Miriam used to say
that I was just like Basil from Dorian Gray
and how I am always willing to give and give and give
that because I love everyone, I am incapable of loving anyone

I was just telling Jorge
of how many of my friends I end up defending when they're hated
you don't really know them
not like I know them
you don't see what I see
and I give and give and give

I paint their picture beautifully
I use my prettiest colors and I take in all the details
I like them and I want them to be liked as I do them
because they're mine to love
despite them sometimes
making me feel like it's not that big deal
holding this love of mine
right inside their clenched fists.

 

I hate how much you turn me on

What is it about you, dirty fucker,

I hear your voice and it makes me wet

As if you could touch me with it

As if the rumbling of your vocal chords 

vibrated inside me

You play me like a violin

with the dexterity of someone

who's been around a while now

And I can't help but enjoy

the idea that I'm in perfect tune for this

that my moaning in your ear

is what inspires you to keep making music

I want to shut you up with my mouth

make you feel instead of talk

come here, see what you do to me.

 

Quiero ser.

Todo quiero ser, todo el tiempo quiero serlo, quiero sentirme, quiero vivirlo, quiero servir.
Mis propios padres, mi propia terapeuta, mi jefa, mi hija, mi amiga, mi enemiga, mi entrenadora, mi maestra, todo mío y también el de los demás.

Si soy todo nadie se equivoca. Y si alguien se equivoca soy yo. Yo soy responsable, yo me encargo, yo lo hago, no gracias, yo puedo sola. 

Yo soy sola. 

Sólo yo.

 

You hug me as we sing
hand in hand
you sip my drink
I tell you all about
my recent affairs and how 
I've been a wildflower
blooming when least expected
I feel gorgeous
wearing the reddest of dresses
that flows with the afternoon breeze
Sinatra songs and gin
and whiskey and beer
and laughter and pictures taken by my friend
who tells me about the girl he's dating
and describes her with such love
I feel like I love her too
what a wonderful day
at the end of a horrid month
I hope June is better
cheers to that.

 

The week passes by with my running thought on how I'm not enough.

Being behind on things I didn't even know I was behind on. Trying to stay ahead of the current, before the hurricane strikes. I pack my supplies and save them under the floorboards, knowing damn well that not only the hurricane is here, but I'm being carried away by the winds.

I'm filling up the hole in my chest that conversations with my mother has left me.
I want to fill it with booze, with sex, with laughter with my friends, running, crying.
I feel the hollowness and try to suck away the venom. Spit it into my coffee thermos and leave it for three days, unwashed inside of my school backpack.

I want to get drunk and rowdy, I want to bite and scream, I want to fuck a man's brains out and have him beg me for more.

I want the naughty, the rough, I want my hair pulled and my body kissed. I'm angry and sad and anxious, I want the distraction. I want to run for 10 miles and cry halfway. 

I am sick. Sick of the fucking same cycle that brings me down everytime.

My therapist wants to send me to the psychiatrist, she wants me to get medicated and I'm terrified of losing myself, the only fucking thing that stays the same is my talking to myself like this.

Getting lost

under the weight of your body
the salt of your sweat
and the taste of your loving
heals me of more than one ache
of those I carry around
in the little pocket of my mind.

Tell me, lover,
do you heal your heart
of doubts and worries
when I hold you close
and whisper that I'm yours?

Do you see us belonging
only to each other
because and despite
our little games of fire?

Home is where the heart is
and the only place I couldn't stand
to ever be without you.

 

I am almighty.
Powerful.
Independent.
I don't need help.
I don't ask for it.

I can do it. Let me do it.
I can reach the highest shelves.
I can run marathons.
I can make, work, be, change,
reinvent, write,
take care, raise, plant,
flourish, water, walk,
cook, create, design,
repurpose, plan, achieve.

I can crash down.
I can see myself collapsing.
Like a house of cards, like a line of dominoes.
I can do it.
I don't need help.
I don't ask for it.

I can cry and shake and shiver.
I can stop my breath and not control it.
I can lose my bearings and my state of mind.
For some seconds... maybe minutes 
that feel like hours. 

I can shut my eyes so hard that
little blood vessels burst
and I look like Eren Jaeger after leaving
his titan body.

My anxiety can kind of feel like living inside a titan body
If I think about it enough.

I can do it.
I don't need help.
I don't ask for it.

I don't ask to be held.
To be reasured.
To be taken out of the circumstance.
I don't ask for anyone
to come and save me from 
this hell of a mind I inhabit.

I can do it.
I don't need help.
I don't ask for it.

I can do it, I swear.
I just need some room to breathe.
To hold myself.
To reasure myself.
Take myself out of the circumstance.

I need to be able.
I need to not ask for help.
I won't ask for it.

What if I really need it,
and they let me down.