Cactus

You are my cactus. I want to take care of you and watch you grow. I want to love you and show you how I feel. I want to embrace you and absorb your ways. Yet, every time I get too close, you prick me and it hurts. Each lie burns deeper into my heart. It is like cracked glass when I try and kiss you. When I try to forgive you, I feel the thorns inside me.

The way they move and hurt my heart, the way they sting and kill my vibe. I try to hide. Then I drink the poison and the demon in me comes out. She wants to cut you down, but you are my cactus. I dare not let her. She wants to do the things you’ve done, but I dare not trust her. She wants to have revenge for feeling so stupid. For feeling so low, but I dare not let her. I dare not feed her.

You are my cactus. You give me strength and courage. You give me life and when I breathe in all I want is your air. All I want is you. I try so hard to pull out all the thorns. I try to imagine what it would be like if they were never put there to begin with. You are my cactus, and I can hug you lightly and admire you from afar. For my safety and yours.

Cactus, all I wanted was you. All I ever wanted and needed was you. I’ve tried other plants to give me the feeling I had with you, and nothing. I never meant “I love you” unless it was to you. I never let myself cry over them. I never wanted anything more in this world than my cactus to love me the way I love you. Sadly, I don’t think it is possible with all these thorns.

And time is cruel. Playing with my head and heart. Time is cruel making me weak. Cactus, there was a time when I pictured myself in the most beautiful white dress and now I picture it blacked out with dirt. Cactus, you killed me and expect me to still be alive.

Cactus, I need your help. You want me to be alive? You want to be with me? Please lower your thorns – Not by words – by love. Show me your heart, so mine can beat with it. Teach me the rhythm again…teach me to trust…

A Story…

“I hope I am not writing this in vain…” Her fragile hands danced atop the keyboard. She was sick and no one knew. No one understood her pain. They never asked, and never meant to. Her smile was a false pretense to what was going on inside of her. She was fighting a war and could not win. Her energy was dying out each day, as she struggled to wake up in the morning. The makeup hid what she did to herself and the lack of sleep she had. Her job was so stressful and demanding that she could not keep up with all the mistakes that others were making. This made it even harder to do her work. School was dragging out and she wished it would be over with. “I have a complaint.” She knew that if she didn’t speak, it would just get worse and the pain inside her would take over her more than before. Her smile would dim and others would catch on that she wasn’t even there emotionally.

“I don’t mean to tell people how to do their job, I am sure they are busy but…” She went on to write an essay, but no one listened. Everyone shut her out and did not speak to her again. If they needed anything they would email. Their eyes wouldn’t even float to her direction. Needless to say, things were being done – slowly – but they were getting somewhere. The disconnect she felt in her personal life soon made its way into her work life. Ever since she spoke her mind, everyone shunned her. They wanted nothing to do with the girl in the back corner office. She had no write to tell them to do their job. She wasn’t their boss…

Every night she would wake with one terror after another. She’d wake up and take more pills just to try and sleep. She dare not wake her family, they’d get cranky. She had no one to try to talk to. They all told her it was just stress or her need for vacation, but it was more than that. She felt alone in a sea of people. She drowned and couldn’t swim. Her numbing pain made it difficult to speak without it sounding like complaints. She was more than alone, she was gone. She didn’t recognize anyone or anything. She didn’t even know who that was staring back at her in the mirror. Still, she pressed on…somehow…

She had lost a lot of weight. Her boyfriend loved it at first. He thought she was getting too fat anyway. As time went on he couldn’t stand to even look at her. He left her because she insisted she was fine. She cried – not because he was gone but because she pushed him away. She pushed them all away…

One night she woke up from a bad dream. This one was not like the rest. She was overwhelmed and just wanted sleep. The pills she took weren’t enough. She couldn’t doze off so she took more and more, until she had this pain in her stomach. It was hurting her to the point where her own screams made her ears bleed. It was all so sudden, but it stopped in an instant. She was no longer hurting, but at peace.

R.I.P.

Moving

Hello!

With growing and life moving so fast, we have a lot of room for opportunities! As a result, I will be inactive for the next week as I am moving.

Moving is a pain in the butt, but it must be done! With new environments comes new inspiration! I will always miss my first apartment, where I first left the nest. However, new and better things are coming my way!

As winter approaches, so does my energy! That’s right! I am a winter baby!

I will have much to talk about the following week, so I’ll have lots of notes as to what to post here! Stay tuned for the aftermath of my move!

Thanks for reading and have a great day/night!

Sorry

I’m sorry. Sorry for causing pain. Sorry for pushing you away. Sorry for hurting you causing you to hurt me. Sorry you lost friends and lovers. Sorry you feel the need to love me. Sorry I cry every other day because I long for you.

Sorry for giving you my heart and sorry for breaking apart. Sorry I’m not strong enough and sorry I’m so emotional. Sorry that you hate my voice and how I speak. Sorry that I trusted you and showed you who I really am.

Sorry that I changed and shut down. Sorry I became depressed. Sorry that I’m still sad. Sorry that I see her lips on you every time my eyes are shut. Sorry for being insecure. Sorry that I don’t change.

Sorry you hold back thinking you need to because of me. Sorry I feel incomplete. Sorry you don’t want to hear anything that comes out of my mouth about how i feel when it comes to us.

Sorry that us is so broken and cracked that I feel so alone even though you are right there. Sorry I feel so distant and gone. Sorry you were into her while with me. Sorry that I’m not over it.

I’m sorry that I wanna die. I’m sorry that I’m not alive. I’m sorry that I love you but I’m not sorry that I fell. Scraped knees will heal…

Protected: Happy Halloween

In my family, there is a lot of different religions and beliefs. We have Catholic, Christian, and Wiccans. I am blessed that they all get along…most of the time (85%). My Great-Grandmother used to do Santeria and Brujeria, along with other family members. I’m not sure How much they practiced, but during the day she was Catholic. This was passed down to her children, which she had 8 of. My Great-Grandmother was born in 1914 and passed away in 2009. My grandmother, her daughter, and her sisters made a packed that the first born would do it too. My mother was first born. The way it worked was you had a spirit with you – a guide. You either had a gypsy or a native. Given the fact that my family has Taino roots, my mother had a native spirit. Every time she would get upset or fight someone, she would black out. People told her that her eyes would change color and everything. Eventually, when my older brother was born, my mom had to deal with chasing shadow people away from him. His cries at night would wake her to a man standing over his crib. Her and my grandmother got out of this and baptized my brother under the Catholic religion as protection. I believed that my great-grandmother was out of this as well, as she prayed every day and night. She was constantly talking about Jesus to my grandmother and mother. So, it is no surprise that when I was born, my mother quickly baptized me as well under the Catholic religion.

I know nothing of the Catholic customs, just that it is similar to Christianity (Christians do not pray to Mary). As I got older my mother and grandmother switch religions to becoming Christian. I know a bit more about that than being Catholic. One of my favorite (and I know it’s wrong to have favorites, but oh well) cousins Angel, is a wiccan. I was curious about that side of my family because my mother never really spoke about it. Before anyone jumps in, Wiccans are not bad people. They do not worship Satan or anything crazy like in the movies. The Wiccans I have met were very sweet, and colorful. They worship mother earth. The Wiccan bible intrigued me, and I noticed it was similar standards to the Christian Bible, but I just wanted to have some kind of knowledge and insight on his perspective.

Now we fast forward to 2009. The horrible year of my great-grandmothers last days. She had a dresser and attached was a mirror. It sat by her bedside, and was a decent size. She was suffering from Alzheimer’s. Every day at a certain time she would wake and scream that the man is here to get her. The man wanted to hurt her. My grandma and her sisters prayed for her until she passed out. I knew nothing of these occurrences so I can’t give full detail. I only found out after the incident that occurred in my home after. So, every day around the same time she would point up at the mirror and scream that he was coming for her. The day of her death the family went to say goodbye. It was requested that she spent her last days at home, so that is where she died. I watched as they put her in a body bag and carried her off. I was upset. In that moment the entire world stopped and I heard nothing but the silent tears of my family. She was the piece that held us all together. Since her death, I have not seen more than half of my family.

As usual, people took some of her belongings to have a piece of her forever. I took her nightgown because it still had her scent on it. My dresser was broken, so my grandmother claimed it to give it to me. After mourning for about 2-3 weeks, I was ready to get the dresser. After setting it up and putting my clothes in it – perfect! At least that’s what I thought. I suffer from night terrors all the time, but the ones I got were different after that mirror and dresser were placed in my room.

I have family issues, most stemming from my father not really being there for me when I was younger. At one point in my life I felt like a mistake and I wanted to die. I was over it by this time so I was confused at my dreams…

There was a voice that told me I was nothing. That I would never be anything and that I was worthless. It told me to kill myself and to stay alone because everyone around me was fake and they hated me. The voice sounded so familiar but I couldn’t pin point who it was…not until my father randomly texted me that he loves me. I woke up and my heart dropped, because he sent me the text as I started to believe this thing. I knew it wasn’t my father and he was a changed man. I wrote back to the text and went back to bed. The problem? I couldn’t sleep so I stood up and was horrified to see my body still asleep. Then I heard a dog bark and I looked towards the mirror. It sounded like my cousin Joey calling me. Somehow I knew it wasn’t a good idea to walk into the mirror, but I did it anyway. I walked right in up these narrow stairs and into a weird apartment that looked unfamiliar to me. Joey had a chair in his hand and yelled that he could not close the door before they got in. I ran to the other door and tried to close it, but this big black dog jumped in. I ran around the table that was there and out the door. Now I was in an alley way. I felt like I was being watched and it was super dark. When I looked behind me I saw 3 tall dark figures of what looked like men. I knew they were evil I could see it emanating off of them, and they were darker than the night itself.

I turned and started running. I saw an opened window down the alley way and ran for it. They chased me and I could feel them right behind me. They were on me. I jumped threw the window and I was back in my room. I was so exhausted but I went back into my body and woke to stare at the mirror for hours. Every time I looked at the clock it was 3A.M.. This went on for a month until I broke down crying to my mother who admitted she was being attacked as well. Sometimes I wished I had never opened my mouth because I had to relive this every night. I fought the urge to go inside but I couldn’t help myself. I was in a trance until…well…they almost got me…

I was climbing out of the window and they gripped my leg. I pulled free and felt the warmth of their nails digging into me. I let out a scream but managed to break free and I woke up. I didn’t know what was real anymore. I just knew he was the man my great-grandma was talking about because I looked at my leg and had 3 long scratches on it. I started to hear laughing in my room and I became overwhelmed. I thought I was awake. I saw him in the corner of my room just laughing. I saw no face, only eyes darker than anything I’ve ever seen and the whitest teeth that almost blinded me. I was too shocked and angry to move. I wasn’t even scared anymore, I just wanted to sleep.

Eventually, I was able to move and I ran to my mother and woke her. The next morning my grandmother was upset. She looked me in the eyes and said sorry to me. She said she should have known better than to bring that into the house. She said it wanted me. I told her I want that dresser out of here. We moved the mirror from the dresser and placed it in the hallway, until we were ready to put it outside. We lived in an apartment building with no elevator so we were being sort of lazy (I know it’s horrible!). The nightmares changed to me being attacked. I was just happy I didn’t go inside the mirror anymore. I wanted the dresser out as well so I put all my clothes on the floor. The dresser and the mirror stood in the apartment for another month until my uncle got tired of it. It was bothering him as well. So he took both and put it outside.

Things still linger there, my mother told me activity picked up again. I am amazed that her and my grandmother are so strong that they still stay. The thing that bothers me is that someone took the dresser and the mirror. I guess they thought it was nice. I hope every day that they are okay…

The Sims 4

So, I recently got a new laptop and started redownloading everything that I’ve had on my old laptop. The older laptop is in pretty good condition so I am giving it to my friend Nelson. After downloading Microsoft, I decided I would download my games again. I had StarCraft, The Sims 3, The Sims 4, and Sim City…I had a few more but I only ever play StarCraft.

Anywho! I started with The Sims 4 and haven’t gotten around to downloading the rest. (FYI – this is not a Halloween post!) After starting up the game and creating my character, I became addicted. I haven’t played this game since high school, so I was amazed at how much it has changed. My family members had gotten me a couple of the expansion packs, but I haven’t gotten around to actually playing. Well – now my boyfriend has to make sure I’m actually working or doing my school work or else he’ll pry me away from the laptop.

I went and looked at different ways to play the sims because I love hearing or watching how others play. I noticed that there is an entire sims community that I had no idea existed. People have Instagram, Twitter, and Facebook accounts just for their sim creations. It was amazing to see all the different talents that go into creating sims. If only I had the patience to go into every little detail instead of picking a random sim to play with. It got me thinking, how much do people really love this game? The answer? A sh*t ton!

I thought this was interesting and had to share my thoughts.

Please stay tuned for my Halloween post which will include my family background and why I am so sensitive to the supernatural. (It will be a lengthy post!)

I know these have been short posts. I have been using my phone to write. However, now that I have a new computer, I will become more active! Thanks for reading!

If you play the sims, let me know what your favorite expansion is! I would love to know why that is. Have a great day/night.

Encounter

Sometimes things happen that you can’t believe, and you start to wonder if it was even real in the first place…

As I said in my prior blogs, I will be sharing stories of things that have happened to me. Then on Halloween day – or night, I will share the scariest one yet. To better prepare you, for what’s to come, here is another encounter I would like to share.

I was sleeping in my room, and the layout was pretty simple. My door was closer to the right of the wall so my dresser was to the left of my door. I had a single window, and my bed lay right next to it. When walking into my room the bed is the first thing you would see, it was parrelle to the door. To the left of the entrance was my closet door. Now, usually when I slept my grandmother, mother, and brother would come in and out to see if I’m still sleeping or to make sure I was okay, so I was used to hearing footsteps. It wasn’t a big deal to me.

Having heard voices and all kinds of weird noises, I was a bit paranoid, and sometimes afraid, however I knew that these things didn’t touch me so I was okay. As long as they didn’t touch me, I always could escape.

I woke up to the sound of footsteps. They sounded like someone was wearing heavy boots, but I didn’t open my eyes to see who it was. In my mind it was either my brother or my uncle. My uncle barely stepped foot in my room unless he was looking to use my laptop or had a question about the television, which I didn’t mind too much. I like helping people. It was only really a bother if I was sleeping and he didn’t realize. As the footsteps got closer, I heard someone whisper “shhhhhh, shhhh, it’s okay.” At that point I somehow knew it was neither my uncle nor my brother. Even if it was, why whisper so creepily that it was okay? What was Okay? What were you planning?

I started to move around when I felt two big hands push their way under me and lift me. At that point I opened my eyes to see who dared to come touch me. I was in the air and as soon as my eyes opened, I fell back onto my bed. I could feel one of my earrings yank off and go flying somewhere, but when I glanced around no one was in my room. I didn’t even hear the footsteps of someone fleeing. Beginning to believe that it was a dream I got up ready to tell my mother. That’s when I realized I had been awake the entire time. I stepped on my earring when I reached the bedroom door, and when I picked it up I could hear a slight “shhh…” and without looking back I went right into my mother’s arms.

Ghost Girl

(UPDATE: As promised, the photos of my Barbie)

I played with my older brother a lot when I was younger. I even played with my cousins, who were around my same age – mostly boys. So it was no surprise that I was a tomboy. As I got older, I got more into dolls and girly things. My mother got me a life -sized Bridal Barbie. I was able to fit in her clothes, and is probably worth some money now and days. If only I didn’t lose her slippers and cut her hair into a bob. I even lost her fluff pads that go on the shoulders. She only sits in a closet with her worn out wedding dress. I guess she is waiting for Ken to come sweep her off her feet. That or, she misses the ghost girl…

My family is full of sensitive people. Most of my family sees it as a gift and they have alters where they do offerings and things like that, but not me. I see it as a curse. I try and block everything now that I am older. Don’t get me wrong, sometimes it’s fun. Other times it’s not. If you don’t know what you are doing, don’t do it. You’ll regret every second.

Last blog I posted, I spoke about my friend and our encounters in her home. It was all fun and games because I was with a friend! But what about when you’re alone?

My old home, before I moved from my nest, was somewhere in New Jersey (sorry I can’t say where). I had a small room, but it was perfect for me. I lived there since I was 8 years of age. I moved at age 26 (Yikes!). Not that there’s anything wrong with that, I just can’t believe I dealt with that for so long. Moving on! My room was cute and always a little messy. I’ve always suffered from night terrors and still do ’til this day. I’d hear scratching, knocking, footsteps, and even voices. I tried my best to play it off as my dreams. Then it happened…

Let’s go back to that Barbie, shall we? She was always on display in my room. She had her own corner and when people came over, it was requested that she would be turned away from them. They didn’t like her staring at them. They felt like she was watching. I didn’t mind. It was just an oversized doll. Maybe they had horrors of being married, I didn’t know. I didn’t care. She was mine and I liked her. What I didn’t know, was that she liked her too.

I had a ball in my room that would roll around on its own and I thought it was because of – my young logic – I was living in an apartment on the third floor and maybe the movement of the wind gently pressing the building made it move. I had an excuse for everything and so did my mother and grandmother. So it shouldn’t have surprised my when I heard someone singing in my closet while I was bouncing around the ball. That’s right! I heard a voice. I got closer but dare not answer the voice by opening the door. Instead, I put my good pal Barbie in front of it. Yup, I said “here Barbie, you can stand here from now on.”

While I never heard the singing again, I did see Barbie switch up her stance a few times. I’d leave for school and she is looking straight, but when I return she is looking towards my bedroom door, like she was waiting to see me. I’d push her head back to normal and go on about my day. Of course I told my mom…eventually. She went and asked my brother if he was touching it and of course the answer was no. My mom ended up getting me a lock for my door to test it out and to keep anyone from going in there without my permission. Since I was still young, she also had a copy of the key. The only people in or out were mother and me. I felt okay because it stopped for a while.

So now, 12 year old me is looking in the mirror that hung on the closet door doing my hair, while Barbie stood behind me and out of the way. I was able to see her because of the mirror and my porifiral vision. I was paying no mind to her when I heard something fall from inside my closet. It made the mirror shake and I thought I saw Barbie’s hair move as well, but again the mirror shook so I couldn’t be sure. When opening my closet, nothing was wrong so I sighed in annoyance and closed it. “Must be downstairs. They probably dropped something heavy.” When I looked back in the mirror to continue doing my hair, Barbie had her hand up. I quickly turned around and stared at her.

Now, why didn’t I just leave the room? Well, I began to question myself. Maybe I did leave her hand up like that. I just didn’t notice because it’s morning and I’m still tired. So, turning back around I see her arm in the mirror – yup! Her arm was placed down now. I then turn again, and it’s still down. “What in the world? Are you alive?” Not expecting a reply I here,

“I don’t think so. Not anymore.”

I bolted. Dropped my hair straightened and ran for my mother. I screamed about how Barbie was moving around and that she is creepy while my brother laughed at me and called me crazy. We then placed Barbie in that other closet I mentioned before. Where she sits, waiting for her Ken…

I will update this blog with her photo when I go visit my mother this weekend. Maybe she will appear next to Barbie, if we’re so lucky. Her and the man used to bother me…but he’s for another blog on another day.

Wednesday in October

Hello there!

It is the middle of the week, and we are slowly approaching halloween. I thought it would be fun to tell you guys and gals of an event that has happened to me in the past. Yes, it is a spooky one! I was saving it for the day of Halloween, but I have a bunch of phenomenons that have happened.

Let’s start with the least scary and work our way up come Halloween!

I was about 13 years old and sleeping over a friends house. She had told me that her home had been occupied by other things besides her family. I scoffed at the idea of there being an actual ghost in her home. Don’t get me wrong, I do believe in the after life, I just thought she was pulling my leg. You know? Sleep over silliness that goes on all the time. You try and freak out your guest so they stay awake longer and you can torture them with nonsense. Sounds fun, don’t it? Well, I was ready to play along.

We sat in front of a candle in her living room, and yes we were home alone. She had told me that she read somewhere “if a spirit is near, they will move the flame when you ask it a question”. Going into the kitchen and grabbing her mother’s lighter, she lit the candle and we sat. None of us said a word as we watched the flame stand still. The light was on so I jokingly told her to turn it off – she listened. When she sat back down she asked, “is anyone here?” The flame began to dance around, but I was not amused.

“It’s your breath when you speak. Plus you moved a bit so there’s that.” Rolling her eyes she placed her hand over her mouth and asked again. This time she moved away from the flame to make sure she did not disturb it. The flame danced a bit to the right and slowly stopped.

“If you are a boy move left. If you are a girl move right.” She asked. The flame moved to the left and a chill went up my spine, but it was still too hard to believe.

Her mother ended up coming home and asked what we were doing playing with a candle and to stop. She told us to go be normal and play with dolls or something. We thought it was funny because we knew she was only poking fun at us.

It must’ve been about 9pm, and we had just finished making her “My scene” Barbie dolls fight her “Bratz” dolls. I won’t say who won, but as we played the radio had been on. We were listening to z100. I remember it clear as day. One by one the dolls were being put back into place, and then a song came on we both knew. We started to sing along when the station suddenly changed. It kept changing rapidly from station to station, only allowing us to catch certain words and phrases. We freaked out a bit and ran to her bed.

“Its the ghost.” She squealed. I thought it was funny, even though I was about to pee my pants. She was laughing as well, but we both knew if we were alone we would be screaming for our mothers. “What do you want?” She asked. The radio skimmed a few stations and we caught, “help me get”. We were so stunned that we stood there. The radio went back to z100 and we decided to stop engaging for the rest of the night.

It happened a few more times and we got annoyed at that point. We were jamming out to our favorite song at the time and it changed we both got mad and said “Hey! Put that back!” And it did.

Since then more stuff has happened in that house to her, me, and other members of her family. Thankfully she moved to a different house since then.

Oh! By the way, we are still very close friends today. It was her birthday just a few days ago! Cheers to the birthday girl!

Happy Halloween!Her name is Destinee

From the confines of my mind

The world is a crazy place with some crazy ideas that just might work out in the end. I used to wonder how it felt to be blind, or to have one leg or arm. I wondered what it was like to not walk or speak. To not have a home or loved ones. I wondered why people had to suffer while others lived happy and free. I wondered why the rich never helped the poor. Then I got older…

There are people that have eyes that work, but can they really see what’s in front of them? Can they really look into the deepest part of your eyes and see who you really are? Sometimes the blind can see more than we ever dreamt. They know that beauty is not what you see, but what you feel when you are with someone. Not everyone knows that, and a lot of broken hearts ignite because of it.

Just because you are different from someone else or have more or less money does not make you any less happy. Happiness is a choice. You have to choose to be happy. You have to cut out everything that ever hurt you and fill that empty void with everything that makes you happy. Surround yourself with peace and love yourself. That is the key – not money.

The rich often do help the poor, and the media doesn’t want to show that. I learned that the media only shows 80% negativity and 20% positivity.

Growing up, I had a phobia of becoming fat. People saw how skinny I was and asked me if I was okay. I never understood why until I got older.

Today, I have a lot of diverse friends and family. I like to learn from different people. I even made it a point to date anyone that was not the same as me. I love learning how people think and why. I love hearing about their cultures and lives. I never understood why some battled about skin color and I don’t think I ever will.

Something that has haunted me for a long time was a teacher in grade 6. I never knew skin color was an issue until her…

A girl in my class was late. Her boyfriend walked her to class and she kissed him goodbye. The teacher, who had a look of disapproval said “What a time to be alive. My parents would have never let me do something like that.” The girl then replied that her mother knew she had a boyfriend. The teacher said, “Oh no, that’s not what I meant. I meant that you guys are allowed to go out with whoever you want.” We all stared at her in confusion. “He is different from you. He’s black and you’re Hispanic. Two different races and colors. I was only allowed to hang out and ate white people or I would get into trouble.” For the first time my class and myself started to look at our skin. It was like my eyes were opening up to a new world.

“But my family is all different colors…” I thought to myself. It bothered me so much that I went home and told my mother. She was angry and told me that the teacher was wrong for pointing that out. She said we are all human and the only thing that makes us different is how we think.

Now, I think a lot. I think about everything and anything. Sometimes my mind is scary, but I would never think to hate someone for how they look. I admire the difference in everyone’s beauty.