A veces extraño mucho a la gente
en especial a los que me hacen daño
quizá es por todo lo malo que me dejaste y por todo lo que he sufrido
No me gusta pensar en mi misma como la víctima de nadie
pero sé que de alguna forma u otra, lo fui
A veces me siento tan perdida y vacía que pienso que lo único que me traería de vuelta el sentido es volver a enredarme en tus juegos y dejar que me destruyas el alma una vez más
Te juro que no sé qué más hacer. Escribo esto con un dolor en el pecho que no se compara con nada en el mundo.
A veces quisiera irme lejos
pero del único lugar que realmente quiero huir es de mi mente
porque no importa lo que haga, la terapia, la medicación
mis fantasmas no descansan y por lo tanto, yo tampoco
A veces quisiera mandarte mensajes y decirte que es tu culpa,
que todo lo malo que me hiciste y me dijiste finalmente se me metió en la cabeza y que no importa lo que haga, no se va.
No sé si tiene algún sentido que escriba todo esto, la verdad.
y siento que seguiré haciéndolo por el resto de mi vida y nunca se va a desvanecer toda la putrefacción que siento constantemente.

lately i don’t know how to talk about myself without mentioning the chaos and the heartbreak and the loneliness and all the sadness that’s within me. i think i’ve suffered enough for a lifetime and maybe that’s why i feel like i’m just done with life. lately i try to make the best out of every day and i struggle constantly not to let my mind set free and i’m afraid i might just end it. honestly, i’d hate to do that to the people that i love because i know my father doesn’t deserve all that misery and the grief and the pain. and i don’t want my mother to think it’s her fault because she’s been doing good for a while. i think she’s growing and becoming a better person and i honestly believe in her and have forgiven her for everything that happened and would hate to be the reason why she has a new breakdown and i’m terrified that if she did she’d never get better again. i don’t want to be the reason why she gives up on herself -or anything else. and my brother’s such a sweetheart. so loving and so strong. i could never do that to him. i could never take away from him the chance to see me get married and have kids and have him come over and cook together in my big house and be besties with my wife and take my kids out for ice cream. i could never. and my friends, they have been a blessing for me in this time specifically, i can’t thank them enough. thank you for coming with me to places that are so simple yet cause me so much anxiety and thank you for never making fun and thank you for being kind to me. thank you for making me laugh of myself and others and showing me just how easy it all can be sometimes. thank you for giving me perspective and positivity when we all know that there’s none of that left in me. thank you for showing me how it is like to believe in love and great things and magic and dreams and opportunities and thank you for showing me that sometimes believing in people turns out to be a good thing.

i’ve always wanted to go to pride but this year i’m not sure if i’ll make it. i hope i do. i hope i find the strength. i hope it’s not too late for me to get better. i hope i just refuse to listen to myself because i’m never nice. it’s harder if you’re not nice to yourself. sometimes i think i’m cool and good looking and hot and at the same time i’m so disgusted and ashamed of being alive. it’s just insane.

i just hope i’m going in the right direction. i hope this hopelessness changes soon and i hope this pain takes me somewhere better.

i feel like i’m writing a goodbye letter and maybe i am. i don’t know yet.

and here i am again
at the intersection
of pedestrian language
& old wives tales
swallowing gum
like 7 year memories
opening umbrellas inside
cause i can't seem get away
from all of this rain
i ******* with my left hand
cause i was told
back in highschool that
"it feels like someone else is doing it"
it gets me wondering
about the difference between
losing you and finding out
that some one else found you
or my sleep
or lack thereof
its starting to tear me apart
i keep having this dream
where you are in
an unfamiliar body of water
trying to wash my poetry
off of your hands
or the one where
something happens in my chest
every time you sit
on someone else's bed
i'm tired of feeling like something you've misplaced
but don't have the heart
to look for anymore
tired of you saying my name
like you're trying to bury it
i'm tired of wondering
if you can tell the difference
between the absence
of my voice & silence
the other day
i almost started sobbing
at work when a woman
asked me about
our equipment
i was explaining how
things come apart
and almost mentioned your name
it made me think
of how you used to say
things like "what would you do
if i showed up on your doorstep
one day?" now, i haunt
the windows in my house
i don't leave for weeks at a time
i sit on the porch like the dog
you didn't shoot behind the shed
the one that refuses to die
until you come home again
i told somebody once, that
you didn't even know
what my voicemail sounded like
i wonder if they thought
it was because you
are so important that i never
let it ring that many times
before picking up
or if you dont know
what it sounds like
because you've never called
you can't be the ****** weapon
and the search party
i'm tired of all the seats
to the ferris wheel in my chest
being empty
tired of your voice
being the one i look for
in abandoned places
that one sound i beg
to bounce back
down vacant hallways
i just seem to stand there
in all of that quiet
like someone looking for a mistake
on an eviction notice
so i guess the hardest part
isn't letting go
it's forgetting
you ever had a grip
in the first place
and since you've been gone
i wonder if when
you pushed yourself away from me
you used your left hand
so it felt like someone else did it

asi es como esto funciona, verás
en las noches frías, solitarias, oscuras, a veces no me queda de otra que pensar en ti, en nosotras, en todo lo que ese extraño juego mental de fantasía y salidas de emergencia nos convirtió. y pienso en cómo es posible que los dioses permitieran un amor tal cual. porque podrá haber dolido y ardido en llamas, y sido veneno, y antídoto y pudo haber sido la mentira más grande que jamás conoceré pero también fue la más atractiva, y de alguna forma la manera en que te amé hace de todas tus mentiras una gran e insólita verdad.
Porque la cosa es que después de tanto, tanto tiempo, aún son las 11:18 de un miércoles en la noche y te sigo pensando. Sigo recordando lo nuestro, y todas las quemaduras y cicatrices que me dejaste cuando te marchabas para siempre
y a los dos meses volvías.

i see you everywhere.
sometimes when I'm kissing her
my eyes are closed like when you're making a wish
and it's always you.
It's always "please, come back"
Its always "please, don't go"
and as we all know
wishes do not come true.
I should know better than anyone though.
with you everything felt like a fairytale
but my bedtime story's a whole different one.
one where nothing's ever good to us for too long
one where every thing we've ever loved either goes away, goes to waste
or dies
one where neither of us is ever brave enough to fight our battles nor to say goodbye
except the battles are always wars
and goodbye's don't mean "I'm leaving"
they mean "please, stay"