Welcome to all the users who spend time in these forums. I am a small writer who only does his things for a hobby.
I hope you like my short writings (I usually write them when I have a bout of depression, or something like that, which is why sometimes they are a little sad), which I will publish with the passage of time. I hope you like them! I'm pretty shy
and I took the initiative today, I went into reflection and determined that maybe I'm really good at this, although many tell me otherwise
and that kind of thing. Anyway, I hope you like it.


My gallery in ES (drawings)
My gallery in EN (drawings)
Writings gallery (ES)

With a certain reluctance you look at the sky.
Looking for febrile responses
That the wind took long ago.

And interrogate with care.
As if I was going to answer you.
The because of the causes.
Because suffering,
The cold nights
Solitary and desolate.
Because the fallen tears
For people who would not deserve them.
Because this deep sadness
That still marks my life.
Because the opening of the traumas,
Bad memories and injuries.
Of pain and suffering
Searching the why
Of such a tortuous life.

Showing off happiness
When you do not have a shred of it.
Smiling instead of crying.
Enduring all the hardship of the world.
Seeking the why of this being,
Looking for dry.
Why?

And interrogate the sky.
As if I was going to give you an answer.
See the clouds move
And uselessly interrogate.
Why do you look at the sky?
what answer will not give you,
and even knowing this
you will ask one more time.

〔Starry sky.〕

Sometimes I like to look at the sky, the night sky that, even being in an urbanized place with characteristic luminosity that is preventing me from appreciating something beyond a dark place, makes me feel a little calmer, sometimes I find some star, a dot in the middle of so much desolation and reminds me of the lighthouse that guides the wayward; sometimes I am able to see very weak constellations and in others, if I have some luck, great constellations. It makes me think and seeing it reminds me that my loneliness is only temporary, that everything bad has a turning point changing at some point and that in the end my long night, cold, lonely, dark and evicted will end.

It also makes me think of those people who are so far away that my actions do not reach them, that my words may contribute but not always for the good, those people that I simply can not see except through a camera on a telephone; remembering the impotence and anger of not being able to do anything in those bad moments and that deep sadness of not being able to embrace or vent when we are not well, or they are not; but it reminds me of heaven itself, just as it reminded me of the remoteness and impotence, that within it we are under the same sky, on the same planet, in the same geological layer; that someday maybe we can see each other, laugh and cry together, feel and hear the laughter of that person, feel the touch or smell, be able to say that we were able to help them when things were not going well and it raises my conscience because it gives me the the courage to try it, even if everything in me is broken, even if I have to walk through the whole damn hell and separate the ocean from Neptune as Moses did, even if I must pass the Hades cerberus, even if I have to break and break my feelings, because I know that the moment I get to see you my wounds will heal as if they had never happened. So wait for me, wait for me, I will come some day just to see your smile, just to make you smile and be able to say that, I did it.

Because you are my light,
My hope.
My lighthouse at night,
Of my lost ship.
My reason of life,
My most precious treasure.


For all those people who are my friends online. :)

I'm tired of all the bad, the absurd, the irrational, the crocodile tears, the pretexts, the indecency, the falsehood, the corruption, the suffocation, the hypocrisy, the wickedness, the unhappiness, the fetters, the false testimony, the collateral damage, misfortune, shame, cruelty, defamation, envy, betrayal, discrimination, abuse, injustice, pain. Simply, i'm tired.

────── Alone in a room. ────── •

We have all loved one another.
That some person was for when we can not even get out of bed.
To say that everything is fine, that you smile and support you to continue.
Whether it's a father or a mother,
your sister / or same serves, your friend, your friend.
But not all of us have that same destiny. I wish and hope with hope the day someone comes to take me out of the house, someone will call me to talk to me, ask me how I am or ask me if I want to go somewhere with them; I do not want to be the second option, the one you turn to when you're bored, the one you turn to when you do not have other entertainment, the one you reluctantly resort to in spite of everything.

I want to stop being the stuffed, the one who is only to entertain your miserable existence. Enclosed in four walls and a roof, awaiting death. I've been many times the one who has gone and called, I've been the one who went when everything went wrong, I've been the one asking how you were, I've been the one who has given hours of his life , irreplaceable time in looking for a solution, I've been the one who has spent hours listening to cries, listening to complaints. So what? Do not I deserve 2 seconds of your time? I'm just for your support? Am I not human either?

Locked in a room, it's messy but what does it matter? No one is going to come in, no one is going to come looking for me, it's not worth picking up, even less if the mood is on the floor, even if your own helplessness throws it in your face again and again, even if your sadness is already so deep that has created a hole in your soul, even if the tears fall to the ground.

I just want to stop being the person of the bunch, I want to leave this prison in which I wait for my death.

But I am condemned, condemned to be confined to these four walls and this ceiling, imprisoned by my own emotions, imprisoned by my own weaknesses and strengths, imprisoned by myself.

Only in a room waiting for the end.

━━ The story tells that, the devil one day fell in love, and did not know what to do with that emptiness in the stomach ... They say that he looked at her with angel eyes, and that touching his skin burned with passion ... that Satan knew his own hell, in the mouth of a woman, whose kisses made him a mere mortal ... tell that the devil is not so devil ... and you can see him walking alone ... with melancholy eyes . ━━

━━ I still have memories, under the same flowers my suffering remains intact.
Fatal days, my hands being covered with hope and evil.━━

A great meadow. Full of beautiful colorful flowers and unique among their specimens. All the colors that fill life and peace with all that plain called "life". With many flowers I stumbled throughout my short life. Without wanting to cut and hurt many of them, damaging its pure beauty pulling one of its beautiful and velvety petals. There was still a large meadow to meet, places and specimens that I did not know and I would doubtfully get to know them all.

But ... of all that beautiful and peaceful place .. there was that flower. Weak and with its last pendant, the flower, apparently seemingly lifeless, apparently had no desire to heal. Who was the one who broke your beautiful petals? He asked incessantly. Between my hands was the job of being able to help that flower, to be beautiful once more.

The only flower in the whole meadow that caught my attention. Between so much sadness with that petal, it was the only flower that really was beautiful even with all its wounds. Even without the colors and their velvety petals.

Time was passing, little by little that flower, even living with that last petal managed to heal. Still injured, I could not leave behind all the damage I had received. But, already the beautiful colors of it were reborn, it was slowly becoming that beautiful flower that was once in the past.

I was so lucky to find that flower. That flower so battered and hopeless. That flower, to which I could help re-bloom. Aqurlla flower that I will not allow its last petal to be torn off.

My beautiful flower, with all your wounds and scars, will always take care of you.

Thanks for the idea.

━ Never cry for a dead love,
Since love is rarely true.
He changes his clothes from red to blue,
And from the brightest blue to red,
Love has been born to a premature death,
And rarely is it sincere.

Then do not anchor your smile
In his pale, fleshless face,
To exhale the deepest of sighs.
The words just in honest lips
They will pass, and without doubt they will die;
And you will be alone, my dear,
When the winter winds are unleashed.

Never regret that which can not be,
Well, this God does not give gifts.
If the simple dream of love were true,
Then, sweetness, we would be in Heaven,
But here there is only land, my dear,
Where true love rarely grows.

Go back in time?
No, I searched everywhere, and I could only find hurts and disappointments.
  In my past there is nothing of value that can really rescue.
The happy seconds next to whom I loved, the wind took them, with a breath of the abyss.
Go back to the past, and relive the same torture. That means for me, to return to your arms.

I know that the cold breeze bristles your skin, but not as much as my unusual presence.
The sun makes me sweat, but not as much as your breath on my neck ...

... I cant flee from this pain in my
... When you cried, it made you smile
... with your fears you managed to die
... and from the hand we were able to continue
... but today you take
. . .all of Me

Time continues to recede. I see my mistakes and contemplated my successes, but in the end the winner is the negative on the positive. In the end it was not my happiness, my hope who won but my sadness and my despair.

Everything falls, and keeps falling. My conscience drags me to the depths of my mind, my thoughts become darker and darker and my psyche, self-esteem, feelings, perception oscillates and varies without delay.

Definitely. This is something strange, completely abnormal.

But I'm recovering my old self and being honest, it's not as rotten as the current one.