"Paint" by The Paper Kites
I only eat to fill me up
I only sleep to rest
I need a love just like you gave
I haven't found it yet, found it yet
September 6, 2014 Saturday 1:44 PM
[It's okay if you don't read all this, and it's okay if you don't read it at all.]
I wish I was more in touch with my heritage. I understand spanish, but not individual words. Both my parents speak fluently, so I can't pick out the smaller words. I know phrases pretty well. I don't speak fluently. My sentences are broken and halting.
All I know about Nicaragua is from my memories and stories my parents tell. My mom once had a pet pig who was killed by a dog. The streets are made of sand. The roofs are tin. Heavy rains turn roads into rivers. Livestock roams the streets.
The trees are very green and the ground is more dry, brown. Most of the time, water doesn't work. You wash yourself using a plastic garbage container filled with water and a smaller plastic bin the poor the water over yourself. It is always a little too cold for comfort, so showers are short.
Electricity doesn't always work. The bugs are huge. It is a very small, rural town in a third world country. My mom had a very angry dad who died before I was born. My abuelita is kind and loving but I only see her every five years or so, now. It has been three years since I last visited the country.
My dad was born in northern California and grew up there. He is part Russian, and part El Salvadorian. That makes my genes more than half hispanic.
He loves my mom's country. I think that is where he was happiest. I also think he once told me that before he traveled to her country (he has traveled all over the world. One day, I hope to also do that), he was depressed.
I remember the beach in Nicaragua. The ocean was powerful, as it always seems to be every time I see it, and I think that is where my love for it began.
We collected large, beautiful seashells that I think would be harder to find on American beaches and at sunset, we washed the salt off our skin and went to nearby restaurants to eat breaded shrimp. I was so happy.
It's all very scattered with happiness and wonder. It was most lovely when I was eight. That is before I broke. By the time I was twelve, something had begun killing me. I had forgotten how to make friends and how to relate to the people around me.
I think I know what happened. A million small things.
I used to fight over many things with my friends. Once (and I hate remembering this), when I was maybe eleven or twelve, I somehow ended up cyber bullying my friend. I really don't know how it happened. I didn't realize I was hurting her, I guess. It was supposed to be a prank.
I guess I made an unconscious vow to be overly aware of people's feelings after that. I wanted to fix my sins.
I think it was a year ago that Pat told me I had vulnerability issues. Actually, it may have only been in March, six months ago.
It was years before that, that I became aware of existing. I soon realized I was a person and I had thoughts and other people had feelings and rights. After that, I was aware of way too much. I was aware of pain and love and all this stuff I really wish I didn't know. I was aware of the way people think and how they immediately see me.
I am seen as strange and awkward. I keep to myself (too much) and I avoid conversation. It's instinct.
Maybe others expect too much from my friendship, but I worry that maybe I am the one who is disappointed.
I am too loud, I'm too quiet, never the perfect volume. I yell at home to be heard over the arguing and speak quietly at school to keep my privacy.
Not that we argue all the time. I think it's healthy. I have a good relationship with my family and I think it's because we put our feelings out there. When something bothers us, we say it.
I wish I was that way with other people.
I hate feeling disgusting after talking to someone. Last night, I may have said too much to someone I know and it made me feel dirty and incomplete. Like I maybe expected something more and instead I was weak for betraying my feelings.
I am a mess of expectations, disappointment, and weakness.
The more I try to understand my feelings, the harder it gets because there is so much my fucking mind is trying to keep from me.
I'm thinking about psychology. I never seriously considered it as a future job because I know a lot of people wanting to get into it. I don't like following other people. I am independent that way. I have to decide things for myself.
Now I'm thinking about it as a future for myself because it fascinates me and always has. I'm hoping Criminal Minds has not induced a phase in myself, but there is a good chance it has. I'm hoping all it has done is open up new ways of thinking.
But enough of that. Really, I think all I should focus on right now is opening up. I hate, hate, hate with a motherfucking passion how absolutely dirty and disgusting it makes me feel to tell people things.
Writing doesn't make me feel that way because you (if you're reading) have a choice. You don't need to fix it and you don't even need to listen. It makes me feel better if someone genuinely wants to read about my stupid feelings for whatever reason.
I can't rely on that, though. This is what makes me feel weak. I can't even do a normal, human thing. I wish that someone would come and rescue me and make me say the things I need to say but those kinds of people only exist in stories.
As much as I try to stay hooked on the depressing reality, my mind floats away and can't help hoping for the unreal.
And I guess that's all. I feel better than I did last night. The feelings of wanting to die faded, which means today will be as good as a day can get for me. That in itself is really sad, haha.
-Lists are one of my favorite things ever. I have lists of favorite books, TV shows, songs, quotes, and everything.
- I slept twelve hours today and it felt wonderful. I dreamt about eating tons of cookies. I haven't had a nightmare in quite awhile. I remember thinking, "I'm fat" in my dream but it made me so happy to wake up the next day because I tasted all those cookies and they weren't even real!!!
- I woke up and made myself a big breakfast with a big ass glass of ice coffee and watched what turned out to be my favorite episode of Criminal Minds. I know it's about murdering prostitutes but GOD IT WAS SO CUTE. Episode 11 of Season 2: "Sex, Birth, Death"
- I have plans to hang out with friends today. That makes me feel less empty. Maybe it will tether me to this world. God knows what will happen if or when I float away.
- If these are all good things and the day is so bright, why do I feel like it's so dark, I can't see a thing?
I will leave you with a poem I found on tumblr:
"I thought the feeling had gone away
I thought I was going to get a break for more than 3 days.
The shadows have been lurking in my ribcage since last night.
They're getting closer.
I can feel them clawing their way up from inside my stomach.
I can them resting, waiting behind my eyelids for a moment of
What if they spill over my bottom lashes
And my body shakes as they escape
Time and time again?
I wish I knew what they feed on,
So I could rid my body, my mind, my soul of everything
That makes them stronger,
So they could once again shrivel away to
I just want to have a clear mind -
Free from these dark, toxic creatures that are taking over and leave me
gasping for air late at night.
PS: I liked the poem (is it a poem? I don't know much about poetry) because I once compared my sadness and anger to creatures on my eyelids and I've never heard anyone else feel that way and that makes me feel connected. Most of the time, I am far away from the world and nothing can touch me. It's nice to feel like I belong.
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