Laredo, Tejas

I live in a fabulous little city. Well, it can’t really be considered little nowadays, it’s gotten a bit bigger then when I was a child running around our unpaved streets. Most people who were born and raised here and haven’t had the chance to live elsewhere would say this city is boring. That it has no charm or character. Well I’m proud to say I’m not one of those individuals. I was born and raised in this city of mine but I have had the chance to live in another state and another city. There really is no place like home. Laredo has its drawbacks…lack of a variety of entertainment, politics are questionable (but then again, where isn’t it), and people are more close-minded than other places. Yet this is where I was brought up and my family resides here; they always have and probably always will. Laredo to me represents the childhood I had; the adventures I’d get into, the ambiance, and most importantly the community in which I was raised. I remember as a child running around the street in front of our house. It wasn’t paved and it had some pretty sharp rocks, but they didn’t deter me from running around in high speeds. Now, I try to walk on my paved street and I can’t go farther than a couple of steps (I only do this when I forget something from my car and I’m too lazy to go and put on my shoes). I don’t really remember when the street was finally paved but I know that we ran around barefoot on that street for quite a while.

 Across from where I lived, there was a head-start that had a playground. The first chance we’d get, we’d jump the fence and go and play on the swings, slides, and merry-go-round. My brothers, cousin, and I would make sure to jump into the shadows whenever we saw a car pass by. Our parents told us that we’d get arrested if we were seen there. That didn’t scare us at all. My father even went as far to tell me that the devil lived in one of the buildings of the head-start. I still went; just made sure to leave way before it got dark (I didn’t want to risk the story being true). We weren’t doing anything wrong. There were a couple of times when the gates would be left unlocked…I’m not sure whether it was intentional or not but we took full advantage of it. This was the same head-start that I attended when I was younger and I have absolutely no recollection of being taken out to play out there. All the fun I had there was when I was finally in elementary…even in middle school, why bother lying.

'I Still Love You'

It’s crazy how those words would’ve meant something a couple of months ago. A couple of months ago, they would’ve made my heart skip a couple of beats. A couple of months they would’ve made my freakin’ day. Today…they just made me smirk a little. It wasn’t a smile. It was a slight tilt of my mouth and it brought about a sigh…if only it had been a couple of months ago. I don’t really spend time thinking about that part of my life. I used to…a lot actually. There wasn’t a day that it wouldn’t cross my mind. There wasn’t a second that I breathed and it didn’t hurt. I carried around a lot of hurt, resentment, regret, and a huge load of anger. It wasn’t such a nice purse to tote around. Until today, I didn’t realize how I had lost that bag some time ago. I didn’t know I had made such progress…until I heard those words today. “Todavia te amo”…I didn’t feel anything but a sad twang where my heart used to be. Apparently, I came to find today, I guess I put my heart into that same purse that I lost a while ago. Now I’m just void of emotions. It works for me. Nothing really bothers me or hurts me. People tell me things and open up to me and I can scrape up some sense of empathy but really when they’re done speaking, it all goes out the window for me. I’m not a bad person; it’s just what’s been working for me right now. I know eventually I’ll hit a wall and I’ll be forced to face it all. I guess that’s the day when I’ll visit a counselor…to help me ‘evaluate’ my life. Sure, I’m alright with that…when the day arrives. As for today and those words, it’s too little too late. I don’t know what reaction he expected. Maybe for me to swoon and gush over how I still loved him too and missed him a lot. Yea, that’s not true and it’s not happening. There are some messes that are just too big to sweep under the rug. Oh well…maybe that purse went to join my three suitcases; I bet they’re having a blast…at least someone is.

Baggage

It all fit in three suitcases. All of it. Five years later, and everything fit in three medium-size suitcases. They weren't even nice looking. They weren't expensive, they had been bought at thrift stores somewhere in the world. Who knows who had owned them before. Who knows what faraway lands those bags traveled, what they had carried, why they were discarded. Maybe it was because they had been replaced by newer, nicer, name brand luggage. And these three cases were now lying on a bed; being filled to the brim with miscellaneous items, many of which didn't have any importance at the time. Was this the whole purpose of their existence? To carry a woman's and her child's material items three hours away? When their maximum capacity was reached, they were zipped tightly with the hope that they wouldn't burst open. That was all the woman needed; to have her meager belongings strewn all over the yard. But these three pieces of luggage did their duty, they held strong and managed to carry their load all the way back to reality. When they finally reached their destination, they were relieved of their duty. They were stored away, far away from this woman's gaze because they symbolized a painful period in her life. So, these three, medium-sized bags were hidden, never to be seen again. Five years of her life fit in those three suitcases...who would have known it was possible.

October

 I absolutely loooooove Halloween. It's not necessarily the holiday, as much fun as it is, it's more of the feeling of the month of October. It's a family thing, the whole Halloween time period. As young as I can remember, my father would make us Halloween parties. He'd use the excuse that my brother's and my birthday was at the end of Septemeber in order to push it into October and use a Halloween theme. It was always his way of showing his affection for us, considering that he never told us "I love you" or hugged/kissed us. Halloween was his way of expressing  his adoration for my brothers and I. Since then, Halloween has been engraved in our minds as a time of family and a chance to re-tell old family ghost stories. I have a vague memory of being a baby, sitting on a table outside in my grandmother's yard and having the whole family together telling ghost stories. I don't really know why i was scared, considering that I couldn't have understood what they were talking about, but it was the feeling of terror that stuck with me all through the years. I found out later that my parents didn't even spend the night in our own home because they were so scared to be there by themselves. Turns out a lot of family members spend the night at my grandmother's that night.
These stories that are told by my father and other family members are stories that I have heard countless of times. Over and over and over, it'll be the same ones that started off the whole family's fascination with ghosts, goblins, and devils. It never fails that every single time we get together to have our family 'spook-fest' we always get scared. For some reason, at that very moment, we all hear things or see shadows that had never been there before. Who knows, maybe with every single ghost story telling we're opening the doors to the netherworld. I can say though, it's always fun and exciting whenever we get together. I have to make it a point to write out some of those stories, just for the sheer purpose of having written record that they existed.
It's just the beginning of the best time of the year.

He's Alive!!!!

     Why is it that we often take on projects that are so time consuming? Not only do they take up precious time, it’s a lot of emotional effort to try and make them look like a cohesive, attract thing. I’m referring to taking on human projects. It’s long been known that women like to chose men (or women) that are damaged in order to try and fix them up. It’s commonly referred to as the ‘bad boy’ personality but it doesn’t necessarily have to be that. It’s just a person that is so emotionally scarred that attracts a woman to him and the woman takes it as her job to try and make him better. I don’t understand how the whole concept works but I know I’ve fallen into that cycle. I’ve been there before a whole bunch of times and the end result is: yea, you change the person for the better but someone else reaps the benefits. It will never be you.

     I have countless friends that fall into this type of cycle. They meet a man and they fall for their broken hearts and their shattered dreams. They try and put him back together all the while they lose themselves in the whole debacle. It’s just so like them…men who take more than they ever give. I'm overgeneralizing, I know, but this is my spin on the situation. First hand account of the woman playing Frankenstein and they really do end up making a monster. (haha, what with Halloween being around the corner).

It's Alrite, It's Okay, I'm Going to Make it Another Day

     I don’t give myself enough credit for being the person that I am today. The fact that I haven’t been able to internalize everything that I’ve been through, stops me from fully accepting myself as a strong individual. Whenever I start thinking about what I went through and how I’m managed to get out of it, I stop myself from feeling proud by thinking that I’m not the only one who has ever gone through this. There are many, many women who have been in my shoes before. But I’m not them. They’re not me. We’re all different and I have to understand that what I’m managed to do with my life is an awesome thing. The fact that I haven’t turned back, even when the chance was there, I didn’t do it. I have continued to walk forward and even though I’ve tripped and fallen along the way, I’ve gotten pretty far.
     I’ve always been a pretty serious person. I’ve always considered myself pretty reserved and conservative and part of it comes from my upbringing. The other part comes from the reality that it’s my nature to be such a person. I’m not a wild child, even though I have been rebellious and curious in my yesteryear, that was part of growing up. Now as a mature adult, I should know better. My only excuse is the fact that I still haven’t dealt with my past. To be completely honest, I've completely detached myself from having any connection with the male species. I guess the whole reason as to why I haven’t found someone who will be the 'right one' is the fact that I haven’t yet found out who I am. The only thing that I do understand is that I’m a strong woman. I had the chance to go back to my ex and I’m not going to lie, there were a variety of times when I thought it would be the best thing for me. I tried to picture myself living that life again and I just couldn’t do it. I don’t deserve that. I’m not whole, point has already been made, but I know I’m more put together than I have been in a long time. 
     I remember sitting on his mother’s porch and looking around at his family members. I never thought I was better than anyone of them, but I knew I wanted something different. I didn’t want to carry the look of defeat they all carried. I didn’t want to settle and deal with what was handed to me. I wanted to continue to fight, to struggle for something better. I knew I deserved it. When I thought about going back, I knew I wasn’t going to fit in anymore. I never did in the first place because they had long ago given up at being happy. They had long ago given up their hope at a better tomorrow. That has been something that I have never given up: hope. I think that’s the main thing that helped me stay with my ex for so many years. I had hope that things would change, that they would get better. Sometimes hope just makes you a little too blind and it makes you overlook things that you should really be paying attention to.
     I got out. I left that life. I left it all behind and decided to take life by the horns and fucking ride the shit out of it. I haven’t really been doing that, now have I. I want my life in order. I want to be financial sound and ready for my future with my child. I want to be strong enough to understand that there will always be hiccups along the road to happiness but that everything works out in the end. I never thought, for the life of me, that I would be rid of my ex. I thought he was going to make my life a living hell. I will not let that happen. I will be happy and I will be optimistic about my future and my life. I deserve good things in life because I know I’m a good person. I have always been putting others before me, and now it’s expected what with my daughter and all but i will be strong and stand up for what I want in life.
     I will be okay. I am okay. I will survive because after all that I have been through, it’s just too fucking late to lay down and die. I will not give up hope, I will not give in, I will be stronger and wiser as I continue forward. Time heals all wounds and I most certainly will recover from this as well. My shield will come down. I will allow myself the opportunity to expect nice things for myself and for my child. I will be positive and happy and give thanks where it should be given because without Him, nothing would be possible. Without Him, I would not have been allowed the opportunity to live again, to be born with the chance of a more beautiful tomorrow. So, in the end, yes, I have made mistakes along the way since I was freed but I will open my eyes more. My footsteps will still be cautious and soft but I will be taking them forward and will bring my wall down. I know things will get better and I will be happy. I am okay. I am doing well. I will be okay. We will be just fine.

Self

It’s oblivion at its best

Floating through the mist of a reality that’s vague

Eyes wide open but with a glance so hollow

If it were all to be so damn easy

How nice it would be to exist without existing

Breathing is a necessity

Feeling is but an inconvenience

Would it all be worth while

Where’s the need

What’s the point

If only the detachment could be permanent

Oh what bliss it would be