Soy tan personaje como aquel que encuentra su expresión en la música. En los tonos de desgracia y necesidad. Las notas son alfileres: se entierran y el núcleo queda al descubierto, como aquella esencia que una canción no sabe perder. Porque quien ha escuchado la melodía de las palabras "if I could do one perfect thing I'd be happy" entiende que no hay mejor forma de definir la felicidad; una búsqueda irrealizable donde el sentimiento lo dictan los silencios del yo y el sonido palpable de la turbina creadora.

-Yo quiero vivir feliz.
-Yo sólo quiero vivir.

-Yo quiero morir viviendo.
-Yo sólo quiero morir.

Santiago no sabía cuál era la expresión más fiel, pero sabía que si buscaba iba a encontrar a la parvada que lo amenazaba de volver, haciéndole consciente de que nadie lo podía salvar de él ni de su sinergia de líneas y espacios.

Y la historia aún no termina porque:

I used to know this girl
Who gave her love away
To every guy she met
And with all the games they played
She never seemed to cry
She never got upset
And one by one they came
And one by one they left
I thought that I could fix her
If she would let me in
But all of my advances
Were shut down in the end
When days turned into months
I begged her to explain
And this is what she sang

It's not like I'm a slut
Or that I really like to fuck
I just want every boy I see
To walk away with part of me
Until there's nothing left to hold
Until there's nothing left to hate
I appreciate your help
But even you can't save me from myself

I used to know this boy
Who took notes in a book
But he ripped out all the pages
Before I got a look
At all the words he scribbled
At all the lines he filled
But the ink stains on his fingers
Told me he was skilled
At capturing a feeling
That most of us just miss
The simple pain of living
With goodbyes on our lips
I found one of the pages
Crumpled by her bed
And this is how it read

It's not like I am weak
Or that I don't know how to leave
It's just that every time you cheat
You bring me closer to defeat
Until there's nothing left to love
Until there's nothing left to say
I know that you need help
But even I can't save you from yourself

Me pierdo en la ideosincracia de la transparencia, en la música que unos callan y otros cantan. Hay quienes se atreven a sonreír... otros sólo se entregan a las imágenes del por qué cerrando los ojos.