Fent veure que escric des de 1997
dissabte, 15 de juliol del 2023
escriure de no escriure per no perdre l'hàbit d'escriure
dimarts, 11 de juliol del 2023
els llibrets que venen al tren
Ahir vaig agafar el tren al vespre a Barcelona, com tantes altres vegades en aquella altra vida, i en engegar el tren una mà coneguda m'ha atansat un llibret. Uns fulls petits grapats amb il·lustracions de colors que m'han transportat a aquella vida passada, quan després dels cursos d'escriptura anava a casa cada dia, tard, i la mateixa dona que ahir em vaig trobar venia petites històries que ella mateixa imprimia. En el passat, algunes vegades li vaig comprar, i d'altres no vaig poder, però sé que guardo en alguna caixa alguns dels petits contes que aquesta dona escriu. No perquè necessàriament m'agradessin molt, si no perquè reconec en la seva escriptura versions de mi mateixa escrivint. Reconec en les seves frases psicodèliques la certesa de quan pensava que la comprensió del que jo escrivia estava reservada per aquelles persones que creien en la màgia i el misticisme, i que com més críptica la meva escriptura, millor, més bona, més qualitat, o més difícil de criticar. Tot i així, ahir, al llegir-me la seva petita biografia, una frase em va calar molt: "a veces creo que la única satisfacción que di a mis padres fue nueve meses antes de nacer". Em va omplir una infinita tristesa al reconèixer com de difícil ha de ser sentir això, i com certs fantasmes ens ho poden fer creure, encara que no sigui veritat. Vaig reconèixer en la resta de les seves paraules trets que em van espantar, de reconèixer-los com a quelcom del que vull fugir, i altres frases que encara no hi he pogut trobar sentit, i que només el temps i el créixer, suposo, em permetran revelar-ne el significat.
Trobar-me aquesta mà atansant-me el llibret va ser com tenir una petita finestra al passat, i adonar-me'n que a la persona que comprava el llibret antany, i jo, que el compro ara, ens separa un abisme de dolor i experiències. No envejo gens qui vaig ser, i em sento còmode en la pell que habito, malgrat encara lluiti per curar-me les ferides.
Fonent-me,
Maraya
dilluns, 10 de juliol del 2023
A pre-love letter to my friends and a reminder to myself + of course me talking about the weather
I know I always end up talking about the weather, but I guess I wouldn't be me if that wasn't a topic again in this new setting.
I have been craving for endless days of sun for months and now I am pissed at myself for wanting them so soon. The shade that hides me now from the impossible heat is so scarce and temporary that makes me question if it was worth it, to leave behind a place where my heart was beating calmly and the sunny days were worth mentioning even in the news. Everyone stopped to be marveled by the astonishing beauty of a sunny day; and here, they are taken so for granted that when I try to stop I see myself dragged around by an endless sea of people that do not even notice.
I find myself reading the same notebook everyday, to make me feel like home. I am also enjoying this not so social me, because the people that I do see are filling me with mostly joy, and I do not feel like explaining to any of the people that used to love who I was how much I miss who I have been there. I don't want their expectations pushed on me, them longing to see a friend that has been lost two years ago, and me wanting to hide and run away from it as much as possible. Me trying to find where do I fit now that I am back, where do I fit everything I have been, where do I fit my confidence without it crumbling in tiny pieces like broken glass. Thin, thin glass.
I miss my people, and I have been proven to be an idiot from time 0. If I ever feel the anxiety telling me that someone does not like me, I know I have now the "well, their loss" answer, and the proof that I have been completely blind to at least someone that did like me, but for who I was, and not for my people-pleasing. Which has been a precious gift that I didn't even know I needed.
And I know that there is more than one person, and I see my confidence already rising me so high that I feel strong enough to face those that are close to me, and therefore, should treat me better. And I am ready to not settle for less, and to draw the lines that are goi ng to create the space where I am not drowning, where my "norwegian" self can be here and I can feel again in peace.
I miss you so so so so much and for now I don't want to get used to miss you, all of you. I feel so lucky to be able to brag about how amazing my friends are, and to feel sorry, a little bit, for those who do not know you. I love you so much.
Trying my best to stay here,
Maraya