitar la sanidad pública, cuando se corta la luz sin ningún reparo por el simple y llano dinero? ¿Por qué? Verdaderamente no logro entender por qué a nadie más le preocupa, por qué la mayoría de la gente está esperando deseosa un futuro así. En fin. Demasiado sueño para decir cosas coherentes. Fin de la reflexión.

C.

 

“Quizás ya he aprendido a vivir con todos los te quiero que no te dije.”

"Las cosas que me quedé sin decirte"

Así me siento, y todavía no te he vuelto a ver. He desaprendido a querer, no he vuelto a decir te quiero porque te llevaste mis ganas de querer. Ahora… bueno, ahora huyo. Huyo de querer, huyo porque me agobio, porque me asfixio,porque tengo miedo, porque sigo siendo tan frágil como siempre, porque yo no soy yo. Porque ya no existe yo, porque tengo que reconstruirme de cero, de los pedacitos que dejaste cuando te fuiste con ese “no quiero que nos volvamos desconocidos” que se llevó el viento. Porque finjo como si no me importase nada, como si no estuviese rota, como si no buscase tu pecho para apoyar mi cabeza y tu brazo rodeándome. Como si no me doliese que quieras a otra, como si pudiese tragarme esos te quiero que eran tuyos y ahora no me dejan respirar.

“He olvidado como se duerme sin ti”  “Lo peor fueron los te quiero. Aún los sigo llevando escondidos en diferentes rincones de mi cuerpo. Porque esos no se pueden tragar, no se merecen ser escupidos y no son intercambiables, no se los puedes decir a nadie más.” “Quizá ya he aprendido a vivir con todos los te quiero que no te dije”.

C.