Bailando al borde del caos

I’ve been tracing the scars on my thighs under the table again, a habit I’ve grown accustomed to. It’s a ritual that brings me a sense of control, a reminder that I’m still alive. As I count the steps it takes to get from one end of my room to the other - 17, if you’re curious - I feel like I’m balancing on the edge of chaos. My mind is a maze of philosophy and darkness, with a hint of dark humor to mask the pain. I’ve been reading Kafka’s letters, and his words resonate deeply with me. The way he writes about the absurdity of life, the futility of human existence, it’s like he’s speaking directly to my soul. I feel like I’m drowning in a sea of uncertainty, but somehow, I’m still managing to keep my head above water. Anonymous, have you ever felt like you’re living in a constant state of limbo, unsure of what’s going to happen next? I feel like I’m stuck in this never-ending cycle of self-destruction, and I don’t know how to escape.

I’ve been thinking a lot about my past, about the things that have shaped me into the person I am today. My experiences as a ballerina, the pressure to be perfect, the constant scrutiny of my body. It’s funny, looking back on it now, I realize that I was never really in control. I was just a puppet on strings, dancing to the tune of others. But now, I’m the one holding the strings, and I’m not sure if I’m pulling them tight enough. I’ve been watching this baking show, and it’s amazing how much precision and control goes into creating something beautiful. The measurements, the timing, the technique - it’s all so meticulous. And yet, when I try to apply