7 Steps...

1. Balance
According to the chaos theory, we are all part of a bigger equation; the slightest variation in any aspect would change the whole system irredeemably, forever…

2. Pain
So far, I’ve got to the point where I think I hate myself. And it’s not something to be pitied about, it’s just a fact. And I think I hate myself because I’m always finding new ways of feeling pain: I NEED to feel pain, and I need to MAKE ME feel pain. Pain keeps me alert, on the tip of my toes, awakened, sharp. Pain makes me move, gives me strength, courage, raw power, energy. Pain is good. And I hate felling in pain, this constant, unstoppable, everlasting pain, and sometimes is not even pain anymore, just the humming feeling of the adaptation to persistence of pain, which shoots me on the look for new ways of feeling pain. Because, overall, constant stimuli seems to be far less effective than variable stimuli when speaking of negative reinforcement or positive punishment. That delicious, fresh, obsessive dosage of pain. I hate pain. I hate feeling pain.
But the bottom line is, pain is the closest I have to what you could call a friend: it’s always there, it comes when I call it, it appears when I need it, it never disappoints me, it’s unconditional, and at the end of times, it’s the only thing I can rest sure about. Pain is my friend!
And I hate it…

3. Hatred
I hate you.
I plain and simply hate you.
I hate that you are always there for me to hate you.
I hate that you don’t even care to know I hate you.
I hate that you will see this, and still won’t care that I hate you.
I hate every hair of you, every nail of you, every damn brain cell, every fucking fiber of every fucking muscle of your fucking body, I HATE YOU!
I fucking hate you.
I hate to think of you, to remember you, feel you, hear you, touch you, smell you, taste you, breath you, I FUCKING HATE YOU!!!
I hate that I can’t stop hating you.
I hate that I can’t stop …… you.

4. Oblivion
Why can’t I forget?
Why can’t I forget?
Why can’t I forget?
Why can’t I forget¡?
Why can’t I forget?
Why can’t I forget?
Why cant’ I forget?
Why can’t I fogert?}
Why Cant’ I Forget?
Why can’t I forget?
Y can’t I 4get?
Why (the fuck) can’t I forget?
Why can0t I forget?
Why can’t I (fucking) forget?
WHE CANTI T=I OGORGRT?????????????}
WHFY CANT I FORMGET????????????????????????

5. Silence

6. Reinsertion
I must be good
I must be good (fuckers)
I must be goodI must be (fucking) good
I must be good (DAMN IT!)
I must be good
I must be good (you fucking idiot)
I must be good (you ignorant, no good, dumb fuck, piece of shit)
I must be good
I must be good (fucking A)
I must be good
Damn, I’m good… (cunt)

7. Adaptation
Today I’m happy
Cuz I just bought me a happy mask
Today I’m happy
There’s nothin more to say or ask
It comes with complimentary speech
A monthly visit to mum n dad
A g’nite kiss in the vessels cheeks
A broken heart that beats outta time
Today I’m happy
Cuz I just bought me my happy mask…


After a few thousands of years of mankind, males took as personal the matter of carrying and giving birth to children: in simple words, they just couldn’t do it; they thought nature was sexist, they felt in disadvantage, they knew they couldn’t compete with women when speaking of nurture, and they were mad, and they were sad.
Everywhere they looked at, women where preferred in the matter of kids, law was clearly biased when child custody was mentioned, culture favored them with authority and recognition, and there was no argument in with whom the kids preferred to be (particularly the youngest ones).
So, after some more years of struggle, marches and protests, and of course, hard working in the laboratories, they finally got it: a completely safe procedure to procreate using an artificial womb, eradicating the uncomfortable need for matrixes.
The process was rather simple: you went to the Breeding Center (that’s how they’re called), you provide a sample of your seed, and you pick one of two choices, whether you bring an egg from a donor (could be from your wife, your friend, or select one from their catalogue), or you could choose to use your own DNA material (extracting it from your cells, and microinjecting it into an empty ovule), and the rest is entirely up to the natural course of things.
Concerning to the “coldness” of the atmosphere for the unborn, they tried to recreate up to every single detail, the artificial womb (called “fomb”, for “fake womb”) has accurate human dimensions, the structure follows the organization of bones, muscles and other firm or soft tissues; even the sack (an “orglastic” bag) expands at an average rate, and is permeated with thin pipelines that pump warm fluids simulating the veins.
Regardless the fomb is completely see-through (in order to keep a more precise biologic monitoring), it’s kept in darkness and certain hues of reddish light, for obvious reasons; environmental sounds are replicated, specially human voices (preferably the parents’ ones) stimulating the bondage with the human surroundings; at some point it rotates in different angles, according to the circadian cycles (horizontal or semi-horizontal around nighttime, vertical on daytime), and it even shakes in the same way it would feel when walking, sitting or standing.
The parents are allowed to visit their child at any time, touching the fomb, speaking to it, stroking it; it has speakers and a screen wired, so they can see 3-D images and hear the heart at all times.
For the ones with a desire for nearer contact, a domestic version could be installed temporarily in their home, facilitating a constant closeness, but a special permit must be granted by the Proliferation Department. A technical and a medical staff are to be hired during the entire fakenancy (a term almost in disuse, due to its pejorative connotation; the Language Department is about to emit an appropriate denomination for it).
Since the original intention for this development was creating equity amongst genders, it was forbidden by law any other mean of reproduction, in order to eliminate any actual physical disadvantage males would present on this matter.
Of course, this measure has created a general discontent on the feminism defenders, therefore, the medical industry is creating a portable version of the fomb, called “carry-on fomb”, designed to fit almost every size and complexion, so it can be put on and taken of like a vest, allowing for both parents (given the case) to carry their child, taking turns at it, sharing the experience.
Concerned with general perception on this matter, the Popular Relations Department has issued a public campaign stating the advantages it provides for the female population in eliminating the painful inconvenient of having it attached to your body irremediably, as well as getting rid of all the negative physical consequences, like skin flaccidity, flutings, overweight, wider hips, lactating and hormonal unbalance.
Mean while, the Public Health Department, in concordance with the Gender Equality Department, has decreed that all women are to be removed from their uteruses at birth, and the already born are to be surgically intervened within a period of six months (both procedures are to be charged to the patient or their parents), eradicating at once any possibility of disobedience and guaranteeing gender fairness.


At first we thought it was a madman’s plot, some sort of apocalyptic omen… how wrong were we. When the attacks begun, we assumed they were isolated facts, but then they were more frequent, and each time more violent. You could see in their eyes centuries of repressed anger and sorrow, after all, they have exceptional memory, and they don’t seem to be willing to forget… or forgive. We have been fighting them back, but they’re too many and too powerful… I don’t think we’ll be able to stop them: the elephants will overcome…


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Retorno al útero (Agorafobia) / Return to the uterus (Agoraphobia)

Es que hay tanto mundo y tan poco de mí... necesito las paredes... / There is too much world and too little me... I need the walls...


Los escucho al otro lado de la fábrica, son miles, y se están preparando para atacar. He logrado sacar casi a todos, por lo menos a todos los que me importan. Ahora falto yo. He pensado en desisitir, en entregarme y dejar que me deshagan pedazo a pedazo, pero no soporto la idea de que el dolor sea mi último recuerdo, no concibo que esa sea la forma en que desaparezca; también he pensado en dejarme caer y olvidar todo, pero no lo acepto, rechazo tajantemente la idea de dejarme vencer, sé que todavía puedo luchar, sé que todavía tengo una oportunidad de sobrevivir, de salir de aquí sin miedos ni culpas... me quedaré y pelearé hasta que no quede uno solo de ellos, y entonces saldré... porque me rehuso a morir.


El dolor

El dolor es una señal de alerta que emite el sistema para generar una reacción por parte del organismo, tiene la clara finalidad de ser absolutamente displacentero, con lo cual logrará que el organismo tienda a evitarlo, aminorarlo o eliminarlo.

El dolor se presenta en situaciones que atentan contra la seguridad del organismo: sentimos dolor por el fuego (el calor es excesivo y amenaza con dañar los tejidos próximos), sentimos dolor de cabeza (cuando los vasos sanguíneos intracraneales presentan tensión sanguínea excesiva, lo cual amenaza con generar un accidente cerebrovascular), sentimos dolor de estómago (cuando tenemos una infección, o que la acidez de los jugos gástricos es excesiva en comparación con el recubrimiento de mucosa, lo cual amenaza con dañar el órgano), sentimos dolor con algún golpe (que notifica de la lesión para solicitar atención al área afectada).
La intensidad del dolor también varía en relación con el riesgo que presente: el dolor de un hematoma no es comparable con el dolor de una fractura, y ninguno se equipara con el dolor de que el miembro entero sea arrancado.
Particularmente, en el humano existe un "dolor" emocional, un displacer generalizado, no focalizado y persistente, que surge de un estado emocional.
El "dolor" emocional es una reacción química generada instintivamente cuando sentimos amenazados nuestros aspectos intangibles: nuestra autoestima, nuestra seguridad, nuestro placer... y la forma más clara de ejemplificarlo es con un luto: emocionalmente se experimenta "dolor" en todas partes y en ninguna a la vez, y de facto no estamos siendo amenazados en nuestra integridad o supervivencia.
En ocasiones, ese dolor no tiene una etiología determinada (en un primer análisis somero), simplemente "está", y las personas buscan fugar esa sensación a través de otro dolor más identificable, y por tanto asequible y manejable. Entonces presentan conductas autoagresivas como la automutilación: cambiar un dolor que no comprendo ni reconozco su origen por otro que comprendo y reconozco de dónde viene.
En otros casos, el mismo organismo genera una reacción conocida como "somatización" (del griego soma=cuerpo), dando a entender que los malestares de la mente se manifiestan o expresan a través del cuerpo, en gran medida a causa del desbalance y desgaste que se genera en el organismo por las respuestas fisiológicas.
Por todo esto, el dolor es mi amigo.