broken hearted girl

you played me like your alcoholic self playing beer pong,

tasteless american pasttime and you’re not even american.

im not even gonna think of quirky remarks or interesting phrases, im gonna speak my mind.

felt for you like i felt for him,  maybe even stronger.  i loved the idea of us.  i loved the fact that you were who you were.  the best of both worlds.  we could just kick it, just hang out no pressure or anything.  there have been red flags since the begginning but nothiing to stop my feelings from growing.  you were one of the only things to look forward to.  i messed up my game and got way too close to you.  then you turn around out of nowhere and be with someone else.  who are you anymore?  your boys were like your brothers, now you barely talk to them.  you talk with me as if nothing is wrong then that same night you have a girlfriend?  i dont understand.  i wasnt hurt, i was angry.  but now as the feelings of angst fade it uncovers an extremely bruised heart.  whats going to happen?  i feel like an idiot writing about you.  i’m one of them now, one of those broken hearted girls.  i refused to be this.  i was the player, i was the one playing people.  what happened this time, where did i go wrong?  i thought i was going right…

My Mother is The Strongest Person I Know

My mother is the strongest person I know.

Her first child was a surprise, shortly after her father dies.

But things would get harder down the road…

She was a victim, but she made sure he never came back around

Drenched in emotional problems, but I never saw her frown

Medication and breakdowns were closer than I thought,

But even still, and what I speak is real,

My mother is the strongest person I know.

She was lied to and deceived,

her own mother was imminent to leave

But she was still as strong as the Italian roots that planted its fire into her veins,

She was still as strong as the voice that can blow mountains away,

And nothing can ruin her.

A woman filled with courage, and as I got older, yes, I did see her cry

Seeing her hurt made me literally want to die;

And anything that got in her way of happiness was something I would hate.

Protecting her was all I tried to do,

From my father, from anything that made her blue.

I’m as strong as everything she’s passed down to me

And I’m as strong as my tears,

because I realize that losing my mother is my worst fear.

So I hope to be as strong as her one day,

And I can write forever, But I’m going to just stop and say-

My mother is the strongest person I know.

power of love

i can’t help but laugh at the irony,

an island man spending his time in the snow,

the fact that i wont touch drugs and that they’re part of his life

and despite all of my reservations it doesn’t bother me one bit.

we get past our differences and come together on common ground

each with our own share of weight on our shoulders, we will succeed…no matter what is holding us down.

the power of love will prevail.

early hours angst

“you sound just like my father” i reply with bitterness.

probably wasn’t the best analogy to use while he was abusing drugs.

i wasn’t upset, just angry.  all the hurt and hatred rooted from my father’s addictions, and now i was in love with a similiar case.

i made him squirm and feel vulnerable.  i made him repentful.  that’s what i do.

i cant swallow my pride just enough to give anything more than tough love.  it’s how i operate.

i’m fooling no one, barely getting any sleep just to stay awake with a troubled man tripping off of medication.

i wouldnt want it any other way,

i’m obsessed with the struggle.  life isn’t life when everything is okay.  everything has never been okay.  that is life.

he craves drugs i crave him.

he’s fucked up more than i could ever be.  but he’s so beautiful.

am i a glutton for punishment or do i just follow patterns?

blame

looking at him looking at me

he looks restless and scruffy, something i had never realized

i contemplate about what his thoughts were

was he disspointed?  disgusted? depressed?

maybe all three.

looking in the eyes of a daughter who doesnt want him,

who would be better off without him,

a daughter who is hurt.

but this daughter doesnt cry,

she screams at him and rips his soul apart word by word.

so who’s at blame?  because this daughter sure as hell feels awful.

back at it

back at it.

i had to.

bad night, bad friends, bad decisions, bad trust.

lapse of loyalty.  so to take control, i grasped onto the razor and now i feel trickles down my arm.  thats right, my arm.  tonight was so shocking that i chose my favorite [but most visibile/dangerous] place.  and i dont regret it.

staring in admiration.

staring with disgust.

staring with sadness.

but im ok and did what i wanted to do, sorry to all those i let down.

a story about life

and if anyone were to know, her picture is not where she is, rather where she’s been.  passing through rapidly gripping onto the poles as she goes, hoping the grip will tighten enough to stop.  this is where she wants to be.  this is where her soul has taken her.  but the rapid thoughts of feeling at home go almost as quickly as the impatient car waiting to go on the highway.  her feelings, quickly uprooted like trees in a tornado, feel like the tender skin feels after a band-aid is ripped off a wound.  it’s better to feel the agony of not being where you belong, than not knowing where she belongs at all.  atleast, that is what she keeps telling herself.  please stop.  let her go.  let her wander through the sidestreets and find herself within her soul.  the abandoned factory buildings sympathize with her.  she’s been abandoned too.  december 2nd, 2007 life came soaring through her like the razor would soon do as well.  starting december 2nd, 2007 she wondered if her life was worth living.  everything she suddenly built her life around didnt matter, because the one thing she ignored was taken away from her.  the deep feelings of regrets and the questions of “what if’s” soon consumed her mind.  the pressure and stress became too much.  opening wounds and letting the blood pour out was a way to let the problems pour out.  the reason, the person, who was the root of why she was doing this was the one who ended up helping her.  he was where she wanted to be.  he was everything to her and she didn’t even realize it.  but he was taken away.  so she cut.  and she cut.  and she cut.  pain of being where she was and not having him was enough that she wouldn’t mind tearing apart her veins and letting the feelings all out.

january 1st, 2008, things weren’t better but she confessed to the root of the occurences.  he understood.  he talked to her.  and even though she didn’t quite have him the way she wished, she had him in a different way.  it was extremely painful but it helped her.  she learned to accept things.  she learned to put away the razor, even though every centimeter of her flesh was yearning for it.  it wasn’t easy but she tried to keep the promise for him.

she eventually “relapsed.”  she eventually told him.  he didn’t show any signs of dissapointment or a loss of trust.  rather, he accepted it.  just like she accepted his new relationship.  his relationship ended.  it was rocky just like her recovery.  the one who took him away from her never really left, but neither did she.  she found a lifelong friend in him who essentially saved her life.

they come from two different parts of society.  everyone said it wouldnt work.  and it didnt work in the way that it was planned to be, atleast not yet.  but it worked in a different way.  the passion will never die, it’s just doormant for now.  and 364 days later, her body still yearns for the razor.  but she resists.  her body essentially still yearns for him.  but they remain close.  they havent had a serious talk in months, but their friendship and trust remains.  this isn’t a love story, but a story about self discovery.  a story about crossroads.  a story about life.

bruised ego

didnt even want it, but my ego’s so bruised,

one day you confess praise, and now you end it so i lose.

i shoulda beat you to it, i shoulda won.

the only thing i’ll miss was this forbidden fun.

so dangerous and vigorating, but i wont have this for a while

the dirty words you said even made me smile.

but you cant confess one thing one day and end it the next, i knew it was fake, i thought i could be the best.

so what you said you didnt really mean,

what you claimed we do is now only in my dreams,

i consider myself lucky, really i do.

because you could have taken something that in the end i wouldnt want you to.

now i know you wanted to devirginize me and run, your idea of fun

but you didnt take it, you didnt come close

so why do i still feel like i lost?  because you initiated it first

and now my bruised ego is shadily feeling the worst

united we stand, united we fall

like the genocide in Rwanda,

like the family who loses their daughter to a heroin overdose,

like the young girl who longs for her father,

like the prostitute trying to provide for her children without an education,

people will suffer tonight, yet in the midst of it all, we are one.

 

tell someone you love them today.

judgement

i sat in the crowded manhattan restaurant silently playing the game of who is a tourist and who is a local.

next to me is an older caucasion couple who i guess was in my church going group that day.

“he said, ‘i’m voting for obama because he’s christian.’ and i said, ‘because he’s christian?  he is not a true christian, he is pro-choice and supports homosexuality.’” -mysterious woman whom i happened to be part of a group with.

so now we measure people on how true of a christian they are?  he is not qualified to be president because he respects same gender relationships?  he is not qualified because he knows government should not control a woman’s choice?

what i know from my religion is that God should be the only one making judgements on our final day.  not you.  you call yourself a “true christian” only to leave a beautiful church service full of songs and preaches of praise, and then mercilessly judge some one you don’t even know?

there is a seperation of church and state in our country, the whole country isn’t christian, so you should not dislike a man because he knows that we have a very diverse country.

diverse, ha.  so you are claiming that the people of the prodominantly black and latino church we had just celebrated at are not true christians?  we clapped and praised when announced obama was president.  you’re calling the place you worshipped at not true because we believe and support someone who respects everyones rights?

shame on me for only thinking the Catholic church was like this, this ignorance and narrow mindedness is everywhere.

God, I pray that one day we will all learn to accept one another and realize we are all sinners.  Gossip should be the 8th deadliest sin.