Some people asked me why I need to leave my mother’s house.
She was a fragile woman.
Alone and old.
I should have taken care of her while I can.

The truth is, sometimes I love her.
But most of the times…
all I remember is how she kicked me in the shin
that left a wound for months.
How she, while I’m sick from tuberculosis,
dragged me outside the house
because I don’t have the appetite to eat.
The neighbors had to beg for me.
The neighbors gave me sympathy that my mother refused to give out of anger.

I was only a child.

The truth is, she is an amazing woman for a few days.
But she is a whole different monster if you overstayed.

Is it bad to hold grudges?
For 25 years, I was the emotional punching bag of a sad woman.
And now people asks me why I need to leave my mother alone.

If I don’t leave,
If by the grace of gods I stayed with her,
everyday will be a constant reliving of memories I have tried so hard to bury.
Everyday,
my hate will grow larger than what I can contain.

Everyday I will wish she was dead.

People don’t like it when I tell them this.
They say something along the lines of they hope my kid won’t do this to me.
Or that I didn’t have any gratitude for my own mother.
For raising me alone.
For sacrificing her happiness.

Is it okay to be thankful but not want to be around that person?
Why do I need to be punished for my mother’s small jabs of abuse?
Isn’t healing my inner child
and trying to get the courage to leave
enough of a punishment?

I am pregnant now.
I will try my best to not be like my mother.
To not be full of rage.
My kids will not have to tiptoe around my emotions.
I will create a home that’s

forgiving,
welcoming,
kind.

“It’s okay.”

“I love you.”

“I’m sorry.”

I will shield them from the shadows that haunted me for 30 years.

The abuse ends with me.

The abuse ends with me.

I called my mom to tell her I'm doing okay.
I did my laundry. I had my weekly groceries in check.
I bought plants and hung them over my balcony.
I told her it keeps me from jumping over.

Yesterday, I removed all the men I've loved from my contact list.
I took the wine glasses out of the cupboard.
It doesn't feel incredibly lonely anymore.
The knives are not hidden from the kitchen counter.
The pills are not calling my name.

Love has many different forms, I realized that.
as I look at the night sky,
with my fancy wine,
and plants hanging over my balcony,

I'm glad I'm alive.

This city has a bad habit of making time flies.
But now that you're not here,
days feel like weeks and weeks feel like months.
I tried to be busy.
I buried myself at work,
I begged my mind to not be idle.
I've changed the ceramics in my apartment.
I went to my mother's place for a week.
I've thrown every last bit of your cigarette butts in my ashtray.
But your memories still knocks on my door.

And when everything quiets down,
when the dirt settled at the bottom of the jar,
you start to crawl your way inside my mind.
the familiar temperature.
the warm feeling of yellow.

And the pain continues.

You told me I'm your little sky in Spanish
You told me I'm a demon made woman in English
How many language barrier do we have to cross to understand each other?

It doesn't matter.
It doesn't matter.

When you call my name in every language,
I will answer.
When I lost you in every country,
I will find you.

I know that the only world we've ever known
is of lonely travelers and worn out backpacks.
But while we we're miles away from what is comfortable,
The universe already made its move.

I'm never good at gambling,
but maybe we can give this a chance.

Nothing good ever comes up with something so beautiful.

I heard they found a fossil on Mars,
impossible things are beginning to happen.
Soon enough, we will gloriously collapse and crumble
and the ashes will turn into gold,
and the only thing I'll remember
is the sound of your heartbeat
and the flashing pair of cinnamon eyes,
over the bar's blinking lights.

You are the epitome of every single thing I'm afraid of.
You break things because you don't know how to take care of them.
And I said I've been broken for too long,
I won't be the window anymore,
I will be the stone.

But you we're smiling when you kissed me.
We break each other until we're happy
we hurt each other and call it love.
Our love smolders and it was so beautiful.

I'm trying to find the right metaphor for the storm
but I ended up mumbling your name.
I can hear your bones break like thunder.
I can hear your cries against my windowpane,
thousands of miles from where you are.

You never thought I would stop running but I did.
I still remember the day when you beg my heart to settle down.
I still remember our little dance in the terrace,
two young people in the night,
experiencing forever in twelve hours.

You were the reason why I feel sad over the sound
of singing cicadas and heartbeats.
You were the reason why I stop leaving things unfinished.

Last night, a friend called and told me how you're doing.
I wonder if your scars still hurt when it's six degrees outside.
I want to cover your shoulder with words and moonlight until it softens.
Until you stop putting your hand on your chest at 2AM to keep it from howling.

I don't remember what type of storm you are anymore,
But I still remember you when it rains.