Autobiografia

Recuerdo dias de nieve, noches de peliculas, masa de galletas, e idas al parque.

Recuerdo dias de lluvia, y de sol; idas a al playa o al museo.

Recuerdo sonrisas y lagrimas; gritos y abrasos.

Recuerdo dias de escuela, dias de flojera, y dias de quehacer.

Recuerdo libros y bibliotecas, aventuras que empezaban con salir de la casa, y travesuras.

Tantas memorias que no cabrian en dos cuartillas solamente, pues una vida, la que sea (y no creo que la mia se un poco mas anormal que las demas), es increiblemente importante como para resumirla.

Estoy de acuerdo en que mi vida a sido increiblemente normal – llegando a aburrida – aunque si un poco solitaria, acompanada de los personajes de mis libros favoritos y de ver la misma pelicula una y otra vez, siendo algo que mi mama llama: “obsesiva” (esta, una cualidad que aun poseo a mis 18 años). He tenido bajas y altas; perdido personas a las que admiraba y queria muchisimo.

He superado situaciones y me he defendido tercamente de personas increiblemente comprometidas en perder su vida tratando de hacer la mia imposible.

He tenido problemas de ansiedad y de baja autoestima; y por mas que me guste la paz y la tranquilidad, mi peor pesadilla es estar sola, olvidada, por las personas que mas quiero.

Me da panico estar en el foco de atencion, pero quiero ser escuchada, las ideas fluyen a mi mente y tengo tanto que decir.

Soy timida y fragil, pero tambien fuerte y gritona.

He fallado tantas veces en lo que quiero conseguir, algunas veces por descuidos, otros en los que no importa cuanto me esfuerze, no lo logro.

Me gusta escribir, y dibujar; patinar y usar mi arco (a veces imaginandome a alguna que otra persona que me trae de malas...), pero mas que nada, me encanta vivir, pasar cada dia, superar los retos que se me interponen y convivir con la bella gente a la que veo todos los dias. Se que no soy una persona con la que es facil convivir, se que no me abro mucho a los demas, pero tengo un mensaje:

No traten de ser alguien mas, sean ustedes mismos; sean normales, pues nada malo serlo. Sean normales, y sean increibles y brillantes, pues lo dificil no es ser sobresaliente, sino ser normales y aceptarlo, pues una vez que lo logras, automaticamente seras sobresaliente.

Algunos Dibujos/ Some Drawings

Axis: Crossroads. Chapter 1 (DEMO)

Chapter 1

Ben Miller

University Corridor

“Hey, you!” the cleared skinned boy who was walking through the corridor shouted. “I heard there was a newbie on campus this semester, is that you?”

Ben breathed deeply, his forehead pressing to the back of his locker, where he had been putting all the books he wouldn’t need for his classes, before turning to look at the voice who called him. Most definitely he was dealing with a Smith; Ben hadn’t had a peaceful year since the family had moved back to the city, and of course, the mocking tone which he had talked clearly meant that the boy was one of those bullies.

“Well, yeah,” Ben answered, trying not to lose his calm, while he closed his locker door with one hand and fiercely grabbed his backpack with the other. “Pleasure meeting you. I must go, bye!”

He walked quickly, trying to get as far as possible, or, at least, get to the security of his classroom; bit a hand took hold of his shoulder, and pushed him against the nearest locker. The backpack fell from Ben’s hand, and his eyesight blurred for a moment, before someone – Smith, he presumed – banged his head against the wall with such a force that Ben felt a terrible ache on the back of his head.

“Hey, you idiot!” The hand holding Ben let go, and he slid to the floor, his back still pressed against the locker wall, his support gone; but Ben didn’t care. He knew that voice. It belonged to his friend, Mauricio.

Mauricio on the corridor while someone was beating his friend meant problems, and Ben wondered if Isaac was over there too. That would only cause more problems, and that was the last thing that he wanted.

Smith turned towards Ben’s good friend, and he wasn’t surprised to see the fury written all over his face.

“And who are you to get between this newbie and me, eh? He is going through his initiation,” his lips opened fiercely and saliva drops escaped from between them.

Mauricio frowned, pale, as every time he got mad, his dark eyes moving furiously between the bully and Ben, who was still lying on the floor. His mouth was unusually thin, almost like a line, the joy that his face normally had now gone. Ben knew that Mauricio was the most childish of the room, usually denominated as ‘the joker’, but he also knew that if someone threatened his friends, he could also be the most dangerous. Ben usually admired his loyalty, but in the moment, he lamented it. Mauricio would get in trouble for trying to help him, and he couldn’t afford that luxury.

“Are you okay?” his friend asked, and Ben nodded, and, although his head was still aching and he would most likely have a bruise the next morning, he did so as to try to calm Mauricio. It didn’t work. “What do you think you’re doing?”

Smith snorted.

“What do you think I’m doing? I am giving a welcome beating to this loser!”

A crowd started to form on the corridor, gawking at the show.

A growl escaped Mauricio’s throat, and he took a step towards Smith, whose name Ben still didn’t know, their noses almost touching in a gesture that could only be defined as threatening – at least, if Mauricio weren’t using his signature unmatched clothes, which make him look kind of like a clown, in Ben’s opinion.

“He, who you’ve been messing with is my friend!”

Smith laughed mockingly and his little group followed his lead, like a bunch of idiots.

“Your friend! Does that even exist? What, did your mommies take you to the park every Friday?”

“Don’t talk about what you don’t know anything about!” Mauricio exclaimed, his pupils dilating from the anger, and Ben almost groaned to hear the growing whispers of the crowd, all shouting the same word, over and over again: “Fight, Fight!” Almost following the request of observers, Smith snapped his knuckles and exclaimed:

“Maybe you losers and friends of losers should die once and for all, then you wouldn’t have to hear my most sincere opinions!”

Mauricio growled again and threw himself against Smith, throwing punches and knuckles against skin with the same strength which they were returned. Ben started to get up slowly, gripping his head in pain at the movement and tried to walk the way towards Mauricio; his ears rumbling with the loud cries of: “Fight, Fight!” He had to get to his friend before both idiots killed each other.

“Enough! Stop this instant or else!” A new voice shouted, a graver, deeper one, full of authority, and Ben knew he had been too slow. In the corridor, walking through the crowd – which was now running away as to not be punished – was the principal.

“What do you think you’re doing, Lopez, Smith?” asked the man, once both were away from each other; Mauricio helping Ben from stumbling towards the floor, and looking proud of his bruised eye, bloodied lips and his starting-to-turn-all-sort-of-colors skin.

“Sir,” said Smith, while he threw some killer glares to both Ben and Mauricio. “I was simply giving a warm welcome to the newbie when this idiot started to get angry for no reason whatsoever.”

“Uh huh, good try Tyler Smith,” the principal said, crossing his arms and pointing his finger towards Ben’s bruises. “Then what’s this? I may know your father, Smith, but that doesn’t excuse you from following the rules. Come to my office after class; and please, Lopez, Miller, go to class now.”

“Yes, sir,” the three of them muttered, starting to move towards their classrooms, or corridors.

“And, Smith, Miller and Lopez,” said the principal while he looked at each of them. “If there is any news of a fight this big between you, or caused by you, don’t doubt that you will be expelled immediately. This fight between students has gone too far. You are here to study, not to kill each other! Is that understood?” they nodded quickly, “Alright, to your classrooms, go!”

Faith S. Jordan

There were times when Faith Jordan didn’t know what to think of herself, like when she felt scared, angry and sad at the same time, that she just didn’t know what to feel anymore. Then, there were times when she was happy, and so excited about life that she couldn’t wait for things to happen.

She had always been like that – ever since she was a little girl, when she used to read – when she loved to read. She had been one with the book, and the book was one with her, and she used to be pirates, wizards, witches, fairies, princesses, friends, heroes and even villains – and, oh, could she sympathize with each of them! All of them oh, so lonely, just like her. So lost, so, so lost, but so dedicated, so brave, ready to change the world.

Before her mother’s untimely death, they used to read together. Faith’s father often joked about their book obsession – because that was what it was: an obsession, maybe even an addiction, a way to escape reality, escape from every day’s troubles and problems, from the pain of a lonely heart.

But then, her mom had died, and what once had been a blessing, a best friend, turned into a dark reminder of what Faith’s need to be someone had cost.

It had been a stormy week, and Faith hadn’t wanted to leave home to play like everybody else – in the rain, or maybe even to make little paper boats with her neighbors before tossing them to water puddles. Oh, no. She had been stubborn and childish, and had forced her mom to go to the library to check out a book she had been reading earlier on school that day. She had been horrible to her mom, so uncaring, cold and selfish, and that had resulted on her mom leaving the home alone, as it started to rain again, never to return.

It had been a terrible car crash, her father had told her. The car was nearly completely destroyed, and her mom gone forever. A drunk driver had crashed into her mother’s car, right into the side her mom had been in, but he had escaped, with none other than that a few bruises and cuts. If there was anyone Faith blamed more than herself for that day, it was that driver.

As she got older, as she got over the death of her mom, she became lonelier than ever, turning again to the comfort of books: of fantastical characters and magical plots. In time, books stopped being painful, and began to be a memory, a hug, a reminder of her mum, of the wonderful woman she had been, and everything that she had ever taught Faith.

That’s why she decided to go into Creative Writing at University, to always remember and keep a piece of the person who mattered most – her mom – with her at all times. She even made a friend, Amanda, who at first didn’t understand Faith, but that with time became close with.

Ever since her mother’s death, she developed anxiety, her hands sweated, and her head ached constantly. She worried about her loved ones; Dad and Amanda, and unconsciously bit her nails when extremely nervous.

When she got into University, she met someone called Isaac Evans.

At first sight, he was handsome and dark, a fact for which she was embarrassed thinking about when she found out who he was. The son of her and her dad’s number one enemy: the guy who had been on the other side of the car crash – the drunk.

Oh, how she hated Isaac on that moment – from that moment. His dad was responsible for her dear mom’s death, how could she not? She decided to avoid him at any cost – closing the door on his face (quite literally) one time he tried to make peace for his dad’s actions, after she had screamed at him at school about the accident, which he hadn’t known anything about.

And then, at the end of the semester, the professor just ‘decided’ to make them a team for the final project: write a story.

Oh, she had been furious! Faith had nearly told her father about the incident, as he already knew about Isaac being a classmate – that hadn’t been fun.

But she was too proud to go running to daddy’s arms. Instead, she hesitantly and angrily followed her teacher’s instructions to make the project with him.

After they had a heated fight about the topic, they decided to meet each week to work, and she started to get to know him better. Faith learned that his parents neglected him, not caring about his problems, and that that had made him a bit independent – and he also confessed to dating Roxie Dean only to please his parents, even though he had not felt anything more than friendship for a while. And Faith started to think a lot about Isaac. She caught herself on a daydream more often than not. She even admitted to Amanda that she liked him, after a round of denial; but she didn’t try anything with him, as he was still with Roxie.

Faith started to doubt him a little bit – if he liked her, then, wouldn’t he be faster? And even though it hurt her to no end, she watched as Isaac and Roxie’s relationship got better – sometimes even crying herself to sleep, the times it hurt too much to watch.

And then, finally, Isaac uncovered Roxie’s secret. She had been dating her high school sweetheart, Tom, for a long time, ever since the semester had begun. Faith had been Isaac’s shoulder to lean on, assuring him that he was worth it, that he was wonderful when it happened, he kissed her, and it was the best kiss of all, the first that Faith had ever had. And even though her head had been aching, she felt some anxiety disappear, finally, after her mom’s dead, she was whole again.

Frio

Parecía que tan pronto había llegado la temporada de frío, las calles se volvían tristes y solitarias, pues, aunque la vista era hermosa, con pequeños copos de nieve cayendo del cielo, no se veía ningún alma en ellas. No podía culpar a las personas de esta ciudad; si yo pudiera también me escondería debajo de mis cálidas cobijas, tomando sorbos de una caliente taza llena de té, viendo una maratón de todas mis series favoritas.

Pero no, existía algo llamado escuela, y era de “suma importancia” que fuera – o al menos, eso decían mis padres. A ellos no les importaba el hecho de que llevara solo la mitad de la tarea (la otra mitad había sucumbido al frío hace varios minutos), o que sentía todas mis extremidades tan frías que más bien se podía decir que no las sentía para nada.

Había tomado el camión hacia la escuela, tratando de escapar silencios incomodos en el automóvil de mi padre, pero ahora que estaba en él supe que había sido una mala idea. Un espeso vapor salía de mi boca y empañaba el vidrio de la ventana, tapando la vista del exterior y haciendo que solo se percibieran sombras y colores borrosos. Posé un dedo sobre ella dibujando un copo, finas gotas de agua se deslizaban por la ventana a su paso.

Me sobresalte cuando el camión se detuvo bruscamente, interrumpiendo mis pensamientos de manera forzada; instintivamente miré por la ventana, pues a pesar de su poca nitidez alcancé a notar que esa era mi parada. Apurada me levante y corrí hacia las puertas; en el último escalón el camión empezó a moverse, y tuve que saltar para no caer.

Auch, pensé. Había sido un mal salto, y si no hubiese estado el piso cubierto de una espesa capa de nieve me hubiera lastimado mucho más; aun así, mis rodillas estaban cubiertas de la espesa capa blanca y empezaban a mojarse a medida de que mi temperatura corporal derretía la nieve a mi alrededor. Me levante lentamente, sintiéndome increíblemente congelada, estaba segura de que mis labios se empezaban a teñir de azul. Una gran ráfaga de viento chocó contra mí, y maldije en voz baja por mi suerte.

Sentía mis dientes chocando entre ellos, y ninguna parte de mi parecía mantenerse quieta; estaba temblando de frío. Inconscientemente mis brazos me abrazaron débilmente, tratando de mantener calor. Estaba empapada, congelada y no traía ningún cambio de ropa.

Una mano se posó en mi hombro, asustándome, pero sin hacerme mover un musculo, simplemente ya no tenía la energía necesaria para hacerlo. Una sombra paso a mi lado, parándose delante de mí y finalmente pude enfocar la vista lo suficiente como para decir que se trataba de un muchacho.

-Hola.- me dijo. – Perdón si te asuste. Pensé que podrías necesitar esto.

Extendió su mano, la cual traía agarrada una gruesa chamarra. Voltee a verlo, incrédula, notando que el solo traía puesto un sweater; el muchacho se había quitado la cálida chamarra para dármela.

-N-no.- le dije, tartamudeando. – Tu-tu qued-dat-tela. Morirás-s de f-frío.

Pero el muchacho solo sonrió mientras pasaba la chamarra por mi espalda, noté inmediatamente la diferencia, lo que antes se había sentido tan frio, tan entumecido por él, ahora recobraba algo de calor, y me sentí aliviada.

-Nada de eso.- me dijo, tomándome el brazo y ayudándome a caminar fuera de la nieve y hacia el limpio pavimento. – Tú lo necesitas mucho más que yo.

Le sonreí débilmente.

-Pues, tengo q-que admitir que si me siento al-algo mejor. Gracias.

-No hay de que.- dijo mientras alborotaba su cabello negro. Noté que el muchacho tenía las facciones de una manera que se podría denominar “apuesto”. Me sonroje al sentir su mirada sobre mí. – Me llamo Aarón.

Extendió su mano y la tomé.

-Yo soy F-Francis.

-Mucho gusto de conocerte, Francis. Ven, vamos a un lugar más cálido.

Al principio del día estaba segura de que iba a ser uno de los peores, pero ahora, mientras admiraba los ojos oscuros del muchacho que me dirigía a un café cercano, por primera vez me sentí agradecida por el frío.

28th of December 2013, 6:03 pm

What makes us who we are? What is what makes each and every one of us so important?
I used to think that I wasn't worth things, because of some experiences in my life, and I used to believe that people like me were just spares, to lighten the mood. I would sit by and never talk, do things that were demanded of me, without thinking why was I doing them - always gave one gift expecting two in return.
Now I understand things differently, and that makes you think about all your choices and your decisions - this part of life, growing up, makes you think about everything and it makes me feel guilty about how selfish I've been.
I mean, life isn't about just standing still, waiting for something to happen. Life isn't dreaming and never act upon your dreams. Life isn't waiting for the perfect guy to come without talking to anyone.
Life is so much, much more than that.
Life is making friends, and talking with that aunt you never talked before with. Life is leaving home and having incredibly normal, perfect adventures. Life is going out, and having fun, and learning things. Life is about failures, about understanding them, about being a better person from them. Life is about giving love, and not expecting anything in return - it is about being selfless, and kind, and amazing, all without forgetting what kind of person we are, all without forgetting that we are normal.
And that's wonderful.

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