Caring...

I don't care.
Ok maybe I do care.
I know you don't care so I don't care.
But I do care so maybe I'll try to pretend I don't care.
What the hell I can have feelings I'll just be open about caring.
Oh that's right you don't care so why should I?
Maybe you care now?
Nope. You don't care.
Damn I think I care.
Fine, I don't care.
I hate this, maybe that means I care?
Why don't you care?
Why do I care?
Why do we bother?
Are you telling anyone you care?
Will you ask me if I care?
Do you care if I care?
What will you do if I said I care or I don't?
Will you care?
Fuck this I just want silence in my mind.
Nothing is simple.
Ever.
Good night.

Couldn't sleep

I was in my bed, trying to get to sleep. My body was so itchy. My fingers running through my hair. I sighed. My eyes had been closed for hours, but my mind kept talking to me. The same episode played again and again. I swear it had played six times already... If only I could have seen the stars... The moonlight could have comforted me like a blanket and the glittering stars could have sang to me... But instead I just layed there, so conscious of my own breathing, I was going crazy. So conscious of it I was begging for it to stop because I was getting lost in the rhythm; one in, one out. Forcing the next one to be out of sync just to spice things up... I felt so awkward... So then, why didn't I stop messing around and tried to sleep? Fine. So then, I imagined a story: "where could I be? What could I be doing?". And before I knew it, I was waking up from that well deserved sleep.

Feelings

Are you ok?

Yes. (Problem x,y,z, problem 10, memory 100, feeling k692, those words, the echo of those words, the domino effect of the echo of those words, problem A,B and C, and 251 other issues right now). I'm fine.

Uninspired

When I can't write I feel sick.
I hate to be rushed.
I get 10 minutes.
This is shit.
How many bad songs can one write in 10 minutes?
2.
I can write 2 bad songs.
But hey, it's more than I've done in years, so maybe I'm rusty.
For god's sake... What do I have to say?!
What can I teach anyone that can be useful or meaningful?!
***INSERT RANDOM DEEP DEPRESSING FRASE HERE***
Yes, I have lived a lot. Yes, I can share stories. But, what do my stories say? What's the point at all?
I think the correct word is "uninspired".
Blocked...
It's like bad sex...
Ffs....
I need wine.
Good night world, maybe tomorrow I'll write the new bohemian rhapsody, but not today, that's for sure!

I am the earth

I can hear bubbles popping all around me. I'm floating and numb. There is broken glass floating around me. I call you, but I have no voice. I close my eyes and go to that place, the hidden place where I can breathe and move again. Pins and needles pinch my body and I stroke myself. Whispers all around, swirling in a hurricane of mist around me like ghosts. Cold hands holding a candle. Those green eyes poisoned me. Green eyes like the forest, haunted forest where I lay. Bubbles pop and my hair glitters in the sunshine. The ripples in the water twinkle. Whispers. Whispers from many voices whisper together and grow into a whispering shout. Sharp, cold screech like a banshee. I'm floating and screaming like a banshee. I touch my face but I can't feel it. Fat fingers like sausages. I'm in a hidden place, safe from the ghosts, the haunted forest, the glittered water, the popping. Salty air. Fragile lips. Cold lips. You hide in your office behind your desk you're invisible. A ghost screeching and scratching the air. You feel safe in your chair. Hidden from the glitter and candles. Away from the whispers. In your mind you tiptoe in the forest. Green eyes twinkle like fairy dust. Oh those hands are so cold. Cover up my child. Silence under water. You go to the safe place. Under the desk. Behind those eyes. Poisoned from the wax of the candle. Pins and needles on my lips. I lay here, drained from all life. Roots growing from my fingers. Leaves growing from my hair. Rays shine out of my eyes. My smile is a cave where I hide. Oh my soul, oh my heart. Cold breath like stones, soft whispers like moss. Birds in my head. I feel it all. I glitter in the water. Floating in the air, traveling everywhere. Rotten apples. We can live forever. Hold my hand, I am stone, earth and air. Hear me screetch when I scratch the air, in my safe place, biting down, melting on the floor. Pins and needles.

Happy Valentine's day

Sometimes I have words that grow in my brain. When I don't share these words it's like I'm watering them and they grow and grow and then they're so big they won't fit out the gap for me to share them. Sometimes I want to share them, I really do, but these words have grown too big for me to spit them out, and then I just stay there, in silence, talking to myself in my brain. At the most I can say "I want to say something but I can't", and then stay there hoping someone can butter the hole and pull the words out with both hands.

Usually though, I feel I can spit them out and they go through you like a ghost. So it's like I never spoke at all but I'm left feeling confused and unimportant.

Some days I wake up excited about life. I listen to 60's music in my head, dance in the shower and try to look my best. But I feel like the sun, trying to make it a sunny day and you're a black cloud, trying to make it rain.

We have now been together for a long time and I'd like to find a way to tell you I want to fall in love with you again, and for you to fall in love with me too. I want us to fall in love every day, with every smile and every word. I just feel like, well, we don't.

I don't want it to be an effort, I want you to enjoy me. I know we're stressed and busy, but I'd love to leave you a note in your pocket and for you to leave one in mine.

 I know I'm not the only girl in the world, or the best at anything really, I'm no super model or sex-symbol, but I need you to make me feel special... But it should come naturally without you having to read this or without me nagging or getting depressed and not sharing why... I need you to look at me like I'm special. I need to feel lucky. 

I suppose I don't want to share my thoughts because you are allways so, so tired and stressed, I know you're doing it for the family, and that's what stops me sharing my thoughts. I appreciate you, I appreciate what you do for us, and I don't want to seem like I'm complaining or to give you even more stress. So yeah, I swallow my thoughts and hope I won't throw them up in your face one day.

Happy Valentine's day my love, I hope you like the present. xxxxx

Deeper thoughts

Last night I woke up, shocked because I had a nightmare where a man was at the foot of my bed, looking at me. I woke up from the shock. What does this mean? Is this now the moment where I need to write a great philosophical thought about the interpretation of my dream? Maybe it means nothing. Maybe dreams are random. Does anything actually mean anything at all? Do we exist and procreate just to keep existing and procreating? Is that our meaning of life? To exist? Is it all that shallow?
We are a robot made of skin and bones, driven by chemistry. We think we are conscious beings and in fact, we like to consider ourselves highly intelligent and advanced, although at the same time we admire the irony of our civilisation being so destructive. Maybe we are just advanced robots, created by themselves, we want to dominate and rule like a plague; machines are taking over, but the machines are not our phones or gadgets, the machines are you and me, robots with chemistry to push them around our simulated reality, to make us have inclinations and preferences, make us driven or lazy, crazy or sane, in love or psychotic... Maybe it's so random that we exist in the first place that there is only one other "advanced" life form in the universe and we will never know. Our Sun will explode and wipe our existence away, and only leave our radio waves floating in the cold empty solar system, waiting to be discovered, but sadly never will, because of the vast distances, they will never be heard, and we will be forgotten. Our existence, every battle, every fight, every tear, every scream, each kiss, each birth, all the moments, the beauty of our planet, the raw wounds we all hold, cultures, language, music... Everything, will be nothing. It all means nothing, yet we insist in having these deep thoughts, seeking an answer to our curiosity and deep thinking. We are just a speck of dust floating in the air, falling on a newspaper on a land field, forgotten.

Does this make us special? Our need to love, fight, dream and sacrifice, for nothing at all? Does that make us magical? Maybe that's what we want to think, to protect our own way of being and help us from going insane.

Maybe I am not even here. Maybe I am just a cloud floating in space and has randomly gained enough consciousness to create the simulated world I live in. My cold body, my itchy hair, my broken nail, my dry mouth... It might all be made up by myself.

I don't know what I'm waiting for or expecting. Maybe a warm hand on my shoulder, maybe a kick in the ass... Maybe I should dig deep inside my soul and kick my own ass (my soul's ass), and wake up my inner light. I feel I'm a witness of my life. I sit inside my brain and watch through the lock and spy on my life. I should whisper in my ear and be my own comfort, because there's nothing better than not needing from others and being happy with yourself, so I should tell myself this, "I am happy with the life I am witnessing and I will whisper things to myself to make this life the film I'd want to go see at the cinema".

So yeah, this is my mood today.

Good night world.

An introduction

Hello, I suppose this is where I should introduce myself, as it is the first post on this blog. It's weird because I feel I need to tell "you" about myself (my life, the person I think I am, what made me this way, my hopes and dreams......) but yet I feel it's stupid because I have no intention of sharing this, so who am I talking to? Also I suppose I'd prefer not to bring back memories. I feel to explain truly who I am I'd have to start the usual long explanation of everywhere I have lived and why I have moved, it feels very repetitive now because every new person I encounter I need to start the same way: Hello, my name is Samantha, I'm not like everyone else because I'm Spanglish, I have lived here and there then went back then left then bla bla bla bla... And although this is part of the reason I have become who I am, I don't like it to be the introduction of my life and of my person, yet I have no choice. So yes, I want to avoid that part, each section of my life is defined my a new house, a new place to live, and everything that happened or didn't happen as a consequence of that. I can't give any short answers with ice-breakers when I meet someone... Usually, normal people are like: "So, where are you from?", expecting you to say "I'm from (random place)". (You know, the usual small talk chit chat that they ask to be polite and aren't actually too bothered.) And I have no choice but to start "Well, technically I was born in... then we moved to ... and then to... then back to... (long etc)". And then they ask why. Well you can't blame them to be honest, it's not your usual answer that's for sure. And then I don't have a straight forward answer yet again. Some people have asked me if my parents are military or something like that. Nope. It's all a big jumble between "Just-Because" and "Hey-Why-Not". And now I'm cool with that, but trying to explain it all, sort of makes me mention a lot of drama and personal things in between, which you don't usually share with a stranger when they're trying to chat just to be polite... So what is best, should I maybe just choose one place and have a short answer? I suppose I'd feel like I'm lying a little, because I am not one place, I am everywhere I have ever lived, everywhere I have ever visited and everywhere I would have liked to have gone instead (lol).

To know me you have to know my story, my story started somewhere and one day will end somewhere. My story is the places I have been, the people I have met, the words that I have been told and the eyes that witness it all. This is my story, I didn't choose most of it (not that I believe in destiny), but this is the life I am living. I'm grateful for a lot, regrette some and now I'm waiting to see what other paths this life of mine will take.

So yeah, Hi, I'm Samantha. Mother of 2 under 3's. 25. Spanglish and a little messed-up. I hope you enjoy reading me and I apologise in advance for any way-too-personal moments I may share on this page if you happen to stumble across it.