We're closed, come back later.

 So... This is where it ends. I'm aware that I wasn't here as much as I wanted, but I did my best. So many things happened in this semester, for the country and for me. Right now I'm doing some research and a lot of dates, knowing that on april 2nd I will be flying to a new place where I hope I can achieve my hopes and dreams. I'm not entirely happy, as anyone could be if they were in my place, because I feel that I'm going to leave so many things here. So many friends and half of my family.

  I'm sad because my grandpa couldn't make it, but at the same time I'm happy because I know  he wouldn't like this current situation and that If he were here, it would be worse. I miss him so much, his laugh, his jokes, his stories, even his grumpiness. But I know he's in a good place right now and he can rest from all those deseases he had in life.

  Talking about my journey, I'll leave here my very best friends in life and my cute, grumpy, bad-joker boyfriend, who's going to Portugal on may 11th. I also leave my mom and my brother, my needy cat, grandma and grandpa from my dad's side and my aunt and cousin. I'm moving to Argentina with my grandma (I'm now my grandpa's replacement) and we are going to live with my aunt and her family. We are going to La Plata in Buenos Aires province, and I'll try to work and study, and well... To have a normal life.

  I'm currently saying goodbye to absolutely everything, and several of my friends gave me as a goodbye gift some tattoos that were made for me recently. I don't really know what is going to happen next, but I can say that I'm really excited for this experience and I really want it to be awesome. I'm trying my best to not to think about the sad parts of migration, and I know new things, bad and new, are waiting for me in this new journey.

 I don't promise anything, but I'll try to keep writing here about everything that happens.

 For now, I'm done here.

 Farewell.

Maybe I'm a writer

Here is another story that I wrote just because, it's called: "... Y reír será un lujo que olvide cuando te haya olvidado..." (It's a part of a song named Deseo de cosas Imposibles from La Oreja de Van Gogh)

I remember her.

I was an imbecile with her. I was a person I had never met, all because I didn't know how to handle myself. I went from being her best friend, to her boyfriend, stridently colliding with the ground when I became the first person who destroyed her heart. She was my best friend, she knew every little piece of me, that's why she didn't see that demon that I became when she tried to love for the first time. Nor did she see her destiny coming, although neither of us, young and foolish, knew the true value of life.

You see her, she's always quiet. When you talk to her, she smiles at you and helps you. You will never see her cry, or complain. She will never ask you anything. And that's why no one noticed that she was moving away, except me. Her silence has always been something completely characteristic of her. When I spoke to her, she looked at the floor in silence and analyzed each of my words. Unable to see the other person in the eye, she shuts down with respect and lets the others let off steam. But, do you think they ask her "what about you?" No, only I did it. Even so, I did not do it when I should. I did not do it when I saw her discouraged. I only worsened her condition. Sometimes I think that another person had taken my body when I broke her pure heart. Then I realized that I needed her more than ever; only that selfishly. I needed her at my side to let off steam with her and feel good after she said a few words of support. But I did not even think about how that quiet girl was.

I remember that when she took confidence, she would tell you about all the topics she knew. Although I also remember that she gave her confidence to who did not deserve it, and they did not listen to four of five words that she tended to say. I listened to her words and loved to see her laugh, loved that emotion with which she told his favorite stories, or some summary of one of his books. It was nice to see how her silence changed with laughter. It's something I miss, her voice.

I feel that everything that has happened was my fault, I feel that it is not worthwhile to smile if she is not there. Not only because she is no longer by my side, but that she is no longer in this world. They were in mourning a whole week, plus I thought that her "best friend" would be like me, but surely nobody remembers her name. I did love her, no matter what happened, she was the only person I came to trust. But everything was my fault. I remember that day, although two years have passed. I should not have shouted at her, I should not have sent her where she came from ... I should have gone with her. No one saw that truck approaching, her face flooded with tears. I was dying inside seeing her cry, because of every time I saw her like that, I gave her a warm and strong hug. But, instead, I turned around and started walking. God, what an imbecile. She just cried and asked me to say "I love you", but I did not. I only yelled lies to her, for the foolish reason that I did not know how to react to her words.

Her mother will never forgive me, besides it was my fault, I was the only one who heard her last words. Upon hearing the impact, I ran back, instinctively and out of the way. When both fell to the ground, I noticed how damaged she was, but she was still breathing and her eyes were clouded with terror. She whispered my name, and when I reciprocated, she simply said "Say you love me ...". I just replied that she would be fine, and that she would recover. But again her characteristic silence returned, however, this time was eternal.

I keep her in mind in my daily thoughts, and I know that laughing will be a luxury that I forget when I have forgotten her. Every time I talk about her, I speak as if she were here, with me. Everyone thinks me crazy, especially when they knew I was someone else with her, and that's why I hurt her. I feel her close, and that's why I'm rejected. In my dreams she says it was not my fault, that she loves me and that she knows that I love her. She whispers to me that I should be happy, and that never forget her silence. Now I shut up, as she did. Now I advise everyone who needs me, like her. Nobody notices my sadness, because she asked me to do it. Today, I live for both of us, I live like her and like me, the "me" that should have been the one who took care of her, of my princess. I'll be fine, surely I will not be happy again, not on my own. She'll be fine, wherever she is, and all I ask her to do is leave the ghost silences to me, and that she laughs with the angels.