Lost

Her mind was overflowing with thoughts that she couldn’t control. She was so broken and so alone that her eyes were searching while her heart slowly died. Her brain could not comprehend the pain that she felt so it turned to remembering all the times she actually had a real smile. It made her heart not want to move on. It didn’t want to beat anymore because its song would never be the same. The knife was inside and locked tight.

Her eyes searched as much as they could. The people that surrounded her were once people she knew or wanted to know, and now they were strangers she wished she never saw again. She didn’t want excuses nor did she want to start a fight because she KNEW she was not the wrong one. She KNEW that she should get more out of this, but never will. She KNEW she would continue to be beaten over and over again because her brain couldn’t handle the fact that her heart refused to feel and her eyes could not find a single soul that could help.

It was breaking her down to the point where she was lost. She didn’t know who she was anymore. She knew she wasn’t loved by him the way she thought she was and the pressure of not being able to find a home before November was crushing her. The pain she tried to hide made her chest heavy. She couldn’t breathe and she couldn’t speak. She felt like she was nothing. She was gone. The pressure of school and work was also getting to her. She was becoming a former shell of who she once was. Every color disappeared. Hell – she couldn’t even see black and white. She was blind. Blinded by so many emotions and trauma.

“Let me start a blog. Maybe if I write about what I love, I can forget this pain. I can find my escape!” She thought to herself. “I love rainbows! I’ll post the flowers I got and make the site inviting!” She thought of all the things she couldn’t wait to write about. She even wrote that she will be updating her blog every Wednesday – but she didn’t. The blog didn’t save her, and she didn’t understand. She was doing what she loved! She was writing! What was still wrong? The answer: Her core.

The added stress of her grandparents being in Puerto Rico and not having any contact with them was also hurting her. She would cry and cry every night and every morning when she was alone. On the days that she wasn’t alone, she had to just keep it in until the end of the week when she belted it all out. It all came out only so she could get yelled at. She doesn’t feel loved. She doesn’t feel a damn thing…

It sucks when people give their all and it doesn’t seem to work. However, for some reason….she wants to keep going. Her life doesn’t make any sense and she can’t save herself…but maybe she could save someone else…

In staying alive and positive you can become stronger and you can become a better person. Scars will eventually fade. She will wait until the day that hers are gone for good and she could feel again.

I didn’t want it: An Asthma Story

Let me start by saying, I have not written for a while. I haven’t written because there was a storm happening both mentally and physically inside of me. A storm I tried to hide. It started to brew because of insecurities. It started to brew because of anxiety. The pot was boiling and every day doubt and stress was added to the ingredients.

There was a lingering sensation of something…I couldn’t put my finger on it. Like a shadow that wasn’t as friendly as Peter Pans. A taunting entity that was in no mood to play childish games. Something was amiss and no matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t quite grasp what was happening to me.

As more storm clouds came rolling in, and the thunder lashed out at me from all directions – I was stricken! Attacked by the lightening inside of me. Attacked by the way things fell around me, I was spinning so fast trying to comprehend everything around me – I forgot how to balance. I forgot who I was! I tried everything in my power to kill who I was and in reality I was killing who I am.

My breath stopped! My breath escaped and for that moment that felt like seconds – I saw her! My great grandmother. She watched me and took me into her arms. Tears just running down stream, she patted my head. She told me to forgive myself. To forgive myself for the hate I put inside of me. Forgive myself for the pain I put myself through. Forgive myself for everything negative in my life because it wasn’t my fault nor my place to treat myself the way I did. I stared in awe because she passed away in 2009. Not a lick of English came out of her when she was living so I was in awe that I understood her.

For a moment – a burst of light came to me and I was awake, sobbing once again. My breath escaped me another instant and I was back in nothingness. This time – she wasn’t there. I was alone and somehow so peaceful. I didn’t want it. I didn’t want life. I didn’t want to become a person again. I wanted to stay alone, and I wanted to just float away. Then another burst of air and I was back. I was here in this world. I was awake.

Crying my eyes out – the man I love said “I wasn’t going to let you go.” Over his voice I heard, “No, I wasn’t either…” To me a shock, almost. like a bolt of lightening hit me. I am here. Why? Because I am not finished with my story of who I am.

My asthma is not the best at time, but I will always have my angel with me.

R.I.P. Great Grandma (1914-2009). I love you and miss you! ❤

Silent Speaker: Introvert

This topic is a very tricky one to talk about. An introvert is defined as “a shy, reticent person” (Google Dictionary, 2017). There are many different ways to describe what an introvert is, but the most mistaken thing to say is that we are antisocial. There is a difference between not speaking and being antisocial.

If you are antisocial – you are choosing not to speak with anyone. If you do not speak – maybe you don’t feel as though your words will contribute to the conversation. For me, I don’t speak much because I am scared. I am terrified of others and what their thoughts are of me, but at the same time, I would love to know. My mind is constantly racing with these thoughts and ideas but I never share – why? Fear holds me back and then I am judged for it. It takes a lot for me to even open up to someone.

When I meet new people the first thing they say to me is “you’re so quiet” or “I bet you would be the first one to kill someone. It’s always the quiet ones” (I’m quite sick of that joke to be honest). Other times I get these strange looks, and then people whisper amongst themselves. Later I find out from a friend that I’ve made them feel uncomfortable because I “had an attitude” or because I was “too quiet”. What irritates me is that they didm’t even bother to try and understand why I was quiet. When I try to actually speak to someone so they no longer think I am some weird girl, my words come out all awkward.

I promise I am a nice person and I treat my friends like family – but if you are not good with patience, then this will not work out.

Apparently, I also have “resting bitch face”, which is often described as a face filled with anger or attitude. I constantly have this face when I am thinking or tired. Even when I am just sitting there – bitch face activated! As a result I am constantly over thinking about my facial expressions. This causes me to make silly faces all day and sometimes people will look at me and start to giggle. It gets me more enraged and annoyed because I don’t know what anyone wants me to look like anymore. I can’t win! I am defeated each time I go outside!

Because no one wants to willingly come over to me and start talking about simple things in life – I am the bad one. I can’t mentally or physically start sharing my life goals and aspirations with someone I’ve only known for a week – even a month! I have to know you longer than that. People constantly judge me and it used to drain my energy so much.

I had people that knew me pushing me closer and closer to the edge. I felt like they were forcing me to jump into someone new. Someone that wasn’t me. I was expected to just be social 24/7 with strangers who assumed things about me just by the way I spoke. I was in a constant state of panic and my body would shiver in fear. I was bullied and was just tossed about like a basketball, only I never found the hoop.

I found a voice in writing and as I got older I began to speak more. Even today, 8/24/2017, I was criticized for begin tired at a concert. I didn’t want to stand because I saw no need. I don’t need to stand to enjoy music. I had a perfect view of the screen and everything, but somehow I made people uncomfortable. For that we blame that “bitch face”. The music wasn’t even anything to rock out to. It was music to move your soul softly. I didn’t need to stand and bang my head around.

This is my journey of how I deal with these types of things. I will go more into depth with topics like these in my future blogs. This is just a taste of who I am or how I think. I do hope I didn’t offend anyone in the use of language. I promise I do not curse in my writings, I had no other way to explain my face. If you have suggestions please let me know.

Cheers to my first blog post!

(Photo taken by me. Flowers were a gift to me. Aren’t they super cool?)

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