Monday, January 30, 2012

Wednesday, January 25, 2012

Borrowing Writing Utensils.

Is it too soon to celebrate?

No, after beating myself up over so many things in my life, I want to revel in this little, uh, gift, let's say . You came to visit  today, err, yesterday, and it meant way more than you probably believe. It was kinda cool that my heart did this little summersault thing, with a bit of kicks here and there, and this time it wasn't because I felt impending heartbreak, at least yet. Perhaps you weren't necessarily coming to see me, just to use something quickly, but let me believe you came to say hi.

'Cause you know, it's not like I missed you or anything. It's not like I've brushed every guy off cause for some reason you are still wedged in between the arteries of my heart. It's almost like a reflex, and I was beginning to chip away at that wedge, cause it's time. I am still allowed to miss you though.


Tuesday, January 17, 2012

Anxiety Will Not Run My Life.

Colonization: can bring about cultural, economic retardation. Pigmentorcracy:  is another hierarchical ladder that is forced upon you due to colonization.  But you know what they say Vanessa, you know right?, (the only dark skinned student in the class, full of Mexicans) money sure whitens. In Mexico during the .... As a dark skinned Mexican I had to constantly show that I had obtained a Ph.D in order for institutions to allow me access their archives, and even to have mutual respect in the Chile . Wheyou are dark-skinned, it always stays in the back of your mind.


I remember the lecture. The room seemed to be closing in on me, and my classmates. My professor would not stop picking on me, secretly I thought I was his favorite. My labored breathing was not helping my cause, I had already come in a good thirty minutes late several times, and I had missed quite a few classes. Unconsciously,  I tuned him out. Oxygen along with Nitrogen and a few other pals of his were coming into my lungs a bit unenthusiastically . They seemed to think that the journey was too much of a pain. My heart panicked and pounded on my door. "HEY, where the hell is O?"

I tried to calm down. I tried to draw pictures, along my paper's margins, for my heart. I tried to write soothing and calming words, then later anything, scribbles, mad layers of ink. I even tried to silently hum a tune inside my head, yet nothing worked. The incessant pounding from my heart told me that it couldn't take it anymore. I shot up, and quickly stepped out of the room.

The sky was already putting on its blanket. It even turned askance, what's wrong? Before I had a chance to respond, the sky fell into a deep stupor, in quite a melodramatic way, as its hues turned from hazy blue, to orange, purple, red, to finally a deep blue, almost black. Well that's the end of that, I thought. I just remember looking at my hands, they tingled. Or did they just tingle this last time my heart resumed its pounding again. I'm not sure. Those twenty minutes outside of class, I don't remember what I was thinking. Except I felt lost, almost outside of my reality. Once I got back in to class, the pounding resumed.

I ran. No. Sprinted to my car. I didn't quite care to see anyone of my way. All I needed was to get home as quickly as possible, I needed to see the reassuring face of someone, of my pup, of home. I needed to know that I was going to be okay. There's things that are supresed deep inside, not even I can touch them. I hide from myself. This time around, it's all coming out, because I simply can't live a mediocre life, or else living like this is unbearable. I want to love passionately, at least once. I want to love myself. That night I found out you were gone, something dried in me. I'm trying to nourish it back to health. I realized that it is no use to mourn and to ask after so much time, I have the right to be sad, and the right to be depressed, and the right to have anxiety.

Yet, there's a point where I must move on and get rid of those things. Like a new sheet, I need clarity and optimism. I've already lost a grandparent, a father, and a great friend, and when i die, I want to make sure that I'm ready. I want to look death squarely in the eye and tell him "I've always been ready." At whatever time it comes to take me.

To this year, so that perhaps I can finally love.