Lifesaver

The thing with players is that you don't learn how to identify them until they've broken your heart and trampled with the remains. Of course, that's too late as you have already lost your faith in love and in relationships. You already think that every guy is actually a two-faced bastard. You want to tell everyone to be careful, but no one believes you because they haven't had their hearts broken. Yet, you can still tell stories, cautionary tales in a way, about the guy who said he loved you but he didn't.

I met Mark at a bookstore. I was looking for something new to read, he was simply there. I don't even know what he was doing there as I have never seen him pick up a book. That should have probably been the first red flag, if someone thinks that novels are useless, run away from them as fast as you can. Yet, in that moment, all that I saw was a cute guy who, for some reason, seemed to be interested in me. And I needed attention. Alone and friendless in a new city, I was in need of a friend and Mark seemed like the perfect guy for the job. 

He took me to all the interesting places in town and to a few of its hidden gems. And, although I didn't really know much of his life, only the things he wanted me to know, I relied on him. He was my lifesaver, my only support away from my friends and family. And he knew it. One day, about four months after we met, I was waiting for him at the cinema, I waited for him for an hour, until he finally picked up the phone to tell me that something had come up and that he hadn't been able to call me. He told me he would make it up to me. And he did. And he kept being tender and sweet. And I started having feelings for him. Feelings that he seemed to reciprocate. He treated me like a queen, telling me that I'd fly away from him some day because I was too good for him. That made me scared of being a failure to him, but at that point I needed him. 

We started dating at some point, friendship blended into a relationship. And that was when he started canceling on me regularly. My lifesaver was letting me sink. Yet, every time I confronted him about it, he promised me he would change, that he had so much stress, that I took up so much time, that he couldn't lose me because I was perfect and he'd rather kill himself than see me with someone else. And I would forgive him because, for some reason, I loved him and I could see us having a life together. I endured this situation for eight months, telling myself it would get better. But it didn't, it only got worse. He spent most of his time with me trying to fix previous mistakes, but I had had enough. It had to end and I told him so. He begged me not to leave, not to do that to him. He asked me what was he supposed to do. He asked me if there was someone else. He begged for yet another opportunity. And he finally gave up. 

I saw him two weeks ago, barely a month after our break up. He was holding hands with another girl. I couldn't believe my eyes, mister "What-am-I-going-to-do-without-you?" was already dating someone new. It hurt because I still hadn't forgotten. I tried to keep him away from my mind, I told myself that we were doomed to fail, but it still hurt. I saw him again two days ago. I had gone to the bookstore, the same one where I met him, to pick something funny to read. And there he was talking to another girl, one that definitely was not the same one I had seen him holding hands with. I told myself not to jump into any conclusions, but he was doing exactly the same he had done when we met. He picked up the book she was holding, checked it out, and smiled tilting his head. I had to fight my impulse to go there and punch his stupid face. That girl I had seen him with, that girl he probably met and started dating as we were still together, a safety net of sorts, and he was trying to find his next one. My nails dug onto my palms as I clenched my hands into fists. The damned bastard! I left the bookstore in a hurry, my blood boiling with rage. 

I called him that same afternoon, I had found some of his stuff in my place and I wanted it gone. He was dry and told me to stop hurting him as if that were my favorite pastime. He also told me he was disappointed with my attitude and chastised me for five minutes before agreeing to come yesterday. And he came. I was waiting and ready when the doorbell rang. 

-Hi.- he said. 

-Hi, come in.- I was the image of coolness.- I made coffee.

-I only came to pick up my things.- he insisted.

-Let's be civilized about this, will we?- I replied, he shook his head, but came in.

He followed me into the kitchen where I poured him some coffee, no sugar like I knew he liked. I sat down, but he didn't accept my invitation for a seat.

-What do you want?- he said, aggressively, his coffee getting cold on the counter.

-Talk.

-We have done enough talking already.

-I saw you with a girl, the other day on the street. You have found yourself a new girlfriend surprisingly fast.- I said ignoring him.

-Sometimes people are lucky.- he mumbled.

-I also saw you at the bookstore, two days ago. I never understood why you went to the bookstore so often, taking into account you think novels are a waste of time. But now I know. You go there to pick up girls.

-What are you talking about?- he pretended to be offended, but I could see in his eyes that he knew exactly what I was talking about.

-I saw you talking to this girl. She was really pretty but looked a bit lost. Remember how when we met you picked up the book I had chosen and returned it to me with a smile? You did that same thing. And then it hit me, maybe the reason why you have found a new girlfriend this fast is because you were already dating her when we met. Maybe you were already dating someone when you met me. Maybe you're simply the biggest asshole in town.- he flinched at that.- At some point during our relationship, I even considered that maybe you were the one. And when we broke up I felt bad for you, because you told me you wouldn't be able to live without me, that you didn't even want to imagine me in someone else's arms. YOU TOLD ME YOU LOVED ME. Filthy liar.

-Stop being irrational.- Mark replied calmly.- I want a family, but I can't wait for women to be ready, I need to find one to be ready. You don't put all your eggs in one basket, do you?

He looked at me satisfied by his explanation.

-Bloody bastard.- I whispered as I stood up from my chair.

Some will say that what I did next was due to the fury consuming me, but it wasn't. It was cold and exactly what I needed to do. I walked up to him and looked him in the eye.

-Do you know how many people are you hurting? Can you even see it?

He shrugged his shoulders as if it had nothing to do with him. My hand flew to the counter and picked a very sharp knife. In one movement I slit his throat open and he collapsed onto the floor, trying to speak through the flow of blood that was choking him. Tears finally came to my eyes and I cried for the time lost thinking he really loved me.

New Year's Resolutions (That thing I keep doing for some reason)

Two years ago I started a tradition that consists on me saying I'll do a bunch of things during that year and then grading myself accordingly. As you can see from this post from last year, I failed 2014, which shouldn't come as a surprise. Now it's time to see how well did I fare on 2015 and make a list of things I'm not planning to fulfill on 2016.

Let's start the game. Here is the list of resolutions I made last year, in italics the comments on how well they fared.

1. Make reasonable New Year's resolutions.
Define reasonable. I don't think I did that one. 

2. Edit "Dream On" to the point it is publishable (For those of you who don't know it, "Dream On" is the name of my first novel).
Hahahahahahahaha I haven't touched it in a year and a half.

3. Finish "Best", and do something decent out of it (You can read the first draft on this blog, it's the short story that has been developing since December the 1st).
Double hahahahaha. I do have the idea on where I want it to go, but I still haven't finished it. And I have started a couple more, so there it goes. 

4. Enter some kind of sporting event (If it's possible at least one for each of the sports I regularly practice and/or a triathlon).
I ran a half-marathon and a 10k, so I guess this one is done. I've also started swimming in the sea, so there's that.

5. Read more (I won't give up).
YEEEEES! I did this one. Mostly by the end of the year, but it's done!

6. Sing solo again in front of public (Just because I'm a contralto it doesn't mean I can't do it).
I did that too. Only once, but there are so many songs I'd like to give a shot to, like some Adele (even if I'm light years away from her).

7. Enjoy more my friends.
Gosh, I've been a crappy friend, like a crappy crappy friend who has pushed friends away. Bad Laura!

8. Care less about what other people say (If I'm warm and I need to wear sandals, I'm not going to care about them dressing as if they were going to Siberia).
That's probably true, but I'm only going to award myself with half a point because I'm not sure how much of it was pretending that I didn't care.

9. Explore more (Not necessarily out of the country, but at every opportunity I have).

I did explore out of the country, but maybe not as much as I should have. That's another half-point. 

Drumroll, please. And the total mark for my 2015 resolutions is 4/9. And I fail again! I could have graded myself differently, probably, but I wanted to be fair with everyone (everyone being me (just in case you wondered which kind of professor would I be)). 

Now it's time to prepare the list of things I'm going to fail next year, and I'm completely blank. Let me think, I must have something lying around in my mind I could use.

1. Love myself more. Believe I deserve the things I have and pamper myself from time to time. 

2. Take time off from time to time. 

3. Keep reading. 

4. Keep writing. 

5. Try to train a bit more than I have this year. 

6. Learn something new. 

7. Be more open about my feelings. 

Okay, it's not many, but, taking into account I'm probably going to fail most of them, seven it's enough.

Eggnog

The office's Christmas party always had two things: good food and better alcohol. Patrick always said that his employees deserved the best, but the truth was the he wanted everyone to know how wealthy he was. Young, tall, and handsome, he was a ferocious CEO who had won his first million when he was barely twenty-two almost eight years ago. He was on a corner overlooking the whole party while he pretended to listen to Janet, his secretary. Melissa from marketing caught his eye, she was wearing a simple black dress and her blond hair up in a messy bun. She was fresh out of university, naïve, tender, perfect. Janet's high-pitched voice broke his train of thought.

-Yes, it's very interesting, Janet. But I need to talk to someone else, now.- he said in his deep baritone and with his best smile.

-Sure, Mr.... Patrick.- Janet remembered just on time that she was supposed to call him by his name.

He smiled again and smoothly sailed through the crowd until he planted himself next to Melissa.

-Enjoying the party?- he said as her colleagues stepped away.

She tilted her head and smiled. Her smile was sweet, her teeth white behind her red lips. She had a beautiful smile. Patrick had decided it, she had to be his.

-Want some eggnog?- he offered.

-Sure! I'd love some!

He slipped away and was almost immediately back with two cups. Handing one to her, he took a sip of his. She wrapped her hand around hers and tasted it. Their night went in a blur, they talked about everything, Melissa had that warm feeling of alcohol in her and was feeling very uninhibited. She stared at him and felt the need to kiss him.

When the party was over he insisted on her sleeping at his place, she clearly wasn't in any condition to drive. She agreed, feeling too drunk for the amount of alcohol she had consumed. He helped her into his car and out as soon as they arrived at his mansion. A large pool reflected the modern glass building, Melissa couldn't imagine how much would that house have cost. He half-dragged her across the garden, as she stumbled with her own feet.

-Carry me.- she mumbled, and he obliged.

He carried her into his own bedroom, and she seemed to wake up. She was still very drunk, but she understood.

-No.- Melissa said, with a feeble voice.

-Shh, you will enjoy it, silly.- he said as he took her dress.

She soon was stark naked, failing to defend herself. She covered her breasts with one arm and her vulva with another one, but her strength was greatly diminished and it was no match for him. He undressed even more quickly and jumped on her, forcing her arms aside. He was hard and penetrated her forcibly, as she complained in pain while repeating "no, no, no" until she passed out from the pain. He kept trusting until he came and rolled over to sleep.

His head felt heavy when he woke up, he stretched only to find he could not move his arms or legs. His eyes flew open, Melissa was in front of him, wearing the same dress she had worn the day before, her hair down and wild, wild as her eyes.

-Someone has been a naughty boy, spiking eggnog and raping women.- she said.

He looked up at his wrists and saw that he had been tied up with Christmas lights.

-Bitch!

-Hmmm, I might need to cut that tongue out.

-Fucking bitch!- he shouted again.

-You're boring. Stupid, jerk, and boring. Let's finish this.

She took a knife she had on a table nearby and played with it. She caressed his skin with the cold metal and goosebumps raised on it.

-At first I thought I could cut your cock off, you seem to think it's the best part of your body. But then I got curious, I wanted to see if you really have a heart. What do you say about discovering it together?

-Crazy bitch!

-Whore, slut. You really need a thesaurus.- Melissa replied.- I'd give you one for Christmas, but... you know. Anyway, don't worry, I have given you some drugs so it won't hurt much, at first. They were in the cabinet at your bathroom, you seem to be well stocked.

The knife cut his skin, blood trickling down his thorax. She peeled the skin away, showing the fat underneath and the muscle under that. The muscle was a bit harder to cut and Patrick started to scream.

-You either stop screaming or I'll cut your tongue off.- Melissa menaced him. He stopped immediately.

She worked through the muscle, picking on the insertion points. Finally, she was able to pull the pectoral muscles away, the bloody ribcage underneath. Between the ribs, she saw the heart beat, fast, fluttering.

-Oh, you do have a heart.- she said innocently.

He was delirious, too weak to even speak. She glared at him.

-Now that we have settled it down, let's make sure you never force yourself on anyone ever again.

She gripped the knife and, slowly, she pushed it against the beating piece of meat that was Patrick's heart. Blood rushed through the wound as life escaped Patrick.

Volcano

That trip had been her idea. Bast and Jan had been dating for almost two years and it was the first time that they went somewhere together, money had been tight. When they won the lottery Bast decided that they should spend all the money on a trip. Jan agreed and the next summer they flew to Hawaii. Sun, sand, sea, seemed all that they needed.

Bast had been quite distant for some time and Jan had thought that maybe she was overworked, but never asked her how she was feeling. Bast wanted to find a way to finish it all, she was tired of Jan, of his whining about how he was so unlucky, of his two-facedness and his general assholessness, of how he said he cared about her but never shared anything. She saw him staring at her while sitting on the towel on the beach and she almost wanted to get out of the water and punch him on the face.

That first night on the Island of Hawaii they had shared dinner under the stars. Bast had stayed silent for most of the night.

-Bast.- Jan said finally.- Are you going to finish that dessert?

Bast had hoped for him to ask her about what was in her mind. "A penny for my thoughts" she told herself.

-No, you can have it.- it was very unlike Bast not to finish her dessert, but that was another thing Jan decided to ignore.

-Jan,...- she said as she pushed the plate across the table.- This is not working.

-What do you mean?- he said stopping the spoonn halfway to his mouth.

-You never listen to me, you never share anything for me, it's always about you, but only about the good things. I'm fed up of hearing you say how much of a good person you are. I'm fed up of you being an asshole.

-You don't mean that. You're tired. We will talk tomorrow. Remember, we are going to Mauna Loa.

Bast stormed out, she hated it when he treated her like that. She walked up and down the beach, breathing in and out with the stars as only company. Jan was already sleeping when Bast returned to their room. She undressed and lay on the king size bed as far away as she could.

Sunshine woke her up and she kept her face expressionless until they arrived to the top of the volcano. The views were breathtaking, the blue of the ocean stretching for miles, the green of the forests, the other islands. And the sulfuric smell of molten lava. Jan approached her to hug her, but Bast avoided him.

-Bast,...

-NO!- she walked closer to the edge of the crater, warm air flushing her cheeks, vaporizing the tears.

-Bast,...- he started again.

-Listen to me, Jan. Listen to me for a second. I can't stand it anymore, I don't love you. I'm tired of you, stay the fuck away from me.

He approached her.

-You don't know what you're saying. It's not you who is talking, I know. I'm your boyfriend, remember? I know you.

-You don't know me. Stop patronizing me. Leave. Me. Alone.

-But I love you. And you love me, I know you do.

The fulgor of the molten lava shone on Bast's eyes.

-Leave. Me. Alone.- she bellowed as she shoved him into the volcano.

Dig

The earth was soft and humid. The spade cut through it easily. Gaia shoveled some of it aside as she started digging her hole. Memories from her childhood came flooding. "What's in the center of the earth?" she had asked her mother as a five-year-old, she had told her something about molten rocks and an inner metallic core, showing her some drawings made by scientists. Yet Gaia wanted to see it for herself, she had to see it. She became obsessed with it, but everyone told her it was impossible. The more she was told it couldn't be done, the more she wanted to do it. Ignoring everyone, she saved enough money to buy one hundred spades and some ladders and one spring day she got out on her yard to start digging.

That first day she focused on making a wide hole, one that was barely one foot deep but that covered half of her yard. On the second day, she barely advanced another foot deeper. It took her several weeks to have a hole deep enough to use the ladder to get out of it. Summer came and went and by winter, the hole was almost ten-stories-deep. It took her years to dig deep enough but one day she made it. By then she had installed artificial lightning and a pulley system to get in and out. That day the floor gave way when she shoveled. A large cave opened underneath her feet, warm air rushing out. The shadows of the flames danced on her face. She looked inside the cave, flames were all over and a dark figure was sitting on a chair. The figure signed at her to get inside the cave.

Gaia climbed down and walked through the fire. The figure was still sitting on his throne, its face in shadows, its eyes red as coals. She stopped in front of it.

-Welcome.- his voice resonated through the cave.- You reached the center of the earth.

-Who are you?- she asked.

-Lucifer.

-Cool. Can I sit now?

-WHAT?- Lucifer couldn't believe his ears.- You just met the King of Hell and you want to sit?

-Hey! I dug all the way down here! How many people have done that? Get out of that chair!- Gaia protested forcing Lucifer out of the throne.

Lucifer stared at her, unable to believe it, as Gaia sat on the throne and dismissed him.

-Hell has a new queen.- she announced laughing.

Coses que mai compartirem. Things we'll never share.

So, this is going to be a special story as it will have both the Catalan and the English version. Those who know me are aware I hardly ever write in Catalan, but it felt wrong not having this one in my own language.

Estimat Biel, 

He estat esperant la teva arribada durant molt temps, planificant cada segon, no et pots ni imaginar fins a quin detall he arribat a pensar en totes aquelles coses que hàuriem pogut fer junts. Tot per res, per què no vindràs. 

No vindràs i ara jo em dedico a passejar per la ciutat pensant en les coses que no compartirem. En com mai podrem anar al carrer Petrixol a gaudir de l'olor de xocolata desfeta. En com no veuré el reflex dels llums de Nadal en els teus ulls foscos. En com no passarem hores a Sant Felip Neri asseguts al costat de la font. En com no buscarem música pels carrers del Gòtic o anirem al mercat de menjar de Santa Maria del Pi. En com no ens meravellarem junts davant dels vitralls de Santa Maria del Mar. Ni passejarem pel Born de nit desprès de la pluja per a acabar al Fossar de les Moreres veient la flama ballar en la foscor de la nit. Tampoc anirem al Passeig Marítim els dies que faci vent mentre la mar, capriciosa, juga a xocar contra els trencaonades. 

Hi ha tantes coses que haguèssim pogut fer. Tantes esperances posades en la teva arribada que van desaparèixer en el moment en que vaig sentir que deixaves de moure't dins meu. Tantes llàgrimes vesades. Però les llàgrimes no van servir per tornar-te a la vida i, ara, mai arribaràs i tot el que em queda és una llista de coses que mai compartirem. 

Mare. 

Dear Biel, 

I've been waiting for you for a really long time, planning every second, you can't even imagine the detail at which I have thought about the things we could have done together. Uselessly, as you will never come. 

You will never come and I wander around the city thinking about the things we will never share. How we will never be able to go to the Petrixol Street to enjoy the scent of hot chocolate. How I will never see the reflection of the Christmas lights on your dark eyes. How we will never spend hours sitting by the fountain in Sant Felip Neri. How we will never look around for live music around the streets in the Gòtic quarter or how we will never go to the farmers' market in Santa Maria del Pi. How we will never stare in awe at the colored glass in Santa Maria del Mar. Or how we will never walk around at night in the Born quarter after the rain to end up watching the dance of the fire against the darkness of night in the Fossar de les Moreres. We will never go to the Passeig Marítim on windy days while the fickle sea playfully crashes against the breakwaters. 

There are so many things we could have done. I had some many hopes placed on your arrival that vanished the moment I felt how you stopped moving inside me. So many tears. But tears couldn't bring you back to life and now you'll never arrive and all I'm left with is a list of things we'll never share. 

Mother. 

Blackout

A loud explosion woke Zahra up, she had been deeply asleep and it took her some time to remember she was safe and away from the war that was ravaging her country. She sat up on her new bed with linens that smelled of lavender and sunshine. Her hand automatically seeked the switch on the wall, but the light didn't turn on. She opened the top drawer of her night drawer and felt around until her fingers stumbled with the flashlight she always kept there. War teaches a girl things, Zahra thought. Barefooted, she walked to the kitchen and checked the distribution pannel, everything was in the right place. She looked out of the window and saw that all the lights were out. She smiled, blackouts happened even in peaceful countries. It was comforting to be in the darkness and not afraid of bombs. 

The cold hit her on the face. She pulled the scarf up her nose and put her gloves on. Zahra looked up the sky and saw thousands of stars. There was no light from the moon, yet the city streets were not pitch-black but a dark grey. Some candles flickered from behind closed windows on her way down to the beach. The sea was waiting for her, its waters lapping on the sand, its waters black as coal, yet shining with the light of the newfound stars. She sat on a bench and looked at that sea that also washed on her country's shores. The sea that had swallowed all her family. The sea that had taken so much away from her, but she could not find the strength to hate. 

The Blackest of Black.

Black. Black hair, black eyes, black nails, against a snow white skin. Her eyelashes were heavy with black mascara, a thick line of black eyeliner framed her eyes. She was wearing black leather pants and a black thight tank top that showed a generous white-skinned cleavage. She was wearing no jacket, despite the freezing temperatures and she didn't seem to notice, the white skin of her arms contrasting against the black of her outfit and the night. 

There was only one thing about her that wasn't either black or white. Her lips were red like blood and she wore a smirk on her face that allowed the white teeth underneath to show. People gave her way as she walked down the streets her long black hair cutting the air leaving a lingering trace of perfume. 

She owned the city and she knew it. Lights would go green as she needed to cross the street. People stared at her as she passed by. Where was she headed? Who was her victim? 

As she arrived to the main square a young man stood up from a bench. He was thin and tall and he was wearing ill-fitting jeans and a plaid shirt tucked inside them. Thick glasses framed his eyes. She walked straight towards him as the crowd held their breath. Just a second before crashing against him she stopped and slapped him across the face. 

-You fucking cheating bastard!- she screamed before turning around and leaving. 

People gathered around that scrawny guy, who seemed such an unlike match for such a formidable lady, in surprise. She kept walking confidently withher poker face on until she was far enough. Then, a smirk appeared on her face; it was always a pleasure to help out a friend. 

Thanksgiving, motherfuckers. [EXPLICIT]

Welcome to the sweariest post I have ever written in my life, just in time for the holidays! Yay! 

I have never celebrated Thanksgiving, but to me it kind of feels like Christmas: too much food and too many hours sitting at the fucking table talking about bullshit you don't care about. 

However, during Thanksgiving you're supposed to give thanks for random shit (You're a fucking genius, Laura, you really are). And I guess people get very predictable and give thanks about every single good thing that happened in their life, because some people have the ingenuity of a brick. 

Anyway, because I'm very original, I'm going to give the sweariest thanks you've ever read. 

I'm thankful for fuckboys, assholes, bloody cowards, fucking liars, and rotten players. I want to thank them all because it's a learning process and you can't tell fucking idiots apart from decent people unless you stumble on said idiot. It's acquired immunity, I guess. 

I'm thankful for fucking heartbreak. Does it hurt? Like fucking hell. Is it worth it? Damn, yes! It prevents you from stumbling on the same bloody rock again (the rock is bloody because it's covered with all the blood your heart bleed after the fucking heartbreak). 

And I'm thankful for fucking anxiety. It fucking cripples my life and I become a shitty mess after panic attacks. But it has also allowed me to see the things I don't need in my fucking life. 

So happy fucking Thanksgiving, motherfuckers. 

By the same waters, under the same moon

Dear William, 

You've been gone for two months already and to me it might have as well been two centuries. We agreed not to write, we agreed that you were becoming a hermit for your own good. We agreed that it was over and we agreed not to miss each other. I just couldn't make it.

I must have started writing this letter at least a dozen times. Putting one letter behind the other, chaining words together, the ink blurring with my tears, only to tear it in as many pieces as I could. Telling myself I was a fool. A dozen times I started it and yet it always said the same, I miss you. And, as much as I know I shouldn't, I can't help it. 

I know you're okay. I don't know how I do, but I do. Sometimes I look at the moon rising from the sea and I know you are by the same waters. I know that you are sitting at the edge of the cliff by the lighthouse. You're alone on the island, alone with that dog you adopted just before leaving. You took the dog but left anything that had any kind of connection with me. Yet, you couldn't leave the sea and the moon behind. 

I know you won't write back, but I hope that from now on when you stare at the moon you'll think of me. 

Yours, 

Karlie

On the road to 28.

Once more, here we are; writing a post trying to evaluate how my life has been on my 27th year on earth. If you have been following this blog for some time, you'll remember how I did this exact same thing last year, and the year before (you can find the posts under the label "Birthday" (yes, I'm very imaginative)). This year wasn't going to be an exception, this year COULDN'T be an exception. What comes next is an exercise of self-therapy, so I guess I better start with something light and cheerful.

This year I continued living in Barcelona, but I changed flats and managed to spend more time at home than I had done before. I almost moved into the lab in summer, when I would spend long days in, but that's actually a different topic. 

This year I have also worked a lot, I got some stuff published (find it here), and have applied for a time extension for my PhD, meaning that I'll finish it a year later than I had expected. Work took me to the SfN conference in Washington DC days after my birthday and to Paris twice, once for only one day in the middle of February and the other for some more days in the heat of June for another congress (both of them only intensified my love for Paris, especially as I got to walk around Montmartre when there was no one around). I also spent one whole day explaining my research to visitors who came to the Open Day, it was exhausting, but completely worth it. 

My journey of introspection took me to the Baltic States, where I went looking for cold and deserted places, and they certainly didn't disappoint. I spent lots of time alone during the sixteen days I drove around, lots of time by the wild Baltic Sea in Lithuania, but especially in Latvia, lots of time by the tame Baltic Sea in Estonia. And I fell in love with Latvia, wild, raw Latvia (and also a bit with Selga cookies from Laima), and I fell in love with the Baltic Sea. I did meet lots of different people around there, people who had gone there only for the cities, people who had gone there seeking for something else, it was a good experience; and at the end of the day that's what you're left with (this and a ton of pictures, you can find everything about it under the label "roadtrip").

Other than that, I did more things. I finished the whole A Story A Day thing, but I didn't stop writing as I wrote some more stories this year (not as many as I did last year, but enough). I also co-wrote a story with Richard (@imasillypirate) that is probably the strangest thing I have ever written, but I also had lots of fun writing it. On more crazy things I did, there is that time when I ran a half-marathon (and didn't die) or starting to swim in the sea (I even bought a wetsuit that I'll put on and have to take off as soon as I'm in the water because you could cook pasta in that water (It's maybe at 18ºC and I still think you can cook pasta in that water)). I also attended three weddings, because, apparently, 27 is the age when people start getting married. Going to weddings meant I had to doll up and wear long dresses, which surprisingly I loved to. And I celebrated my birthday ahead of date with my friends twice, which is not the first time it happens, but it's the first time it happens because I simply don't feel like setting it up.

Not too bad for now, huh? Don't worry, things go downhill pretty fast.

Before going downhill, however, let's talk about funny things (a.k.a. my so called love-life). As of the last 27 years my love-life has been ranging from non-existent to "and you think that is love-life?", but at least I've learnt to stay away from fuck-boys (so there's that). I've also learnt that for something to work you need both the right person and the right moment. Usually, for me, it's the wrong person at the wrong moment and that hurts like hell, but sometimes it can be the right person at the wrong moment and this hurts even worse, because it hurts also the other person, and you're left feeling guilty over something you can do nothing about and with a pile of feelings that have nowhere to go. I've realized I'm not in the best moment to be in a relationship, or how I will maybe never be. The fear of never really knowing love is real, there's a part of me that simply wants to experience it for a moment, even if afterwards it is lost forever. And if that ever happens it must not necessarily be with a man. Sexuality is something I have been questioning a lot this year, and although I'm mainly attracted to men, I have also been attracted to women, and it's something that could happen. This is not a coming out post, but I do consider myself bisexual/pansexual. Anyway, I'm still too fucked up to date anyone.

This has been a hard year. I've had ups and downs, but mostly downs. I had a harsh moment around February when I could feel something dark growing inside me, and that made me really scared as it made me feel like I could never enjoy nice things ever again. The thing with inner darkness is that you can either let it consume you or embrace it, I decided to embrace it, in the end. Just because it's dark it doesn't mean it's not good. And then came the anxiety, the crippling anxiety that made me freeze in the middle of the supermarket because I couldn't choose what to buy for dinner, the anxiety that would throw panic attacks at me as if they were stones. The fear, the fear of everything and everybody, the fear of having a panic attack in the middle of the street, in the middle of a wedding, somewhere crowded where I am trapped and not in control. The feeling of helplessness, of thinking I was being a burden, the feeling that maybe I was pushing my friends away, but that maybe they didn't care about it. I felt alone, I felt like I couldn't cope, and I even considered self-harm (and still seems like an option sometimes). At some points, it was so bad that I feared I was actually drifting into depression. Going on vacations helped, in a way, but there were still moments when my anxiety levels were off the chart. Probably the hardest thing I had to do to cope with them was to identify my triggers, singling them out required lots of hours of looking into myself, of asking myself what did I really fear: failure, being out of control. It might seem easy to deal with, but not being in control also includes being in crowded places and feeling trapped, so there's that. And harder still was to admit that sometimes triggers are not things, but people, and sometimes people you really care for, and there's nothing you can do about it without hurting them, even if that will make you happier; and it just leaves with guilt, because you still care for them, but reaching out would probably be too much for your mental state. I'm better now, I have been better for some time after a final terrible episode that had me being afraid of everyone on the street. Recovery is not easy, and I don't expect it to be, but I want to think that I will make it through. 

Package

-It has arrived!- the excited voice of Liz said from the other end of the line. -Come home, I'll be waiting for you!

Liz and I had met five years ago. She was new at high-school, a transplant, an outcast, shy as a mouse, standing on corners doing her best not to attract any attention. I was the popular guy at school, say a sport and I was probably good at it. We seemed to have nothing in common, and for a long time, I didn't even realize she existed. This is how cheesy love stories start, right? Except she never fell in love with me and I never realized that she was the love of my life, she fancies women better and I had been lucky enough to find the love of my life. No, we met through common interests, interests that didn't seem to suit neither her nor me. It was one Halloween night, there was a Lovecraft reading at the local library and I had to go. Needless to say, none of my friends understood why I'd want to go to the library on Halloween and they dragged me from party to party. It took me a while to find a way to sneak out unnoticed, and, therefore, the reading had already started. I slipped through the main door into the decorated library hallway, it was eerily creepy. A skinny girl, dressed up in a dark tunic, was reading a passage from "At the Mountains of Madness". I had never seen anyone read Lovecraft with such passion, and it took me a while to realize I knew her. When I approached her, during the library party, she looked nothing like the girl at school. She was sociable, chatty, and eager to interact with anyone. We bonded over our mutual love for terror stories, and now we had it, the book we had been tracking down for so long was finally in our hands.

-I'll be there in ten minutes!- I said as I grabbed the car keys.

I told Dana I was going to Liz's and drove as fast as I could. She was waiting for me on the porch and rushed inside as soon as I set foot on her front yard. On the coffee table of her living room lay an old large oak box. Its hinges were rusty and it had intricate carvings depicting sea gods and the underworld, a large iron lock stared at us, waiting. Without saying a word, Liz produced a key from one of the pockets of her long flowy skirts. Her cheeks were rosy and her dark eyes sparkled with excitement. Her hand trembled as she approached the key to the lock, and we both held breath as she introduced it. The lock opened easily. An even older book lay on top of a dark blue silk cushion. It smelled of old library, and we were too scared to touch it. Gold faded letters glimmered back to us, untouched by sunlight for centuries. "The Necronomicon" it read. We sat there, staring at it, for a long time, wanting to touch it, but too scared to do so. Liz gave me a glance and I nodded. Yes, she had to be the first one to touch it. She lifted it from the pillow, reverently, and opened it with care. She flicked through the pages until she found what we had been looking for. Her brow furrowed as she went through the words. We sat in silence for ten minutes, her perusing through the passage, me staring at her. She then put the book on the table, open at the page she had just been reading.

-Can it be done?- I asked as she leaned back on the couch.

-Yes.

-Yes, but?- there had to be a "but", I knew.

-It requires sacrifice.- she paused for a second.- Human sacrifice.

-We will find someone,...

-No.- she interrupted me.- It has to be me.

-No!

-Yes. It's my destiny, I need to die so Cthulhu can rise.

Skin deep

It was late at night and all the lights were off. Nawra was sleeping and didn't hear him coming in. He took of his shoes and left them by the front door, blindly, he headed to their room, brushing the furniture in the living room but not stumbling on it. They had built all of it themselves after a lengthy trip to IKEA, it had been fun to chose which dinning table would witness the start of their life together. He had insisted for better furniture, but Nawra convinced him that it was only temporary. It took them several days to put it all together, mainly because he couldn't keep his hands away from her. He smiled at the memory, he had had a sore back for a week after the furniture-building streak and not from the actual building. His left pinkie toe got caught on the corner of the coffee table. He cursed, Nawra must have moved it. The light from the lightlamp across the street illuminated the room. Nawra was sleeping on the sheets, naked as she always did despite it being winter and the house being cold, she didn't feel the cold, she never did. He shuddered when he took out his jacket and placed it on the chair next to his side of the bed. He would sleep on his clothes, he had decided, he was too tired and didn't want to wake Nawra up. He slid under the sheets, kissed Nawra on her forehead who moved in her sleep, and fell asleep almost instantly. 

Nawra woke up with the sun and sat by the window in the kitchen to have breakfast and check her email. When he got to the kitchen a half-empty bowl of cereal lay by her computer as she went from spreadsheet to spreadsheet. He rubbed her shoulders and she jumped as his hands touched her skin. 

-Ouch.-she said ignoring him. 

-Want some French toast, honey?-he asked. 

-No, thanks.- she said glancing at him for a second before returning to her spreadsheets.  

-Will you work all the weekend?- he reached for the cinnamon, his back on her. 

-Mike, you know I've work to do. 

He sighed and kept cooking. Nawra didn't talk to him during the whole time, focused on her work, only breaking her silence to talk to herself about her work. 

-Don't you want to get out of home, honey?- he suggested when he finished his breakfast. 

-I told you I need to work. 

Mike looked at the floor, disappointed. Nawra had been busy for a long time, as long as she had been distant with him. He didn't dare to ask whether she still loved him, it hurt too much to think otherwise. He changed his clothes and went out on the sunshine. He walked down the street to the park, enjoying the game the sun played with the leaves. Kids ran everywhere, shouting and laughing. The park was full of life. Mike walked around for a long time. So long that the smell of freshly cut grass and wet dirt had become part of him. He stayed out until it was lunch time, when he thought that maybe Nawra would want to have lunch with him. She was still at her seat by the window, working. 

-Stop working, Nawra. It's Saturday.- he softly placed his hand on her arm, she yanked it away from him. 

-Don't touch me. You're hurting me. 

Mike looked startled at his hand. 

-I only brushed you.- he said. 

-It hurts, Mike. It hurts every time you touch me. You can't imagine how much it hurts. 

-Maybe you should see a doctor. 

-You don't understand.- she said exasperated. 

-Then tell me, why are you avoiding me? What have I done?- he could feel the tears piling on his eyes.-Don't you love me? 

Nawra shook her head. Some short curls flew free from the messy bun she had constructed on top of her head. 

-I love you. I do love you. But it hurts. It hurts every time you touch me. 

-Why? Why does it hurt if you love me? If I love you?- he didn't understand. 

-Sometimes love hurts.- Nawra explained. 

Mike sat across the table and looked at her in the eye. 

-What can I do? 

-Leave.- she whispered, her hands clenched in fists. 

-Where? I have nowhere to go. 

Nawra started crying silently. Tears fell down her olive cheeks onto the laptop keyboard. 

-They are waiting for you. They've been waiting for you for a long time. 

-Who are they? You know I have no one.- what was she talking about? She knew his parents had died a long time ago. 

-Yes, you do.- she paused for a moment, her hand reached for his but stopped an inch before touching him.- You're dead, Mike, you have been dead for months. 

Worse things happen at sea

We set sail from Barcelona. The boat was Morgan's, I had never sailed before. It wasn't a big boat, I don't know much about ships, but he could take care of everything on his own. It was August and the weather was fantastic, we planned to spend the whole month sailing through the Mediterranean. I'd spend the day sunbathing while he took us from bay to bay, from one fishing hamlet to the other. We fished and we bought food from the locals, avoiding the crowds and the big cities. We saw Cannes from afar, and Monaco. We sailed to Corsica, to Sardignia, to Capri. We spent more time on the boat that on the land, surrounded by the blue sea. I can still feel the smell, the salt on the air. Have you ever made love on a rocking boat? 

We had a couple of weeks of good weather, yet we were prepared for the summer storms. And they came. One day we woke up and the skies were grey, the sea was calmer than I had ever seen it, not a gust of wind. 

-It's going to be a strong one.- said Morgan, before getting the boat ready to survive the storm. 

We hid inside the cabin, outside the waves crashed against the hull and the wind blew looking for the sails Morgan had pulled down before. It started raining heavily, so heavily we could not hear each other. Morgan wrapped his arms around me and told me it was okay, that he had been on worse ones. We fell asleep on each other's arms. It was late at night when a knock woke us up. It sounded as if something had crashed on board. 

-It's probably only a fish.- he whispered.- Go back to sleep. 

Few seconds later the knocking returned, louder. And another time, on the door. And twice more. Something was knocking on the door in the middle of the Sea. Morgan got out of bed and picked a bat before opening the door. 

There was nothing. He closed the door behind him and came back to bed. He was just climbing next to me when we heard the knocking again. It was insistent this time, as if someone was really outside. Except it was impossible. 

-Maybe it's the wind.- I said, Morgan pulled me closer. 

The door opened with a bang. It was stark dark outside, with only the lighting shinning through the blackness. A silhouette dark against the dark blue sky showed through the door. It smelled like seaweed and didn't have a definite form, it was more like whisps of sea condensed into a bundle. Her voice was like waves washing on the shore, but I couldn't understand what she said. 

-Back off.- Morgan told me, facing the figure. 

-Morgan,...- I complained. 

-Listen to me, she has come for me and nothing is going to stop her. She only need one sacrifice and she has no interest in you. Stay in bed. Tomorrow morning, when the storm has finished, call the coast guards, they will know what to do. 

He walked up to the figure, while I resisted the urge to scream crying silently. He turned around one more time. 

-Good bye my love. The sea goddess is taking me, as she should, to craddle my corpse under the sea. I love you, and I always will. 

The mist swallowed him and returned to the sea. I ran outside just in time to see him being pulled under the sea by an invisible force. I saw his eyes as he sank and he saw mine, and as he died the storm stopped. The clouds cleared and a million stars twinkled overhead, reflecting on the waters. And I was alone as Morgan had been swallowed by the sea forevermore. 

I have never told anyone what really happened that night, I have never been strong enough. I did tell the coast guards, but I was still in shock. They shook their heads, pitting me, pitting Morgan for his bad luck. They told me that the sea was a cruel lover and that she needed sacrifices from time to time. They also told me to tell everyone that Morgan was taken by a wave, that no one would believe me if I did otherwise. I'm only telling you because that's the sea goddess knocking on our door, and she has come for me tonight. 

In dreams

The smell of pancakes and bacon woke her up. Ray was staring at her carrying a breakfast tray. 

-You're spoiling me.- Sophie said, kissing him while running her fingers through his messy hair. 

-The best for the best.- he replied biting her ear.- But first, breakfast. 

Sophie ate her breakfast while Ray showered. He got out of the shower covered only with a towel and leaned to kiss her. She grabbed him and begged for him to stay. 

-I'm sorry babe, you know I'd love to stay here with you, but I have work to do.- Sophie looked at him like a puppy who has lost her favorite toy.- And you have to write. I don't want to have your editor come around again because you were supposed to send her a book that you hadn't yet finished. 

-Okay, Dr. Important Professor at the University. Why haven't you invented something that makes undergrads wlrk for both of us so we can have more time alone?- Sophie teased him. 

-I think I'll have to give you some extra homework.- he winked as he put on his jacket and got ready to leave. 

-One more kiss?- she pouted. 

-Okay,...- Ray replied rolling his eyes. 

Sophie watched him leave. She couldn't imagine what she would do without him, even if there had been one time when she hadn't been as enthusiastic about their relationship as she was then. One never knows where life takes you, she thought as she got out of bed. 

Ray stared at Sophie's calm face before monitoring all the equipment that kept her alive and living that dream that he had constructed for her. He had fallen in love with her the first time he saw her, she had to be his, Sophie was perfect for him. However, Sophie didn't seem to see it and was much more reluctant about it. It had been a desperate measure, but he knew she would only be happy if he was the one who took care of her. So, one day he drugged her and connected her to a machine of his invention. A machine that would show her how life would be with him. A machine that would put her in his dream life while he cared for her in the real life. And, maybe, someday he would wake her up and live that life for real. Maybe. 

Metro

Darkness and silence surrounded him. He had just woken up and didn't know where he was; he had taken the metro earlier that day and he was clearly still sitting on the hard seat. He must had fallen asleep, but how come no one woke him up? He reached for his mobile phone inside his backpack, to have a source of light. After some fumbling, he found it, the screen lit up showing the time. It was almost 3 am. He turned on the flashlight but it was pitch-dark both inside the wagon and outside. He walked up to the front wagon, hoping to find an open door. It soon became clear that he was locked in and his phone had no signal. He dialled 911, but no even that worked. He was trapped. 

He forced himself to calm down. The service would resume in a couple of hours and then someone would let him out. It was only a matter of time. He made himself comfortable laying on the metro seats and fell back to sleep. 

A noise woke him up, how long had he been asleep? It was still dark, therefore it could not have been too long. He checked his phone, and was surprised to see that it was still the same time as when he had last checked it. It couldn't be. Maybe it was broken, he thought as he stared at it waiting for the number to change to no avail. It didn't matter, anyway, soon someone would go rescue him. He heard the noise again. It sounded as if someone were trying to open one of the doors. 

-Here! I'm here!- he shouted. 

No one replied, but one of the doors opened. Thousands of tiny paws scratched the floor of the wagon. He turned on the flashlight again just in time to see a wave of rats fall on him. 

Breaking bones

"Crack" the bone of one of Isolde's fingers cracked as it slipt. She screamed in pain.

-Tell me what did you do to Tristan.- the other girl stared at her full of hate. 

-I don't know. I don't even know who is Tristan. 

-DON'T. LIE. TO. ME.- the other girl shouted as she smashed a baseball bat on Isolde's left leg. 

Isolde screamed in pain again, all her limbs pulling to get free from the ropes. Tears piled up on her eyes and she couldn't wip them off. She heaved trying to forget the intense pain of all her broken bones. 

-Are you fucking crazy?- Isolde whispered with a coarse voice. 

"Clack" her left pinkie toe had been cut with a pair of garden shears. 

-Answer my question.- the other girl replied. 

At that point Isolde was unable to think about anything that wasn't the pain that flooded her body. And all the other bones that were not yet broken. 

"Clack" there were another toe. Isolde didn't scream at that moment, she was in such pain that nothing could make it worse. 

-I don't know any Tristan. I have never met anyone by that name in my life. You can chop off all my foes and fingers and I still won't have met any Tristan.- Isolde replied calmly. 

-I know you're a liar. I know you took him away from me. That he left me to go with you. I know that Tristan thought you loved him and you threw him off a cliff. Or into a well. Or you dissolved his corpse with acid. I know you did. 

Isolde saw the crazyness inside the other girl's eyes and she knew she wouldn't get out of there alive. She knew that they would find pieces of her scattered across the room and there was nothing she could do to stop it. 

Loveless

"This book has to be somewhere in here." Amadeu thought as he searched through the bookshelves in the shop. "Where is it?" He moved to his left and stumbled on someone who seemed to be as focused as he was. He turned around to apologize and met face to face with the loveliest girl he had ever seen. She smiled at him, putting her blond braid over her right shoulder. Her eyes were big and green behind her rimmed glasses. 

-Excuse me, I wasn't paying attention.- she apologized with her musical voice. 

Amadeu stuttered a reply before turning completely red. 

-Mai.- she announced, he looked at her without understanding.- My name, it's Mai. Yours? 

-Amadeu.- what was happening to him? He was acting like a teenager. He thought as he shook her hand. 

-So, are you looking for a specific book?- Mai asked. 

It turned out that they both were looking for the same book and there was only a copy. Amadeu let her have it and she promised him to lend it to him when she was done. After that book there were more, and after those meetings to read at any of their places. Before they even realized it they were dating. Amadeu was deeply in love, his stomach turned into a knot every time he saw Mai, yet she was so easy to be around. She was carefree, extremely intelligent, and had a wicked sense of humor that almost seemed out of place in a person who looked so fragile. 

One night they were laying on the sofa at Mai's place, reading while cuddling, when Amadeu felt the need to tell her how he felt. He set his book aside and kissed Mai on the brow. She turned around and kissed him softly, his cracked lips feeling the tenderness of hers. He looked into her eyes, it was the right moment. 

-Mai, I love you. 

A flash of something crossed her eyes, a spark, a shadow. She grinned and all her teeth were pointy, but Amadeu couldn't see it as she was kissing him again. Mai bit his lip until blood came out, but it didn't matter as he was totally under her control. She stood up, took him by the hand, and led him down to the basement. 

-Now you'll stay here with all the other fools.- she said, her pointy teeth still dripping blood. 

Amadeu found himself a spot to sit on and joined the crowd of blank-faced men that waited for their fate down there. Mai smiled at herself proudly, it was so easy to fool them. 

Make you perfect

The glass in front of him reflected the yellow glow of the lights overhead as he stared intently. Rhea was talking to her parents and her sister about how they were already planning to have children, Eugene wanted to interrupt her, tell everyone they had never talked about it, but he was meeting her parents for the first time and didn't want to cause a bad impression.

He had actually talked about it with Rhea as they drove there. He was a bit anxious over it. 

-You're going to be perfect.- Rhea had told him. 

-I don't know, babe. They are your parents after all. 

-Gene, you are perfect, just be yourself.- she had assured him.- And I love you. 

-I love you too. 

And there he was, sitting on the table with his in-laws listening to his girlfriend elaborate on plans they had never talked about. He took his glass and sipped on the wine, hoping no one wanted him to participate on the conversation. He focused on the filet mignon on his plate, he had just taken a bite when Rhea's mother decided it was the perfect time to pose him a question. 

-So, Eugene, Rhea told me you're a doctor, how's work? 

He almost choked, a doctor? What was that woman talking about? He was an architect, not a doctor. Rhea chimed in. 

-Mom, Eugene is very humble and doesn't like to talk about his job, saving people is not easy, but he does it because that's what he loves doing, not to get praise from other people. 

Eugene swallowed as he could and was about to deny that piece of information when Rhea squeezed his hand under the table. He decided to let it slip for that moment and talk about it as soon as they got home. The rest of the evening went smoothly and they finally bid goodnight before setting off. As soon as they got on the car, Eugene confronted Rhea. 

-What was that?- he asked. 

-That what? 

-You told your parents I'm a doctor. I'm not. You know I'm not. 

-But babe.- Rhea replied softly as she drove.- You're. You're my perfect doctor. 

-You're mental. 

Rhea simply shook her head and continued driving, ignoring Eugene's attempts of retaking the subject. When they arrived home Rhea made some tea, he gave Eugene a mug. 

-Here, take this, we can talk about this tomorrow morning. 

Eugene glared at her, was she crazy? 

-I'll sleep on the sofa tonight. 

-Good night.- Rhea replied gingerly. 

Eugene didn't reply, but he drank the tea as he wondered if Rhea was really a pathological liar. He fell asleep without even realizing it. The bright light woke him up. He tried to move, but his hands were tied, as were his legs. The light was hurting his eyes, and, when he grunted, his voice sounded much deeper than usual. Something was beeping rhythmically behind him.  

-Oh, you're awake, finally.- Rhea said.- How are you feeling? Shhh, don't talk much, your vocal chords need to heal. 

Eugene's eyes started to water. 

-Close your eyes, darling. They also need to heal, changing eye color is a harsh process.- she ran her fingers over his head, and he discovered all his hair was gone.- I also implanted you with a chip that will give you all the medical knowledge your job as a doctor needs. 

Eugene shifted and pain ran throughout his body. 

-Yeah, you don't want to move much, either. Growing a couple of inches is not an easy feat on an adult body. But be happy, I'm making you perfect.

Panic

I recheck everything one thousand times before getting out of the house. I know the stove is off and I am carrying everything I could potentially need with me, I always get it right the first time, I'm just looking for an excuse to delay getting out altogether. But there is no point, I need to get out or I would be late, and if there is one thing that I dread more than getting out of the house it is not being on time. I take a deep breath and open the door of my apartment, I still have some time to get used to the idea of abandoning my nest as I walk down the stairs. 

I check my reflection on the mirror of the entry hall and I barely recognize the girl on the other side. I'm wearing a short tight leather dress with high-heel ankle boots, my long black hair is up in a sleek ponytail making my cheekbones pop up, I'm wearing heavy black eye make up and a bold red lip. The girl on the mirror is confident and sure of herself, someone you would expect to stand her ground. I take one last breath and open the outside door. 

There's barely anyone on the street, I didn't expect it to, it's a small quiet street, so I'll be good for some time. I avoid getting into crowded streets for as long as I can, but there's a point when I can't delay it anymore; I have to set foot on the main street. The street is crowded, people are walking up and down the street, alone, in groups, some are running, some are just strolling, there are also some groups that have stopped to look at something. I have to walk around dodging them, my eyes set on the floor, pretending that no one else is around. But they're close, too close. I can feel the panic creeping inside my mind. I start shivering, cold sweat tickling down my spine, I'm holding back tears as I fight against my body's instinct to wrap my arms around my chest. I can feel stares, people judging me for my outfit, guys ogling me, but in my mind they are only threats. 

I walk faster, if I can get to the metro it may get better, I may be able to sit down and forget about the world. The metro is even more crowded than the street, even if I never thought that was possible. I came seeking release and I only find more piercing looks, I start regretting my outfit choices, and even the decision of actually getting out of home. I find a free seat and close my eyes looking for some inner peace, however the person next to me shifts and I can feel the fabric of their shirt against the bare skin of my foreamrs, it makes me want to cry and scream of fear. I feel trapped, people are too close to me and I don't have room to breathe. I still have two more stops to go. I cross my arms and hold my elbows creating some space for myself where no one else can get in. I can make it. One more stop. The speakers announce my stop and I finally take my eyes off my shoes, an old lady sitting in front of me looks at me disapprovingly, or so I think, a young man, almost a boy, makes a lewdy comment as I walk past him. I walk faster as my breath grows swallow, I can't have a panic attack on the metro, I won't have it. 

As I emerge back on the street I am completely paranoid, every shadow is someone hiding from me, every person who walks the street is trying to chase me. I'm scared of everything and everyone. I make wrong turns because I think someone is following me, even if there's no one, and I get to the restaurant with time to spare and on the verge of tears. My friends are running late, as usual, and Istart thinking how they actually don't really want to see me, how they barely tolerate me, when they arrive, five minutes later, I'm already on the verge of fleeing back home to avoid being a nuisance. They ask me how I am and I lie and say that I'm doing perfectly. Some compliment me on my outfit and I just laugh it off saying I felt fancy. We sit on the table and everyone starts talking about their weeks. I sit and listen, or try to, overwhelmed with the amount of noise there is. I don't speak at all and no one asks me anything. I feel awkward and overwhelmed. And scared, always scared. No one seems to see how scared I am, why would they, I told them I was okay. 

I can't take it anymore and I excuse myself, saying I need to go to the restroom. It is a small modern restroom, with black tiles everywhere. I lock myself inside it and sit on the toilet. I wonder if my friends will even notice my absence or if they wilk take profit of it to say all the horrible things I probably deserve to be said of me. Holding myself close I start crying, tears smudging my make-up. I'm no longer me, there's only fear. 

The dark side

The bed was warm and cozy on that Sunday morning, the autumn sunshine entered through the large windows overlooking the park and lazily reflected on Deirdre red curls. She shifted on the bed, wanting to sleep a bit more, maybe Fionn would even bring her breakfast in bed. He was out of bed already, although he was probably working. 

Deirdre had just moved into his house, they had been dating for some months and everyone thought they were perfect for each other. Sometimes Deirdre joked with her mother about how she was more in love with Fionn than herself; but the truth was that she loved him a lot, and he loved her back. But again, what wasn't there to love? Fionn was gente and sensible, he was also very dedicated and driven, and he always made time for her, which was a miracle because his job as a lawyer and his philanthropy activities kept him fairly busy. He was the one, she knew it, with him it was simple when it had always been complicated. 

With that warm thought in her heart, Deirdre decided to get out of bed and find him. The room they shared was on the second floor oposite from his office, so she first looked there, but Fionn was not there working. She climbed down the stairs expecting him to be in the kitchen cooking breakfast. But he was not there either. She looked around the ground floor and was about to go back to bed when she heard a muffled sound coming from the basement; maybe Fionn was down there. 

The stairs were dark, but she couldn't find any light switch so she descended keeping a hand on the wall and carefully finding each step with her bare feet. There was some light at the bottom of the stairs and she used it as reference. What she saw inside that room left her petrified. 

The room was painted white and full of shiny metallic instruments with sinister aspect, and in the middle of the room there was a large artifact halfway between a cage and an electric chair where a boy, not older than 7 years, was being held captive. He had been gagged, but his eyes said everything that had to be said, they pleaded for mercy, for release, as his skull had been cut open and metallic rods had been inserted into his brain. The rods buzzed and pulsated, and every now and then the boy twitched and moaned. Deirdre kneeled in front of him. 

-Don't worry, I'll go get help. Be strong, I know you are a strong boy.- she trembled of fear, of realization that she loved a monster. 

-Oh, I don't think any of you is going to get any help.- Fionn's voice said from behind her before the world went black. 

-

Locked in

No matter how hard she tried, the door wouldn't open. They always left the door opem, even at night, how come it was locked, then? She looked around, trying to find either her keys or her cellphone, but they were nowhere to be seen. She wasn't the most organized person in the world, but she always knew where she had left her cellphone; maybe Luke had put it away. She regretted not having a landline, it hadn't seemed necessary when they first bought the apartment. She cursed outloud her bad luck, the apartment was on the twentieth floor, so she couldn't climb down the window. Maybe the neighbors would hear her if she pounded on the door. She shouted for hours but no one replied, she also opened the window to call someone from the street, but no one seemed to pass by, and the few passerby never heard her. In the end she resigned herself and lay on the couch, waiting for Luke to return home. 

The noise of the water boiler woke her up, Luke had arrived, it seemed. 

-Luke!- she called- Did you take my keys and my phone? 

He didn't reply, maybe he still had his earplugs on, playing loud music. She stood up and walked to the kitchen. 

-Luke! 

He didn't even finch. 

-Babe, what happens? 

He turned around and looked through her at the watch on the wall. 

-LUKE! 

He looked her way again, but shook his head. 

-What have I done?- she asked, pleadingly. 

She chased him down the corridor to the living room. Luke fished his phone from the front pocket of his jeans and made a call, tears rolling down his cheeks. 

-Yes, officer, I'd like to confess a crime.- he stopped and swallowed.- I murdered my girlfriend this morning. 

Voices in the walls

I started hearing my neighbors after a month or so of moving in my new apartment. They seemed to have the TV on at all times, but other than that I could not make ppout what they were saying. I never spent much time home, anyway, busy as I was with work, a relationship I had just started, and a thousand different things I did to keep myself busy, so the noise didn't annoy me much. As winter came, thinks changed. It was cold, so cold that sometimes I worked from home, that was when, from the silence of my home, I really started hearing what my neighbors were saying. 

At first, I thought they were speaking to each other. Until one day, when I was really focused on my work, I distinctively heard my name. 

-Lynn, we know you're there and you can hear us.- said a deep male voice. 

-Yes, we know you're alone.- added a high-pitched woman's voice. The two voices crashed and gave me a headache. 

-Of course Lynn is alone, silly. No one ever wants to be with Lynn. Isn't that right? You are always alone. All your life. 

I was frozen on the spot. How could they know it? How could they know the fears that were haunting me? The woman's voice continued. 

-No one wants to be with you because they all hate you. They think you're insufferable and they want to kill you. 

-But they won't kill you, don't worry. They would need to get close to you, to kill you. No. They are actually hoping you do the deed yourself.- the man's voice took it up from where the woman's had left it. 

-Even your mother. Your father would to if he hadn't stopped caring about you when he ran away. Do you ever wonder why he ran away, Lynn? He ran away because of you. 

I stopped listening at that moment. I covered my ears with my hands and started singing outloud to block them out. I sat on the floor crying until I fell asleep. P

The following day I went to talk to the landlady to tell her the neighbors were bothering me. She gave me a puzzled look. 

-There's no one living on the appartment next to yours.- she said. 

-Are you sure?- chills creeped down my spine. 

-Yes, let me show you. 

She opened the door and a dusty living room welcomed us, it was empty except for an old armchair. No one had been in there for some time, that was clear. I thanked her and went back to my apartment, wondering if I had imagined all of it. 

I hadn't. The voices kept talking to me, taking me down. No one else seemed to hear them, though. In the end I decided that the only thing I could do was move out. I had packed everything when they talked to me again. 

-Oh, you think you're leaving us behind, don't you, Lynn?- the man's voice asked mockingly. 

-Well, guess what,... You're never leaving us behind because we live inside your head.- the high-pitched voice echoed inside my head as I crumbled. 

Fear

The window panes rattled with the thunderstorm. Phoebe backed away from the window, shacking. The city was dark, the only light the flashes of the lightning and the headlights of the cars. She had lit a candle and the smell of beeswax lingered in the air. She sat on the sofa clinging to a blanket, she would have petted Mer, her cat, but he was hiding under the bed scared of the storm. She was scared too, of the storm, of loneliness, of everything. She was tired of being afraid, but she couldn't see a way out. 

Rain kept falling down outside. Phobe stared at the candle as it burnt off, the dancing flame dying off. Then, darkness engulfed her house as it had done with her soul. It was an appropriate analogy for her hope. She pulled the blanket closer. Tears started rolling down her cheeks. Mer jumped on the couch and rubbed his head on her leg. It had stopped raining. Phoebe took Mer on her arms as he purred. He licked her face. 

-You're the only one I'm not afraid of, Mer.- she whispered into the cat's ear.- The only one. 

The cat made himself comfortable on her lap and fell asleep. Phoebe looked down at him, it was very dark and she could hardly make out his shape, but she saw that he wasn't afraid anymore. She wished she could be like him, she wished she could lose her fears, but there were too many and she was too afraid to confront them. If she had been braver maybe she would have ended with all her suffering once and for all, but she was too afraid of death. 

Pillow

"Never" that was Oneida's answer when people asked her when would she get married, have children or even be in a relationship. "I'm not ready to be boring" she would add, immediately. She always had snarky remarks and rolled her eyes at couples. Her friends already joked at her about how she would become a crazy cat lady, but they secretly envied her for her independence.

One of her favorite sentences was "I don't need anyone to be happy." and she repeated it to everyone who would listen. And she was happy. Most of the time. Other times she wasn't, those were times when she needed a hug. And she never had anyone close to give it to her, those times she hugged a pillow and cried herself to sleep.

Stone

As soon as the door closed, I called Sharleen, it took her a bit to pick it up, and I had started to regret it when I heard her voice. 

-Hi! What's up?- she asked cheerfully. 

-He came.

Her voice became gloomy, devoid of all the joyfulness it had before. 

-Did you tell him what you had to tell him? 

After Ryan broke up with me, we had spent long hours talking about what should I do should he return. 

I sighed. 

-You didn't.- she sounded disappointed.- Emma, you didn't. I can't believe it. He's toxic, he gets inside of you and poisons you from there, he rips your heart apart. Don't you remember those times when you suffered because you hadn't heard of him for days? Don't you remember how needy he made you and how he only cared for you when he wanted something? Have you really forgotten everything? 

I stayed silent. I knew she was right. I knew. I agreed with everything she said. But I still loved him. The irrational part in me still loved him, and I couldn't forget as easily. 

-I still love him.- I said in the end. 

-You'll be tripping on the same stone twice. 

-I know. 

-He won't change. 

-I'm aware. 

-Good luck.- she said as goodbye. 

"I'll need it" I said to the air. "I'll need it, indeed." 

Dawn

The sound of rain against the waterproof fabric of the tent woke Morgan up. He turned around and found the other side of the portable matress empty. He checked his watch and saw that it was almost 6 am. He fished in his backpack for a jacket and a umbrella, put on his walking shoes, and got out to try to find Nereida. 

They had camped behind some dunes on the beach, he climbed the dunes, the hood of his jacket pulled over his head. The rain intensified, but the sky over the sea was clear showing the first lights of dawn, down on the beach there was a dark bulge that Morgan identified as Nereida. He walked down to her, opened the umbrella, and sat beside her. She was smiling, starig at the sea, the salty wind on her face, her hair wet from the rain. She was wrapped on a blanket, but it wasn't doing much, soaked as it was. 

-It's raining.- he said. 

-I know.- Nereida replied, her eyes still on the sea.- I wanted to see the sunrise, and the sea is so beautiful when it rains. 

She fell silent and the sound of the waves washing on the shore filled the void in the conversation. Rain kept falling while the sun rose on the sea, they watched in silence under the umbrella. Suddenly, Nereida stood up and started undressing. 

-What are you doing?- Morgan asked. 

-No ho entendries.- Nereida replied in her native Catalan. 

Indeed, Morgan wouldn't understand, he stared in disbelief at her as she jumped stark naked in the sea under the rising sun. 

Cat

It all started when I turned twenty-seven, I was extremely busy and spent most of my time at work. I would go from work to my place and from my place to work. I avoided social interactions because they made my tired, because I started hating people. During the weekends I'd spend most of the time sleeping and the rest eating and going for short runs. I didn't give it much importance, I was tired, it was normal, I had lots of pressure. 

I wasn't worried, but my mother was. She told me that I needed to socialize more, that I was becoming a hermit. I told her that it was nonsense and carried on with my life. When my teeth started getting sharp I thought that maybe it was something I was eating, or that I maybe I grinded my teeth while sleeping. Next, it was my eyes, the pupils became smaller and vertical. I went to the doctor, but he said that, except for the shape of the pupils, everything was alright, he ran some more tests and still couldn't find anything wrong. When I grew whiskers there was nothing to do, in matter of weeks I was covered in fur, had grown whiskers, and walked on all fours. I had become a human-sized cat and I fulfilled my destiny of not getting out of home ever again. 

Needy

Alone on a sofa, a young girl sat, she was waiting for someone who worked in that building, nervous, fidgeting, checking her phone while casting glances at the elevators behind the security point. I study her, she's young, twenty-five at most. She's wearing a blouse and a skirt, but they don't seem to be her usual clothes, she seems dressed for a job interview, but, somehow, I don't think she's here for work. Her phone buzzes and she jumps on her seat, disappontment shows on her face as soon as the screen lits up, it's either not what she was waiting for or not the answer she was waiting for. She crossed her legs and started playing with her dark hair before remembering she had probably spent lots of time putting it up. It was painful to look at, she had been waiting for thirty minutes and I could see how her eyes where shinny, holding back the tears. Part of me wanted to sit with her and calm her down, but I couldn't do it, I was simply an observer. When I thought she was about to leave, the person she was waiting for appeared. 

I knew him. He was one of the youngest CEOs of the building, he was driven, he was ambitious, amd I hated him. He was an asshole who treated everyone as if they were less than him. He energetically walked up to her. She sprang on her feet, reaching out for a kiss that was denied. 

-What are you doing here?- he asked authoritatively. 

-You're not replying to my texts.  

He looked down at her with contempt. 

-I'm busy. 

-John, you haven't replied to me for two days.- she was crying. 

-I told you, I'm busy. You can't come here crying every time I don't have time to reply to you, Susan. 

-But I need to know. I need to know you're okay, I need to know you love me. I need you to talk to me.- she grabbed his arm.- I need to know you love me. 

-You need to much, Susan. You need me to be there for you all the time. You need someone to reassure you all the time. You are not confident, you hold to me like a shipwrecked to driftwood. You text me three thousand times a day, and you text me the most silly things just to feel you have someone who pays attention to you. You're needy, Susan. Needy. 

She was openly crying and sank back to the sofa as he turned his back on her and walked away. I kept cleaning the windows, pretending I hadn't heard anything, no one ever paid attention to me. 

Solo

-You, what?!-said Frank in disbelief. 

We had been dating for almost a year and it was the first time I saw him like that. 

-I'm going on vacations.- I was already carrying my heavy backpack, my plane was leaving three hours later.- I know you don't like to travel, and I actually asked you if you wanted to go anywhere. Since you told me you'd rather stay home and I need to get away from everything,... I decided to go away on my own. 

-You need to get away from everything? Including me?!- I rolled my eyes at that.- Liz! 

-Not from you! From this.- I pointed around.- I need to see new things! 

-We will talk when we come back.- he sounded like my father. I didn't like it a bit. 

I spent those vacations at the shores of the Baltic Sea in Latvia, doing nothing but sitting on the beach for hours, feeling alive. I also discovered the streets of Rīga, the hidden alleys of Kuldīga. I swam in rivers and I swam in the sea until I felt clean of my burdens. And I talked to travelers. People who, like me, needed to get away from their daily lives, people who were looking for new experiences, or people who had made of traveling their lifestyle. I found peace, and I didn't miss Frank even once. He came to pick me up at the airport, clearly still mad at me. 

-How was it? Did you have fun?- he asked.- I missed you. 

I looked him square in the eye. 

-You don't understand why I needed it, do you? You not only don't understand it, but you don't even try to understand it. To you I'm an anomaly because I rather spend time away from you. You know what? I didn't miss you, and you didn't miss me either. We are not made for each other, I need someone who wants to explore the world with me not someone who will tell me off for daring to do so. Goodbye, Frank. 

I picked up my backpack and headed to the train station to take the train back home, to many more adventures, and to someone who would actually take trains for me. 

Prison

-Come on!- he whispered from the top of the wall. 

Anne looked up at him, the wall was not even two meters high at that point, it was feasible, yet she hesitated. 

-Anne, don't chicken out now.- Rick insisted. 

She looked up again and started climbing the wall, halfway Rick grabbed her by the hand and dragged her up. In front of them the abandoned prison gleamed under the moonlight. The barbed wired looked silvery on top of the buildings, the rusty bars black against the cracked windows. The shadows of weeds could be seen sprouting everywhere as the building decayed. Between them and the complex there was a wire fence, there were several holes on it where people had snuck in before them. Rick jumped off the wall into the soft earth beneath it and waited for Anne to get down. 

-Are you sure there are no guards?- she asked him. 

-Yes! Don't worry. 

He lead her towards the fence and held the wire open for her to pass, it let out a rusty whine as it moved. The stretch between the wire fence and the prison was unevenly paved, with some trees starting to sprout from the holes, recovering the natural order. A cloud covered the moon, leaving them in the dark. 

-Be careful.-Rick told Anne. 

However, she moved easily trough the rough terrain, in a beeline towards the main gate of the prison. The gate was large, five meter high and three meter wide, its doors were of reinforced iron, fifty centimeters thick, and one of them lay down on the floor unhinged by the rust. The tunnel went all the way into a small courtyard with marked parking spaces, a pickup truck with deflated tyres had been left there in the haste. Anne looked up, cracked windows stared down at her, it was the administration building, the smallest one, only five-story tall. 

-That's where the offices were, and where the officials slept sometimes.-Rick explained.-Come, let's go this way. 

Rick had already been several times inside the prison, it was the first time for Anne, however, and she had been the one who had insisted on going, she needed to see it with her own eyes. Rick turned the flashlight and opened yet another rusty door to a windowless corridor. It stretched for a hundred meters, going from the administration building to the main prison building. They couldn't see it, but above them two twenty meter-high wire fences topped by meters of coiled barbed wire. At the end of the corridor another metallic door stood ajar. Rick pushed it open with his shoulder. 

-Where do you want to go?-he asked Anne. 

-Solitaire.-she said determined. 

-Are you sure?-Rick replied hesitantly. 

Anne simply nodded and signed him to continue. They walked through empty corridors, the doors of the cells wide open showing the carcasses of the bunk beds. Here and there there were empty beer cans and glass bottles that shone under the beam of light. Inside one of the cells there was a mattress that had clearly been smuggled in, some empty condom packages made it clear what had been its purpose. They kept walking until they found a flight of stairs, they were worn out on the way up, after thousands of feet had walked up and down, on the way down they were covered with dust and litter. They went down to the basement. The corridor was narrower than the one upstairs and two iron gates guarded the entrance, the doors of the cells were all closed and they had to pull hard until they found one that would open. The cell behind it was minuscule, the ceiling was barely one meter and a half tall, forcing them to crouch, a small wooden board was by the left wall functioning as a bed, a hole on the floor was the bathroom, and a small blinded out window was there to mock the prisoners on how they were not allowed to see the sunlight. Anne sat on the board, silent. Rick stood by the door, staring worriedly at her, her face was blank, but her eyes showed how she was suffering. He said nothing, however. 

-Turn off the flashlight.-she ordered, her eyes fixed on a point in the floor in front of her. 

He obliged without complaining. Rick could hear her moving on the board, and for the noise she had laid down on the bed. She remained in silence for a while before getting off and pacing around the cell. 

-Now take me to the cemetery.-she said, clutching his arm. 

Rick turned on the flashlight again, they went up the stairs and towards the other side of the building through the empty corridors. The outer wall had crumbled on one point, leaving a hole that opened into a grass covered lawn. There were no markings, not a single headstone or cross, the only thing that marked it as a graveyard were the bones sprouting from the floor. Anne kneeled and grabbed a handful of dirt. She let it slip through her fingers. 

-My grandfather is in this earth.-she said.-He went through all this just because he wanted to make the world a better place. A better place for him, for his family, for everyone. How many of the people who are buried here were killed for doing the right thing? 

Rick kneeled beside her and hugged her. There was nothing he could say, no words could explain the horror. 

Road-tripping around the Baltic States. Day 17: Vilnius-Barcelona.

There's not much to say about today, after all all I did was go to the airport and fly back home, but I promised I'd writea post and here it is. The flight was mostly uneventful except that I was sitted between two armrest hoggers (men, of course) who ignored my attempts of getting some armrest space. I slept some, wrote some (story to come), and hated that the flight was so full of people. Of course when we landed there was people who clapped because there's people who have no self-respect. 

And now that I'm back home it's time for tons of laundry and checking out the pictures, as well as answering the questions some people might have about my trip, and I'm not really sure I want to answer many of those. 

Anyway, I'm going to post a picture of my travel companion during all these days because you still haven't seen it. 

Road-tripping around the Baltic States. Day 16: Rīga-Vilnius.

Today's the real last day of this trip (don't worry, there will be a post tomorrow because everyone loves airplane stories). Anyway, today I had a long drive from Rīga down to Vilnius (it took me nearly 4 hours) and, as usual, I tried to set off early to be able to arrive to Vilnius with enough time to visit it. I have to admit that I had low expectations for the city as I was told that it was the ugly sister of the three capitals. As you'll see from the pictures it is a lively colorful city that has a wild side, if only it were next to the sea it would be perfect. 

It is a quite hilly city and it has thousands* of churches (*they may not actually be thousands). I first went into the oldtown wandering around the sun-soaked streets. It was quite warm, and by this I mean that it was warm enough to make me wish I had actually worn shorts and sandals instead of long pants and hiking shoes. 

This one looks like a blurry shitty picture, but I took it through the fisheye lens I have for my camera, so I'm pretty proud. 

After this I climbed up one of the hills to visit the ruins of a castle and get a nice view of Vilnius. 

This hill. 

And these views. 

And down the hill we go. 

Aaaaand up another hill. It was quite steep and to climb down I decided to take another route and got lost and ended up going through an empty riverbed. 

In here there was an old man in his underwear standing soaking on sunlight. 

And I went to another republic. This is a neighborhood on the other side of the Vilnelė river that considers itself independent and even has its own constitution. 

This is the constitution. I took more pictures so you can read all of it. 

"Everyone has the right to die, but this is not an obligation."

"Everyone has the right not to be loved, but not necessarily." 

"A dog has the right to be a dog."

"A cat is not obligued to love its owner, but must help in times of need." 

"Everyone has the right to be unhappy."

"Everyone has the right to be silent."

"Everyone has the right to understand nothing."

"Do not defeat."

"Do not fight back."

"Do not surrender."

Brb, getting the picture of this I took on my camera enlarged and printed. Yes, I was wearing hot-pink pants. 

And the best for the last. Some of you might know that I'm obsessed with graveyards and there was a pretty cool one in Užupio. (Now there come three thousand pictures of graves, sorry).