How to Create a Monster, Pt. 2

Hello? Is any body there? Wouldn't be surprised if my Good Ol' Three Faithful Readers had moved on to better things in their lives; things like playing video games, reading books, getting jobs, studying or even making babies. So, not that I am back, how do you create a monster you ask? Not updating your blog for tree months certainly is a way to create some! I shall be honest, from then to now I lost my train of thought, but I have a good idea of what I had meant to say back then.

In the last entry I spoke how the terrorizing monster of yore turn into relatively good men as they grow up. My point, obviously, is that the good kids of yore are the ones who turn into monsters as they grow up. That good manered kid you know today will probably turn into a cold-hearted bastard as he grows up.

My take is this: most of the time these goody-good-two-shoes are a bunch of naive people who think the world is as well intentioned as they are. But the harsh reality is the world is not well intended, and it is waiting to bite right back at you every time it is able to do so. So guess who are the ones bitten most often according to my reasoning? Indeed, the good manered, goody-good-two-shoes because they "thought they cared about me."

So this naive people get their dreams broken, and they realize the hard way - through personal pain, be it of the physical or emotional type - that the world is not a pretty place. Over time, they build barriers around them to protect themselves from the sick, sad world. You can think of this emotional barriers in the same line of concrete walls and fences on our home's backyards: they alienate us from our neightbors because we are afraid of them, afraid of someone looking through our windows at our private lives, afraid of someone coming into our territory and harming us, afraid of commuting with others; that is the reason we erect walls that divide our homes: to protect us.

In this way our goody-good-two-shoes will, over time, build walls around himself which will lead him to turn into a cold-hearted, monster. In that way if he just does not care he will not be hurt. So in time people will come back to him to ask for his help or advice and he will not give a damn; people are gonna be dying when the heavens wash away them away with heavy rain and he will not give a damn; old loves will come back asking for tender care and he will not give a damn. Everything will be crumbling around him in all its glory but he will be alright because he does not give a damn about it.

These are scary monsters not because they are ugly or because they want to directly harm you. They are monsters because, though they do not want to purposely harm you, they also will not be willing to care if you are alive or not. They will as easily greet you with a smile on a monday morning as waving goodbye when you are fired; one day they will attend your son's birthday party and the next day attend your funeral all while worrying about the job that needs to be done.

That's how Monsters are created.

There are some caveats to all these ideas I'm venting in the wild. The first of them is that I am polirizing the situation; going from one extreme to the other: the bully-type monster goes to a hard-working man while the goody-good-two-shoes goes to a monster as time goes on. I must say that at no point is this a law; if we imagined all this as a line with a label "Monster" on one extreme and "Goody-Two-Shoes" at the other, then there will certainly be people who will end up at some point in between - heck, meybe even most people will end up somewhere in between. Also, I think this "in-between-a-goody-two-shoes-monster" is the best position to be in.

Second: serial killers, raping pedophiles and those type of monsters are not normal people; they're sick... way beyond just sick... therefore they are not accounted for here.

Now, if this seems like not my usual post, it's because it is not. I'm at work right now and writing while updating some computers and dealing with stupid user's questions - both the users and the questions are stupid, so I do not have my mind in full writing mode. For other news, my own personal website will soon be put live; which means I will be moving this blog to the my new page. I'll let you know when it happens.

Aaaaah, it's good to be back.

How to Create a Monster, Pt. 1

Hello there! I would be very surprised if anyone - even my Good Ol' Three Faithful Readers - still read all the mumblings of a poor sould like me. But today I just need to vent mysefl so here I am.

Welcome to Part 1 of "How to Create a Monster." Those of you out there who know me are aware that I love horror movies - and I stress the word... love... in that sentence - and might think this is about a sci-fi kind of monster. Well, it is not; it's about creating a real life, human monster. And first, let me begin by defining what a monster is, directly from my favorite online dictionary:
mon·ster // Pronunciation Key(mnstr)

1.

a. An imaginary or legendary creature, such as a centaur or Harpy, that combines parts from various animal or human forms.

b. A creature having a strange or frightening appearance.

2. An animal, a plant, or other organism having structural defects or deformities.

3. Pathology. A fetus or an infant that is grotesquely abnormal and usually not viable.

4. A very large animal, plant, or object.

5. One who inspires horror or disgust: a monster of selfishness.

Since I already established I would focus on real life, human monsters, you can guess I am more interested in the last definition found here: "One who inspires horror or disgust." If there are any American readers, let me put a mental image of what this means: Osama Bin Laden. I am sure just by thinking of him you frowned. But since not all my readers might be American, let me try a more generic image of a human monster: Charles Manson. We all know the attrocities he did and I am sure he surely classifies as a human monster. Unless, of course, you have issues. But these two monsters I present could still be defined as... well... monster for the pain, suffering and death they have caused. In a way, and I will personally admit to this, I might have been a little extremist while choosing this two men.

Furthering my definition of Monster on this post, let me say that I want to focus on the more... shall we call them... subtle monsters; those that walk around in the realm of ordinary human beings. People whom just being around with makes you uncomfortable. Remember that teacher who did not care your mother just died in the weekend, could you please explain why you did not bring the homework? That is a monster. There is a man out there, somewhere in many parts in the world who goes by many names who only cares about himself, whose mantra is to be above all others through power, corruption, money and fear; a man who tricks and cheats and would even use his own son's as objects with the selfish purpose of getting him advanteges through fixed marriages, exploitation or selling them because, honestly honey, we cannot afford a baby in the family, especially not after I just adquired a new Jaguar to pay so why don't we make happy a sterile family and give him away? Then he smiles and kisses his wife on the forehead. Or the business man who sacrificed his best friend and competition on the company to ensure his career; the same businessman who is later taken from those he should be with as the days and the years are passing by but there are planes to catch and bills to pay and much to do to teach them how to throw and as he looks from the outside he realizes he is no longer a part of them until one day all his worldy poseesions are crumbling around him in all their glory and in his weakining days he was sure he'd have fun one day only now the sphincter in his chest and a failing heart won't let him get up to see the shinning sun outside his blinding window shades.

Those are monsters I want to talk about. Subtle. Hidden. Destructive.

Some say these monsters are born, not bred; but I digress that idea. Sure, I am not saying I am an expert on the field, but from my empiric knowledge in my very small and insecure life that began at an amanzingly unlikely birth amidst this universe that keeps on expanding and expanding in all directions like a meticulous handcrafted waltz at the speed of life, you know, twelve million miles a minute which is the fastest speed there is, is that there were many such monsters in my elementary school years also know as Bullies: a person who is habitually cruel or overbearing, especially to smaller or weaker people.

The kid that pulled little girls pony tail; who took your lunch money "for your safety"; who constantly took the fun away from your recess games; a ruffian who often made a trip to the principal's office. And even though if you failed your conduct grading three times in a row you were kicked out of school he was not because people deserve a second chance at bettering themselves. Let me make a statement here, which I think is important: I might sound sour at bullies during my childhood, but I am not. For some particular reason I cannot fully comprehend, and even though I think I classified as the nerdy kinda boy, bullies at my school barely messed with me. Furthermore, at certain point during my education, they played particularly important roles in my life as emotional, yet unexpected, support. It's as if for some odd reason they liked me and steered clear of me.

And in that lies and even more awkward situation in my life. Years after I went to middle school and into my professional education I met some of those bullies of yore and found them to be very likable men. Hell, the absolute worst kid at my secundary school, the one who rumors said he sold drugs, beat his mom and many, many other things turned out to be a very faithful christian. When he used to yell "get the hell out of my way, pussy" with a push on secundary school, now he greets you with a "God be with you brother." Another of the most notorious bullies in my elemental years turned out to be my pastor on my Confirmation. Most of them have made one-eighty turns like that.

So, I have discussed people who went from being a Monster yore to a respectable, hard-working man of today. In Part 2 I will try to explore how is it then, that the Monsters of today might be created.

But! That won't happen until I come back from vacations. Where am I going? Albuquerque. I don't know what's there, but I will find out.

I guess I shall find out why this weekend!

Cheeri-o!

From Love to Disdain

Hey there. I know, I know; I do not care. Piss off.

Some of you might recognize the title of this post from the lyrics of a Dream Theater song titled "Misunderstood." Indeed, an interesting question: how does one turn from love to disdain?

I believe that there are two basic emotions that happen without needing any real reason: love and hate. Sometimes we love someone for no particular reason at all. There a people who call it "love at first sight;" I personally would call it "lust at first sigh," but that's just me and right now I am sour... maybe that has to do something with it. I also think there are two extremes to this watchamacallit-love thing: one is pure, hardcore, non-explainable love and the other is sexual tension. Basically, sexual tension is when you feel attracted to someone else for no special reason other than copulate... and no more. This "feeling" is irrelevant to my post. I wanna focus on the other one; the so-called pure, unreasonable love.

You see, it just happens. Literally, you fall in love; one day you begin loving the way the other person walks, yearning for the other person's aroma, a sympathy for the other's smile; the way the air brushes the significant's hair, his/her movements. Hell, you would even hug your honey-bunny's cute, chubby feces if you had the chance. But like the phrase indicates, you fall... slowly... through a vortex, little by little. It's a tingle at first and suddenly you start needing the other person to function.

The other emotion is hate. It also just happens. Maybe you hate someone for their particular hair style, their annoying voice, their smell. Or maybe just their prescence for no particular reason. But if you had the chance you would beat their living souls out of them and enjoy it with supreme joy beyond any comparison. Did they do anything to you to make you be angry at them? No, just the fact they breathe oxygen in the same world as you.

But then the relationship reaches the climax, the maximum point of extasis in which one of the involved parts' heart must be crushed. And how, indeed, do you turn from love to disdain?

You hate them. If you ever really, truly loved the other person then you know there is no middle ground; there's no "friends." All there can be is hate; from one extreme to the other, like a battery. I know it would be pretty lovely if we could just have a switch in the manner people say "just forget and carry on," but there is not - unless you are an insensible bastard to begin with. There's love and there's hate.

But in the same way you fell in love you must fall in hate, in disdain. Still you now face a more difficult task because falling in love is unconscious, it just happens; and now you must do it willingly. Learn to hate the way the other persona walks, repulse their aroma, dislike the other's smile... you get the idea... and so reach a point in which you no longer care. Complete, utter, total disdain.

Will it turn you into a cold, hearless son-of-a-gun? Yeah, but by then you no longer care.

Of being a god

Sometimes gods walk amongst us.

There are moments in life when us mere humans become something more than what our frail bodies allow. To give you a quick example of one of these cases: the Steelers became walking, human gods as they held the Lombardi Trophy over their heads. That was a moment which crowned those players and set them above par, above every other human being in the world as they bathed with all the glory and honor.

Just as a note, I am not trying to be disrespectful to The Powers That Be. And I am also not a Steelers fan. It is just that at times like winning the Super Bowl, no matter what team, they are transported to a land of make believe and those men become invincible, unstoppable and immortal. I suppose there are many moments like that in life and they come in very different flavours for many people. From your first kiss to holding your newborn baby all the way through walking on the moon to your first Hello-World program.

Oddly enough I believe that it is through competition that we achieve those moments of unparallel glory. There are two basic types of competitions according to the Gospel of the Great Fry: The first are individual competitions, in which you have no one else to beat but yourself. I personally do not remember many of these moments, maybe because I like to believe I have me under control; sure I back fire from time to time like a firecracker or an atom bomb, depending on the situation. Or maybe just because I have bad memory. Some of these moments involve overcoming your own fears, beating your own apathy and achieving your own goals. All in all, these are moments that make you stand tall and be proud of yourself. Personal victories that no one else can understand. I have never gone to a titty-bar, for no particular reason other than my own, moralistic and maybe retrograde conviction if you wish; but it is still a personal victory over no one but myself that no one can completely understand - and yes Victoria, I have never gone to a titty-bar.

The other competitions involve others. We are talking basically about sports, tournaments, whatever involves beating an opponent; a victor and a loser. I am not a sports-man per se, but I love this victories the most. Because when you are down field, you meet your rival in the eye; and it is in that small moment of eye contact that you realize that in order to achieve victory you have to win. And to win, you need not only beat yourself but your rival two; because you are at identical conditions, you both wear the shoulders and helmets like an armor, both have their bodies prepared, both have our minds atuned to the same goal, and both are fighting the individual battle to control your fear, your anger, your anxiety. At that moment the difference between you and your rival, winning and losing, between the glory or the void, are not the tools or the skills since both have that. It is who has the will and the might to win. So in order to win you have to beat your rival's will and impose your might. Be it chess or football, he with the most passion and desire wins.

But here are certain factors that elevates some type of competitions above others and that, ultimately, take you to real, human godliness. The first is playing in a team. In a 1-on-1 game it is your will against your rival's; yet in a team game, it has to be the total sum of the blue team's will against the red team's will. Back when I was an offensive lineman, many a one time I beat my defensive counterpart; sat them on their butt, take them to the ground, hold them at the line of scrimmage and opened highways for my running back to go through. Yet my victory over the poor soul in front of me meant nothing if a lineman from the other side did not do his job thus ending the play with a sacked quartebac; my victory meant nothing when a receiver dropped the ball; my victory meant nothing when the defense did not do their job. It was a team, and just like a machine need to be tuned up, we all needed to be atuned to the same desire, pasion and will to win. Thanks to The Powers That Be, we all had the same drive to win and so we won - most - games.

The second factor that must be met to take you to manly godliness is to have all the competitions at the same time; against yourself, against a rival and against a team. Like that machine at the county fair in which you put a quarter for a chance to use a mechanic claw and take home the loose teddy bear to your Honey Bunny, those battles take you from among the common mass of mere mortals, grab you by the soul and takes you to another level above others. Turns you into a god.

When I played football, all three battles took place. I had to beat myself during training; so many times I wished to leave the team - almost did once -, so many times I felt like my body could take no more, so many times I feared the monster in front of me, and many more times I had the taste of fear in my mouth, pain in my muscles, scars on my body and tiredom in my mind which made me want to go home crying for mommy and hide behind her dress. But still, everyday I was the second player to arrive at the training field - just after Capi -, still every time the defense took the ball I was the first offensive player running to the field and the first lineman at the huddle. Because everyday and every game I beat myself; I told me that I had proven naught to myself until I had won; to take the abuse on my body just one more day. And so I did.

At the field, I had a rival in front of me. A lineman or a linebacker. Some were more hardened than me. Others were faster. Most were more violent. But I can safely say that none of them had the will and mightiness in their souls because every game I beat them play after play. Sure, in order to rise you have to fall sometimes, but at the end of the day I had stood taller than my opponent. Some times just as I was running to the scrimmage line to take our positions for the incoming scramble I looked at the eyes of the guy in front of me, and I just loved the tint of despair and hopelesness in his eyes; because he knew he was beaten. And it is then that I smiled not in an over-confident way but with that yearns for more.

Lastly, we were a team. And it was as a team that we sometimes lost and sometimes won. It was as a team that one day at training we, the offensive linemen, sang "Hi-ho, hi-ho, it is off to work we go" together while carrying our beloved training tires to the field. It was as a team that we chanted under Chino's command while running around the training field. It was as a team that we laughed when my car burned in the parking lot. It was as a team that we ran under the hail storm. It was as a team that we stood tall when everyone though we would not even win a game.

Maybe it is no coincidence that I am having these thoughts, or rather, memories of old times at this point in my life. Especially those concerning the time when I played football back in the good days. Now, more than ever, I need to be reminded what I want; I need to be reminded how to do stuff; I need to be reminded that I am more than just another one of the bunch. Because I once were.

Back then I felt like a god.

Those Beautiful Places

Hello there!

I know, I know, I have been a bad boy for not posting. But hey, I am a busy man! ... *eyes around* ... right... Though I must say that I did find a job. Or rather, an "occupation." Do not ask me hoy the heck it happened, but a company back in my home city got word that I developed a small PocketPC system for taking drive-thru orders at a local fast food joint. So one fine day they contact me and ask me to help them develop more or less the same thing but in a bigger, better and improved version. To which I said: "Hell yeah!"

Now, here's the funny part though. Back in my good ol' school days I had a class in which we had to develop a system for a real "client." I quote it because it was not a real, real client per se, but a teacher who we had to treat like a client. I remember that by the end of the semester I realized some teams implemented a lot less functionality in the system that what we where doing. So I asked those teams how come they did not develop some stuff and their answer was simply: "Because we negotiated with the client, and we arranged to have less requirements." My jaw dropped at that moment. Of course! You can negotiate to do less stuff, or at least to do the easier requirements. Silly us, breaking our heads to do certain complicated requirements we had to meet when we could have negotiated our way out of them.

But I learned my lesson well... ooooh yes. Because I was not hired as a full-time employee but some kind of freelancer, I negotiated with the company. And in my negotiations I over-estimated the time it would take me to develop the system. Most importantly - and sincerely, I do not know how they agreed to this - we settled that I could work at home. HOME! Of course, I have to prove my progress and comply to certain conditions they set, but I am at HOME! That has to be one of the best job benefits anyone can find.

So there I am, coding in my chair - with wheels... oooh yes -, with a Coke by my side - there's a new flavour in the US: "Black Cherry Vainilla Coke;" and being the marketing whore that I am, I bough a 24-packer -, working when I want, taking a dump when I want, listening to the music I want, reading the new Stephen King novel - Cell - when I want, watching pr0n when I want, playing a horror movie when I want, enjoying World of WarCraft when I want, wear the clothes I want or none if I please... wow... Yeah, the pay is not really gonna be THAT much, but these benefits are really hard to beat, eh?

My only problem is... even with my over-estimated proyect schedule, this might only last two month at the most... but hey, I will enjoy it.

In other news! I am in pain. No, not some kind of figurative spiritual kinda pain but real physical pain. Some of you know that I once played Football as a lineman. Some even know that that particular year is the best year in my whole life. Just remembering the physical pain from training camp, the yelling, the insults, the hits... wow... the pain... it brings a tear to my eye. Best thing to ever happen to me up until now - I'm still waiting for you, My Dove.

That was years ago. But it came back with a vengeance.

A friend of mine called one of these days to inform me that I had been registered in the school's flag football team and that the next day we were playing. To which I said: "Are you friggin' nuts dude?!" I ceratainly am in no condition to play flag football, much less the next day! Yet, what could I do.

And the day came. Oh boy, did I prepare myself in my mind. I looked everywhere for my old football equipment; nitros, tables, knee-pads and everything. Then the final touch. Like a priest who during the Consagration at Mass, I slowly walked to my closet and opened. I eyed all my clothing, and it all became irrelevant; right at that moment nothing existed around me but three particular shirts which I keep and care deeply for. There they stood, like an altar to the good time: a small sweater my grandmother knitted for me many years ago; a torn, long sleeved sweater that clearly has seen better days; and a faded shirt that so long ago used to be black.

There they stood with an aura coming out of them. Back in the days those three garments where with me in each and every game under my football equipment. Like the mail clothing the middle age warriors wore under their armor before going to battle; that is what the shoulders, helmet, and my three garments were: my armor. Just touching them flooded my head with memories. Memories of all those games. Of all the training. Of the victory. The loses. The glory. The screams. The tears. The blood. The scars. The sweat.

The game.

Slowly I put the small sweater on, then the long sleveed one on top. Finally the faded shirt. They are not much, but they make me feel protected. As if the cloth with which they are women were capable of stopping anything coming at me. There were no shoulders this time - it is flag football after all. I work my way into the bathroom and look for tape. Lightly I put tape around my middle and anular fingers in my left hand because for some odd reason I cannot go into the field without doing that first. Some players wear the same socks the day before the game, some wear lucky charms. I tape those two fingers together.

Off I went to the field. Most of the members of our flag team are old team members of old. Comrades who had stood with me in the gloryful days of the game. There we stood again, together. Old maybe, some of us somewhat crippled, another stood drunk and all of us out of shape. But there were twothings we hadthat the other, younger teams did not. Experience; we might be out of shape, but we know what it is like to be in the field and we know how to do our job. We do not need speed, nor strenght to do it because we have the know-how. The other thing we have in our advantage is the most important.

We had us.

We know how to work together, how we think. And we know we have our backs. Those ties that binds us together as one, organic team. We took the field and looked at each other in the eyes and anyone could see we had a certain sparkle in them. The sparkle you could see in the eyes of old knights who after retirement have to wear that armor one more time; they grab their swords once again and look up at the skies thanking the heavens for one more chance to do what they had always done: shed every ounce of their being in the battlefield. So we did.

We won, but not without a price. I am now in pain. My muscles hurt in many ways I did not remember. Old muscles I had forgotten I had scream in pain. I woke the day after the game barely moving, my legs hardly responding. My body hurts in all those beautiful places.

I love it.

Technical stuff / Good thing they were Catholic

Hello there!

Well, first some technical stuff for my Good Ol' Three Faithful Readers: I just set up my own personal mini-site in my room. There are two computers which will be the home to www.duckiesoft.com, www.killerfry.com and two other Internet sites I have to come up with. I just got Apache, MySQL and PHP running; it was all installed manually, like real men do. There are still lots of stuff I have to fix up to have the sites completely up and running; like registering the DNS - yes Victoria, that is the reason the links send you to nowhere.

Basically, DuckieSoft will be used as a professional, "serious" site to promote my work in a pseudo-professional way; whereas KillerFry will be my personal site. That means that pretty soon this Blog will be moving to a new home! I intend to keep other things there as well, such as my horror movies reviews and whatever stupid things I come up with.

I am also thingking about making a WebService and a client app to let people know what mood I am in. This is because, as you can see from yesterday's post, I was not a happy camper. I am still not a happy camper, but I am not as disgruntled as I was yesterday. The point is that with this nifty little app, people will be able to see from their desktops what mood I am in, thus avoinding odd situations in which people try to joke with me when I am not in the mood for joking, hence enraging me more.

Nifty utility ;)

Now, for the "serious" part of the post. For starters, let me say that most of the time I like to steer away from political discussions, since many susceptivities can be harmed. But this one I will simply not let pass by.

As I am eating my food in the kitchen in the usual family hour there is nothing on TV but the news. For some odd, historical reason we turn the television on. The first news of the evening in the channel involves a little town in Mexico State in which a thief tried to steal money from the church's charity bin. Because, you see, a great deal of the mexican population is relatively speaking poor, so I guess this man had no other resource but to steal. And because out Holy Catholic Church teach us to be charitable, maybe he thought people would understand him taking some of the money to feed his family and, inherentely with our Christian beliefs, the people would understand.

But no. Primal caveme- I mean, average mexicans are not rational beings. So while I was nicely having my food with my family we are shown a video in which the town's people beat the guy up; men, women and children all took part in the beating leaving the guy broken and bleeding in the ground. Not satisfied with that they tie him up, all the while we see him pleading and screaming to please let him go, and that he cannot feel his legs. Once tied up and after insulting him some more, they still give him and extra beating.

To be comletely sure he learned his leason, they decide to now tie him up a set of stairs and then hang him up in a very twisted, modern version of the crucifixion. Yep, that is right folks; I was having a nice family moment at lunch and we were treated to this images. Not satisfied the TV gave us some more: once hanged, some people start yelling that they should burn him. You an actually see on the video one person asking if he should bring the gasoline. And that is the point where my mind said: "this is simply not sane. What is this? The Inquisition?" Remind me again what the "Sapiens" means in Homo Sapiens.

Fortunately for the poor dude, the police arrived in time and saved. Yet, all the while they carried him to the police car people still insulted him and actually threw punches at him, some landing flat on his face. If you happen to want the "INRI Turist Packege" included in your vacations to Mexico State, be sure to stop in any small town, local Church and steal $200 pesos - around $18 bucks -; special offer for a limited time only!

This reminds me of a case, one or two years ago in which the people of another Mexican State town set 4 police men on fire. Yes, you read right. Set they were in a cover mission having to do with drug dealing in a primary school, and the town for some odd reason decided to burn them in the little town's little central park thing after a public beating. Aaaaaah, I love the smell of fresh burnt human skin on the morning.

It is nice to know that the average mexicans have a great devotion for the Virgin of Guadalupe and are avid Catholics.

You know, honestly, with neighbors like these, I would build a wall around my territory, electrify it and shoot down any who tried to trespass it... but that's just me.

The basis of happyness

Hello again! Yes, double post day. :D

In any sense, how happy you are depends a lot on what you base your happyness. Now, all logic and human convention dictates that we should base how happy we are proportional to love. But see here my odd, human logic: basing our happyness in love may lead us to disillutionment which in turn leads to anger and hence: frustation/un-happynes.

But if I base my happyness on how angry I am, the all the disillusion in my life will actually turn to more anger which in turn leads to more happyness.

Hum... that formula seems logical.

And no, I am not that happy today.

The funniest feeling

Happy Holidays y'all!

I had the funniest feeling some days ago that I cannot explain it in other words other than: I want someone to give to. More than material objects, to give myself to. In the end I guess that would be my reason to waking up and doing what I do day after day.

It is not that I need a 26-inch LCD TV for myself, but more so that I want to sit and share it with someone. It is not that I need to go out, but I want to share moments with someone. It is not that I need to look good, but I take care of myself for someone.

But right now I do not want to do anything, not I care for myself, or for stuff. Because I do not have that someone to give myself to.

Where are you?