Original

Because it is who you are, another sphere in which nobody you won’t allow will ever conquer. You are an original being, your decisions and choices; you are what tore you apart and what built you back together. 

It’s the most intimate thing you can ever share with someone, who you are, your thoughts, hopes and fears, who you aim to be and who you are scared to become. A reminder of your uniqueness. 

I’ve always been told I’m smart, ever since I was a little girl. But there’s more to me than clever. I’ve always been told I’m pretty, I wish I could say I don’t care, but I do. Growing up I noticed the projection of myself was not getting out there clear enough, people often thought I was ‘dumb’. It may have been my attitude, my cheerful ways, overly social personality or even my high pitch voice; but it sure as hell bothered me.

–Hey, I’m not dumb, I’m probably one of the smartest people you’ve ever met. Idiots–

Yeah, a bit narcissistic and conceded. But that is who I am. After taking a chill pill and realizing that overly confident attitude wasn’t gonna get me anywhere, I started noticing some other things that take place inside my head. It’s not all about being smart, it’s about having a restless soul, about wanting to do things and being eager for success. (This song taught me what eager meant back in middle school). A mind that hopes and works for things, that works with schemes and an agenda, that makes plans and rants over last minute changes. A mind that hurts, that overthinks and lives in the past, a mind that remembers and sometimes chooses to forget. Only if you take a close look you will notice the revolution that takes place inside my head, in that beautiful mind of mine. (A Beautiful Mind may be one of my favorite movies ever, and I love the idea of a mind being beautiful, that's my whole point!)

I have a mind that feels music and wishes to be more creative, a mind that learns and shares. Very few things are as fulfilling to me as understanding something and being able to share that knowledge. I have a complex mind, I imagine the inside of my head being like a rollercoaster, a huge structure with many, many ways to get to a finish line that grows when you reach it. I am a random person, someone whose train of thought is not easy to follow; I jump from one idea to the other, I make connections between things without apparent sense, but in my head it does, I relate everything to everyone, and viceversa. I attach meanings to simple things and strip off the ones from big life-changing concepts. (I deeply believe every major thing must happen to me on a thursday and I think God is an idea that helps us take each step forward without sinking in loneliness). 

I don’t mind sharing my mind, letting people in. And I find it veeeeeery satisfying to see someone’s reaction as they notice I’m much more than a pretty face with a 4 year-old’s voice and lack of shame. 

And one day I heard this song and it changed my life. It’s one of those songs that make you say -That’s me-.

I’ve gone places, and I have met people. Some transcendent, some shallow and some who stole a piece of me just to leave an empty spot I later had to fill in by myself. I have an independent mind that won’t ask permission to anybody for anything, I’m authentic, obsessive, impulsive, self-worshiping and fucked up but it is me who is in there.

It’s my ideas and choices who have made all the mistakes, all the building and cleaning to become this strange being that talks to herself, cleans when she is mad and treats her cat like he’s a human being. He is much more honest than 75% of the people I’ve met.



I don’t have a mind, I am a mind, and it is original.

Fricciones

El roce duele, duele porque trasciende. 

Cada vez que nos dejamos tocar por alguien no sólo les permitimos el contacto con nuestro cuerpo, nuestra alma, nuestras ideas y sentir; les otorgamos permiso a tocar nuestra historia.

Un intercambio de piezas que no embonan, que chocan mas no empatan; que se tocan, se golpean, se sienten.

En cada historia hay fricciones; pequeños o grandes roces con quien hoy es pequeño cuando un día fue grande. Pasa el tiempo, aún quema la piel, aún siente el recuerdo. Historias que calan, que enseñaron con golpes, caricias y el roce más ligero. Contacto con quien deposita algo de sí en tu esencia a cambio de robar un fragmento de ella

Es difícil comprender que también hay toques intrascendentes. Caricias que te enseñan a sentir, mas no a tocar. Dejar ir, arrancarse de la piel los días, las semanas; los besos, las miradas. Palabras que hieren y enamoran, ideas que se anclan y arman casa en tu memoria. 

Nombrar mis fricciones es fácil, tienen ficha técnica, fecha de inicio y de terminación. Pero no todo acaba cuando termina. Fricciones que trascienden en la esencia; que cambian el modo en que reaccionas a un gesto amable, a una palabra, a una idea. Fricciones que te hacen vibrar ante la proximidad, fricciones que te enseñan la verdadera intimidad. La misma piel que añora el roce, un día te hizo darle entrada, te hizo querer ser tocada. Desear el contacto, propiciar la fricción; alterar el recuerdo y revivir el ayer para no modificar el hoy. 

Y todo permanece, nada se borra, nada se olvida. El toque ahí está, el cuerpo tiene memoria. La piel reproduce el espasmo, pero es la mente quien anhela, quien se aferra al roce. Todo cambia, y el cambio diluye. Fricciones que nos enseñaron a vivir, a doler con ardor, a recordar con caricias.