Psychiatric leave

bajarse el clonazepam con café frío tiene descripción gráfica

He estado soñando harto estas noches.

En todos mis sueños apareces.

No descanso bien y despierto a cada rato

pero de alguna manera logras escabullirte en mi subconsciente lo suficiente  como para formar parte del recuerdo que tengo cuando despierto.

Estoy cansada.

Últimamente he practicado la magia negra que algunas personas me han prescrito

pero no estoy segura de que funcione, quizás si, quizás así viven todos los demás sólo que no lo comentan.

Quisiera ser más valiente de lo que soy y decidirme a hacer las cosas que pasan fugazmente por mi mente tipo siete de la tarde. En la tarde siempre tengo más energía y animo para planear mi vida.

A diferencia de la mañana en que mi cuerpo no quiere partir o como en la noche en que no quiere sucumbir.

Puede que agosto sea el tiempo de un cambio, puede que necesite un cambio sustancial antes de arribo del 20 20. El futuro llega en seis meses y este año se siente una transición borrosa a decisiones permanentes. Creo que el 2019 es el año de gracia sabática que nunca tuve. 

me siento como damisela en apuros
sangrante, golpeada, indefensa
la exposición al dolor siempre tiene buena paga
pero es el proceso lo que se lamenta

de nuevo mi cuerpo falla y mi cara dice la verdad
otra vez el despertador es el enemigo
y siento frío
de ese metálico de ese sulfúrico
que no discrimina días.

no tengo energía para pedir abrazos
ni para hacer la rutina
no quiero medicarme para ser un robot funcional
no se si es la soledad, no se si es extrañar,
se que quisiera luchar.

no voy a pedir ayuda
en noches como estas nadie quiere venir
solo los sueños, solo las lagrimas
sólo cuchillos,
silencio
constante.

así lo recuerdo

Nunca he puesto esto en palabras. Siempre he tenido tanto miedo y tanta verguenza.
Mis recuerdos se sienten poco confiables como si estuviera llenando la historia de detalles que no son tal simplemente porque no me acuerdo. Lo que es bastante grave ya que en estas situaciones se pretende emplazar culpas o responsabilidades. Esa no es mi intención.
He pasado más de quince años tratando de olvidar y he logrado evadir con destreza pero me he estado preguntando si eso es lo correcto de hacer.

Trato de pensar en mi misma de diez años, de nueve años, de ocho años y he estado intentando recordar como era mi vida en ese tiempo. Se que era mucho más cercana a mi familia paterna que a la materna. Recuerdo que me encantaba pasar tiempo con mis primos y primas.
Respecto a él, a nuestra relación de primos, recuerdo que era cercana porque nos llevamos tres años de diferencia, jugábamos harto, eramos unidos, no recuerdo que hubiese mucho contacto físico entre nosotros o no del tipo que me hubiese hecho pensar dos veces.
Nunca noté que él me mirara de alguna manera sexual ni me di cuenta de algún pase inapropiado si es que lo hizo antes de ese verano en las termas.
Sumando datos al contexto, en esa época mi cuerpo se había desarrollado muchísimo más que el del resto de mis compañeras y aunque en mi percepción sólo era más gordura, uno de mis compañeros de básica me hizo saber hace un tiempo que él y otros niños (?) opinaban que yo no parecía una niñita de once años.
El bikini naranjo, bastante pequeño, con flores en el sostén y sin diseño en el calzón que usaba en esa época se siente surreal. Eso era lo que tenía puesto cuando pasó.
Recuerdo que era de noche, recuerdo que estábamos en la piscina con agua caliente, recuerdo que mis papás se habían separado muy recientemente y que casi no habían adultos ahí con nosotros.
Mi otro primo, menor que yo, estaba en la piscina también.
Recuerdo haber estado de espalda flotando en el agua cuando senti su mano tomando la mia. Recuerdo que él movió mi mano de lugar para que lo tocara y que comenzó a tocarme de vuelta debajo del agua.
Recuerdo haberle sacado la mano pero también recuerdo haberme resistido sólo al comienzo.
Se que mi otro primo le hablaba y recuerdo haber pensado "Se va a dar cuenta de lo que estamos haciendo"
No se cuanto tiempo habrá pasado. Recuerdo haber estado nerviosa.
Después, lo siguiente que recuerdo es que él se cambio de posición, y se sentó en la piscina. Yo no me moví. Seguía de espalda flotando. Él me agarro de una pierna y me atrajo hacia si mismo como para que lo montara. Recuerdo haber pataleado y haberme alejado de él sintiendo una culpa instantánea.
Salí de la piscina. Nada más viene a mi cabeza.
Recuerdo emociones porque son más que recuerdos.
Culpa, arrepentimiento, remordimiento, culpa, vergüenza, soledad, miedo, culpa.

Al día siguiente recuerdo haberlo evitado.
Me acuerdo de mirar a mi mamá y sentir que tenía este horrible secreto que jamás iba a poder contarle. No me sentía como una niña buena ni inocente.
Recuerdo haber decidido llevarme el secreto de lo que había pasado a la tumba.
Nunca pensaba en el secreto como un abuso, pensaba más bien que era una falta de moralidad de mi parte puesto que había decidido acceder a un acto sexual perverso. De alguna manera aun siento que ambas descripciones son correctas. Si bien nada ocurrió por mi iniciativa y si bien era una niña en ese entonces, sentir placer, aun cuando el acto no sea completamente consentido, confundió el escenario.

Insistí tanto a mi mamá que me permitiera dejar las vacaciones y lloré hasta que la convencí de que me dejara volver a la casa. Quizás fingí estar enferma porque dudo que mi mamá me hubiese dejado volver de otra manera. Estábamos en unas termas donde el diablo perdió el poncho y aun recuerdo la ruta que tomamos a la carretera, recuerdo que era remoto, que no pasaban autos ni buses. Recuerdo que me subí como a una micro de campo gigante. Recuerdo la música ranchera, el olor a polvo, recuerdo haber ido orando en el camino y llorando porque sabía que algo había cambiado en mi. Algo que no podía deshacer.
Tenía once años e iba viajando sola en un bus de campo después de semejante experiencia traumática. Completamente aislada y apartada.
Me acuerdo que era verano, recuerdo que la casa de mi abuela estaba ordenada cuando volví, que olía a cera. Recuerdo haber pensando en "el incidente" cuando caminaba al patio, cuando me duchaba, cuando comía, cuando me acostaba y cuando despertaba.

Nunca he vuelto a ir a las termas.
Nunca nunca había relatado con detalles lo que pasó.
Lo que recuerdo.

A veces me pregunto cuanto de esto ha impactado mis relaciones interpersonales o mi relación con mi familia. Tengo historias de situaciones sexuales inapropiadas por ambos lados y esta es una de las cuatro. Quizás por eso es que no voy a sus cumpleaños o fiestas. Quizás por eso no fui a la boda de mi primo en Argentina y no por el grado como dije. Quizás por eso le dije que no a Jorge y estuve en esa relación con Alvaro que me trataba tan mal.
¿Cuanto de mi inhabilidad para estar en una relación amorosa normal, como todo el resto del mundo, tiene su raíz en esto?
¿Cuanto de mi miedo horripilante a la intimidad y el deseo torcido de tenerla ahora está relacionado con esto?

Se que Dios hace todo nuevo y que un matrimonio fundamentado en Cristo es capaz de pasar por sobre cualquier trauma emocional o sexual que yo pueda llevar a la mesa.
Se que Dios desea mi restauración incluso si eso no pasa, si me mantengo como una mujer adulta, soltera e independiente.
También se que esto es un trauma necesario de tratar con ayuda de otras personas.
Haberlo hablado después de más de una década con varias mujeres y mi papá ha sido, en su conjunto, un primer paso.
Escribirlo es el segundo.

que miedo

Creo que vivir sola me ha vuelto miedosa.
No se si me de tanto miedo el ladrón, el violador, el asesino o todos los anteriores
como me da miedo estar siendo observada en las noches.
Obviamente no se si algo o alguien me observa, es más bien una sensación.
Cierro los ojos o apago la luz y siento que hay alguien más en la habitación.
Que las luces a pilas se enciendan y apaguen solas no ayude. Igual puede que sean las pilas de mala calidad o puede que sean espíritus.
A veces me imagino que hay alguien gateando en el techo como en esa película de terror
japonesa que alguna vez vi.
Es raro retroceder a la infancia en este aspecto.
Recuerdo haber estado noches enteras con la luz prendida y pensando en el Jesús rubio para que se me pasara el miedo.
Todo hasta que mi mamá hizo esa oración conmigo y nunca más le tuve miedo a la oscuridad.

Se supone que en la adultez te da miedo enfermarte. Porque ir al doctor es caro, tu empleador no está ni ahí con pagarte la licencia y puedes olvidarte de una sopita acostada porque nadie está esperándote en la casa.
Debería tenerle miedo al cambio climático, a la inminente sequía y a la crisis económica.
No hay terror como el alzheimer, la esterilidad, el cáncer o el sida.
Debería estar traumatizada por el endeudamiento que significa tener una casa o un departamento.
Pero aquí estoy evitando vídeos de casos sobrenaturales no resueltos y durmiendo con la luz prendida.
Que me perdonen la economía, el planeta, el Jesús rubio y mi amita que está en los cielos pero puede que no sea una mujer super empoderada e independiente. Puede que necesite dormir con alguien para tener un testigo de toda esta actividad paranormal.

Olga Marina nivel misionera

¿Y si mi amor por los hombres está decayendo por el amor a los hombres?
Esa frase sería más lógica con algunas precisiones griegas.

¿Estará pasándome al fin? ¿Es este mi llamado a la misión transcultural?

Deseo persistente de vivir en otro lugar? Si.
Soltera? Si.
Conoce y explica el evangelio a otros? Si.
Habla ingles? Si
Quisiera aprender otros idiomas? Si
Se lleva bien con las mujeres? Si.
Y con los niños? Mmm

Quizás toda la energía que ocupaba buscando marido se está trasladando a otra cosa.
Y Dios sabe que tengo que encontrarme alguna ocupación.
No puedo andar por siempre detrás de la añadidura. En especial ahora que mis estándares imposibles están en su máxima expresión y todas las añadiduras que conozco me parecen simplemente meh.

En la práctica puede que esté enamorada de la libertad más que de cualquier otra cosa. Puede que mi miedo al cambio permanente sea más bien una señal. No naci para ser esposa o madre.
A lo mejor nací para ser una Arya Stark sin Gendry esperandola en el barco.
Quizas mi hermano sea el continuador de nuestra sangre, quizás Walter tenga los hijos gordos con rulos con los que he soñado, quizás esa vida con la que soñé no es para mi.

¿Se puede uno transformar en célibe a punta de voluntad y desilusión?
Mis hormonas dicen que no. Por ellas cualquier pedazo de carne sirve.
Quizás Pablo no nació célibe. Quizás Pablo se enamoró de una amiga. Quizás fue rechazado, quizás él la dejó a ella en el altar. Quizás Pablo le perdió el gusto a la cosa. Quizás Pablo se cansó de esperar y en la actividad evangelista arribó a algo superior..

Y si eso es la misión para mi?
Podrá mi amor por el evangelio de Cristo y su iglesia no alcanzada superar mis necesidades carnales y afefctivas?

Stay tuned.

i am not better

Do you love it?

love her

love him

love

now try to move on

try to live without it

without her

without him

don't feel sad

stop crying

go on

let go

go go

do your job

pray your prayers

smile at people

listen

say the right words

move

dance

meet strangers in the dancefloor

feel the energy, you are the electrocutioner

drink

go back and fourth

make the same mistake again

look stupid

be unreasonable

repetitive

are you tired?

are you winning?

are you distracted enough?

are you in pain?

don't wait

produce

make love

make war

i love you

i do 

i don't need you

i don't want to

but i've been loving you

now

i want to be free

i'm riping my heart out for you

for good

or for worse

and in vows

no one made

i will forget

i will forget

i will forget

i will try harder

i swear

thank you for coming

i hope you enjoy your stay

because guess what?

there is no escape

our coffee it's always lousy

but it will kill time

trying to prove we can be friends

maybe you actually like my company

maybe i won't overthink this time

i don't love you of course

i only love Jesus my bed and my momma.

you are here

i am here

until we are not.

insatisfecha

A veces siento que es crítico 

en especial cuando la comida no me hace feliz.

a veces pienso en pollo crispy y/o sushi y no siento nada.

ni siquiera me hace feliz el cookies and cream que me compro mensualmente

sólo lo sigo haciendo para ver si regresa.

El cafe no me produce mucho

ni la torta, ni las hamburguesas, ni los milkshakes.

¿Y hay acaso algo más puro que la comida para hacerla a una feliz?

Como un último recurso el otro día descubrí el chai latte de dunkin donuts

y para ser sincera, está manteniendome con vida

puedo disfrutarlo sola o  acompañada

con un libro en la mano o conversando en el trabajo

buen siervo fiel es ese chai latte

dulce y con tendencia a enfriarse

quizás por eso nos entendemos tan bien.

Quisiera disfrutar la lluvia y no quedarme acostada los dos días libres que tengo.

Es tan difícil querer levantarse y tener energía para hacer cosas.

Apenas lavo la ropa de la pega, apenas lavo la loza que debo devolver, apenas me ducho.

no cocino, no salgo a vitrinear y llueve pero yo no siento nada.

a veces hago cosas sólo para sentir algo

cosas secretas a ver si en ellas encuentro tormento

u al menos olvido.

las voces en mi cabeza se alejan

como si no les mereciera

como si no fuese un buen intermediario

entre la fantasía y la verdad

me siento común, sin talento alguno.

adormecida

durmiendo todo el tiempo

cansada

sin capacidad de organizar celebraciones

ni a la vida ni a la vejez ni a la patria

ni al invierno

ni a la comida.

no me siento feliz escuchando la lluvia

no me siento feliz comiendo chocolate

¿qué estoy esperando?

Epifanías de medianoche

Eres tú el que calma mi agitada desesperanza.
Tú eres esa infinitud, ese algo más que mi alma necesita.

Cuando pienso en levantarme, comer, trabajar y dormir por el resto de mis días
el corazón se me detiene y quiero devolverte mi vida.
Cuando mi peor ídolo es revelado como lo que es... diminuto, falible, aburrido
tu brillas en comparación.

Tú eres más grande de lo que puedo imaginar,
Tú no fallas, Tú no cambias, Tú eres algo nuevo para mi cada día
Tú eres arte, Tú eres pasión, Tú eres aventura.
Tú no me rechazas, Tú me escoges, Tú me buscas
Tú me amas, Tú me aceptas, Tú me añoras

Fuera de ti sólo hay tristeza, rabia y melancolía por días que se fueron
por decisiones tomadas, por un pasado que definitivamente no fue mejor
Fuera de ti sólo hay mentiras, sólo hay muerte, hay olvido.

Tú eres el inicio y el final de mi historia
Tú eres eso épico que existe en mi
Tú eres mi propósito

En ti está todo lo que necesito

The Dark side

Scottie had to go to work. She reluctantly left Philip laying on the coach with the cat sleeping in his lap. Elaisa had already left. They were alone.

Philip had been so scared of being stuck in time that he was grateful for everything he had in the present. Even if it meant he had a purple eye and less hair. He looked at “old” Scottie, the wrinkles in her forhead, the dark circles under her eyes, 

even her skin was different. He hadn’t touched it though. He hadn’t touched her skin in a long time.

She was thinking of an excuse to stay home. She was already late but decided to cook some rice and veggies anyways. Philip tried to help but the cat wouldn’t let him move and neither did Scottie. She couldn’t stop asking questions about the past, specially because she kind of remembered the conversation Philip said they just had. He did seat next to her in the floor, like they were intimate friends and said something strange. She remembered that.

Scottie ate her food, looking at the clock and feeling melancholic about taxis and Ubers at their disposal. If she was late for work, she had to run. The good thing was, nobody really dressed up for anything these days so she could wear sneakers to work and no one would notice.

Philip was staring at her while she ate standing in the kitchen. His eyes were very when he was focused on something. She wondered what was he thinking. She didn’t ask.

-   Are you really comfortable with the idea of stealing drugs from the hospital? -Scottie said, instead, trying to get to his mind.

He took a big breath and kept on petting the white fuzzy cat.

-   No, not comfortable. I wish i could just go to sleep and reach the kind of unconscious state needed for time travel.

-   Sleeping hasn’t done it so far. This is the first time your head gets smashed against rock so my bet is… they are not the same kind of unconsciousness.

-   Yes, but stealing the amount of drugs we need it’s considered a crime even in a state of law. The things they can do to Elaisa if she gets caught… we don’t have a proper justice system anymore. We wouldn’t be allowed to present a defense and even if we could, aren’t we all agreeing for her to commit a crime?

-   She is commiting a crime in the name of the Republic.

-   I don’t know if they would see it that way, Scottie. We are talking about time travel and the multiverse. That’s fiction.

-   Except it isn’t. We need more information and we have to be willing to risk something.

-   Even other people's lives?

Philip asked in a serious tone. Time was up. Scottie had to leave, she was supposed to get to the store in eight minutes.

She didn’t want to leave Philip alone but she had to. The cat was meowing fiercely.

-   I don’t understand what you want. -Scottie said to her.

-   I think she wants to leave. She is a free soul.

-   She belongs to someone, Philip. Is there any adress in her collar?

-   Nope, just a B.

The meowing got louder. Like a child would do when no one was paying attention. It was desperate. Philip stood up trying to talk to it.

-   Hey B, what do you need? Are you still hungry? Do you want to go back to sleep? Do you want me to scratch your neck?

The cat looked at Philip almost like his words frustrated her.

Sara thought she would’ve said yes to all of those question if they were adressed to her.

Scottie grabbed her backpack and say goodbye to both of them, just with words and waving her hand. Philip had moved closer to the door so when she passed him to grabb the doorknob, he kissed her in the cheek. Like it was an important thing to do, a very well thought move, a product of an international agreement between the women of the world and the little men who struggled with signs of affection.

Scottie resisted every urge to stay.

She was late for work and just like a grown up she left.

Elijah and Scottie felt like the day was never gonna be over. They handed canned food for hours untill something happened. 

They were informed about a new trade system. The goverment was ready to give the people a certain amount of bonuses to cash every month so no one would starve. Everybody would have the bare mininimum to eat. The goverment said it would help with the terrible obesity plague sickening the children as well.

Sara was afraid when a military guy and a girl showed up to the supermaket to informed them this new policy.

Lieutenant Fox was very handsome and kind. But Sara kept expecting him to scream and asked her to open her legs for any reason.

Lieutenant Marx was beautiful, Scottie thought. She had the most amazing eyelashes and perfect make up that looked like she didn’t have any. She was friendly and didn’t laugh when Elijah asked something dumb. She was probabbly used to being around men that weren’t as smart as she was.

They were great for the militia. Sara didn’t understand why would anyone decide to join the dark side of the forcé. Specially normal looking and kind people. Maybe they were victims of the government not really allies.

-   Is it clear? How the new procedure works?

Lieutenant Marx asked them. Both of them nodded, Elija still looked a bit intimidated by her very commanding voice.

-   Is that cat yours? -Lieutenant Fox, said.

Scottie followed his finger and he was pointing to b.

-   You know we have to take any strayed animals. They aren’t allowed in the streets.

Elijah looked conflicted. He knew what was done to Street animals but he didn’t want to lie to them. Scottie talked first.

-   It’s mine, kind of. It’s my boyfriend’s cat.

Lieutenant Fox looked a little bit dissapointed. Either he was keen on killing animals or he expected Sara to be single.

Elijah was surprised. He didn’t know Scottie had a boyfriend. He didn’t like her that way but he was feeling pressured about being single. His family and his married friends constantly bothered him about it. So being around a single woman in the workplace was priceless. Everybody made comments on her singleness not his. 

He was dissapointed.

Scottie ran to get B. She jumped to her arms, thank God.

-   She must’ve followed me here. I’m so sorry Lieutenant i will deal with it.

The soldiers left. Elijah waited just for the car to sound like it was gone to start talking.

-   Is your boyfriend that scary guy?

-   He is not scary and yes, sort of, we aren’t… not together. We just, we don’t like labels but i wasn’t gonna say that in front of the siths.

-   The what?

-   The siths, didn’t you watch Star Wars?

-   Yeah, i’m not sure sith has a plural though and they were more like clones.

-   Whatever. The point is i need to get the cat back to him.

-   What’s her name? -Elijah said trying to pet her and forget about Sara’s “boyfriend”.

-   I don’t know. It starts with a B, maybe Britney?

-   She looks more like a Barbra Streisand to me.

It took Scottie five seconds to realize it. Barbra.

She would have to free Patricia Johnson out of her assylum way sooner than she expected.

B

It was the morning after the police brutality incident. 
Elaisa looked at her night stand. She was awake before her alarm.

A cat outside of her window was meowing loudly and she couldn't sleep because of it. It was like it needed something. 
She stood up, put on her robes, and moved the curtains to see... just a cold morning, no cat.

Elaisa checked on Philip, he was looking better. More colour in his face, his breathing was good, apart from the broken ribbs everything seemed ok. 

Sara was sleeping in the floor, next to him, so close, that he could step on her if he wanted to. Elaisa was still worried he may want to.

-   Weren’t you sleeping in my bed last night? -She asked Scottie.

-   Yeah, but then i felt bad. What if Philip woke up and nobody was there.

Elaisa smiled.

-   Didn’t you hear a cat crying?

-   I thought it was a baby crying. -Sara responded, looking at the ceiling and wondering why she thought a baby was trapped up there.

-   I gotta go to work now, so i’m using the shower first, is that ok?

Sara nodded, she was getting up to tidy the living room. Both of them were in their pajamas when Philip talked.

-   You won’t believe what just happened.

Elaisa got near him and helped him seat in the coach. He was dirty and his eyes were puffy.

-   Scottie. -He said reaching for her hand. Sara sat next to him and put her head in the nook of his neck. -   Scottie, i need to tell you something before i forget.

-   Can it wait a minute? I’m enjoying hearing your pulse.

-   I’m sorry, would you give us a second? -He said, looking at Elaisa.

She laughed. Elaisa litteraly chuckled in front of Philip.

He was looking pale. More pale than sick. He didn’t know Elaisa. What if she was a spy? A government officer undercover? This secret, their secret, had the potential of changing the world as they knew it so Philip tried to be defensive.

-   She is my friend, she is trust worthy. I don’t know what we would’ve done without her last night.

Elaisa was thankful for the trust vote but she decided to give them space, she was late for work anyway.

Philip tried to move in the coach and made a painful grin in the attempt.

-   I thought they were gonna rape me, Philip.

That made him stop. He froze. She looked just like the little girl with the pink scrounchie and he wanted to hug her but she kept talking.

-   This is dangerous. What we are trying to understand it’s dangerous and i don’t know if…

Philip grabbed her knee, as tenderly as a big hand can, just like a dog trying not to break an egg in his mouth.

-   I did it. I went back.

Elaisa was out of the shower and Sara convinced him to keep talking. They were gonna trust her and that was final.

He proceeded to tell the story from the beginning. Sara interrupted everytime he got to a milestone. She couldn’t believe he went back to 1998. It was a great year for sports and soap operas but nothing really important happened in 1998. Why did Philip travel back to his twelve years old when he could’ve visited Egypt or met Jesus.

-   What if he can only time travel in his own timeline?

Elaisa could be right but they didn’t have enough data to affirm or deny that. Philip thought that was sensible. 

-   What did you change? -Scottie asked, worried.

-   I didn’t change anything. I talked to you, you looked uninterested as usual...

-   Sara wasn’t intersted in you? -Elaisa asked, confused.

Her friend explained.

-   Oh, i met Philip in 1995. We were nine and he was a strange kid. He was always spacing out, talking nonsense. In 1998 we were seating partners, i didn’t like him until the millenium i think… he was always handsomeish and all but he lived in his own world like he just…

-   … like he just didn’t know where he was because he was time traveling? – Elaisa completed.

Philip looked at Sara and she looked at Elaisa. They all silently agreed that made a lot of sense.

-   I talked to Patricia Johnson. I asked her how did she peek into dimensions.

-   Oh my God. -Scottie covered her mouth with her hands. -What if you planted the idea on her, Philip? What if all of this already happened. What if you are supposed to travel back in time to do certain things?

-   How? -Elaisa, intervened. -Did you choose that moment in time to go back to?

-   No. I just woke up there, after being kicked in the head.

-   Listen, maybe Philip just know when to come back. Like his time travelling powers do that. -Scottie felt weird saying that sentence.

-   How am i gonna do it again? -Philip said, looking concerned. -Do i have to start a fight club so i can be knocked unconscious and get my time traveling powers to activate?

-   No -Elaisa said, smiling -You can use drugs to knock you unconscious. They are a little less dangerous than a beating.

-   We don’t do drugs. -Philip said, like it was obvious.

-   Where do we find such drugs? -Scottie said, at the same time.

He looked at her, confused. Well, extreme times, extreme measures she thought.

It wasn’t like they were gonna trip the shit out of their brains just for fun. They were gonna conduct a highly experimental treatment to induce Philip such an unconscious state that he was able to trip himself into the past.

Elaisa was a nurse. She worked at a public hospital. If you needed to find powerful drugs that was the place to look for.

They were still planning the heist to the pharmacy wing when Philip saw the cat.

-   Hey, i know her.. Scottie, open the window.

Scottie looked over Philip’s shoulder to the kitchen’s window. There it was, a majestic, all white, yellow eyed cat.

When Sara opened the window the cat’s expression didn’t change. She didn’t enter, she didn’t even move, she just meowed.

-What does she want? -Elaisa asked -Why don’t you throw her something to eat?

-Scottie pick her up -Philip said -She is friendly. I’ve been feeding her for a while now, she’s always in the butcher shop. You should see her steal meat, she is such a funny burglar.

When Sara was paying attention to Philip the cat sneeked in. Still mistrusted of the surrounding, she jumped to a chair and then got closer to Philip. He was calling for her.

The White creature had a golden collar with a shiny single letter “b” hanging.

She must belong to someone, Scottie thought.

But you don’t get to own cats, they just come to you when you need them.

You're too young to be lost

Philip touched his head to check the blood and the wounds when he woke up. The sun was shining in his bedroom. He didn’t remember how he got home. He was trying to open his eyes but the light was so bright. He saw his backpack laying near his writing desk, there were math books in the floor, school uniform, his old pouffe and his play station.

Suddenly, his door open.

-   Honey, you’re really late for school please get in the shower. Daddy will drive you, ok?

-   Mom?

Philip’s thirty years old mind was trapped in his twelve years old body.

Sara got home screaming and crying at Elaisa to help her carry an unconscious man out of a truck. She didn’t ask questions she went out and saw Philip bleeding.

They managed to throw him in the coach. Sara was hysteric. Elaisa told her to boil water, to make her do something.

She checked his vitals, he was alive. Beaten and bleeding from his mouth, nose and forehead. She went for her home kit and started pouring alcohol in his wounds. It took her a long time to clean and heal them properly.

Sara helped her remove his upper clothes. She was sure he had at least two broken ribs.

-   We can’t take him to a hospital. I need you to take care of him. I will go to his dad’s and let him know we are okay.

-   Sara, no. What happened?

Scottie closed his eyes and tried to explain. Elaisa forbid her to get out in the truck again. If the police was in the middle of nowhere fishing for dumb post curfew drivers there must be military men in the streets.

-   They let you go after checking your I.D? -Elaisa asked.

-   I think it was because of the picture.

Sara had a photo of her family in her wallet. A younger version of herself, her mom and her dad wearing his police uniform.

Milton Scott, was a very high decorate officer of the local police who had done some very questionable things in favor of the military strike. Sara wasn’t close to him or her mom anymore because of it. She had found out about a couple of cases he was involved with and she didn’t had the stomach to asked him if the reports were true.

If he was capable of such inhumanity how could she share his rooftop.

While Scottie drank a cup of tea, Elaisa made up a fire. The house was cold and not just Philip would benefit from the heat. 

They had torn apart Scottie’s bed to throw him some blankets and cushions to make the coach more comfortable. They sat in the wooden floor, the house warmed up very fast, it took them a moment after the storm to breath out the exhaustion. Sara told her everything. 

-   I can’t lose him Elaisa, i just got him back.

Elaisa looked at her. Scottie seemed different, like a lifetime had happened in that trip.

-   We are meant to… we are supposed to make it. We are meant to.

She said, fixing his curls. Tracing his forehead with her fingers, watching him sleep.

-   Are you talking about a proper relationship this time?

-   Yes, that too. -Scottie said without hesitation.

Philip was going to school.

Medium to big size, blue bright recently painted, black fence. The yard was filled with girls jumping ropes, kids laughing or kicking a big ball made out of paper.

He looked at his dad driving, his mother next to him. Her mother was  happy, she was still there, with them. He must’ve had eleven or twelve.

He waved goodbye and got into the school. He hadn’t grown to his real size yet so he felt short and a little clumsy.

Roger was there, also Lincoln and Amy. He looked in the corridor, and outside of his classroom he found Sara seating in the floor. 

He quickly sat down next to her and said.

-   Scottie, it’s working. Are you here too?

She looked at him confused.

-   What are you talking about, Trabold? -She said frowning.

-   I don’t know why i am here. –He said.

Amy approached them. She was tough as nails, all the kids feared her. She was always elected as class president.

-   So did you do it? – Amy asked, with her arms crossed.

-   Did what? -Said Philip, with a high pitch voice. He didn’t realize it was his.

-   Said hello with a kiss. That was the agreement we all made on Friday.

Right, he remembered. When they were twelve, the guys hang with the guys and the girls hanged with the girls. They barely said hello to each other. That bothered the girls.

The only time they spent “together” was at birthday parties. Those were important events in a puber's agenda. Philip’s father was the one who drove all the gang from one place to another, the designater driver. Young Philip was never grateful for her father’s patience. He drove them around, he dropped every kid safe at their houses and never complained. Not once. Philip wanted to say thank you now.

Last Friday had been William Nelson’s birthday party in a condo with a pool. They were playing truth or dare wearing swim suits. Most of the guys’s dares involved stupid and dangerous pirouettes. However, the girls’s challenges were infinitely smarter. Amy’s dare, for example, was to force all the guys to say hello with a kiss in the cheek for the entire year. All ten of them agreed in the party. Lincoln was the only was who actually did it on monday and got terribly bullied for it.

Philip had forgotten what a big deal kissing was when you’re young. Even kissing in the cheek. When you’re thirty you barely think you’re kissing someone hello, it’s something you do. No previous agreement, no thinking implied.

But in the nineties everyone talked about kissing, it was bigger than cellphones, parties or cars. They all wanted to know how kissing worked and felt before the millennium arrived.

Was it gross? Was it hard? What about the teeth and what were you supposed to with the tongue?

Scottie was looking at him confused. She’s been the new girl in school for three years now. He had admired her for three full years but it wasn’t their time yet.

He didn’t kiss Scottie in the cheek. He just smiled and got to class.

Their public school didn’t have fancy one person desks so he shared a desk with Scottie.

Her copybooks were pristine, beautiful handrwrite and multiple colours. He couldn’t help but stare. Her hair was always up and he had forgotten that. Young Scottie was an only child so her mother begged her to let her do her hair everyday. “What is the point of having a daughter if i can’t play with your hair?” She would said. Scottie’s mother wasn’t a very talented hair dresser but she was the most enthusiastic. Scottie wore a straight ponytail with a big pink scrunchie.

Scottie caught him staring. She was nervous. Philip smiled. Her face was red as a tomato.

It was so weird to share a day with someone who didn’t recognize you. He wanted to tell her everything, ask her questions, make her promises. They could do everything right this time. He could call her Scottie again and be freely in love with her but nothing had happened yet. He couldn’t change Scottie, that was too risky. He had to wait, he had to be rejected first and then be noticed by her a couple of months later. That was two more years. Philip’s head hurt. What if he was trapped in this year... he was starting to hyperventilate and his teacher noticed.

-   Trabold, are you ok?

-   Nope, i think i’m having a panic attack.

-   A what? –Their music teacher was looking at him puzzled. Philip remembered. There was no such thing as panic attacks in the nineties. You were just overreacting or faking something. They barely accepted stress as a real thing.

-   I need to see the nurse. -Philip said.

-   Davis, go with him.

Philip wasn’t feeling that bad he just wanted to leave the classroom and get some air. Lincoln Davis helped him out. They were walking side to side in the same corridor they just met, again, yesterday?

Time was a very weird thing. Philip was starting to feel a real headache. They were just passing the teacher’s lounge when he saw Mrs. Johnson alone. Younger, focused and wearing pink lipstick.

-   Lincoln, i need to talk to Mrs. Johnson…

Philip didn’t wait for an answer he went right into the teachers lounge and asked Patricia for a word.

She seemed so tall, even when seating. Mrs. Johnson was drinking coffee and grading tests with a red pencil in her hand. 

-   Trabold, you didn’t do well in the last test, i’m afraid.

-   I know, history was hard this year. That’s not what i’m here.

-   You shouldn’t be here at all. -Patricia said, looking at the clock in the wall and frowning.

-   I need you to help me i’m... lost.

Philip was talking like an adult and Patricia couldn’t help but nervous smile.

-   You’re too young to be lost, Philip.

-   Your husband. Is he sick?

Her face changed. Nobody in the school knew Frank was being examined by a general doctor tomorrow. She didn’t answer, he continued.

-   He is sick. You have like a year. After that you’re gonna attempt to do something no one else has done. How did you do it? I mean how are you gonna do it? I am time travelling now but you said you could peek dimensions? How are we even doing this? Am i stuck here?

Patricia was absolutely bewildered. He had her mouth a bit open and was thinking on what to say next when Philip talked again.

-   I don’t feel that well.

Philip hit the floor before the bells rang.