Agave dreams. Agave tears.

Two-thirds of a mezcal bottle have been drunk trying to mend my broken heart.

Perhaps that is not enough, people tell me to just let go and be alone. Maybe they are right because I find it truly hard to pretend that I am a reliable, normal, complete human being. 

Pieces of me, are scattered everywhere, through the world, literally. It is hard to understand how someone can continue to put herself out there... hoping to finally nail it. To get to that moment where you think that all that you fought for and all those sleepless nights were worth something. 

Where are you?

Who are you?

Are you alive?

And I can't find you, regardless of how hard I try to connect. They say that love comes along, that you do not have to look for it. Is it true?

I take another sip of mezcal... another sip of truth. 

For a moment I do not even feel like writing. I just want to sleep and forget everything. Forget us. Forget all my defeats, all my lost battles, and all the different reasons why I am not worth fighting for. 

I am exhausted. 

I just want someone to take my hand, literally, and tell me that everything will be fine. I want him to tell me that we will drive this road together. I want to share my life with someone who shares my beliefs and can see beyond my flaws. 

At times, I feel that I am only that: flaws.

Maybe one day I will be more than flaws to someone. 

I will be flesh and blood. I will be human, I will be real. I will be present. 

I just want to be loved, I just need kindness and understanding. Someone who thinks that I make his world better. 

Do I make this world better?

And I keep trying to convince myself that heroes do not exist. Not in my life. I am my own hero, I am with me, against all odds. And I say to myself: be strong. 

Be strong, Lau. Be strong, baby. 

I keep smiling, I keep hoping that God will not leave my side and perhaps one day when I finally die, I will understand why I never found my soulmate.

Soulmates... sound like science fiction to me. 

And I see you, faceless soulmate. You are driving our car, to some unknown corner of the world. We are running away from a war, a pandemic, or a bunch of zombies. The world feels like a strange place to inhabit today. I look at you and feel that regardless of what happens, we made it all the way here. And I feel grateful for that ephemeral moment where we are us, in that car, in that road. 

And you look back at me and tell me that you love me. 

I love you, you say. 

Me too, I reply. 

I want to fall in love. But it is so fucking hard to embrace that thought when all the versions of you that I meet make me feel not worth fighting for, or as a piece of meat, or not good enough. 

I keep siping. I keep pouring. I keep typing. I feel empty. I feel hopeless. 

And you are gone. Perhaps you never arrived.

Fifty Shades of Rainbows

 This constant search of you... is draining me. I've seen what seems all the shades of gray that this planet could have unfolded to me. Men from different colors, shapes, careers, origins, ages... 

It is exhausting just to remember them. 

I feel trapped, for the first time, I feel how their memories dance around me in a sort of cannibal ritual where they will open my chest, grab my heart, and feist on it... Leaving me there, on the floor, bleeding out my soul until I eventually --finally-- die. 

I never thought that I would reach this point in my life. It feels like a low point. I want to cry every couple of hours, for no good reason. Somehow, crying makes me remember that I am alive. Crying helps me remember that I indeed still have feelings left inside. I am not dead. 

But I feel like that, somedays. Dead. 

And do not get me wrong. I do a lot of stuff every day. Days where my crying minutes are the only space I have to remember that I am more than my working-productive-somehow successful persona. I feel that I have had this mask for a decade. The mask of a person that is well put together. No wonder why so many countries have offered to pay for my brains and courage. I know how to appear to be fine when needed. 

Recently I have had to appear more often than I want to. 

I remember to have felt this way in many countries. It is so clear how this sorrow has come a long way right now as if it was my shadow or my best and only friend. Sorrow is perhaps all the truth I have. 

I cannot express how sharp and clear is this pain, a pain that I've learned to live with. It is so clear that I embrace it, I accept it. I guess this is life because it has been my reality for 8 years. There has not been any change, only glimpses of what I thought I would have found by now. And I understand I cherish so much those brief moments that I have shared with men (all different men) because that is all I have. I conclude that I fall in love so quickly because I have been holding all of it in for so long that I have to have little explosions to continue living without imploding. 

And there I go, exploiting every month or two... believing that I have found you to soon discover that I was wrong. 

I am always wrong. 

Every time I see the scenario unfolding again, the same words, the same eyes, the same sharp feeling of rejection and indifference. Even when they say that they are sorry. Even when they say that they do not want to lose me (as a friend). Even when they say that I am one of the most amazing women that they have met. 

I am not enough. 

Never enough. 

Never the one. 

Never special (truly special).

Nothing. I am nothing. A bunch of diplomas and countries, a bunch of letters and implosions, a bunch of nothing. 

I thought that if I lost weight I would increase my chances. Today, I know that not even looking gorgeous a man would choose me. 

I thought that if I traveled the world I would be more interesting. Today, I know that interesting could be threatening. 

I thought that if I had a Ph.D. I would be respected and admired. Today, I know that it could be intimidating. I know that this is exactly what pulls me out of the pool of what men want. 

I thought that if I loved myself and believed in my convictions I would be loved. Now, I know that this is exactly why I am not.

I thought wrong and I do feel that it is too late to change anything. There is nothing more than precisely me. And I will have to fall in love forever with myself. I do love who I am. I truly believe that I am the most wonderful person I have ever met. So brave, so honest, so sincere... so eager to make this a better world. I love myself because I know everything I have done. All those places I went, all those trains, plains, buses, boats... All those sleepless nights. All those letters. All those kids. All those friends.

And I am crying because I know that I deserve better. I am drifting because I have realized that better doesn't exist. It is only me. 

So... I give up on you. At least today. I give up on finding you and waiting for you. It's been enough. 

I want shades of rainbows because I am colorful and full of life. 

Do not come back to turn me gray again. 

For my love is colorful and truthful and does not belong to you anymore, for you will never appreciate what you do not understand. 

I am ready to be free at last. 

Goodbye men. Hello Lau.  

Luz de Posguerra

 Es un nuevo día y sólo quiero sentir cada partícula de oxígeno que entra a mis pulmones. 

A veces hay días que no sé qué estoy haciendo. ¡Qué va! Creo que casi todo el tiempo no lo sé. De alguna forma he salido ilesa de la guerra que me tocó vivir. No fue una guerra nuclear, no fue una guerra de trincheras, fue una guerra contra un bicho invisible que habitó o pudo habitar a cualquiera, incluso al ser más cercano a mi propia alma. Estos dos años (sí, dos años) nos pidieron alejarnos de lo que más amábamos, nuestros padres, nuestros abuelos, nuestros hermanos, nuestros amantes, nuestros hijos, nuestros amigos... 

Y muchos perdimos nuestra propia libertad o aceptamos perderla para salvarnos o salvar a los que amamos. 

Creo que no tenemos idea de lo profundo que se nos ha metido en el corazón este bicho, incluso a los que hemos logrado librarlo. No tuve covid pero siento que de alguna forma quizás sí, el daño colateral prevalece en mi mente y esa especie de tic que ha quedado de temer al contacto humano sin trapos en la cara (por no decir cubre bocas). Y no puedo imaginar el parteaguas que esta guerra invisible fue para amigos que perdieron a sus padres o familiares, que perdieron su salud, que perdieron sus trabajos y otras oportunidades que se disolvieron conforme los semáforos cambiaban de amarillo a naranja a rojo. 

En medio de esta nueva tormenta parece inevitable aceptar que no queda de otra más que perder el miedo al bicho y seguir. Hemos llegado al tope de su invasión pero al menos parece ya no ser mortal. Y todos seguimos rezando al unísono, esperando que salgamos bien librados, esperando la calma finalmente, la calma después de esta tormenta. 

Esperando un abrazo sin trapos de toda la humanidad. 

Mañana daré mi primera clase en la Universidad que sentó las bases de mi vocación. Volveré ahora como maestra a esos pasillos que hace casi 15 años recorrí como una estudiante idealista. Mañana pasaré filtros sanitarios y sí, me pondré un trapo, pero eso no me quitará el sentimiento de sentirme realmente viva otra vez, viva al estar rodeada de las personas que tendrán nuestro futuro en las siguientes décadas y no de pantallas. No tengo miedo, pero no bajaré la guardia tampoco. Me siento muy afortunada de tener una oportunidad de aportar al mundo algo en medio de estos tiempos históricos. Espero poder hacer una pequeña diferencia, una diferencia que crezca en las manos y los corazones de mis estudiantes. 

Me senté a terminar de preparar mi primera clase y no pude evitar sentir una gran conmoción en mi corazón. Y tuve que volver a este espacio a dejarlo escrito. Porque esto es parte de mi historia y quiero recordar que estuve viva en la pandemia del siglo XXI. 

Gracias a todos los que han creído en mí, saben que siempre contarán conmigo. 

Seguimos aquí. Que este 2022 nos llene dé fuerza para recordar que somos implacables, que somos compasivos, que somos humanos.  

Pero sobre todo, somos amor. 

Mis oraciones están con ustedes, 

Laura