De nuevo sucede que no me reconozco. Estuve leyendo mis publicaciones anteriores y no me encuentro en ellas. Pero lo extraño no es eso, sino que ya me ha sucedido antes. Tengo cuadernos y cuadernos llenos en los que en alguna página se repite la misma frase: leo esto y no me reconozco. No importa la esquina en que me cuentre, la Alejandra suicida no reconoce a la optimista y vicerversa. En este instante me siento en un punto intermedio. Es un hecho que no me envuelve la misma obscuridad de hace unos meses, aunque al mismo tiempo la seguridad y el entusiasmo de los que me gusta alardear ahora se me hacen sumamente frágiles. Siento también cómo me desgasta la ambivalencia y es entonces cuando la urgencia por decidirme definitivamente por alguno de los dos extremos me asalta. Debo elegir y no puedo. No sé cómo.

Escribir en la propia lengua para no distanciarse de las palabras, ni de uno mismo.

My birthday’s next Wednesday and so is my blog’s. Thinking about that and since I miss writing here, I’ll redesign it to make it match with my new humor, :).

I think the real reason why I haven’t written here in a while is because I’m not feeling depressed. Or at least, if I am, I don’t have the time to think about it.

Well, it’s something. Isn’t?

Another 8-hours round of practice tomorrow and I think I’ll finally be up-to-date with the piano.

C’mon Alejandra… YES, WE CAN!

A woman, also a Lawyer, with my same name, my same age and working on the same field that I do, was shot today six times by some guys who tried to rob her. Believe me, I don’t know for how much longer I can stand living like this. Violence feels like a ring which is slowly tightening around me.

They gave me a permanent contract. I’ll sign it on Friday and then there will be a whole inauguration circus in which I’m going to shake hands with the Big Boss. Same amount of money, more work. The thing is I don’t exactly enjoy my work; it’s been keeping me out of humor for too long and also obstructing my classes at music school. That makes me -even more- anxious. Actually it makes me unhappy. Now it’s 4:35 in the morning and I can’t sleep thinking about it.  

For months I’ve been experiencing this visceral feeling of disgust that has quite a strange origin: I’ve convinced myself that in order to become an adult, I must eradicate any part of myself that remains naive, confident, warmth or mild. Becoming a distrustful and cold woman is the key to survive. Love is not for everyone (and obviously not for me), loyalty doesn’t exist. Others will trample you without hesitation at the very first sign of weakness. All this has penetrated my whole being to the point I just can’t imagine life functioning differently, but at the same time a part of me refuses to accept it and rather die than cease to be the way it is now, even if it means living in solitude till the end.