Month: July 2014

Sometimes, I still need you.

Heart skipped a beat.

Words have a way of infecting your soul. Even more so in lyrical musical form. How haunting the arrangements, how thrilling the words. The way they cut you straight to the core, straight to your soul. You can’t help but form a tiny sense of nostalgia. The memories of your past that always seem to haunt you. It starts to flow right out of you and you can’t help but find yourself saying “Sometimes, I still need you“.

Maybe it’s a source of weakness. The weakest link just knowing that when you least expect it, you go rushing back to the one thing that will always let you down. You know it. The whole world knows it but you just can’t help yourself. You miss that moment when your heart would skip a beat for someone. The hurt and the pain come naturally, just like second nature. You put yourself out there and find yourself back at the bottom. You wonder why you continue returning to this sinking ship and again you just couldn’t help yourself. Sad is better than lonely.

How you do recover from your biggest heartbreak? When all you do is constantly return to the scene of the crime. You wish for things to be different. They never are. One day it would will be different. One day you’ll be strong enough to let go and be done with everything. Eventually this will all be a small footnote in the story of your life. Until then you keep coming back because you allow it happen. Everyone can tell you how wrong it is, but you do it anyway. Its the thrill of the past that keeps you holding on. The memories of a connection you had with someone that no matter the outcome it all seemed worth it.

It’s starts with a voice and ends with a song. The melody keeps the memories trapped until you hit repeat. Replaying every memory that you can’t help but reach out for. It’s all there taunting you and no matter how many times you say no, you can’t help yourself. Its brings you back in. Back in for the hurt, the pain, and more importantly the regret. It’s never worth it. You end up right back where you started from. The sickness worse than the flu and this rush of a thousand tears that never stop falling. Like clockwork it’s over and eventually you move on. You just couldn’t help yourself, you just couldn’t fucking help yourself.

Sometimes, I still need you.

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Magic’s in the Makeup.

Can you tell I’m faking it?

Photographs have of a way of telling half a story. Just a tiny glimpse of what we want the world to see through perfectly strategic settings and beautifully flattering filters. Telling everyone what you want them to believe. It’s amazing to see life through other peoples perceptions of you. Yet you can’t help but wonder how many people really see the real you. How many people can tell the façade from the reality. A picture is worth a thousand words but how many of those words are the real thing?

Not at my best time but don't I look great. 2007 / 2008.

Not at my best time but don’t I look great. 2007 / 2008.

The past couple of months and in doing this blog, I have found myself faced with reality on numerous occasions. The countless lies I’ve told, the stories, and even going through the photographs of my past. What makes a photograph from when I was 23, different from the photograph of myself at 31? My reality and what I wanted you to believe.  I controlled the story I wanted to tell. I orchestrated the image of myself I wanted you to see. I did it. Because telling the lie was easier than telling the truth about my problems. Nobody asks any questions when you put your life out there for the world to see. It’s only what you don’t put forth in the world that gets people asking the questions. It’s easy to pretend to be someone else in a photograph. Someone better than who you really are. Finding the perfect angles, cropping your best features, and believing that you’re going to be okay. I believed that for years. This perfect image I put forth in the world was who I really was. I wasn’t okay.

Make-up’s all off. Who am I?

For six years I suffered with an eating disorder to the point of obsession. You don’t realize how much of a problem you have until it consumes you and controls every part of your life. I hid that from everyone. 6 years of photographs standing by countless people who didn’t have a clue about my life. Who didn’t know that every countless excuse I made to go home early was so I could throw up my food in the dark confides of my home. Counting the consumption of calories and calculating what I could throw up later in the time I had left. It became a sick twisted sport and I was fucking good at it. My gums bled and my teeth hurt and I didn’t care because an acceptance to be perfect was better than being ignored. I believed it.  I became obsessed with my abilities to hide my problem that it over powered my past problems. This became bigger than my depression, bigger than my cutting, it was a problem I could hide through the photographs. Nobody knew.

You want to believe that you have control of your problem. I wanted to believe that. For the days I threw up my food, I counted the days I didn’t. When my weight wasn’t matching up or the healthy alternative ways weren’t working, I went back to vomiting. I turned this problem on, I could very easily turn it off. For every bad day I had, I just binge ate then hid in the bathroom. I blamed food poisoning, cramps, the flu, everything except the problem at hand. I refused to believe I had a problem. I could control this problem, I could stop everything as soon as I was ready. I believed it. It started because of this need for acceptance, this belief that every photograph was closer to my true self. I knew it was wrong, I knew of the consequences and still I believed I could control this. The reality of it was I couldn’t control my problem. Every time I hid this problem the worse it got.

I believed I was okay. In some twisted fucked up way I had everything under control. I would go months without vomiting and then something would trigger it to happen again. I grew this fear of food, this obsession that everything I ate was a consequence for my mistakes. The love I once had for food became this hatred toward it. It was so easy to pretend this wasn’t a problem. I just couldn’t stop. Then comes a point in your life where you can’t do it anymore. Where the pure exhaustion of life just has you at your wits end. I reached my breaking point and after six years of hurting myself physically and emotionally, I couldn’t do it. It was bigger than anything I could ever imagine. I wish I could say that everything disappeared and I healed myself but every day is a struggle. I had to learn to love imperfections within myself. Watching my body change isn’t easy and as much as I want to resort to old ways, I couldn’t. It became my quest to get better. Another struggle that I told nobody about. While people poked fun at my weight gain, for the first time I didn’t cry. I started writing down everything I ate and with the miracle wonders of social media I started documenting every meal I ate. For every picture I took of my food, it was my silent trophy that I ate that and was okay with it.

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There’s always going to be a part of me that’s broken. A part of me that’s messy with imperfections but I have to be okay to live with that. I am always going to be my hardest critic but at the end of the day I have to be okay with not being perfect. No one’s perfect. It’s been two years since I have vomited my food. Two years since I let this sickness consume my life. I wish I could say that it has been an easy recovery, but it hasn’t been. Some days are easier and some days are harder. I am better than all this bullshit and you know what? I am doing the best I can.

My true essence. Photo Credit: Jazelle Prado.

My true essence. Photo Credit: Jazelle Prado.

We all self concious, I’m just the first to admit it.

Life has a funny way of turning you into the one thing you don’t want to be.

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Its funny.

It’s just easier to make a joke out of something then coming out and stating how you really feel. How you put yourself out into the world is how you want to feel on the inside. However it’s nothing close to how you’re feeling. It doesn’t even compare. For the sake of the story you make up the person you want to present to the world. You line up all your armor and you put it on, one by one. Hoping that nothing will stop you in your quest for perfection. This armor protects you from the outside world and keeps you safe from every sort of harm.  For a moment you believe that’s real. That everything you put forth to the world is exactly who you’ve always been and everything you hide, no one will ever see. You lie to everyone. Even the people who think they know you best, don’t know you at all. That has always been my problem. It was easy to pretend to be someone else then the person I really am.

We have this sick perception of what we believe to be perfect. What we believe to be beautiful. You become succumb to the notion that this is how everything is suppose to be. You spend every last dime, sacrifice so much of who you are to be exactly how everyone else wants you to be. The countless hours I spent in front of the mirror and never truly being satisfied with who I saw. You make a caricature of yourself and for years you play this part of someone you were never familiar with to begin with. The thicker your armor becomes the more or less you start disappearing inside. The make up, the clothes, the amount of money you spend to be someone completely different from the person you grew up with. Sometimes it takes a lifetime to realize the monster you have become. Other times you just come to terms with this is who you will be for the rest of your life. We forget that we were all once loved and had a thirst and hunger for life. New beginnings and clean slates were how we came to this world. Now we’re just a sad representation of a bad Xerox copy of everyone else.

The years pass and you find yourself hurting. The dents start showing in your armor. The more you think you’re fooling everyone, in reality you’re only fooling yourself. The countless times you believe its what you wanted was really what everyone else wanted. You become a punching bag to the worst people, your own worst enemy for rolling with the punches. The quest for perfection stopped being a quest and more of a nightmare of survival. The cutting, the bleeding, the starvation, the nights you tell yourself this is what they wanted and all you want is an out. The countless times you covered yourself up to hide how you felt inside. You realize how much you wanted a life of your own instead of the sad existence that you have before you. You can’t give up. You can’t fail. Instead you do what you do best, you hide how you feel. You fall, you get up and then you start all over again.

Piece by piece, you take away the armor. Cut out the toxic people that made you miserable. Cut out the people that hurt you to believe that their perception of beauty was who you needed to be. You slowly start appreciating the good in impurities instead of finding perfection in everything. You grow up wanting more than just what everyone else wants. Little by little the armor comes off. You live. Your scars heal, your body changes and eventually it’s not a fight with yourself for happiness. You surround yourself with good people and in turn find the good in everybody again. The fears you once held eventually fade with time but only after you let go of the dark to make way for the light. It’s not easy. Its not something that changes you over night. Some nights are unbearable and some days its just a fight to feel okay.
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It’s not easy. You don’t just wake up and want to change. It takes a lifetime of dealing with bullshit people and their equally bullshit standards. In the end you just realize that it’s up to you to find your own happiness. Change the course of your life into something that will in turn make you who you truly want to be. Your past can’t hurt you, your past doesn’t define you. Your past is there to show you how you survived, and all you’ve accomplished. In the end that’s all that matters in life.

You are amazing.

You are beautiful.

One day, you’ll actually believe that.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Diary of a Mad Single Woman.

Status: Single.
Current mood: Happy

People have a funny way of believing that Single = Lonely. That your life in solitude is because of the person you are and the choices you make in life. I hate to be the bearer of bad news but single doesn’t always mean lonely, just like being in a relationship doesn’t always guarantee happiness. Some of us just chose to be single. As hard as that is to grasp being single is often a choice that we make for ourselves. Not because there is anything wrong with us, because there isn’t. Sometimes we want more to life than just settling down and being everyone else.

I know, SHOCKER.

While I can’t speak for the whole single community, I can speak for myself. I choose to be single. I choose to be single not because of my emotional problems, not because I haven’t found the right person, but because I genuinely want to be single.

There I said it.

I want to be single.

Maybe I am a little selfish in my logic and I know that people go on to lead amazing lives in the family aspect. I’m just not ready to jump forward and make that big commitment. I know it may seem weird to my family and friends, but sometimes the things you want are bigger than what everyone expects you to do. By no means am I afraid of commitment. Just my commitments may not be the same standards as everyone else’s. There is so much that this world has to offer that I haven’t even made a dent in. I never want to get to a point in my life where I wished I had done things different. Where I wished I would have traveled more, wished I would have been to different places and wished I would have had more experiences. Life is too short to settle for what everyone else expects me to do. So instead I am just going to exactly want I want to do.

In the past 14 years since I have graduated high school, I have been fortunate enough to set out and do everything I loved. I have traveled the country following my favorite bands, seen a variety of different cities, failed, fell, then got back up again. Sure I may have spent more money then I should have. I may not have money to show for all the times I spent doing everything I loved, but that’s what life is about. Life is about making a big mess of things, growing up and trying again. At the end of the day looking back and smiling because you did all those great amazing things.

I know you can have your adventures with a significant other by your side. You can grow and figure things out along the way with someone that shares the same sentiments you do. I get that. Everyone is different with their dreams and if you find the person that shares the same dreams you have, that’s an amazing feeling. I just never saw my life in that light. I’ve spent so much of my life helping people clean up their mistakes that I never had time to clean my own life. I have lived in the shadows of everyone else that it was time to focus on the one important person in my life.

Myself.

I want to see the world. I want to see how people in different countries live and communicate. I want to pay off my debts and not give the burden of my debts to anyone other than myself. I want to be financially stable and still be able to enjoy my life. I want to own my own home and decorate it in the way I see pleasing. I want to be able to look at myself and say I put myself back together before anyone else had a chance too. I want to see the lights of Paris, the streets of Cuba, the culture of Argentina, all before changing diapers and having to ask for permission from someone other than myself. I want to be my own boss before anyone has a chance to tell me differently. I want to struggle, bleed, claw, and cry for my dreams and when everything comes together appreciate that everything was worth it. I want to live in a big city and get completely lost in it.  I want to fall back in love with food and not feel the guilty regret of my past. More importantly I want to do things for myself without having to ask for help. Make my own mistakes, fall down, and then get back up again. Enjoy the modern wonders of life and still appreciating its deep cultured background. All of these things are everything I could only ask of myself and never ask of anyone else. My dreams, my hopes, and my desires that I could only want to come true.

Life has a funny way of changing you into someone else. With each life experience a part of you grows and changes to the person you’re suppose to be. That’s the kind of life I want to lead for the moment. You can keep your OKCupid, Tinder, speed dating. You can keep all comments about my life to yourself because at the end of the day I live with the choices I make. When I am willing and ready to make the jump from single to relationship, it will be on my terms. Until then I will continue coming and going as I damn well please.

Honestly.

My life is dope and  I do dope shit.

*CLICK*