Bull Shit

When I look at you

I can’t seem to see why I ever came to know you in the first place

How you even came to hold my attention

It is obvious that I cannot stand the sight of you, let alone the sound of your voice

Yet you seem to not be able to have enough of my mistreating words

As you tell me you love me for the hundredth time since you commenced this conversation

All I can express is my limitless indifference, a rolling of the eyes and a quiet yawn before telling you to fuck off again.

Still finding myself dumbfounded by what could it have been that caught my attention in the first place to find ourselves in this pointless predicament?

I cannot believe I have done this to myself, what was I ever thinking 

Me encontre hablando con mis panties

Me encontré hablando con mis panties…

Llevo tiempo, desde mi niñez pensando que no soy igual que los demás. Mis padres buscaron ayuda, primero porque era muy ingobernable. Segundo pues más de la misma mierda. Desde nena me recuerdo cuando hablaba sola en el patio vasto de mi casa, era un mundo enorme para mí, y pues para esa edad era normal que pues haya ese tipo de juego. De fantasía y juegos de mentiras. 

Luego seguía entrando en edad también me encontraba sola en mi cuarto  bailando, cantando imaginándome el escenario de cuando yo fuera famosa o extremadamente popular esa parte pues llega a un poquito mas de lo que me gustaría expresar, recuerdo tocarme por primera vez y también era como si estuviera con otra persona u otras personas

El tiempo pasaba y yo me ocupe de mis cosas y diario vivir. Aun siempre me encontré haciendo el escenario en mi cabeza, quizás hasta haciendo los gestos en el espejo, practicando como hice toda la vida, en la manera que me saliera mis reacciones.

Me pongo a recatar en estos momentos de mi vida pues porque esta mañana me encontré hablando con mis panties. Le hablado a mi cuerpo y le hablado a objetos. Porque veré esto tan raro hoy. Quizás es por el egocentrismo, quizás es porque pienso que nadie me entiende. 

Al verlo pues no me preocupa porque estoy consciente que lo hago y si puede ser medio raro. Pero me pongo a mirar que quizás yo no soporto la mayoría de las estupideces que realmente la gente tiene que decir. Son predecibles y muy pendejos o déjame decirlo a su gusto que sea más socialmente aceptable “sentimentales y/o emocionales” Bull Shit…

Pero si venido a la conclucion que quizás es porque puedo tener una conversación con mis panties y que mis panties no me digan nada, no me den una excusa barata y no me vengan con babosería. Y si, soy completamente egocéntrica porque realmente no me da la gana escuchar a nadie la mayoría del tiempo. Porque se lo que van a decir, porque siempre es lo mismo y porque no me llama la atencion, si quiero drama yo me lo creo sola, y pues el drama que yo creo es entre mis panties y yo.

My God

When Jesus walked along my side I did not feel afraid, for I was nothing but invisible and was not seen for all his glory was too bright. And God says that he has sent his only son to relieve us of sin, yet we call ourselves Gods children. Does my lord hear me as I speak to him? Does he love me as he loved Jesus?

My father and provider is all mighty and loving, there is no power or grace bigger or more abundant.

I love my God.

 I do not understand the teachings of man upon my God, I find him mysterious and no one really knows. All I know is that he sees me, he loves me, and he listens to me. Not because man preaches this but because I can feel him.

No man can tell me the works of my God and why they are so. For no one has sat and discussed the whys of his works to have the ability to do so. They may show use their faith in him and the ability to live as he would rather, because good is good and evil is evil in any language, any culture, it is common sense. It is knowledge of the heart, what is to be seen as right and what is to be seen as wrong.

Glad I am that our race has come to the agreement that there is a higher power looking upon us. But may none tell me what to believe, because every teaching is better than the next. 

Let me love all for who they are, let me respect each for their beliefs, let mine flow as life makes me grow. For I know there is a God and he has blessed me and I have learned to love him only by experience.

Letter from the dead

Once upon a time, I was alive. And as I lived I forgot of God. I remember that I could only see what I had not, what would be or could be. Not what was. I was a miracle, it was beautiful and I was blessed.

I sat outside alone, I could not speak, my thoughts, my emotions, my sentiment, my heart. Not to anyone, not even God himself. All that could come of my mouth was please, thank you and why?

My reality’s not yet seen by me I pull hot air, smoke from my cigarette, once, twice, a third time as I sat in the dark with the cool dirt under me and the warm humid air and night sky surrounding me. Hoping that the lump in my throat would disintegrate along with the ashes I tap off the tip of that useless cigarette. Thinking of a day that all would be alright. Would I have it all? Does that exist? If anything would be enough to bring me joy and an accomplished feeling over me. Thinking of success and pride.

I wished for the lump in my throat would stop choking me. How? If I had no way of expression, no accomplishments to show for yet. All is empty to me.

Yes, I won awards for one thing and another, yes I have everything I need and a lot of things I want. Are these things what will bring me happiness?

I finish my cigarette and find I still have that dreadful lump that won’t let me swallow. The anxiety that took my peace manifesting itself physically.

I wanted to cry, to feel some sort of release, my mind, body and spirit needed that liberation, yet my tears did not come forth. I could not shed a tear. My anger and hatred and frustration did not let me. My heart was as hard as a rock.

I have cried of rage, sadness and desperation yet it seemed as though the same body, mind, and spirit that needed that cleansing that only a soft weep could bring, seemed to be tired, and did not want to do anything with any feeling. I could not bring myself to see the matter, where this depression could have come from and why. I couldn’t cry, dispute, not smile nor remain silent.

I came to the realization that I have felt so much in so many levels throughout this lifetime although short, not too long at all; I obtained every emotion a woman, a human could endure.  I realize now, too late that my life was perfect; every minute was a joy and a celebration of life. Every minute gone by made me who I was. My only problem was myself and my thoughts.

The truth.

That I had fought through so much to see that I had it all and it was beautiful and that I hated myself, I thought I had to be better,  good wasn’t good enough.

Now what? I have passed on, leaving a beautiful life behind and never being able to see it, to appreciate it. Now what? Die with the regret that I never lived it? How do I rest in peace, knowing I never found it living? Knowing I could have been happy, knowing that it’s gone and lost and I cannot do it over.

There is only one life; every minute counts you must appreciate it and live it, not survive it. In the end, you will die anyways so there is no survival worth while, if not life, nothing.