Feeling Better.

I just came back from going “home”.

It was nice to see my dogs, I’m not very sure if they missed me at all though, they seemed very underwhelmed.

My mom was there but she didn’t speak to me or even acknowledge my presence. Most of the time that I was there she stayed in the kitchen cooking. I didn’t bother to say hi or try to speak to her, I know it wouldn’t have turned out ok.

It was nice catching up with my brother though. I enjoyed the brief moment we had. He told me what my mom has done. Shes told the “elders” in the congregation about me. They told her that they saw it coming somehow. He also informed me that she got into a small dispute with the neighbor (who is also a Jehovah’s Witness) because she didn’t tell my mom that she thought I was gay.

I don’t know when I’ll see my mom, or even if I will see her ever again. Who knows. But I’m glad I was able to feel better, even thought I hate to say so.

 

. . .

Empty, hollow, lifeless.

Those were the words I used to describe how I felt yesterday to a friend. I was numb, my body didn’t even know what was going on, and everything felt foreign. Even while I was unpacking my things at my boyfriends house it didn’t seem real. It felt like when you go on vacation and it doesn’t feel like home but at the same time you know your’re going to be sleeping there for the mean time.

*************

I got home from work yesterday and that’s when it all started. My mom asked the questions and I answered them. Did I try to defend myself when she was saying things? Did I try to justify my reasons for being gay? Did I try to make her understand? No. I just sat there, for what felt like years, while she said things I will probably never be able to let go.

Every word she said, some how hurt less and less until I just couldn’t feel any more. For a second I almost believe her, and part of me kind of still does.

“Pack your things and leave.”

The one who gave me life, the one who raised me to be the person I am now, the one person I thought I would never lose, I lost. The people that have told tell me that one day she will reach out, one day she will change her point of view. And I do appreciate all the kind words that they say, and how optimistic they seem. But they don’t understand, this woman, the woman who hasn’t had a relationship with her own sisters for more than 20 years because they are not in the same religion, this woman who lives and breathes what the Bible says, this woman, will not take me back.

I will never be able to sit down and have a pleasant conversation with her again. I will never be able to laugh with her again. I wont be able to be around her. She wont be in my life.

I would have loved to be one of those people that say, “well if she doesn’t love me for me then I don’t need her in my life”. But I am not. I love my mom. I will always even if she doesn’t accept me. She raised me by herself and did a great job. I could never complain about her.

This is the only thing that changed things. Maybe if she would have been a terrible mother then this would have been easy. But she wasn’t.

It started to hit me when I dropped my brother off at work. We talked a bit before he went in. Before then I hadn’t cried. Then when I saw him leave it all hit me like a bus. When will I see him? How will my mom treat him knowing that he knew this whole time? How will he cope with her being like that and me being gone?

I told him to please stay in touch. He said he would. And I hope with everything that I have that he wont have it too bad. And I hope that my mom can get over this. I know she wont accept me. I know. But I don’t want her to be hurting.

I don’t know when I will stop crying. But I want it to be soon because my eyes feel like I’m crying melted glass instead of tears.

This Is My Country Too

I was not born in America. But I was raised American. I am not a citizen of America. But I know more about this country then those who are telling me to go back to ‘mine’. I am from another country, yet I do not know anything about the country that I came from. I know of it, but not the way I know American history.

I have been in this country since I was 2 years old. Was I asked to be brought here? No. Did I have a choice to be here? No. It is not my fault that I am here. Should I pay for that now in my adult life?

I grew up thinking I was the same as everyone else. I grew up thinking I was going to go college and then get a good job and live the american dream, because I myself thought I was American.

Now I see the news and I read the comments and see how people of this country that I grew up loving but not being able to be part of want me to return to a country I have not even known since I was a toddler. I don’t even remember it. This is my home, this is where I grew up, this is where I have all my friends and family. This is my country too.

I wish I could ask them what they think I would be able to do in a country I don’t know anything of. I would like to ask them that if the circumstances were the same with their parents, would they say the same thing?

I’m not saying that what my parents did in bringing me here was a good idea, nor am I saying it was the right thing to do. Obviously it wasn’t the correct way to do it. I know that, I understand that. But why do I have to pay for it? I am a good person, I have not hurt anyone, I’m going to school, I take care of my mother and brother. I obey the laws.

Sure if I was out in the streets running a muck and hurting people, well yeah, go ahead, throw me out, who wants trash in their home?

But is it really only immigrants that are running the streets?

Dreamers are called dreamers because they are dreaming of the day they can be legal and go to school, better their lives, and give this country what this country has given them.

Of course there are people out there that make mistakes, and they should be held accountable by their actions. But, what have I done?

I wanted to talk about this because today in the Supreme court they will discussing DACA. This has helped many children and young adults like me who were brought when they were young to the United States to gain the ability to work and go to school.

I don’t understand why people are freaked out about this. It is not giving just “anyone” status. No, its giving it to that person who you went to school with. That person who tried their best in school fearing that one day they were going to lose their family.

We are not criminals, we are just like you and your children, do we not deserve a good life too?

What If

Have you ever just been chilling at home, and then suddenly your mind wonders off to a far away distant dimension that’s parallel to the life that you’re living now but only with small differences?

Wow, ok let me simplify that just a bit.

So, you ever wonder how different your life would have been if you did just one thing different? If that one decision you had, the no you said turned into a yes, or the job you didn’t take you took? Where would you be now? What if you had stayed with your first girlfriend/boyfriend? What if you hadn’t moved to that new city you feared so much? Or what if you did take the chance and had moved away from home?

I’m constantly thinking about that stuff. I don’t know if it’s healthy or not, but I’m always living in the what if of life.

What if I just quit my job? What if I just run away? Start a new life? Leave everyone behind? Change my phone number, move somewhere else? Ok, maybe that’s a little dramatic, but you get the picture.

There are a lot of what ifs that I have floating in my head that could have potentially have changed my life drastically in the past. Maybe even now they still could. But that’s the thing with what ifs, that’s all they are. Thoughts, dreams, a picture that slowly fade away with time until you forget about them.

But, what if you never do?


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Why do you do that?

Why do you give yourself to people you know will end up hurting you in the end? Why do you instill all your trust in them as if they had a good reason to have it?

Why do you sit there and cry over things that maybe don’t have any meaning behind. You over think things and make them worse.

Then you come to find out it’s not even what you were thinking about. Why? Why do you do that?

Why do you hurt yourself? Is it for fun or to numb the feelings that you feel inside? Maybe it’s to just pass the time. Why do you hide that hurt like it’s something to be ashamed of?

You’re not ok, why do you bother? Get help. Wait, they don’t help. They’ve tried but it’s not enough. What is enough? Why do you make excuses? Just do it. It’s honestly really annoying. Time after time you always say you’re doing great then randomly say you have anxiety.

Attention is what you seek. Let’s be real. Everyone can see it. It’s written all over your face. You say all you want is love but what you seek is something else.

You need to stop expressing yourself like that. No one wants to hear it anyway. They’re just being nice.

Another relationship you burst into flames because your gasoline tears smothered the foundation of that relationship. I think your bipolar. You shouldn’t date, just stay alone. At least that way you can say it’s by choice and not that your exes say you’re hard to deal with.

But any who, who am I to advise. I’m the same way.

Who The Hell Was That Guy?

Have you ever sat down and thought about your past? Maybe it’s random and you’re not really trying to think about it, but you think back to the person you were in the past. Like for example, the things you did and the people who you used to spend your time with. All the places you used to go with them or even the places you planned on going, but never actually did. All those crazy nights and all the drinking. I do, and I regret it.

 

I look back at part of my past and ask myself, who the hell was that guy? I swear I don’t know him. If anyone would tell me or remind me about the crazy stuff I did last year I wouldn’t believe them. And it was last year!

 

But why? In today’s society being loud and crazy is the new normal. Being outrageous and spontaneous is something that people expect from you. If you’re not, then you are considered weird or even antisocial. But I’m finished with that lifestyle.

 

The thing that scares me though, is that my past might come back and haunt me, or is startinng to. That’s why sometimes I wish I could close those tabs, erase the past off my life like pencil on paper, or delete the pictures I have and with that too some how delete those moments. But no matter how hard I try to forget the things I did and said, I still did them, I still said them, and they are out there. Some day they will arise and I will have to explain myself. I will have to find the correct words to describe what was going on inside my head.

 

At the end of last year I started a new life. A cleaner more honest life. I am happy, I like it and I want to continue in it. But sometimes its hard thinking back to when I was a different person. The things that I did and said back then I wouldn’t even think about them today.

 

But they haunt me. I guess the moral of the story is, make sure that the things you do now, aren’t things you will regret later. Or even the things that you say, those things get engraved in people’s hearts. And they will be quick to throw it back at your face. “Oh, but that one time you said,”  is what they’ll say. And what will you tell them?

 

The Truth.

Friendless Friday Night

I sit on my bed while I listen to soft R&B music. My mother is in her room tired from the walk we took earlier. I’ve taken two shots of vodka from one of the four bottles I hide in my closet. They’ve been collecting dust ever since I stopped clubbing and going out to parties. Today I figured I’d do some lite dusting.

Three months ago I bought a ticket for a rave (music EDM festival). Four hours ago I drove one of my best friends along with one of his friends with the ticket I had purchased for myself. Only I didn’t go in with my ticket. His friend did.

After having a huge fight with the friend who invited me to the rave we broke up the friendship and I was set to go alone. But my other friend swooped in and bought a ticket to go with me. Then my moms surgery came out of the blue and there was no way I’d leave her alone. So I gave my ticket to him to invite someone so he wouldn’t go alone.

Things change so much in such a short period of time. I really wish I could have gone. It would have been a blast. But maybe there will be a next time. Or maybe there won’t be. Who knows.

So many things have happened this year and it’s not even the end yet. I used to have a boring life and I thought I hated it. Now I cherish those endless nights of boredom. Those friendless Friday nights.

But at the same time I am also thank full for experiencing it all.


Last Wednesday I met up with a friend I hadn’t seen in a while. We had a long four hour talk. She’s doing well, I’m doing ok. Life moves on weather you are in or out of people’s life’s.

I told her how I don’t know where I stand on my sexuality. Am I gay? That’s what I thought my whole life. Am I bi? I’ve fallen for the prettiest girl in my eyes. It’s another who knows situation. But maybe we’ll find out soon.

Now, I’ll get comfortable in my bed as I take my last shot of the night and sleep a good nights sleep and wake up for what ever life has in store for me for the rest of the year.

I Will Not Break

I’m sitting in a target parking lot. I’m tired, I’m exhausted, I’m highly stress, but I refuse to to let anyone know. I refuse to step down from where I am and say that I am not ok. I refuse to have people pity me and feel sorry for everything that is going on in my life.

My mother goes into an intensive ten hour surgery this Friday. It has high risks and it also has benefits. Not to mention her car just broke down today.

Life is testing me. I will not break. I am strong. I refuse to cry. I am not weak.

I’ve been through so much that this just seems like another hill. I’m not cocky, this is not confidence. This is me telling myself that I can do it. That whatever this is will soon be over. Good or bad it will have I happen and I will have to move on.

Runaway

I feel like my blog has turned into some type of teen coming of age sort of blog. For some this would be no problem. The thing is I’m twenty-three years old. Should I have my life together? Am I heading in the right direction? What is the right direction?

My friend keeps indirectly saying he wants to run away. At first it started off as a job. I would even say it. Let’s run away and never look back. But I would say all the reasons why I couldn’t or can’t. But now, when he says he wants to run away. There’s a certain seriousness to his voice.

He asked me what I would do if he just disappeared. I was caught off guard. Why would anyone ask a question like that? And I was even more upset at the fact that he’s thinking of doing it alone. Did the thought of me broken hearted and left alone not cross his mind? All the things we’ve been through? The things we said? Do they mean nothing to him?

I wish I could know what’s making him want to run away form it all. Is it college? Maybe it’s too much. His drunk father? But he provides for his family. Or his family in general? How can I help? How can I make it better?

I wonder if this is another one of his games. You see he knows how to push my buttons. And that’s fine I kind of like it once in a while. But this is too far. I want him to stay. I never want him to leave. He’s the closest thing I have, and just thinking of not having him in my life is so depressing.