This letting go thing is never easy, but it was necessary, and the mind knew it way before the heart could. I find comfort in knowing I’m stronger for it and climbing this mountain a little bit higher every day, and my heart is in a safer place now, even if I don’t know when it will ever be ready to open itself up again.
Truth is, the beauty that these awakenings happened at all is a gift that will remain dear to my heart long after any lingering pain is gone. It rekindled and brought out of me emotions that I thought lost forever, and for this I am so tremendously grateful.
And I truly cannot think of a worthier person I could have felt them for.
Three years ago today, I started a journey. Who knew a couple of pills could be so daunting? Taking them for the first time was without a doubt the bravest thing I’ve ever done in my entire life.
Two years ago, I told the world. I braced for consequences… and received nothing but love and acceptance. I am very fortunate in this regards. Not all of us have this chance.
And last year, I realised something was missing to go full circle. If 2024 could be summed up in two words, they would be “growing pains“. But if it could be summed up in one word, it would be “growing“.
This year was a year of the lowest lows and the highest highs. It was a year of smashing comfort zones and going farther than ever before. It was a year of firsts, a year of Pride, a year of friendships. A year of recovery too, and healing, and rebuilding foundations.
My heart is full of joy and gratefulness today for all the old and new friends who supported and uplifted me in this journey. One in particular stands out for bringing into my life so much light, and inspiration, and warmth. Thank you dearest I. for your unwavering kindness and your indomitable spirit, and for helping me through the worst days. To count you as my friend is truly a gift, and I am eternally thankful for it.
My gratitude also goes to many more, I can’t list everyone who made a difference, because they all did.
The fourth year begins now. They say struggles prepare you for the great things coming your way. If that’s the case, I can’t wait to see what 2025 is going to bring.
I don’t know what it is I don’t know what it isn’t That for some reason I am not worthy of your love I don’t know what it is I don’t know what it isn’t That for some reason I am not worthy of my own Maybe this is the answer to that Maybe the mirror cracked When I looked at it Presumptuous and vain Thinking I was ready Maybe the mirror cracked To show me not the way But my distortions When I knew them by heart and thought them conquered Presumptuous and vain Running not towards light But false reflections When the mirror cracked And I realized that for all my efforts I would never reach When the mirror cracked And my distortions exploded And my hopes were shattered Into as many razor-sharp shards Presumptuous Vain Vanquished I don’t know what it is That makes me recoil The reflection showed a broken path And I fell And maybe this time I am tired And maybe this time I don’t get up And maybe this time I learn the bitter lesson I don’t know what it is I don’t know what it isn’t That makes me so But the die is cast And it is faith gone And it is hope lost Because the mirror cracked And the light was snuffed And I got lost In the ashes of dead dreams
y por si es la última vez que nos escribimos, rayo de sol entre las nubes más oscuras, si este hilo de Ariadna que te dí acaba roto por culpa de los ladrillos agrietados de esos muros que construyo a mi alrededor que sepas que nunca te quiero olvidar a ti tampoco
me impediré buscar tu nombre en aeropuertos en canciones o poemas en hilos, en conversación, en redes ciega seré para mejor despertar, algún día con gratitud intacta, y paz, y amor anhelo y esperanza de un corazón abierto de nuevo
Lots of sad little poetry fragments there lately, yeah. Many unpublished. I’m not doing too well… Where even to begin?
So many emotions bursting at the seams. Bittersweet sorrows, unrequited love, heartbreak like I never thought possible. I’m a mass of confused demons each pulling in every directions, dark thoughts mixed with elation, the most wonderful love for a most wonderful person who cannot return the feeling, a terrible abyss of loneliness and despair lined with the tiniest sliver of hope that this is not all for nothing….
Was it all for nothing?
When I started this journey, I knew the bargain and accepted it freely, but it feels insurmountable sometimes to reach a point where a relationship might be on the table again. I struggle so much to accept my current situation, because how likely it is that I will strike gold a third time? Find a soul as beautiful and precious as theirs, who ALSO wants me? It feels like such a ludicrous pipe dream I can’t even take it seriously. Such optimism feels borderline insulting.
And I am devastated by this. Truly, utterly heartbroken. Right person wrong time is just a fancy way of saying wrong person, and the cruel clarity of it makes me profoundly miserable.
Yes, I do therapy. But some days you just need to vent into the void.
I went to something super special tonight, called prostíbulo poético, or poetry brothel. It took place in an old basement, reminiscent of a speakeasy, or maybe more accurately a Spanish interpretation of one, or one of those old-school interwar salons full of drunkards and writers, dreamers and hedonists (but aren’t we all one or the other?) with all the accoutrements of seduction and decadence, that feels both clandestine and deliciously subversive.
The event is hosted by a Madame, (obviously) who introduces her girls one by one, before they recite a piece of poetry. Then, as patrons mingle, drinks are bought and cigarettes are lit (indoors! another act of rebellion), if one doesn’t have a token, one can play dice with the Madame for one. The token is an extra, the price for asking one of the poets in a vis-a-vis, a personal recital.
In exchange for the token, the chosen poet takes you to a secluded corner, away from the crowd, and after a brief conversation, she asks you to close your eyes, and whispers a poem to your ear, just for you. Then she releases you and you both rejoin the others, and she wanders, waiting for the next one who will call to her.
The 2025 season is likely to be memorable with the 80th anniversary of the end of WW2 (this year was marked by the 80th anniversary of D-Day but unfortunately I couldn’t make it to any of them), which will probably be a focus of Le Temps des Hélices at Ferté-Alais and Air Legends in Melun, and the return of the Biscarrosse Rassemblement International d’Hydravions airshow after being cancelled this year because of the Olympics… (At least they said it was moved and not cancelled… Not sure yet if that’s confirmed, and also not sure if this means we’ll get two RIHB in a row, or if the two year schedule is now odd-numbered years…)
I’m very excited by RIHB in particular and really, really, really hope it happens because I haven’t been at the Bisca airshow since 2012! I was all set to go this year until they dropped the news it was cancelled and it was a real bummer.
Going to either Ferté or Melun, I’m pretty set on taking this opportunity to book a flight on a T-6 with Aero Vintage Academy, with whom I flew on a Stearman some years ago… although that could change to a Travelair 400 flight under certain circumstances. To be confirmed.
Here’s to an exciting season of plane spotting, flying and photography!
No one No one’s first thought in the morning No one’s good morning text No one’s “tell me about your day” No one’s “this made me think of you” No one’s “welcome home” No one’s “I love you” No one to fill the void No one’s someone Invisible Broken Alone Watching the sea erase My footprints in the sand Til not a trace remains That I was ever here But there’s no one To notice
how is it that three little words can make a heart feel so big yet make a soul feel so small a cry for connections impossible unanswered prayers lost in the depths though the heart stays afloat, fighting against the current pretending to swim as it tries not to drown elated yet crushed at the same time wondering why it keeps bidding for attention desperate compulsion born of desperate thoughts three little words that carry so much weight but they’re so deep inside it can’t be freed dark waters rise under the shadow of an indifferent moon and the cold light of distant stars the heart feels but the soul knows and pain overcomes everything until my feet touch the bottom and I can finally stand and breathe on Lethe’s shore, the final crossing forgetting everything and everyone forgetting these three words even existed maybe then, peace
Alma rebelde Y salvaje Que se libra De cualquier jaula Alma bella Y brillante Que ilumina El más oscuro de los días Ojos que reflejan el mundo Con sed de horizontes lejanos Anhelo de tierras desconocidas Alegría del movimiento perpetuo Sin anclajes Solo quizá, un hilo Invisible y delicado Que te di como Ariadna Confiando en que no lo soltarías Un hilo precioso y frágil Uniendo nuestras almas Mientras espero tu regreso Pajarito salvaje No seré nunca jaula ni anclaje Sino nido, abierto y cálido Un refugio seguro Siempre que quieras descansar
