If I treated my best friend…

…the way I treat myself…

• I would shout insults at her more than once a day.
• I would pull her hair and ocassionally bang her head against a wall to make her stop thinking so many stupid things.
• I would interfere with her work until she’s completely unable to do it.  Then I’d make jokes about her incompetence.
• Every now and then, I would keep her in a locked space without even allowing her to shower.
• Everytime something goes wrong in her life, I would nag her with comments about her worthlessness, all day, all week until something else distracts me.
• I would blame her of absolutely everything that goes wrong.
• I would tell her she doesn’t deserve to have any friends because she annoys them to death.
• I would take away her hope.
• I would tell her that her existance is pointless.
• Even more, I would constantly threaten to kill her.

I kind of like her, and sometimes I’m good with her, but after all of this,

why is she still hanging out with me?

Being hard on yourself sometimes can have benefits, if you’re talking about things like discipline and self control,  but this is crazy, it’s completely counterproductive.

medication, depression history and life.

I hate my blog now.  I have been re-reading it and it seems to me like I sound a bit insane and lost.  And before that there’s a lot of depression depression depression.  And before that, there’s oh, more depression.

Alert: this post is not going to be any different.

I know I shouldn’t be re-reading this while I’m still down. It’s not good to me.  And I guess I have been feeling a bit insane and lost, so it makes sense that the blog sounds a bit insane and lost, doesn’t it?

Goodbye, November.

Hello, November.

I turned 1 year older in November.  Tick Tock.

I also had a million inner monologues.  I don’t really talk to myself.  Have you ever talked to yourself? like, out loud? It’s not for me to do, I’m very silent.  Sometimes it’s the opposite and I think I have said a lot of things when I have been silent all the time.  I rarely pay attention to the information that comes through the way of hearing.  I am visual, all images and symbols, which are images.  But sometimes thoughts are not images or symbols, most of the times they are nothing.  But I still contain them in a visual structure.  Confused? I’ll try to explain.

My mind is still working

Last night I had a guilt dream.  People shouted at me “Go to work lazy! work! work!”.  Then somebody took me to military service but it consisted on selling Pepsi from a truck.  Later I got compared with overly successful family members, and the family members actually came home to scold me.  The strange part was that I didn’t feel bad, instead I smiled and agreed with everyone and then people hugged me.  Ugh.  I’m surprised we didn’t sing kumbaya.

When I woke up it felt like I had escaped one of those Grimm Brothers horror tales I read as a kid.  You know, some evil witch smiling at me while singing sweetly “love of mine you are worthless except for your nutritional value, now show me that little finger“.

I should have known it was a dream when my oldest cousin grew 4 meter long arms.

Anyway.  Now, I’m awake and safe.  My back and the left side of my body are in pain for some reason, but I am not particularly disliking my current state of mind.  I’m thinking fast and a lot, even when sleepy.  I have a new notebook which I’m filling with all sorts of ideas about life, the world, societies, psychology and logic.  Nah, it sounds better than it is.  Nothing of it makes much sense really.  Nothing is pointing anywhere useful.  But I’m really excited about feeling this way.  My brain has been so slow lately that I was starting to think it was going to stay that way forever.  I don’t have a good point to blog about now but I wanted to register this.  Despite the guilt being renewed by the dream, I don’t want to overburden myself like I have done in the past.

Unrelated note: Here I was worrying about not getting my IELTS results. Well, I finally got them a couple of days ago!  I thought I was going to blog about it but I didn’t get around to do it until now.

I got a band score of 7.5 (scores are 0 – 9).  I explained a bit about the exam scoring in the middle of this post.

I think the results accurately graded what I did in the exam.  Yes, I think I can do better writing than that, but my error was in time management.   And of course the speaking test failed me but it was a really lousy interview so I was actually expecting something worse!  I have no comments on the listening part, nothing was hard to understand but I, uh, spaced out a lot while hearing the recording (I think I already ranted about this).

Finally, I think whatever I got wrong in the reading test was not language related.  In one part of the exam there was this 1000 word text divided in paragraphs, and then they gave you about 10 tittles related to the text and you had to match the tittles with the paragraphs.  They were all very similar, so of course it took a certain skill to understand the language well enough to match them precisely.  But besides that there were a lot of cognitive processes to be done, and I guess some of them must have failed.  My opinion is that I probably would have made the same mistakes if the text was in Spanish.

Some people say this exam is so hard that even native speakers don’t get perfect scores.  Well, that doesn’t necessarily mean it’s too hard, it means that besides understanding a language, acing this exam requires intelligence, reading comprehension skills, paying attention, and managing the time well.  In the essay you couldn’t just give a dumb answer, you had to really try to make your point.

Anyway, I think I’m satisfied.

This language

I took the IELTS almost a month ago. Although they said they’d send my results within 13 days, I still haven’t received anything.  I emailed them and they haven’t replied.  I have been procrastinating calling them, mainly because I really hate the phone.  I am waiting.

During the application process, I got asked where I studied English and for how long.  I answered something vague because I found out I didn’t know.  And, who reads forms anyway.

My mother language is Spanish.  I speak it everyday. I have never been abroad.  I went to a public school and a public university without much emphasis in language.  So how come I ended up learning English? To me it’s a little bit obscure, like if I hadn’t decided it.  I just woke up one day and realized I was able to communicate in this language, which was extremely fun and proved useful in more than one way.

Since then I just kept using it and by doing so, it magically got better with the time.

Fine, maybe not magically.  I know I can track it down… a little bit at least.

Source

Me. I am Me.  One person.  Among a couple of billions.  One.

Me. One? No.  More than one.  A lot. There’s one Me in the head of every single person or creature who has ever known of my existence.

A world of mirrors.  A reflection in every eye.  A distorted one.  One of them is distorted.  No, not just one.  I’m sure several of them are.  None are like each other.  They are all different.  Hundreds of them looking back at me.  Back at who?  At what? Me? Which me, again? Which is the right one? They are all different.

How can it be?  They are all me.  One version in each reflection.  A distortion caused by the surface.  Source.  Where is the original?  I can’t see it.  If it exists, how to tell?  I can see reflections.  Distorted reflections.  Reflections that come from a source.  I can’t see the source.  All the reflections are different.  I need a formula.  I need to factorise this.

I have too, a reflective surface.  A distorted one.  Can I see the originals? Can they see me? Every one of them reflect on me.  Hundreds of reflective bodies. How many are we? Billions.  A world of billions reflected.  An endless house of mirrors.