love

Golden Hour.

I feel like I have lived a thousand lives. Ones more tragic than the next. Then the sun hits every inch of my skin and I feel born again.

Different.
Brand new.

It’s the shadows from the golden rays that peek through the blinds. Straight from the outside, for I am always inside. It’s neither cold nor warm, just this glittery feeling of gold etched in your face and every parts of your skin. It’s what photographers try to photograph and emulate. With artificial lights and colors. Holding still until the light is just right.

It’s through the shining of this magic hour I think of everything. Every sun drenched memory. Every crazy golden moment. My breathing gets slower and my eyes start to well with tears. Each tear sparkling with the effervescent sun.

If I loved you last, I would love you best, I kept telling myself. I say this to the shadows that wave with each motion of the words. I don’t know what love is anymore. We are all rose gold and amber in this light. We are all love in this glittery way of speaking. We are all warmth in this sunset of light that we see before us. Yet, I don’t even know who the “you” is anymore. At this moment is could be anyone. I could have loved you more. I could have believed every single word you said. Instead, I find myself talking to shadows to keep away all these ghosts.

We were once all silver and now we’re gold. In this golden hour, one of the loneliest moments. As the gold sprinkles across its flecks on ever inch of the white room. When you’ve let everything go, it’s when you start all over again.

If I loved you last, I would love you best.
The sun sets and the darkness overcomes us.

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I tried to drink it away.

I tried to drink it away.

I can’t stop thinking about that line.

It’s a haunting reminder of a past and the person that goes with it. Who I am, who I was, and everything in between. But the way the words linger, I can’t stop hearing over and over.

If I could drink it away, I would. Every last drop. Every thing to keep this memory from forming a nostalgic image in my romanticized past. Everything through rose colored glasses. Everything blurry, messy, vile and perfect.

All I have are memories. The late nights in crowded rooms. The cigarettes I’ve smoked. The countless men I have kissed, just to wish it away. The countless times I tried to drink it away. Nothing worked. Even sitting here going over lines in my head, I can’t keep it away.

I rub my hands together in nervous energy. Running the fingers down the palms of my hands. Thinking of a million things. People I have longed to forget. Everything just keeps coming back. If I say everything out loud it just puts words into the atmosphere. It makes the names disappear but the faces remain. When all I want is to do it take this pain away.

I drink to forget. I drink to let go. I hold the bottle close and wish this away. Years will pass eventually and the nostalgia of you will disappear. Until then, I continue to drink these feelings away. Putting out words in the atmosphere until you disappear completely.

I am going to let you go.
One drink at a time.

 

San Francisco, CA
January 21, 2009
#thisishowIletgo

 

 

 

 

 

 

It happened to me.

He says he’ll leave me if I cut my hair.
So I wear it longer on the days I see him.
When all I do is hide behind a curtain of hair to hide every scar I am feeling.

He doesn’t like it when I wear that color. It reminds him of her. So he bans me from wearing it in order to please him. I don’t hesitate. I don’t say no. I just do as I am told. To avoid an argument. To avoid the words that he holds still and strongly behind his tongue.

I am afraid to speak at times. The outcome outweighs the lasting effects of anything I could ever say. I don’t know myself at times. I was a smart girl. I was a strong girl. Now I am letting someone else dictate my thoughts and actions.

I don’t know who I am anymore, I tell myself.
I am not me without you, I say out loud.

It’s not the fists I am afraid of. It’s this unseen power a person can hold over you with the mountain of words that follow. How easy it is to say how you feel and mean what you say. How easy it is to cut down a person without giving it a second thought.

I found myself saying that I’d wish he’d hit me. Something to show the world of the vile person he was. Create the villain among the sinners. All they see is my reactions to every one of his actions. All they see is my skin burning red and my tongue lashing out at everyone that defies me. All they see is my anger and his calm demeanor. Because he was always too cool and too good of a person to hurt people. He was always the cool guy in his nice kicks. He couldn’t hurt a fly they’d tell me. How I wish he’d hit me just to prove them wrong. Just to show them that I was right and they were wrong. Then all these feelings would be real not under the surface.

People always say “That would never happen to me”. I hate that. As they see a girl cover her face or hear a story of a girl who just couldn’t take it anymore. They don’t know what it’s like. They don’t know what it’s like to hide from your friends and family. To pretend your okay when your whole world is falling apart. How it feels to cut your arm in places because the words were too big of a burden to keep to yourself. So you punish yourself for being the sad expectation of who he wanted.

I was the dead weight he refused to carry, he’d often said. If I was skin and bones he would love me more. Hold me tighter. I believed him. I was stupid and I believed him.

I used to say “It would never happen to me“. That I would be one of the lucky ones to fight until my hands were red and my throat was raw. They don’t know that sometimes when a man loves too much they just ignore you. Tell you how worthless you are. How every time they see you it makes them sick. They don’t know how sometimes it’s more than physical. That words have a way of leaving bruises and scars on every inch of your skin. But they’ll never see it. They’ll never know.

They’ll never know that the reason you stopped dating is that you hear his voice in the back of your mind. That nobody will want you after he has had you. That nobody will ever love you as much as he had loved you.

Nobody.

It would never happen to me, they’d say.

But it happened to me.

Tracy, CA. 2015
#ThisishowIletgo

Amor Eterno.

When I think of home I think of the music of my childhood. The music that blared every weekend morning before starting our day. The songs of Pedro Infante, the harmonies of Steve Wonder, and the tender voice of Juan Gabriel. There isn’t a memory that doesn’t include a song of Juan Gabriel. Every car ride to school and every family gathering. Even a distant memory of being in Mexico and seeing mariachis strumming the first chords of his songs, before belting out the beautifully tragic lyrics. A man with such a vibrancy for life; who captivated the world with his songs of love and heartbreak. We invited this man into our home to remind us of what we have. To remind ourselves to love, to embrace heartbreak but not give into it, and to understand we are never alone.

I can’t help but think of a lifetime of memories that his songs bring. Songs that we’ve all sung at family gatherings, birthday parties, and even sitting in your car thinking of the one person you told yourself you wouldn’t think about. Of all the songs that he has written, Amor Eterno is the one song I can’t help but grab my heart and cry. Crying for lost loves. Crying for people who have passed. Crying for people whom we miss and wish to have one more day with. Another day to say everything we needed to say that we couldn’t say when we needed too. Then the tears start to form at the corner of my eyes as soon as the strings start playing. I hear his voice so clearly. Dedicating the song to every mother, including his own whom he lost long ago. A loss he felt so deeply that her passing is immortalized into this song.

This song reminds me of a family who’s son passed away in route to Acapulco. Forever bringing to light the tears as soon as the line “El mas triste recuerdo de Acapulco” is sung. Of my strongest prima that never lets anything affect her and catching her singing the lyrics softly with tears in her eyes. Her own loss for words and deep profound love within her heart. I think of the countless times my Mami has skipped over this song because it reminds her of my Abuelita, her Mami. How much she misses her and no matter how many postcards and phone calls she makes, it is never the same as seeing her face to face. How I have seen her sing the same words over and over, and trying to hold back her own tears.

I can’t help but think of the the last time I saw my Abuelito. Looking out from his favorite window over looking the street below.  Then later holding his hand at the hospital in Mexico City and knowing this would be the last time. I feel myself breathe a little harder. This deep feeling in my chest as my heart begins to break. I think of my Tia who recently passed and a memory of her in her home filled with warmth and love. A home filled with all her relics and accomplishments. Every conversation I had with them, forever remembered and returning through this song. I think to myself, I should have tried harder to keep in touch. Let me have one more day to make amends.

Yo he sufrido tanto por tu ausencia,
Desde ese dia hasta hoy, no soy feliz.
Y aunque tengo tranquila mi consciencia,
Se que pude haber yo hecho mas por ti.

I sit in disbelief that a song with the simplest words and such a powerful melody could fill the spaces of your veins and tug at the heart. How no matter how many times you hear a song after that, this song will forever haunt you with memory. With a feeling of nostalgia and your only response is to think back at that memory. No matter how many times you want to stop the tears from forming, you can’t help yourself.

I hold myself tighter. Refusing to give into the song, even though I am watching as my surroundings become blurry. Slowly I lean into the melody. Into the words that I have found myself repeating before the next line. This aching lump in my throat when I try to sing. This pain. This sadness. This memory I have tried to forget. I sing louder as if these spirits could hear me. As if they held my hand and sang a long with me. This song overtakes all my emotions and I watch as one by one the tears start to fall. It’s been a long time since I have cried like this. A long time that I let this heartbreak be a reminder of how much I am missing. Because I miss them. With every inch of my heart that beats to the words of this song.

Its only until you have lived through the words of his songs, that JuanGa opens his arms out to you. And like a familiar friend, you outstretched your arms to this man. Taking comfort in his words, and sing a long to the melody. Forever I will be grateful for this man. Who opened his heart to the world and allowed us to take a part of his journey.

Even after the song plays out, I still cry out for one more day. I scream out how much I am hurting and missing, until my cheeks hurt from sobbing. Its been minutes since the song has stopped playing. I slowly start collecting myself and watch as I wipe away my tears and pick up the remaining pieces of my heart. Thank you, Juan Gabriel. Thank you for these cherished memories and for always feeling like home.

Obligo a que te olvide el pensamiento,
Pues siempre estoy pensando en el ayer.
Prefiero estar dormida que despierta
De tanto que me duele que no estes.

 

Shake it out.

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I should have written this a long time ago. The minute my heart changed, and we went our separate ways. Like a broken record, I yearn for the tragic melodies of yesterday. The pain that cuts you straight down to the core. Bleeding through your veins and making your heart beat faster. I love the hurt, I need the pain. This sick desire for self destruction never leaves. But at this moment it has started to escape me.

You can take everything you want from this. Every letter, every word, every sentence, every verb. Everything. Let it manifest itself into what you want to believe. Because if I cared even an ounce about you, I wouldn’t feel the need to rid myself of you.

I do not break for you.
I do not cry for you.
I do not love who or what I believed you were.

You’re the needle that scratches my record player, wanting to hear only my favorite song. At this moment, everything sounds differently now. Even you look different now. The past always stays in the past, no matter how many times a ghost haunts you. The ghost lingers then drifts away, just around the same time the melody ends. Ending with the memories, ending with the sadness and all the tears.

Its through this pain that I thought a million things about you.

I thought I loved you.
I thought I missed you.
I thought I would self-destruct without you.

Thinking only leads to dreams that never truly existed. An end to our story. Waking from the blissful dreams into our badly lit reality. Its then we find ourselves back at the start. Back to the beginning.

Scratch that.

We can’t take things back to the start. We have maxed out our ideas of new beginnings. What’s done is done and every girl after me is just filler space. Because men like you hate the voided vacancy of present tense.

I will shake you out from underneath my skin. Out from every inch of my bones, into the dusty mist where you belong. Because I am doing just fine without you. Every night is another night to forget you. I watch as memories turn to dust and leave behind all these scattered thoughts about you.

I am doing just fine.
I am doing just fine.
Just you wait and see.

A bunch of broken parts..

and I can’t seem to find your heart.

It’s always the broken people you can’t forget. The ones so haunted by the past that no matter what they do, they can’t bring themselves to put themselves back together again. How easy for people to forget and turn off their emotions. Just pretend nothing and no one exists, and continue on their days as if nothing has happened. These people were never real to begin with and no matter how many times you try to reach them, they are never there.

I keep knocking on wood, hoping there’s a real boy inside.

Were you ever real? Were you ever truly broken? I have a hard time separating fact from fiction. The more I think about the past, the more I romanticize this nostalgia. Who you were when you’re broken isn’t the person you turned out to be. And yet, I can’t help but keep running back to these broken people. With their hearts on their sleeves, punch drunk off love. Feeling the emotions, I can’t feel anymore.

Could you ever be a real, real boy.

You feel everything then nothing. Then like clockwork you turn off those emotions that made you bold to begin with. How was I to know that I was only knocking on wood? That all my nostalgic ways were built on puppets pretending to be real boys.

I can’t put you back together again.

After all this time has passed, I find myself thinking about you. I no longer feel resentment toward you. I don’t feel hate, I feel nothing. After all this time I know better. I know to stop searching for the broken people that can’t put themselves back together again. Not to go looking for boys that should have grown up to be men. Stop romanticizing the past, with you as a central character. You don’t exist, you were never real to begin with.

You’re not a man, you’re just a mannequin. 

3/17/2007

 

 

 

Flashing Lights.

If something hurts you enough, you pretend it doesn’t exist. The less power you put on something, the more power you want to forget it. I can’t say I miss the past with it’s nostalgic cloud that hangs over me. I can’t say I miss you, without feeling like a fucking hypocrite. I love how memories form in between the liner notes. How melody haunts a montage of memories harbored deep inside of your soul. How people have a way of coming into your life, without physically being there anymore.

I should have said goodbye a long time ago. I should have written this elaborate “dear john” letter the moment things changed. The moment I couldn’t hear songs the same way. The moment I felt I couldn’t be myself anymore. I felt ruined, that a part of me stopped believing in the cliche kitschy things of yesterday. I lost, you won, and everything else that follows, but all of that is old news. This cloud of fog that follows. Opening up a series of smokey destinations, I didn’t know I wanted to exist anymore. Old distant news with headlines of the past.

Smoke and mirrors, and shooting stars. Waiting, wanting, and longing for things that never had a place with me to begin with. Even after all this time, I can’t help but wonder what was the biggest illusion. What was your biggest performance. This belief of being greater and better then the rulers of the past. The lights flash, the lights dim, and I can’t help but still wonder. Even stars fall, even lights dim, eventually the darkest nights make way for the brightest mornings. The further you fall, the closest to the ground you become. All I could ever want is to see you crash and burn, just like the rest of them. Maybe you need to hit rock bottom to see how it feels on the other side.

I would never wish bad things upon you, but I could never wish you well. Seeing the last of our memories behind the glass, in photographs and songs, I just can’t help myself. I was never the good, I was never the light, but I could be the darkness in all it’s glory. I hate myself for believing in all the wrong things. Believing in sinners dressed up as saints in their perfectly tailored suits. Watching the fog clear, watching the smoke disappear and everything has changed. Songs have a different meaning, once you can listen to them again. Melody fills the cracks where the light once hit. Sooner or later, I start to feel like myself again.

I don’t believe in shooting stars, but I never believed in the ghosts of memories you gave me.  You never wanted me to hate you, and I don’t. I just want to forgive then forget you, then move on.

2/15/2009

Life Support.

I’ve been sleeping with the lights on.

When you love somebody enough, they could never leave you. If you push, I’ll just pull you back in. Anything to bring you back to me. Illuminate this darkness I feel washing over me. Take away all this shame and desperation. I need this comfort in knowing after all this time, we could be fine. Through the storms that turn to hurricanes. I wish I could tell you that breathing gets easier after the fog fades. I wish I had all the words to say to make you come back, but all that is mystified illusions that never existed.

I spent a lifetime relying on people. The wrong people, the right people, what does it matter. They became a crutch that helped guide me through the unknown. I am fixated on the idea that these people are the only people that understand me. They’re perfect and untouchable, everything I wish I could be. Nothing can hurt us. Placed high on these pedestals, untouchable perfection. There are cracks in your armor. Cracks in the foundations from which you stand upon. Still I would break myself before you broke. I would patch up every crack in your armor. Anything to make you better, anything to make you love me.

There’s a method to my madness
It’s clear that you don’t have a clue

The cuts they heal. The bruises they fade. The words are nothing but a lingering memory I could never escape. False hope and sweet desperations. Exasperated expectations that would never come true. I am holding on to the last bit of string that connects us. The string keeps this illusion connected between us.  I can’t hold on any longer. I can’t keep pretending that it doesn’t hurt when it does. Pretending that my scabs can easily heal into scars. You were the deepest cut, the biggest bruise, and still I wanted everything then nothing from you.

This is my world, this is my choice
And you’re the drug that gets me through

All I have left is this string that connects us. I am ready to let go now.

03/12/2008

Chasing Pavements.

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Even if it leads nowhere..

My skin has turned raw for the countless times I’ve tried to scratch you out from under my skin. Days become months, and still I can’t stop this way of thinking. Why do things that are not meant to be, still effect us ever so passionately? The more I stop thinking about you, the more you continue to get under my skin. I shouldn’t be thinking and driving myself into this madness. Yet, I can’t help myself.

I find myself at a crossroads, between you and moving forward. When I step forward to leave, you’re pulling me two steps back. It wasn’t my intention to keep this going. There are days I have the strength, and then days I can’t bring myself to continue on. What kind of madness has to succumb to this emotion? I don’t know how it got this far or how it even started. The more I think I have a step forward, I keep falling two steps back. I just want to reach you, but I can’t.

I am tired of running after you, chasing you and ending up empty handed. If I fall to my knees I know it’s over. The moment I beg you to stay, you’ve already won. Then again you’re always winning. I can’t help but want you around. Even when I know you chase after everyone else and I am still struggling to keep up. These are my scars. These are my pitfalls. These are my skinned knees and broken veins; I’ve hurt trying to reach you. I should never have let you get so far under my skin, but comfortably you stay there. I want to cut out every piece of you, that still exists inside of me. That still makes me think of you. That still makes me believe that even through the hurt and the pain, it wasn’t worse than anything else in life.

You have this silly way of keeping me on the edge of my seat. Keeping me waiting and wanting more. Waiting never does any good, I’ve grown tired of chasing you. Grown up from the juvenile wants of yesterday. Slowly my wounds heal and eventually you come out from under my skin that you found shelter upon. Watching you leave is easier than chasing you upon a thousand empty pavements. Watching you leave, I watch the past leave with every step you take forward. For the first time I don’t have to race to catch up to you. From where I stand I watch the past end and leave with you. The roads come to life and don’t feel as empty anymore. No longer feeling the need to lead back to you and your far off destinations.

The intention was never to be caught, it was always to leave and see who follows. I won’t be the fool anymore. Here I stand, here I stay.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

I think it’s time for us to have a toast..

2015, has come and gone.

We sit back and reflect on the year and look at how far we have come.

Have we come far enough?
Have we let go of ourselves?
Have we let go of our past and made our way into the future?

With each passing year, I hope for something better. I watch myself go into the new year with high hopes for the year. This year will be the year something changes. This year will be the year that everything happens. This year will be the year that I stop beating myself up about everything. This year I will finally be free to live my life. As the months go on, I find myself still doing the same thing. I watch myself hiding how I feel, to spare the feelings of others. I find myself still stuck in the same perdicament as always.

When does this change happen?
When will things happen for me?

The truth is I am afraid. Terrified, petrified of doing things alone. I am afraid of leaving the people I care about alone. I am terrified of failure, that it clouds my thoughts every day. Worst of all, I am afraid of letting everyone down. Letting people down would be my unhappiness, and I couldn’t bare to deal with the pain. I find myself wishing for things to change, and when they do I am frightened of the outcome. Every year I am not ready, every year I cloud my head with ideas of not being good enough. Not being what everyone wants and beating myself up over every little thing. Demons are funny little creatures that eat away at your positivity. No matter how many times people say to think differently, they eat away at your insides, and burrow deep into your soul. I have had my fair share of demons. Demons far too large to ever escape. As the seasons change, the demons come at you head on. 2015, was no exception.

2015 wasn’t a learning experience, it was a understanding period. Understanding that nobody is perfect, not my family and not my friends. The truth is nobody is perfect. I want to believe that. I want to believe that we are all flawed and fucked up, just trying to get by. When you’re hurting, you want to fix everyone else. You want to put your two cents in everyone’s life. Tell everyone everything they’re doing wrong, but  forget all the good they are doing right. Its in this fixing that you don’t feel alone. You feel as though you are helping someone, instead of facing your own issues. You become bitter about people that you start to despise them, and through that you begin to burn bridges. It’s not that you mean to do it, its that you’re upset that they can’t be perfect for you. They can’t be who you want them to be or who you know they could be. What I didn’t realize was focusing on other people’s problems wasn’t allowing me to focus on my own. I watched people come and go from my life but never noticed how angry I was. How hurtful of a person I could be. I didn’t realize that pain from my past was causing me to focus all the pain on someone else, other than myself. I spent years focusing and fixing other people, that I never bothered to try and fix myself.

As Spring was ending, I watched myself dig into a deep dark abyss. I watched a huge light switch inside of me turn off, and turn against everybody. I didn’t believe in friendship. I didn’t believe in family. I felt my insides turning themselves inside out, and watched how the days turned to nights, and how much I wanted to claw off my skin to show how I really felt. Thinking positively didn’t help. Changing my attitude just made it worse. I could hear happiness, I could hear love, but I wasn’t feeling it. I didn’t want to talk to anyone because I knew it was my negativity that was pushing people away. It was my darkness that was turning people against me, and for once in my life, I didn’t care. I wanted to lose everything and everyone, before I had to let them go. Before they saw me for who I really was: a terrible, miserable, hateful person, that truly hated herself. The demons from the dark carried over to the daylight and I watched them turn me into someone I hated. Someone I loathed.

When you’ve reached the end, that’s when your beginning starts. I wanted to be alone and find a way to deal with my emotions. I realized the more alone I was, I started realizing who I really was. I wasn’t happy with the person I was, I wasn’t doing everything I wanted to do, and I wasn’t dealing with all my emotions as I should have done years ago. While the world was preaching to me about a positive mental attitude, I couldn’t produce it. It wasn’t that I didn’t want to, it wasn’t that I didn’t try, it was that I couldn’t see past the smoke I was making myself. I wanted to disappear, but found myself just sinking deeper into my depression. I had been forcing myself to be happy, when I was miserable inside. My fear of being alone became reality; I had let down so many people I didn’t know what to do. The weird thing happens when you disappear. The people you didn’t expect to help you, always help you out in the end. The people that are always there for you, give you space to heal and grow. It took me a long time to understand that, but I finally realized happiness cannot be forced. You have to feel happiness to believe its there. No matter how much you hide from sadness, you need sadness in order to appreciate joy. You need to be able to feel every inch of that hurt and that pain, to truly see how beautiful life really can be. I can’t hide from the pain as much as I would like to. I can’t pretend that pain doesn’t exist because it’s everywhere. I just have to understand that through all that pain, there is beauty. Through the beauty you find a tiny ounce of happiness. Maybe you won’t see it right away, but the day you are ready to embrace how you feel, you’ll get a tiny glimpse of it. It took me years to realize that by embracing my pain, I would find happiness inside of myself. That by accepting everyone for who they are, I could understand the flaws and imperfections of not just everyone by myself as well. People are always going to disappoint us, but sometimes they surprise us in the most unexpected ways. Sometimes the people you love the most will hurt you, and sometimes the people you kept at a distance will be there for you in ways that other people can’t. But 2015, wasn’t about changing, it was about understanding ourselves and the people we care about the most.

And I think it’s time for us to have a toast..

12/31/2015