Rellotge de Sorra

A  vegades és com si la meva vida estigués tancada dins un rellotge de sorra mal fet on els grans de sorra van caient lentament i uniformement. En altres paraules, hi ha dies en que la sorra cau de manera fluida, sense oscil·lacions ni sequeres, pel seu propi pes de gravetat i com si res la pogués aturar, amb la simplesa i perfecció d'una gota d'aigua que cau acompanyada de la pluja i s'ajunta, al terra, amb la resta de petites i eternes perletes, com si fos l'únic sentit viable de la realitat. En canvi, altres vegades la sorra cau en aglomeracions, com si fossin pedres feixugues, rocs ensopits de frustracions que buiden de cop grans porcions de la meva vida. De la meva reserva de sorra, lluny de ser infinita. Però, malgrat això, no és com si es tractés de vida sinó més aviat de forces, d'il·lusions, de ganes i de potència. Com si a mesura que la sorra cau i es desgasta jo mateixa m'anés convertint, de mica en mica, en un objecte buit i inútil, en la mostra del pas del temps, en un flascó buit de vidre que no fa més que demostrar que els minuts, les hores i els dies passen i que el temps s'esgota, de la mateixa manera que s'esgoten els somriures i les ganes de viure. Les ganes d'estimar.

Some stupid thoughts

Lately I've been thinking of what allows us to be in peace with ouserlves. Equilibrium. But the problem with equilibrium is you don't just accomplish it and keep it forever. You just don't. You loose it and refind it again. Once and again and again and again.

She was pretty enough to simply die for her bones but she always carried with her this dark kind of sadness, regardless of how bad she tried to hide it, always noticeable in all of her soul whatever her words, her steps and her moves.

Alessia Garnet

Dear Mr Destiny.

Dear Mr Destiny,

Happiness is like drugs: it takes you to heaven in matter of seconds and then, when the dopamine is low, it drags you down and drops you hard against the toughness of floor as if you were nothing but an insignificant piece of nothingness. A broken piece of absolutely nothing at all. And then, when you're already lying on the floor, hopelessly and lost, it comes down to remind you of how good and pleasant it was to be up and high, to remind you of the mere, crazy and magnificent taste of happiness, the taste of what you had been dreaming for a good while and of what you will sadly keep dreaming for a pretty long and painful lapse of coming time. 

-Fuck you. Screw you. -

Afterwards, if it isn't yet bad enough, there it goes, straight into your mouth, the harsh and bitter savour of wilt fulfilling your soul with the regret of having tried this bit of happiness and, still even worse, the strange and deep desire of never wanting to try it again. By the way, my dear Mr Destiny, I can well recall having expressed, once upon a time, my mournful desire of becoming emotionless, instead, I can't understand why I keep falling and stumbling over the same rock once after another. May I have offended the gods or might my karma be terribly wicked but now, I warn you, hopes and illusions are no limitless and, most terrible: wounds do not always heal.

-Stepping on the right way in the wrong timing. - 

Destiny is a great piece of an asshole and cupid is a fucking drug-addict.

Mr Sarcasm: 1. Me: 0.

Alessia Garnet

(in a very very blue mood)

La materia de los sueños.

Creo que estamos hechos de la materia de los sueños. ¿Qué porqué lo pienso? Porque si no, las cosas que hacemos día tras día carecerían de sentido alguno. Porque si no, seriamos incapaces de acostarnos cada noche y liberar nuestras mentes a mundos desconocidos. Porque si no, enamorarnos una vez tras otra sería imposible. Ya, el amor. Se lo que piensas. Pero dale la vuelta. ¿Cómo, si no, conseguiría alguien hacerte sonreír cuando tus labios siguen aun sellados a los suyos? Piénsalo, dale la vuelta y déjate soñar.

________________English version:

I believe we're made of dreams fabric. Why do I think so? Because, otherwise, the things we do day after day would lack total sense. Because, otherwise, we would be utterly unable of going to bed every night and free our minds to totally unknown worlds. Because, otherwise, falling in love once and again would never be possible. Sure, love. I know what you are thinking. But turn it over. How, otherwise, would someone be able to make you smile when your lips are still sealed to his/hers? Think about it, turn it over and let yourself dream.

Alessia Garnet.

Some stupid thoughts.

A veces tengo mil y una cosas que decir y otras veces es simplemente como si me hubieran robado el abedecedario entero. A veces creo que se lo que quiero y otras es como si no fuera más que un río que deambula pendiente abajo al gusto de la corriente. ¿Entiendes lo que quiero decir? Es como si nunca llegara a tener del todo las correas de mi vida en mis manos, como si las elecciones se escaparan de mis labios al igual que los suspiros. Como si los días se desprendieran de mi al igual que lo hacen las hojas en otoño al despedirse de las copas de sus árboles. Es como si sintiera que la vida ralentiza su ritmo para decirme que algo va mal, como para avisarme de que algo se avecina y aun asi, no ser cierto, no ser más que un colapso de emociones incomprendidas, algo que escapa mi razón y revuelve las ideas de mi cabeza como si de asustadizas mariposas se tratase.
Alessia Garnet.

________________________________________English version:

Sometimes I have plenty of things to say and other times it's as if I had simply been stolen the whole ABC. Sometimes I believe I know what I aim but then it is as if I was nothing but a river that flows down the slope in accordance with the stream. Do you know what I mean? It is as if I never achieved to ride my own life, as if decisions escaped out between my lips as if they were sighs. As if days went wasted from me in the same way that leaves fall from trees when autumn comes. It is as if I could feel how life slows its rhythm to tell me something is going wrong, as if to advice me of something which is approaching and still, all of these being just a terrible collapse of misunderstood emotions, something out of reach from my reasoning, something that stirs up and down the ideas in my head as if they were nothing but frightened butterflies.
Alessia Garnet.