Jose.

It's been a year and a couple days since you left me, us. I remember the day Millie called us.. and told us. My mom screamed, and I didn't know what was going on.. I think because of the shock, all my mom could say was Jose killed himself..
Its been a year, and I still cant digest that. As I look at what I just wrote, I can't help but burst into tears, and I hope you hear me out Jose. I know its an unforgivable sin, what you did, but you are far too much of a beautiful person to not deserve a spot in heaven. You didn't leave us anything.. Not a note, you never said bye, and it makes me so angry. It makes so angry that you werent able to live out your life like we will be able to.. I have to hear about the bad part of you, the drug abuse, and I have to hear about it after I'm able to do anything about it, after I'm able to help you. I never got to say bye, I never got to have one last beer with you. Remember when we said we were gonna name our children after each other? Cus I do, I still remember. The vision of your mom, my aunt screaming at the top of her lungs, the vision of you on the news under white sheets, the cries and screaming I heard in my house, its so painful that I can hardly breath right now from my tears and fustration. Sometimes I get mad and I ask why'd you do this to us, why did you hurt our family so much, why did you abandon us so quick.. And then I stop, cuc theres nothing I can do now. You wont be at my wedding giving me a speech.. You won't be at my child's babyshower. You wont be anywhere, and I just don't know when I will accept that. I grant my aunt the peace and serenity to deal with all of this, as she has to live in such a big house, alone, always passing by your red drums, your computer with all your pictures and videos on it, your room decorated of bob marley, and beautiful carribean colors. Yeah, you caught me, I don't talk to you everyday.. But boy do I miss you. So much, much than you will ever know.
Yo se que no hablabamos como antes, y que tu estabas envuelto en los estudios y tu vida, pero tu primita te quiere tanto, tanto Jose y nunca te lo dije porque nunca creia que no ibas a estar aqui tan pronto. El amor de familia que me diste, y el mes que estabamos junto nunca lo voy a olvidar, y siempre estaras en mi corazon primito. Te quiero y te amo tanto, que canses en paz.

Happy birthday.

To the love of my life; my best friend. My mother.

Am I old enough yet?

One of my best friend's asked me for advice on the whole "age" thing with love.

Usually.. I have a quick answer to everything. A mean, and quick answer. But surprisingly, I didn't this time. It took me a while to respond..and it was because I really had to think. At 13 years old.. Are we really capable of loving somebody?

..I slapped myself for double thinking it. I've always been very against people trying to criticize any type of love. Whether it be young love or puppy love. It is from the utmost ignorant people that we hear things like "How do you know you love him?"

"..Love isn't a feeling, Mr. Burns. It's an ability."

It's admittable and valid that when you're at 13/14, most kids don't know squat about love. But nonetheless, theres just this type of feeling that you have at any age that stays with you. It might not be the stereotypical love that you think of, but its love that you wont feel at any other age. So what if I dont know your "definition" of love, its something with no definition, and somebody TRYING to give love definition is ignorant, or doesnt know a thing about it
Hm.. Definition of love.




..LOVE noun, verb, loved, loving.

1. a profoundly tender, passionate affection for another person.
2. a feeling of warm personal attachment or deep affection, as for a parent, child, or friend.
3. sexual passion or desire.
4. a person toward whom love is felt; beloved person; sweetheart.
5. (used in direct address as a term of endearment, affection, or the like): Would you like to see a movie, love?
6. a love affair; an intensely amorous incident; amour.
7. sexual intercourse; copulation.
8. (initial capital letter) a personification of sexual affection, as Eros or Cupid.



Oh boy.

One of a kind.

Some people never find the right kind of love. You know, that kind that steals your breath away, like diving into snow melt. The kind that jolts your hears, sets it beating apace, an anxious hiccupping of hummingbird wings. The kind that makes every terrible minute apart feel like hours. Days. Some people flit from one possibility to the next, never experiencing the incredible connection of two people rocked by destiny. Never knowing what it means to love someone else more than themselves. More than life itself, or the promise of something better, beyond this world. More even, forgive me, than God.

Lucky me, I found the right kind of love.

I'm sayin tho?

Tiny Smalls

That picture up top was via electricYouth.tumblr.com

..She's one of my best friends, and the most insperational and talented one I'll ever have. Check her shit out.

Love.

About that "imaginary land" I spoke about.
If you don't recall:

"..Your significant other isn't part of your real life. It's in your imaginary life. You made it this way because your vulnerable little body knew that if anything ever happened, that just like everything else imaginary, you could forget about and erase."



I was a little ignorant for writing that, I won't lie.
In literal terms, of course they're in our real lives. They eat, speak, sleep with us, you know, the daily ritual.
What I mean was spiritually, where do we store our love life? Can't be in our real life, in our concious mind. If it
was, we'd be completely dilusional, completely crazy. Spiritually, that's a nice word. Spiritually, where is your partner?
In our unconcious mind. We have to have them there. Our natural vulnerability says so, remember kids, we're still kids.
..And what happens to people that don't keep their love bugs in their unconcious mind? They get crushed, like a bug. They get crushed. They get crushed.
Nobody in this world is strong enough to deal with love, not even Macho Randy Savage. Oh yeah, he's in love too. But what happens to those who aren't smart enough to realize this? Do they get crushed? ..No. (Really?) Yeah, really, no. If you aren't smart enough to do this, you have to be assumed not smart enough to even know what love it.
But for those of you who..are mature about love, who.. know the difference between the power of silence and love compared to "iiX.xX.07", why are we so unfortunate to get crushed? Who says this is a bad thing? Who ever said heartbreak was a bad thing?
..Good will hunting? Brad and Jen? It has never been bad. What people seem to forget is that.. heartbreak is the most maturing, and eye opening experience in this entire w o r l d. Whether your boyfriend or girlfriend left you, whether your best friend died without a reasonable cause, whether your dad never loved you, heartbreak is a gift from above. Heartbreak isn't a stop sign, but a green light. In the Great Gatsby, the green light at the end of the river symbolized not only love, but life. It symbolized an okay, a reassurance. Heartbreak is our green light at the end of the river.

..Now when people realize that and utilize it in a powerful way, then maybe we'll have more beautiful strong woman like Yarisbel Santos. Maybe we'll see more confident strong smart men like Jonathan Candelaria.

Respect. Do something powerful, whether it's for somebody else, or for yourself, do something powerful, and recieve your respect you deserve.

Love makes the world go 'round, no matter what you believe in.

Dad.

This is to you.
This is to the man who took my heart out of my body as young as a day year old, stepped on it, felt a little bad, and tried to sneak it back in.
This is to you.
This is to the man who thought it was okay to walk in and out of my life whenever he wanted.
This is to you.


To the one and only man in this world that has the capability to transform me from princess of his castle, to shit on the floor.
To you.
That rude conductor you ask for directions and gives you a blank face.
To you.
The guy that everyone is afraid to say hi to at family gatherings.
To you.
The guy that teachers are scared to say bad things to at parent teacher night.


This is to you.
My father.

Happy one year anniversary to you.

Happy one year anniversary to you.
To the princess who wants it all. To the princess who wants the rings, the sneakers, the food, the jewels, everything. To the poor sap who has to manage life, because your significant other isn't part of your real life. It's in your imaginary life. You made it this way because your vulnerable little body knew that if anything ever happened, that just like everything else imaginary, you could forget about and erase. Happy one year anniversary to you, you poor man. I wish you luck in pleasing this young un-pleasable lady.

Most of what I write doesn't make sense, and after years of trying to make it make sense, I've realized that isn't what writing really is. So here you go, me, raw, no homo.


..Even the stupidest of people are realist. Even if its with themselves and not with us, everyone has a small part in their body that keeps it real. Even me, but I think I have an unusual bigger part of "keep it real" in my body than most people. It takes so much energy out of my body to write this, but.. What if who I am isn't okay? Yeah I understand, be you, but.. What if youre a bad person? You should change..for the better, right?
In simple terms, I'm a complex person. I want to change, but the rebellion in me makes me remain ME, but ME is a bad person. So what the fuck do you do? ..You can't run away from your problems.

..I don't even know what I'm trying to prove. I don't understand, I'm so clueless about everything. Funny, I praise my maturity, but truth is, I'm proally more immature than 90% of the people I make fun of.
My heart says, how dare you be so mean and rude and selfish? My mind says.. how dare you not demand what you deserve as a woman, as a Queen? These two personalities clashing=doesn't fly.
I just.. I-don't-know.

Sympathy for sale.

..I tried to look for the words to describe how I feel about you now, but all I thought about was pessimistic thoughts.







I backspaced everything I wrote, because no matter what I write,
I still love you. You're still daddy.

A new me.

I guess a new prespective about life, is what I mean about "a new me". The older I get, the more I realize how young I am. I went from being blunt, to being indecissive. Temptations get bigger, my heart grows heavier.
My brain right now is a big "Idk?".



I hope this feeling is temporary. I hate not having control of anything.