WithYou

VODKA STILL HATES ME.

JULY 6TH, 2019, BUENOS AIRES, ARGENTINA.

IT'S BEEN 2 YEARS SINCE MY LIFE WAS TAKEN OUT OF MY LIFE.

After lose almost everything, I took what was left and move across the continent. 

My kisd were still learning and adapting both languajes. they stopped asking about everyone else about a year ago, what finally let me breath a little bit more for a second. 

i tried to explain to them what happened. i just panicked every singe time. was too painful to me. still is, I guess. if my anxiaty pills can lead me to some kind of explination-

I'm sure that when they're old enough i will tell them all about their family. how much they loved them. but I will never be able to explain the situation of how they .... I don't know how tell them without traumatize them and have a break down. 

today is specially hard. it's Brandon's anniversary. He lost a long fight against cancer. he never told us about. So, I was home, writing some more stories, because my mind couldn't afford face the world without pops in it. 

It took a while, but i realize it was a great therapy write every memorie to not be able of forget anything. that scary the hell out of me.  I looked on every single picture i had since i was 6 years old, and wrote every story. 

I was so afraid of not remember something. was everything i had left. memories, pictures, writted stories. the voices were slowly getting blurry. every time I started panicking about that i had to sit down and hold my journal and pictures. 

Tori came with me. she lost her husband 6 months ago. came here with us almost inmediatly. she brought with her what i had left on the club. some more pictures, jon's clothes and some other stuff, like our cuts. the club was almost vanished fully. if i could laugh about something that were not my kids, that would probably do the trick. Tori, this satanic version of Tinkerbell, managing 6 persons in the airport, to move slowly and carefully that stuff, becase otherway, she will use people's intestins to decorate their mom's christmas three. That would be hilarious to see. she hates blood. 

After a good 3k story, i decided it was enough writing and not so enough vodka to past through tonigh. i left my kids with tori and took a 2 hours walk before i finally decided where to go. was shocking realize how close i actually was to that bar. a vodka or two could make the trick of calming me down and with the walking i wouldn't need the pills to sleep tonight.

on one of my walks through the coty i saw this dark bar a few days ago. so i was entering there before checking anything around.... 

i think on the previous book i cleared enough that life can be a vendictive bitch ost of the time. i mean... been there, done that, have traumas to make a picnic on a mental health clinic to prove it. 

But, really life? you had to push ALL my buttons at once in a specially difficult night? 

As soon as i went in, i noticed something was going on. I mean... all those cuts did not belong to fellow writers, or to people who nicely worked on a supermarket. 

I putted myself into a fucking MC bar!!  a 1%ers bar!! red, white and black sons of rippers turned around just to show me their beutiful "we are going to massacre you" faces. 

I wish i could tell you what happened next.... but suddenly everything turned black....