WELCOME BACK...

I've been brought back to life, back into reality after being in a lovers coma.
Three months of honeymoon bliss, lost in a land far far away in prince charming's fairytale...
He and I created a paradise where the two of us could live..Eve and Angel. An Eden where it rains sweet honey from fluffy clouds, and nothing ever matters and nothing ever hurts.
What is this place I wonder, where am I think?
This place is so foreign to me...
I thought it was all a myth.
And sometimes because I'm so scared that I'm dreaming, I pull the rug from underneath my feet and suddenly I have wings and I'm flying far beyond reach.
Angel gave me his wings and even when I want to fall back into the abyss i know so well...
I FLOAT.

Who said perfect love was perfect?
Sometimes I want it to be skewed and jagged because imperfection is beauty...or maybe its all I've ever known.
This isn't normal...
When do I start hurting and when will he make me cry?
When does he cheat and when do I leave?
When does he cast me aside for his friends, when does he make me cry?
Sometimes I cut myself to make myself cry and then I blame him for it...
and only then does it ever make sense.
At ease.
Make me cry.
Hurt me.
Break me over and over again.
Because this feels like home.

Debt hell

Im terrified of the credit boogie man.
A few years back he scared me right into debt and now Im 6 feet under in an early grave.
He made me dig it myself and now its the only place I stay.
No one told me that once you let the green eyed monster in, you die.
I've committed credit suicide and now im in debt hell.
Now im stuck at the crossroads, tomorrow potentially the biggest day of my life with the potential to turn my life around or dig the grave deeper.
Im invoking all spirits and praying to my god...please please get rid of that boogie man in under my bed...but he comes to me at all hours of the day and threatens to kill me for good. And I know if they just give me a chance, ill make it go away...but the credit monster keeps chasing me and im so tired of running and I cant fight it.

So what now?
I die?

Tomorrow...god, please, tomorrow let me get this job without the credit check that will destroy me. Please...show me the way out of this debt hell so I can pay my way to credit heaven...

Comfortably numb

My days are no longer countable. Days go in and out with such irrelevance that I wonder how they can possibly count as life.
I looked for my pulse last night, but I couldn't feel it.
And I listened for my heartbeat, but I couldn't hear it.
I think I might be dead.
Is there anybody in there?
I have become comfortably numb.
I can't even tell the difference between life and death.

Today as I entered the train a man told me to smile. I awkwardly responded and then went into my shell, where im safe and alone, where no one can reach me, where no one can hurt me.

And later along the ride, again he tries to penetrate my shield, this time successfully puncturing a hole right through to my innermost vulnerable layer.

"I can see it in your eyes" he told me.
"You are so sad"

And god, I am just so sad all the time.

And he could see right through me.

"You have a good defense mechanism, but stop it, stop lying. You just want someone to love you, a good man" he warned me.

And god have I been lying. Role playing my days away, just pretending to fill this void but feeling emptier and emptier as each day passes.

Abruptly I had to leave the station because it was my stop, I ran out like Cinderella, leaving my shield behind.

He tore me open, and there I was helpless and exposed. Now how would I protect myself? And now here I am, so vulnerable, wishing I could find the way to piece back my armor, but not being able to. Once your ripped open that way, all your innermost secrets, all your kryptonite fears out in the open, you're never the same again.

Who was this mad stranger and how did he see me, behind the facade and all the bullshit all my pain. God, all my pain.

Where do I go from here?

How do I heal this broken heart?

"There's a possibility that all I had, is all im gonna get"

There's a strong possibility, rather a likeliness that I've already reached the peak of my life and its all down hill after this.
There's quite a strong possibility that it doesn't get any better than this.
Could this be it?
Is there nothing more to look forward to?

I wish I was wearing his selfish kiss.
Adorned in his random love and his filthy glamour and bad romance and his nasty...all his nasty.

But I can't remember how...

Although he's the only one I see.

I don't know what he looks like anymore.

Wanting your cake and eating it too

Why in the world do you keep bothering me?
Saying you miss me, telling me you want to take me out to dinner and mending out friendship and relationship and starting over, doing things you've never done before and yet doing exactly what you did before, having your cake and eating it too.

How is that you tell me you would take anything you can get from just as long as im in your life again?

And yet you're with her and trying to cheat on her with me, its always me the head mistress.

But I won't ever let you use me that way, never again will you use me that way. I hate you.

Its the typical HIM from long ago that broke me...

You ask if I still think of you and I do, all the time, many times a week your this dark memory that never leaves me...and now all I can do is remember the bad times. Time escapes me and yet my heart isn't healed, im so wounded ill never be able to let go.

I tell HIM that it means that ill never be the same after him, that long after he's been gone ill never be able to love another that way. Its means ill never forgive him. It means that I still hate him and ill avoid him at every cost. That's what it means..."

He never responded after that.

Because he wants his cake and wants to eat it too. But he already ate me whole and there's nothing left.

And Im not a fucking piece of cake.

TRYING TO HoLd on.............

It seems that the harder you try to hold on...the further from grace you fall.



















I don't know why it is that the more positive I want to be, the more negative I become.
And the better person I want to be, the worse person I become.
and the less I try to cry, the easier my tears flow.

I wish that life and love and relationships had a manual to them...that someone would tell me how to love my father better and how to appreciate my mother more. I wish that someone would teach me how to help my sister more and communicate with my brother a little better. I want someone to remind me to call my nieces and tell them I love them and visit my nephew and open my heart to him just once. And explain to me how to be more selfless, less narcissistic...to quit the habit of self destruction and self loathing while simultaneously hurting everyone I love, murdering everyone around me. I need someone to tell me the secret to healing a broken soul and mending a broken heart. And maybe, just maybe reveal the guidelines to becoming a better friend, a better lover, a better person, a better me.

But no one has those answers, but me, not even me, no one has those answers.

So I continue to fall from grace.

THE CIRCLE OF LIFE

Circles ultimately lead you to a place where it all begins and where it all ends...they say that life is full of dajavu moments...moments when you realize that you've been there before...that you have experienced it before...that in the present there was a before and an after that was exactly the same...

Maybe life is just a finite circle that ends where it begins...but how many circles to we have along the way? Are our lives just the rings of the trunk of a tree... natural calculations that describe the journey of our lives...identical yet not so identical rings? abstract yet tangible manifestations? At the end of my life will i see these rings come full circle and finally make sense?

I arrived in Puerto Rico unconscious of the gravity of the decision.
Unaware that this vacation was not simply a convenience of time...but a very deliberate, preordained decision that fell right into the proper time line. This was no accident.

My first night back "home" if you like to call the place that holds your memories, home...and went straight to my memory box to refresh the mind and the heart of an experience that has been blurred by distance and time. The magnetic force of nostalgia draws me in with its gravitational pull and yet simultaneously repels me. Fighting off the longing to feel....reminding myself how much it hurts to feel...

But without much of a choice I open the diaries of the past and enter the realm of HIM. It's not that reading about him made me love him again and it didn't make me miss him...what saddened me was the tales of severed heart who thought she endured an abusive relationship but in fact at the end had died. He killed that girl. I felt like I could no longer identify with her. Who was she? Surely not me. It felt as if I was reading a story like any other...tragic Shakespearean love tales about lovers malady and vengeful horrors in the name of love...and I wanted so bad to understand how it all happened, how it all began and how she had blindly let it spiral out of control but I just couldn't understand. I read her stream of consciousness and all the pain that swelled in her heart...but it seemed so far away in time that it couldn't have been me....it wasn't me. Hadn't she survived at the end? Hadn't she survived the ills of heartbreak? Didn't I get over him and that awful relationship?

Some part of me died.
And I don't know if I'll ever be that girl from that tragic tale?
But who would want to be her anyway?

As I replayed the stories in my head, trying to calculate the time line of events it hit me.

My life had come full circle...

Here I was reading about the bloody murder to my heart just a year ago. And here I am in the same place where it all feel apart...at exactly the same time...

At the end of February of 2009 I took a trip to NY to see HIM for his birthday before I departed to PR...but I didn't see him...and after my vacation i again went to NY to see him on March 8 when i lost him. A cancerous fate...a pain so grave I lost my life to it...and upon reading her struggle did I realized my circle of life...A Lovers Life and Death...

but maybe...just maybe there is such thing as life after death....maybe I can be reborn.

Reincarnation....

My renaissance.

The reinvention of self.

Tell me, how did I get here?

Planner and pen in hand eager to get to the breakfast table monday morning.
After every weekend we took a poll.
I flipped to the end of my planner where a long written rubric tallied men by certain criteria.
Hoping that id have the highest points, making me ruthless and masculine, indifferent and a whore...and nothing made me happier.

In my youth I was ruthless.
I craved the scent of wounded boy.
Feeding off of their vulnerability.
I killed them all.
And those who dare to put up a fight...those stronger, more heartless than I...I would bow down to them with much earned respect. I loved them...those were the ones I'd die for....

Today though, I look into the mirror and I barely recognize myself.
Who is this imposter?
This hurt soul?
When did I come to care so much?
When did the tin woman get her heart?

It seems that today I no longer search for love...not even amidst drunken stupor do I call to HIM or him or them. I have completely shut down. The thought of a man actually repulses me, of him in the flesh sweating and panting and heaving over me...the thought of all his lies and all the hurt and everything that follows when you dare to love man. I can't anymore.

Im sure it has something to do with pure exhaustion from trying. It has to be HIM he spoiled me...I am ruined.

Will I ever allow someone in?
Or will I be a cynical lonely woman for the rest of my life?

What do you believe in when you've lost faith in love?

Where do I go from here?

"If you build it, they will come"

My field of dreams has become a desert, a barren wasteland, that no one will cross.
It burns with passion, engulfed in flames...but no one will come put the fire out.
In my field of dreams I wait in utter despair hoping that he will come.

"If you build it, they will come"

It is only when I accept the dry ash my fruitless garden has become; only when I close up the access, each orphice of my body; only when I build the dam to they flock to me.

The last few days I needed someone. Anyone. I was lonely, really there is no other way to put it. The last days I have been clinging to anyone who would have my company. But today....today I woke up without a care for the male species. He, is...they are....IRRELEVANT. And due to my lack of admiration or disdain for the male species and my pure and sincere indifference resulted in every man including HIM to flock to my woman breast for feed.

Nay.

When they come.

I no longer welcome them.

Why is it that only when you close yourself off from the world. When you dam up the emotions and block your heart. Why is that when I no longer feel...they come?

For once id like to be open and let my emotions flood out, bathe them in my hopes and fears and all my love without drowning them.

AN ARRANGED MARRIAGE

Have you ever found the perfect guy but couldn't like him even if your life depended on it?

"I really should like him." You keep telling yourself.
"he's such a nice guy." You justify it.
"Hell do so much for me" you convince yourself.

But the heart cannot doth do, what the mind doth tells it to"

In other words...quit trying to arrange a marriage out of convenience, out of functionality and sheer desperation.

Love is random. Sporadic. And when you least expect it. Your mind will go numb and the heart will take over. That's love. All rationale out the window....

Vanilla sky

"Open your eyes"
"Open your eyes"

I dream so often, I have trouble deciphering dreams from reality.
My dreams are extensions of reality, engineered to be more gratifying.
But even amongst vanilla skies and sunsets and bliss, the subconscious has a way of resurfacing the nightmares of your reality.
In my dreams...
I die.
My heart dies.
And even when I wake, I can't bring it back to life...

I wish that I could exist in a fabricated world where my dreams are reality and id never have to awaken to the nightmares of true existence.

In my world I can fly without consequences.
I reincarnate into a bird, soaring above reach, free...intangeable. Abstract. Im a bird. And I cry melancholic raindrops that drown the people below. A storm of sorrow. A tsunami of emotion. An earthquake of revenge. A fire of rage. I am natural chaos.

And I just want to be tamed.

But I keep flying away.

Wake up.

"Open your eyes"
"Open your eyes"

Lying in bed lying

Usually when I lie in bed I lie to myself.
Mostly in a trance trying to convince myself that things are going to be okay.
But they usually never are.
But every night this is my ritual, because lying is the only way to avoid a nervous breakdown.
I want to breakdown, to fall to a place where ill never be found again.
But every morning im found.

My mind becomes the lost and found bin, where vintage treasures and memorabilia and trash is stored hoping that one day the mosaic of leftover, the collage of waste might mean something more. That among the ambiguity and doubts there are answers. Finite answers. But I've only found questions.

New Year: WHEN DID UGLY BECOME THE NEW SEXY?

He's ugly.
yes, yes, he is just ugly.
I mean, he's not a monster or anything....but he has not one attractive feature on his face.
I mean...
He probably could pass for some kind of animal...
Yes he had to be a monkey in his former life....yes....evolution failed him, stopped a stage too short and Darwin totally fucked him over.

Then why do you want him so bad?

Because his primitive looks makes me hot. This caveman rubbed his stick together and ignited a fire!

Is it sick that the fact that he is so unattractive is what draws me to him?

Ugly is the new sexy. I am now sure of this. And what better way to bring in the new year with a sexy contradiction?
***
I've been thinking about my caveman all day and the thought of his ugly ass makes me so excited I can barely contain myself.

I think what makes him so irresistible is that it is no surprise that he is unattractive, I'm sure he knows this, but he is so confident and charismatic and fun. This inner sex appeal seeps through his pores and intoxicates you. I can't stop thinking about him.

And why does this all matter?

Ugly being the new sexy makes me wonder what this means for the new year?

Last night for one moment, just ONE very BRIEF moment, I thought about HIM. The fact that HIM and HER met on that very same day a year ago and that they were probably celebrating their one year anniversary and that maybe as I brought in the new year with family and friends and my love for alcohol and fashion...he was spending it completely submersed in his love for HER. for only a second the thought saddened me. I caught myself glaring out to the disco lights and the mass of people enjoying themselves on the dance floor. It all seemed so insignificant.

I thought how if maybe I would have picked up that phone call at 12am Jan 1 2009 he would probably still be mine. The responsibility and alcohol weighed heavily on my eyelids, tears pooling and wanting so badly to make their way to the surface but I wouldn't bring the new year in such dramatic despair. Imagine, waterworks in the middle of a club? That is just too manic, even for me.

So instead i took another cup of Henney to the face and plastered a pseudo-grin to my face and before I realized, it was real...and there was laughter and joy. Not even Bachata could trigger nostalgia anymore. Sometimes....sometimes...alcohol numbs the pain...and when it doesn't, it makes you hysterical.

Lucky, no hysteria.

This is my year and I can't allow HIM and nostalgia and the thoughts of what were and what are and what could of been but never really would have been hinder my life. It is impossible to erase...but try...

TRY.

So I grabbed my caveman and danced the night away and before I realized what was going on there was a chemistry I hadn't felt in a really long time. For the first time I was STARLIGHT without HIM. and now I am certain that I was STARLIGHT because of ME, not because of HIM.

so this year I am going to be STARLIGHT AND STARDUST and glitter the world with my talents.

"DON'T CALL ME EVY. YOU'VE NEVER SEEN ONE LIKE THIS BEFORE"

A hole in the face fills the void

Its gonna hurt...
Close your eyes, tightly...
Clench ur fists...and hold on to anything, anyone and don't let go until its over.
Is it over yet?
Pain shouldn't come to much of a surprise to me, but it always does...but this time when you plan it, when you make an appointment to get hurt...its not as bad...its better when you expect it.

So from now on ill always expect it.

When he clamps hard on it, know that its only the beginning...the grip follows the burning sensation and agony from stab. He punctures straight through the layers and he leaves you for dead.

Now, that wasn't so bad was it?

But it was.

It is.

He pierced right through...and ill never be the same...

Now im branded, the physical manifestation that ill always be different after him and the hole in my face reminds me that im no longer the same.

After the pain subsides and it stops burning, you become sore and after you can twist and turn metal daggers in the wound..your healed...

But it never closes.

You still have a hole in your face.

But what does this hole remind me??? That post pain, you are never the same but you're still you.

Now this hole in my face shows others who I really am even when I try to hide.

So when they meet me they already know there's something more. They can look right through the hole and see down to my core, the inner most me, the real me. Down to each layer.

STALKING FOR DUMMIES

If you are reading this manual then you have become interested in the art of stalking.
Congratulations on your newly discovered calling.
It will take much dedication and practice to master this art form...but if you are willing to put in the effort and long hours you too can become a master stalker.

Before you begin be sure that you are fully equipped with the tools provided by the kit.
Check to make sure you have everything.
You will need:

1. the hottest casual outfit you own
2. a scarf, glasses and any incognito accessory
3. cell phone
4. pseudo-confidence that hides immense vulnerability
5. ipod
6. PASSION

After securing the check list you are now ready to begin your stalking.

Once you are all dolled up, create a playlist that triggers relationship nostalgia. Select only songs that remind you of the "good old days," of the best days when your relationship was at its prime. Stalking can be a very rewarding hobby if it is done amidst immense positive passion. Stalking becomes a violent, grotesque sport when it is performed amidst pain, betrayal, and heartache. Do not let these dark elements take control of the art form, or it will surely create a black canvas that drowns out the vibrancy of love.

Stalking has a lot of negative connotations attached to it. Do not be discouraged, friend, for these misconceptions and stereotypes will be dismantled with our efforts. You know what type of stalker you are. A righteous one. A benevolent one. A SANE one?

Put your headphones on.

PLAY.

Crank up the music loud enough to still hear your surroundings.

Walk with purpose.

Your speed should suggest you have somewhere important to be, but you are not in a rush.

When you near the location take out your phone and pretend you are texting this imaginary person you are so eager to meet with. Be flirtatious in the way you communicate with the phone, in your body language, the way you connect with your surroundings...

but at all times keep your eyes open and wait.

Wait for an absolution that will never come.

and let it destroy you the way it does time and time again.

the way he always does.

and you'll try to follow these guidelines and fail miserably because there are no guidelines to stalking.

it is the manifestation of passion gone array...

it is strategic chaos.

and you are chaos without him.

When you used to call me mama

"So whatsup mama?"
"Mama"
That's what you called me.
Sin nombre
Nameless.
Don't call me anything, but mama.
Im nobody but mama
Im your mama
And that's everything.

I can hear you now, always, your voice resonating within me...like striking chords, the lamenting strings of my heart.

How could I have ever forgotten what you sound like...
"Mama"

I want to speak your language and hear your vernacular and I want to be deaf and mute unless it's to hear you...

I can hear you now, always, like a somber lullaby and its symphony and cacophony and consonance and dissonance and noise. And its grandeur and its bliss and strikes me dead like a pseuda coma and peace.

"Mama"

And when I hear it im no longer here but there, so far into nostalgia ill never return to wherever we really are. Im mama now and ill never be me. I never want to be me again.

FRAGILE....---->---->DAMAGED GOODS

Carry the package upright.

Please notice the the "FRAGILE" label tapped all around.

Be very very gentle.

And by every means necessary DO NOT, i repeat, DO NOT, drop this package.

But he let me slip

and he let me fall

and i broke.

Now.

Now.

I am damaged goods...

and I'll never love again.

"Ever since you I've been dead inside. I guess that's why I keep trying to go back to you...because I can't feel shit. My heart doesn't work anymore. You fucked me up"

This is what I told the HIM from long ago...the one this blog started with, the reason for the birth of this blog, the one I wrote about and then left behind and the one i pretended to forget about and the one i never stopped thinking about. THE ONE. The one I'll never get over because at least he reminds me I'm still human.

I thought I was healed...that I had finally let go of all the love and the hurt and the everything he was to me...but his absence only makes me think of him more. Returning often to the days when I was human...when I was a woman. I return to those days when my heart was simultaneously filled with so much joy and so much sorrow...but to feel is an amazing thing. I'd rather feel heartache, sincere heartache, than to be tormented by the stoicism my life now exhibits. I've been condemned to a life after love with no love after love.

I feel nothing.

I never feel anything.

And if for some reason my heart skips a beat for someone, in a week my heart stops beating.

BBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPP

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

I FLAT LINE.

But But it is through HIM that I am able to feel again. Only when I think of him, speak to him do all contradicting and ambivalent feelings come flooding all at once. Speaking to him is overwhelming but sometimes I just need to be alive....Sometimes I want to live in his bad romance, in his sick, in his nasty....then to be dead in this reality.

I want revenge! I WANT HIS SWEET REVENGE!

I told him this...I want so bad to hurt him...because hurting him makes me realize that I still love him. That I never stopped loving him. You only hurt the things you love, the things that you are passionate about...the things that hurt you.

This pain follows me wherever I go, making me incapable of feeling for another person the way I felt for him. I can never let go of this pain....It never goes away.

I want to love him until it hurts me....and hurt him until it kills me.

I want...

I need to be alive again...

So if that means allowing him to destroy me to dismantle the emotionless wall....

then....

BREAK ME

BREAK ME

BREAK ME

OVER AND OVER AGAIN

FORBIDDEN LUST

No.

No No No No No.

No.

You can't like him.

Well, I don't like him...I just...I'm just curious is all. I just want to see what he is like...I just want a taste.

No.

No No No No No.

No.

You can't want him.

Delicious Toxins

Yummmmmmmm
MMMMMMMMM
DELICIOUS


The thought of it in my mouth makes me salivate...nothing can compare to the enormous pleasure I get from it. Oral fixation, oral gratification....goodies oh those goodies....

Yes its better than sex. It is more comforting than his touch...than his embrace...because food, food is always there when I need it.

Food was my first love.
And you never forget your first love.
And you never let go....

I am not sure when or how it happened but food filled the void. When was the first void?

When my dad was never home. Growing up, the only way to guide him back home was through my appetite.
"Papi, I'm hungry."
And from the end of the earths he would reach my door, McDonalds in hand.

When I did poorly on an exam or had a social dispute over my weight...My mom brought me McDonalds and candy.

When I had my first crush and he did not like me, My mom took me to see the only thing that never judged me, that always loved me, the only thing that knew how to love me the way i needed, the way i craved, the way no one will ever love me.

When I had my first boyfriend and consequently and inevitably my first heartbreak, it was indulgences that healed my heart.

And when I was lonely and bored...it was food that was always there to accompany me. Food never ditches me. He is never too busy for me...

When I want to numb myself from the heartache and stress of my daily life....when I want to punish myself for wanting so badly to have a man to love, punish myself for shopping too much, for being self absorbed and egotistic...punishing myself for allowing myself to be caught in empty relationships and allowing myself to use and be used and god settling for less when it leaves me so drained every time.

How is it that something that loves me so much, that is always there for me....hurt me so much?

Food is like the men I have known all my life. He is there momentarily for instant gratification and when he is gone, the consequences of a full stomach and an empty heart weighs heavily on me. It is like eating a bag rocks that sit at the pit of your stomach like an anchor.

I can't move.

SOMETIMES LOVE...

For the past several months I sang "I don't need no love in my life!" I was convinced that cupid could only be a fallen angel, a messenger of the devil, the keeper of all things that break your spirit. How could cupid possibly be a creation of god when sometimes love gets you down? Love has beaten me so often that I could never possibly believe in it again. But love is like giving birth....when you experience it you promise you'll never go through that pain ever again....but time passes and you just forget the pain. You can't possibly fathom how much it truly hurts but then again love comes like an unplanned pregnancy and there you are again vomiting every morning and taking huge iron pills and getting wet nipples and wanting to just die as you push this 6-9 pound creature out of your vag! what the hell! I ripped the hell out of of my vag again!

This new guy has cupid on my ass! and I'm already finding myself vomiting in the morning.

I'm love sick

am I love sick.