Loss.

Why? You had such a beautiful soul. The greatest. Why didn't you ever believe us? This pang in my stomach and heart will never heal. I will always have you in my heart. 

You were the greatest.

Smell.

 I used to love sleeping over my aunt and uncles' homes. They were always warm and full of bubbling pots, and laughter packaged in tiny mouths that were filled with tiny hands. Baby feet would scurry down the corridors -  welp as big corridors can be in relatively large mobile homes - and kisses would cover your cheeks. Each home had a distinct smell. You know, the smell that distinguishes one person from another, kinda like perfume, but without the nauseating part.
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Note: I HATE perfume. I'm probably the only girl that does not own any perfume. It is equal to a stomach-churning experience, and I get close to vomiting if you get within a foot of me. My aunt told me I need vitamins? ::shrug::
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I could immediately tell to whom (family -  not particular person really) a sweater, jacket, or shirt, belonged to when I'd find them in our home. My family used to come to our house all the time, ten to fifteen people on any given weekend. Clothes would be strewn around our home since our family get-togethers were more like a camping experiences.  They would spend the night and so backpacks and baby bags would be carried around.  Like that one medium sweater, yep, it had to belong to my uncle Moises' family. Or that baby hat, yea, it was from my Tio Tivos' little girl. The honeysuckle smell that they'd carry were name tags that would allow me to identify who was next to me with my eyes closed. It romanticized their lives, since mine was more like a cold dank room. My core family - my brother, my mother, and I - don't have a smell. We kinda are just there, without any type of warmth. Our house, growing up, always smelled like rotten fruit and vegetables, with a tinge of pinosol to try to cover the smell. It was either that or a supermarket type smell, the type that you wanna gag at the amount of clorox and pinosol used to clean the floor.

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I think I'm finally acquiring a smell in my home. Don't worry, it's not upsetting pinosol or clorox anymore.

Have a good night. I can't wait to be at school once more, even if I just want to be in the remotest corner of the 6th floor.

Jaiba.

So, you can make this on the run. Literally. All the ingredients are pictured. Although, I should warn you about the onion, you will only need a small onion (pictured bottom right corner, already cubed - small cubes). Two tomatoes will do, but if you love them like I do, then you add three (then as you are cutting stuff up you eat the rest like apples :D). One big cucumber will do, but I'm kinda nutty for cucumbers so I add two. Also, you usually need one package of the fake crab meat (sorry I don't know the quantity, but you can go by the one they sell in Fresh & Easy). Oh, and dont' forget the limes!

Enjoy!

p.s. There's other stuff you can add, but when you are on a budget, and have minimal time this is a perfect meal.

I Can Finally Breathe.

There's so much I want to do I can't sleep. I'm excited for life, although I currently have the lowest funds since I started college, somehow it's liberating. In the process of deep cleaning my room that I share with my 17 year old bro, I've discovered I've lost the souvenir I brought back from France. In another time I would have been upset, but now it seems trivial. The memories from France and Rome are the best souvenirs I could have brought back.

I have to sleep soon, I have a date with the wind tomorrow :) 6am sharp.

p.s. Listening to public radio and Jaques Brel (especially L'Ostendaise) when you are cleaning is actually quite relaxing. Try it!

Wind.

I like the wind. I like how it sometimes pulls, tugs, and pushes against you, sometimes telling you to go back, today is not a good day - come back another day. Or. Hey come on get out, you need to see the world outside of the four walls in your home. Sometimes it raps at my windows, and I think it got sick of me staying inside so much it might have broken one of the window panes in my room. Oh, don't worry. They aren't sturdy at all, they are those 1970s window panes that are cranked open. They are the cause of the sweltering heat I experience inside my home.  Think sauna, without all the half naked people.

But that wind can be a little rascal. Once, it paired up with it's buddies from Santa Ana, and yes I have to say I was a bit scared. Just a tad. I promised I would go outside more often.  They haven't come back since, but something tells me they will be at it again in fall.

So I promised to Mr. Wind, I'd go outside more often. I face the inner-city conundrum. I could go outside in my little yard to read, meaning I'd have to inhale whatever my neighbors have on the menu to smoke that day, or I could visit my local coffee shop. The only one within a ten mile radius is this coffee chain which isn't too bad today. At least there's trees outside. And wind.

Tonight. I've decided I would play a bit more. I'm going to run. I can finally run three miles with no problem. I mean. Yes. Of course, there's the perspiration. Duh.

But, finally, I could do it without giving up. Without conjuring images of times past that made me stop in my tracks, that caused me to give up. I can finally shed that little chain that I placed on my own ankles, that I myself made into 50lb weights. After four years of constantly quitting my running schedule, I can finally say I'm back. It's been about two and a half weeks that I've been consistent. I even woke up to greet the day on more than one occasion. You don't understand, that seems like very little time. I know. It is.

I used to run seven miles no problem, I used to be good. Actually I was pretty damn good. But I always gave up on myself. One day I gave it all up.  I gave it all up in front of the shattered eyes of my coaches. It was traumatic. So much happened, that it's hard to explain. Running gave me something very valuable. It gave me something I could hold on to when I had no one there, not even when my mom was there for me. Running always kept me going. I shunned it, and my life crumbled before me. It has been a time-traveling experience, and I whole-heartedly welcome it back into my hands.


It's beautiful. The pain. The wind.

 I have one culprit to thank.

Thanks +)

Miles Ago.

I was sitting in that spot you introduced me to after that killer run eons ago. 

The horizon was a bit blurry today. I couldn't see capitalism as that day you described it, it wasn't as beautiful. Welling up, I stood there alone. Mr. Wind kept me there a bit longer than I would have if I truly was completely alone, tousling my hair all the while. You remember that day? I remember clearly. 

Won't you let me run up that hill with you once more? Let me see your face once more, because lately I've been crumpled and tossed, and I could not bare any more punctures if you left our friendship without saying a last goodbye. 

Or better yet. 

Please don't say goodbye, but say hello. 

Late Night Again.

My demons creep up at night, and it's a shame really where I am. Sometimes, I crave this feeling to be in the company of someone, but at the same time I find repulsive this childish need to feel someone's warmth next to mine.

I want to run till I puke dry. 

But I am too afraid. 

Sometimes, crying is not a bad thing if it helps you move forward. I don't know when was the last time I cried. I go mid-cry and completely stop. It's a bad thing to forget how to cry - it signals that many things are wrong. 

I always prided myself in being this kind of strong, independent young woman, but it comes to no use when you become cold, unmoved, stoic. You bash others, unknowingly. 

People think they know you, but they never do, especially when you don't know yourself too well. 

I ran hoping to see the light, now I run to catch the light. 

I am waking up at five am. II hope to start the day with a good long run and that I cry from exhaustion, maybe then some sort of feeling and motivation will come back.