lunes, 29 de julio de 2013

"Next Year"

I don't know where I
Am going to rest my head tonight.
So I won't promise that I'll speak 
To you today,
But if I ever find
Another place, a better time
For that moment,
I was never what I am.

Take to me to where you are,
What you've become,
And what you will do 
When I am gone.
I won't forget,
I won't forget.

Maybe someday,
You'll be somewhere
Talking to me
As if you knew me,
Saying, I'll be home for next year, darling.
I'll be home for next year.

In between the lines
Is the only place you'll find
What you're missing
That you didn't know was there.
So when I say goodbye,
You must do your best to try
And forgive me this weakness,
This weakness.

'Cause I don't know what to say.
Another day,
Another excuse to be sent your way.
Another day,
Another year.

Maybe someday,
You'll be somewhere
Talking to me
As if you knew me,
Saying, I'll be home for next year, darling.
I'll be home for next year.
And maybe sometime,
In a long time,
You'll remember
What I had said there.
I said, I'll be home for next year, darling,
I'll be home for next year.

If you think of me,
I will think of you.

Maybe someday,
You'll be somewhere
Talking to me
As if you knew me,
Saying, I'll be home for next year, darling.
I'll be home for next year.
Maybe sometime,
In a long time,
You'll remember
What I had said there.
I said, I'll be home for next year.
Maybe someday,
You'll be somewhere
Talking to me
As if you knew me,
Saying, I'll be home for next year, darling.
I'll be home for next year.

miércoles, 24 de julio de 2013

#30

¿Cómo se imagina el futuro? - No lo he pensado... Cuando era pequeña sólo deseaba una cosa: crecer. Quería que todo sucediera deprisa, pero ahora no sé para qué ha servido todo esto. No sé para qué. Hacerme mayor. El futuro es... es como una gran sala de espera, como una gran estación con bancos y corrientes de aire, y detrás de los cristales un montón de gente que pasa corriendo, sin verme. Tienen prisa. Cogen trenes, o taxis. Tienen un sitio a donde ir, alguien con quien encontrarse. Y yo me quedo sentada, esperando. - ¿Qué espera? - Que me ocurra algo.

sábado, 13 de julio de 2013

Ella

Ella es la clase de chica que sonríe a los chicos que le sonríen porqué quiere ser amigable. Es la clase de chica que mira demasiado al pizarrón cuando no entiende lo que la maestra dice. Es la clase de chica que actúa como una niña pequeña porqué extraña serlo. Es la clase de chica que prefiere que la lastimen con la verdad a que lo hagan con mentiras. Es la clase de chica que desea lo mejor a quienes ama aunque ella tenga que sufrir por eso. Es la clase de chica que es fiel a un chico cuando aprende como amar. Es la clase de chica que se aferra a los recuerdos aunque duelan. Es la clase de chica que yo soy.