Death by numbers

In my first life I was a singer. Successful but so sad I killed myself. Fame isn't everything, you know.

In my second life I had a beautiful daughter. Her name was Rose. Pretty as a flower but so weak. Oh, so weak. She died when she was two years old. I couldn't live without her. I just couldn't.

My third life wasn't easy either. I fell in love with a man, but I never told him that I loved him. I was too afraid he would break my heart. And then I found out he fell in love with someone else. I couldn't face the fact that he wasn't mine. The pain was too much for me. So I had to leave. And I left. Forever. But he came with me.

In my fourth life I was a heartless bitch. Many men loved me but I never loved any of them. I used them. But I got tired. So tired. My life had no meaning. I had everything I wanted but, at the same time, I had nothing. I felt hollow. I ended my life. I've never felt more alive.

My fifth life was a lonely one. I lost my grandmother and I had no one else. I wanted to see her again. I jumped from a highway bridge and stopped traffic. I was seventeen.

My sixth life was a happy life. I had a husband and two sons. Beautiful boys. But one day my husband decided he wanted to keep us together forever. And he did. He killed us one morning during breakfast.

My seventh life was easy. I had everything, money, health, love. Have you ever woken up one morning and decided you didn't want to live anymore? I did. Not because I was sad, or heartbroken, or ill. I was bored. Plain and simple. The pills I took gave me such a rush I thought I was dreaming. The maid found me by the pool.

In my eight life I was a homeless person. I got eaten by dogs. They found me frozen to death in an alley. I understand why they did it. They were hungry. Just like I was.

In my ninth life I left this world very suddenly. I saw a blinding light and then I died. I got cut in half by a train.

This is my tenth life, and as I am writing this letter, I'm bleeding to death. Oh, no! I didn't try to kill myself. I don't know who did. I just felt the knife penetrate my stomach. 

I wonder how my next life will be. Maybe I'll be a famous painter, or an awesome surfer, or perhaps a very tiny owl that stares at people that walk through the park late at night.

Or maybe, just maybe, I'll be you.

Encebollado

Comerme mi cerebro. Comérmelo como el hígado... encebollado. Cortarlo con cuchillo de plata. Levantar el dedo meñique al agarrar el tenedor. Llevar lentamente el pedazo de cerebro a la boca. Masticarlo y disfrutar los recuerdos, las penas y los miedos. Comerme mi cerebro. Comérmelo como el hígado... encebollado.

Me preguntaste...

Me preguntaste que por qué no tenía novio. Me dijiste que estaba sola porque quería. Tal vez no tengo novio porque a veces siento que no pertenezco a este planeta. Tal vez porque soy una pensadora compulsiva. Tal vez porque soy fanática de Star Wars y estoy enamorada de Chewbacca. Tal vez porque prefiero los Converse a los zapatos de tacón. Tal vez porque prefiero ver una película fantástica o de acción a ver una comedia romántica. Tal vez porque prefiero comprar un libro a una blusa o unos zapatos. Tal vez porque casi siempre me gana la timidez. Tal vez porque en ocasiones prefiero pasar una tarde leyendo a pasarla rodeada de gente a la que pretendo escuchar. Tal vez porque callo cuando debería hablar y hablo cuando no debo. Tal vez porque a veces soy muy bruta y no me doy cuenta cuando un chavo se interesa en mí y toman mis actitudes distantes como indiferencia. Tal vez porque ese monstruo llamado Miedo me secuestra y no me deja ir. Tal vez porque para muchos hombres no es suficiente con que seas auténtica sino que tienes que ser perfecta. Tal vez porque siempre termino queriendo más de lo que me quieren. Tal vez porque muchas veces se necesita decir algo más que un "te quiero". Tal vez porque no soy como todas esas chavas que los hombres consideran "normales" y que tienen tintes de ama de casa. Tal vez porque la soledad se vuelve costumbre y a veces es imposible dejarla. Tal vez porque sé disparar un rifle. Tal vez porque sé un poco sobre carpintería. Tal vez porque mi plática va más allá de la moda y las telenovelas. Tal vez porque prefiero escribir y leer a vivir la realidad. Tal vez porque en realidad no soy de este planeta...

Me preguntaste que por qué no tenía novio, que por qué estaba sola... ahí lo tienes... espero que te convenza mi respuesta.