I read his natal chart to a non believing straight cis man
because it's what I do as the token witchy friend
I read it and I laughed
at how accurate it gets.

I read mine again,
feeling dragged across the floor by it
being told exactly how I am and how I mess my life up
I like feeling like there's a reason behind my acting
not just the fact that I am lazy or dumb.

You can not believe all you want
but those stars are set up to make you
exactly the way you are.

 I think about my father

And his smile, and his impact

20 years and I still miss him

20 years and I remember

On his last birthday I bought him a pair of slippers and diabetic socks without seams

He and I ate fish crackers and seaweed squares

We watched a shitty movie

My uncle and his girlfriend have him a pajama set for the cold mornings

Winters were way colder then

He held my hand and kissed my head

20 years ago

I think about my father

Often, if not every day 

Not everyday, not anymore

I have some bad days where I don't invoke his memory 

I have some terrible days where I rage against injustice and violence, and I want to study law and I feel like his daughter 

I have some good days where I don't recall his absence 

I have some great days where I can appreciate his wisdom and his humor in the little things

20 years ago

Would he laugh at this?

What would he say about that?

What would my father do?

I can't be sure

It's been 20 years

And still, often,

I think about my father.

 Con tu tráfico infinito 

Y tu clima todo pinche raro

Con cada casa colonial

y parque gentrificado 

Amo tus árboles y tus edificios altísimos

y cómo puedo encontrar la

Latino desde casi cualquier punto

Amo vivir entre millones

Incógnita y sin importancia

Amo el anonimato y como me proteges

Entre multitudes secretas

Amo tus escondites y todos tus lugares

que me acogen como si me conocieran

Una vez leí

Que las ciudades como las personas

Tienen personalidad y espíriru

Y tú eres una bestia enorme

Que tiene mejores cosas de qué preocuparse 

Que de mí y mi andar

Y mi romantizar

Los cientos de luces por las noches

Tu extensión enorme al aterrizar en casa

Y el que aquí todo se puede

 

Sometimes I fear

to be seen as fake

in the real world out here

as trying too hard

when I am giving

when I am sharing

when I want to bring out a smile

and a compliment 

or a gift

I fear that it doesn't translate

from the deepness of my care

but from the wanting of something else

from wanting to take 

but it isn't

and sometimes, when I do bring

when I do share

I do so with so much fear

and then I see

the happiness behind

the smiles and the care

reflected back

and I breathe.

 

I am drunk.

Writing comes easy to me when drunk. As if things just turned clear. As if the anxiety got blocked from all the booze in my system, and I did not have to overthink every single thought.

We rode an uber home and I felt so happy. So happy and full of joy and not scared at all. 

I started thinking how I hadn't been this happy in a long time, but while looking out the window, and really considering, I've never in my life been this happy before.

For so long, scared has been the default. It's a constant awaiting something going off and the shit hitting the fan again. It's a worry that never stops; will I be safe this time? Who is the next one to leave me? When will this happiness end?

But right now, I don't fear.

Right now, I'm completely and utterly happy.

Life is better than ever. I have the friends I never thought I would surround myself with and the way they care for me shows to a level I can't deny, I'm living in my favorite place in the world, I am amused every time I look out the subway's window and stare right at the buildings that touch the sky. I am loved and love the guy that sometimes I swear I produced from a dream. I am getting married. 

I am so absolutely happy and not scared one single bit. It's actually weird putting the wall down. I am ok. I am just fine.

Maybe the Cornelia Street is just about to hit.

Maybe not.

Maybe I've been surviving, and I'm just turning towards the side of actually living.

 

I was never afraid when my father was around
as short and skinny and sick as he got
I somehow knew that if he was next to me
absolutely nothing bad would ever happen.

The man summoned a strength that I still don't quite get
he was the bravest and smartest man ever
and I keep comparing every other one to him.
My father would've done it differently.
My dad would best your man, anyday, anytime.

Only time I was ever afraid next to my father
was when I was 10 years old and he had fainted in a steam room
he was deep in his disease by that point,
what we thought were diabetes consequences
but were probably result from a hidden and undiagnosed lymphoma.

The first time I summoned my father's strength 
it was to get him out of the steaming room
I pulled him out through the floor and screamed for help
in an empty gymnasium.

Security guards came running,
uncle Noé took him to the hospital,
I visited a couple days later.
I felt completly alone.

But I have summoned this particular strength
time and time again when needed
for my mother, for myself,
for the underdog kid in a class.

I think I am a small but strong person,
I'm not afraid when my dad's strenght is pulled
he is with me when I'm fighting
and if he is near I can't fear.

 

if there was one thing I am thankful for 

is that after all

you made it easy

pulling of the bandaid is less painful

if the bandaid doesn't stick well to begin with

you make it easier to leave behind

when you're too much of a coward to come up and face me

thank you for not even trying

thanks for being a full ass wuss

chin chin

 

    I'm truly doing my best. Working on myself, I'm back in school, absolutely in love, taking care of myself and my body, respecting me and my boundaries, exploring my pleasures.

    And yet, it still rocks the boat how much she's unwilling to step up and be my mother. And I know it's not my fault, I know I'm not to blame. No matter how hard I try to be PerfectDaughter.com I cannot. No matter how much I break my back trying to make you proud, I can't push you to be what I need. And it's still incredibly hard.

    "Look at me!", I seem to shout from rooftops, "Look at how much I can do!", while saying yes to every responsibility that comes my way, do it perfectly, if I can't ace it why even bother? I need to do it nicely, I need to make it pretty, the shinniest, the most natural, look at me, barely any effort, look mom, no hands.

    How long will it take me to get to a point where I no longer care? Where I know what's going to happen and I just go with it. I feel like I did one bad daughter thing in my life and she keeps bringing it back to haunt me. Sorry I didn't inform you my boyfriend had moved in with me when I was 20 a week after he had done so. Sorry it apparently was the worst treason you could possibly stand.

    I don't feel like tossing rocks back your way. I've done that enough. Telling you how you've hurt me only makes you feel bad and I feel like I'm the bad one. For reminding you. For being a living memory of your faults. For surviving it and not shutting the fuck up, "Let it go, Loretta" you say, "it's been so many years already."

   I'm getting older, I've got more on my shoulders
But I'm getting better at admitting when I'm wrong
I'm happier than ever, at least that's my endeavor
To keep myself together and prioritize my pleasure
'Cause to be honest, I just wish that what I promise
Would depend on what I'm given (not on his permission)
(Wasn't my decision) to be abused.

    It's going to take some time, I guess, until I feel like I can say this. Like I can express it somewhere else that is not an online blog that nobody reads, and my pillow at night, stained forever with mascara from my wet eyelashes. It's waterproof mascara season. 

    Spring break is about not breaking myself.

 

When it becomes too much
when I turn out to be too little
when the leaves of spring fall down and
no more purple petals stain the sidewalks
when the huge city feels like it can swallow
everything that brings you happiness
when everything you want nearby
is too damn far away
when I no longer hold your dreams between my arms
will you leave then?
or will you stay
like a trapped little bird
whose cage is decorated beautifully
but who is too sad to sing anymore
will you leave?
when my tears cannot be hidden behind closed doors
when my body becomes too much of a burden
for one man to handle
will you?
will you stay because you promised?
because your word means more that your soul to you
you'd rather be miserable than untrustworthy
you'd rather stay, broken,
than leave and break me
will you leave or 
do I have to keep forcing you
to open your eyes and see
that I'm not worth the pain.

 

Here I am once more
playing a game of Russian Roulette
in which I know that
the cold bullet of another love
will surely end me.

 I dig that when I sit down

with a group of close women

and I mention a man

A man I like and respect

I get comments from them

“Yeah, he's always been nice to us"

"Nothing to worry about"

"My very close friend"

You passed

You're a safe one

You're a cool friend to have.

how hard it is sometimes

to understand

that you are loved 

just for being

Loretta

without anything to prove

without having to do anything for others

you're just loved

and it's a good thing

 

Your hands full of my hips.
My fists full of your hair.
I want you and ache for you,
it feels like it's been forever
nothing changes
we're fit like puzzle pieces
from completely different boxes.
It shouldn't be like this.
We shouldn't match so well.
And yet, the shadow of your back
in the wall of this room,
your face hidden in the crook of my neck
invites me to pull you closer

until
we
break.

 My first august was when I was 16 and crazy in love, lost for a little bit of reassurance. You were sweet, kind, and just smart enough to twist me into you. I was sweet, kind, and just gullible enough to think you were being honest.

Come show me, precious love,
your feelings 'cause I ache to know
I'm too involved and too willing
and my heart is yours to fill.

Here I stand, all forgiveness,
all absence of self,
I am here and I'm listening
I'm sorry for not doing so before.

I don't understand anger
and agression as anything but danger
I was raised between blades and fists,
burning pictures and dilated eyes.

I shiver at the thought of violence,
I fear being held against walls
I remember the cold brush of a knife
against my neck and my arms

And I know you never held me
in a violent embrace of rage
not with harm in your heart
or drugs in your system

I can't help but remember
what it's like to sit still
in a house on fire
and pretend I'm not made of cloth.

 

When I write a poetry book
I will title it
"Poems for those who don't think
about me as much as I think about
them"
and it will be long
like a grocery list of people
with their own little poems
about their rosy cheeks
their tiny voices
their long dark hair
their hidden smiles
those secretly shed tears
the greenest eyes
the biggest hugs
and the fistfuls of anger
that I don't seem to ever forget
that become my personal ghosts
that chase me in my thoughts
and haunt my dreams
that everytime they go away
I can't help but wonder 
if I made an impression
big enough to be remembered
through days and months and years
I hope if they think
about me it's not for haunting
it's not for chasing
I hope that if I live in someone else's head
they don't feel the need to write
little silly poems
about my shaky hands
and my anxious sighs
I hope they don't remember
how tormented I can be
I hope they don't worry
like I worry about them.

 

I went back and read your stuff
the old stuff
the faraway gone stuff
I keep everything
I went back and remember the time I was
passed out in your kitchen floor
trying to sleep
dressed like Audrey Hepburn
a drunk audrey hepburn who passes out after a bottle of rum
I went back and I read your stuff
I didn't cry because prozac won't let me
but I was hurning
Taylor Swift said
you were bigger than the whole sky
You were more than just a short time
And I've got a lot to pine about
I've got a lot to live without
I'm never gonna meet
What could've been, would've been
What should've been you
What could've been, would've been you

 

All good times here
are wild and happy and free
I don't know why you're so intent on trapping
on harnessing
on making a stupid statement.

I look into your puppy dog eyes
get lost in them a little bit
try to find an innocence in there
that is long gone
I'm searching for something other than
what you are trying so hard to call love.

Love is not what you think it is
you don't know how to love and be loved
you only know taking 
and burning
and turning to ashes.

I don't let you, I'm extinguishing flames
with every word and every friendly gaze
all cold air from my lungs
a gift
undeserving
yet lovely

I'm taking what you're giving,
with a pinch of salt
maybe a tablespoon or two
because I believe you do it out of kindness
out of what you understand as kindness
after being roughed around for so long
lit up with the fuel of anger.

It's in my nature to try to heal
to try to fix
put out the imminent dangers
to put things where they belong and find them a home
but I don't like losing myself in the process.

Air deserves to blow free
to freshen living rooms and 
howl near mountaintops.

Air deserves to be sighed from lungs
to be held in with breaths of passion
to ruffle pretty heads of hair.

Air returns home
at the end of the day
to push autumn leaves down trees
to wake us up with an early morning breeze.

Air returns home.
Always home.

 

27 years old.

I ran a marathon and got back in therapy. I started taking prozac and got back in track to finish a fucking degree (third time's the charm I guess). 

I feel like I'm good at my job and I like where I'm living. It looks like me. It feels like me. There's books and plants everywhere. It smells like coffee and incense and whatever I'm cooking.

I looked at the eyes I love and was honest and good. I opened my heart truly and loved harder than I ever had before. Unconditionally. Consciously. With all and with nothing.

I laughed and kissed and danced and drank. I cried and I consoled myself as if I were my own parent. I broke rules and hearts and glasses. 

I hugged my friends and looked into their eyes and told them that I love them. I teared up and missed the ones no longer near.

I helped create little surprises for others, cherishing the smiles and the true happiness. I held hands in the dark and cursed evil doers away. I weaved pine needles and cinnamon sticks into charms. I drew pentacles and sigils.

I told stories to children, I gave little parts of my heart, wrapped in the prettiest of fabrics just for them. I sang songs and baked goods, painted weird pictures.

I have smiled so hard my cheeks hurt and I have ran so far my muscles gave in for a couple weeks. I forgave. 

I cleaned cuts and gashes. I let mine be cleaned and cured. I listened and cuddled and made love. 

27 years. Feels like a milestone.

I made it out of hell once. Ten years ago. I never believed it would have gotten this good. 

I hope the next ten are even better.

 

It had been a while since I last felt this much fucking purpose. Purpose and confidence in myself (probably more than ever before). I feel like I'm doing things right. I'm checking off things I didn't think I could actually ever do. I'm less afraid of the cards that make up the castle collapsing all around me. This structure feels sturdy. And if they were to fall, I feel strong enough to move out of the rubble.

Maybe I just needed drugs all along.