It's the everyday things

 Tonight was hard.

I miss my mom so much. 

The house is so quiet without her. I miss having the person I told my entire day to. I miss hearing the YouTube channel about the monkeys from India playing in the background. It hurts to look through her Netflix profile and look at where she left off on shows. It hurts to see new seasons or movies come out thinking she would've liked to watch those things. 

Sometimes it feels like maybe she's still in the hospital and I'll get a call that there was a misunderstanding and she's all better now and I have to pick her up. Sometimes I think I'll just have to catch her up to everything new that she missed. 

I just wish I could still talk to her. 

It'll be a month in one week. Driving back home and not having any calls from her is still the hardest thing. Walking through the door and seeing her spot on the living room couch empty feels like losing her all over again each day. 

in dreams

I just had this dream where my mom was still alive. At first the dream was about me having an argument with some family members and my mom was defending me. But then it turned into me going up to my mom and crying, telling her I was scared of my dad dying as well because then I'd be all alone. And I told her I was also scared of not having any more children because I was afraid of Sophia being all alone when I pass away one day. And my mom was hugging me and comforting me. 

It actually felt really nice at first to have seen her and heard her voice. 

But I'm also sad. I miss my mom so much. 

chugging along

I went back to work yesterday and it was rough. For the most part I was quiet but functional. But time is different right now. It's almost like being in a trance. Time moves slower and sometimes I'm gone from the moment. But I carry on with routine because the world won't stop just because I'm sad, so I chug along with it. 

After work I went to the store and bought stuff to make spaghetti because it was what my mom made to cheer me up, and then she made it for Sophia as well. Orion, Sophia and I cooked together while watching Disney films. Sophia was happy and told me she had a good night. And it was a good night. Slept better than I had these past days. 

I'm glad I have today off though. Sometimes I just want to stay cocooned in my personal space with my loved ones. Where I feel safer and I can cry whenever I feel like it.

in the cabbage patch

Nights are the hardest to get through when you miss someone. 

During the day it's easier to cope because there's distractions and loved ones who keep me company. There's even moments of genuine laughter and peace. But then night time comes around and thoughts and memories are the loudest thing. 

Ever since the paramedics took my mom to the hospital I kept replaying in my head this incident of when I was about 5 or 6 years old and I was at Walmart with my parents and I got distracted and walked off to look at the Cabbage Patch Kids. Once I turned around again I couldn't see my parents anymore, and I looked for them but couldn't find them. One of the employees noticed me and came over to help me find them and while we walked I felt so scared and worried. We only had to walk around the corner and my parents were right there looking for me.The whole moment was just about 2 mins or so but it felt eternal to me. It's my earliest recollection of feeling lost. 

And that's how I've felt these days. Like I'm that 5 year old child again and I'm desperately looking for my mom, except this time there is no turning a corner and finding her. 

I don't mean to be depressing or bombard your timelines with sad thoughts but I'm a communicator, and I share things, and grief is what I have right now.

love letters in my dreams

I had this dream last night and in it I received a love letter. I can't remember it entirely but as soon as I woke I typed whatever I could remember. It read: 

 if you gave yourself to me and i could say your body belonged to me

then each night as you lay next to me

you'd make my wildest desires come to life beneath our sheets

and i'd embrace you, press your flesh against mine and you'd burn under my fingertips in the most ardent need 

each morning as you dress and gaze at yourself upon the mirror your eyes will meet mine

and you'll see yourself as i see you, you'll feel the way i hunger for you not as you seduce me and tempt me, but just as you exist when you think no one is watching 

That's all I remember. I think I'll try to complete the love letter later as I think of more lines that could go with it. 

I'm with her: aileen wuornos

 There's a new docu-series on Netflix titled Catching Killers and there's an episode on Aileen Wuornos. To this day it pisses me off whenever I watch the sentencing. She was sentenced to six death sentences. Now, don't get me wrong, she was a murderer and under no circumstances is premeditated murder ok. There has to be consequences for the crime, that I agree with. The part that upsets me every time is that Aileen was a victim throughout her life as well and no one advocated for her. There was no justice in her name as a child, the justice system failed her from a very young age. And once society creates this bitter, angry, and vengeful monster they point the finger at just her? I just think it's double sided. I think consecutive life sentences was the proper sentencing in this case. She was a broken individual and wasn't sane anymore. 

paris is always a good idea

 Just finished watching Sabrina, the 1995 remake with Julia Ormond and Harrison Ford. I've never watched the original with Humphrey Bogart and Audrey Hepburn, I imagine it's much more romantic. But then again, I've never been much of an Audrey Hepburn type. 

The 1995 film is alright, not a big deal or anything. I can tolerate Harrison Ford in it, and that's saying a lot, I hate Harrison Ford. The character he plays is pretty much what I picture him to be like in real life... "He is the world's only living heart donor... he thinks morals are paintings on walls and scruples are money in Russia." Oddly enough he is also the kind of person I always imagined I'd end up with. The bitter man who is so focused on money and work and then he meets me, the unearthly creature who bewilders him and holds him in awe. 

I love the heavy focus on France and romanticism. The romantic girl who views the world with rose colored glasses as she sits in a Cafe and writes in her stupid journal, who believes that after truly living and experiencing life that she has a deeper understanding of the world and herself but she's stupider than ever. 

And men are still liars but then they say something like... "I need her, and I don't need anything." And somehow, that one statement is true.

I suppose that's how I always wanted the love story of my life to be. I suppose deep down I still want it to be like that. 

too hot, too greedy

i love him in all the desperate forms,

like showing up when he doesn't want to see me, like trying to stop him from leaving and pleading with him while he demands I stay away

i love him in the war,

 when throwing things and during screaming matches, when we tell each other all those awful things

i love him in those dirty ways, 

when his mouth and hands claim me, and in all the secret things we say

i love him  playfully, 

my best friend with all the inside jokes 

i love him loudly 

i love him quietly

i'm not gigi anymore

A few years ago I posted a blog entry titled "I don't want to be Gigi anymore," or something along that line. I was referring to Gigi from He's Just Not That Into You. She's the narrator, and well, she's a hopeless romantic, an optimist, and somewhat naive. She reads into everything men do and say and makes something out of nothing because she desperately wants to meet "the one." I remember wanting to be "the exception" for some guy. I wanted to be the reason some emotionally detached man learns how to love and changes himself to be a better man.
I just watched the movie again after a few years and I just don't connect to Gigi anymore. It's interesting how things change with time.

I feel more like an Alex these days.
"If a guy is treating you like he doesn't give a shit, he genuinely doesn't give a shit. No exceptions."

crushes

Crushes are strange, one day you're completely normal just minding your own business, and the next: they just suddenly appear there, always in the back of your mind. They're a super unique person, and you want to know what it's like to kiss them, and you want to hang out with them all the time. I hate that the most. Wanting to be around someone more often.

Crushes are just inconvenient.
Luckily for me, all my crushes have a short life span.

find something you're passionate about

and keep tremendously interested in it.

I was watching Julie & Julia the other night. One of my inspirations is Julia Child. Of course I admire everything she accomplished, but what I admire most is her boisterous personality, and her relationship with her husband, Paul Child, is the kind of relationship I hope to have someday.
The fact that Julie Powell found the motivation to go through 524 recipes in one year AND write about it each day is also inspiring. Watching Julie & Julia always makes me think I could also master the art of french cooking, but let's be real, I still can't pronounce 'beef bourguignon,' nor do I have the most minimal intention of ever boning a duck or murdering and dismembering a crustacean . The only thing I have in common with Julie is that I like to blog. I haven't been writing much this year but you know, as I watched the movie I decided that I was going to give myself a goal, to just write everyday. No matter how small an entry, no matter how pointless an entry it could be. The point is to keep the habit going.

On second thought, Julia Child was 32 when she started cooking, so who knows, maybe next year will be my year.

where my love grows

I've found that I expend much more energy
pretending I don't long for certain things.
Like the way I used to pull words from my chest. I'd imagine the words dropping like petals off some flower in me, the "loves me, loves me not" in my mind. In the end it's never been about whether I am loved or not, it's the anticipation of the answer that matters. It's where my love grows. I could even make love out of the disillusionment when the answer was "not."

It has been much more draining not being able to express the things that hurt, the things I miss, and the things I yearn for, and I'm not even sure how I came to be this quiet.
But I hope this is the first step in finding the words.

that's the thing about loving someone who doesn't love you anymore

There's no emergency escape plan. You just fucking stay there, stupid and sad, waiting for the day you realize you think about them a little less often.


I was just listening to music when the thought occurred to me.

i promise that i love you

i just don't know how to show it. i don't know how to write it in perfect sentences.

how do i explain the electric currents under my skin when you're near?
because the feeling is more than words, it's sounds and colors like radio static and kaleidoscopic patterns.
my heart bursts if you touch me, and i think it should be a painting.
my lungs puncture and my ribs collapse every time you look at me, and all my pieces are beautiful like found art.

the places we've been should be monuments and our nights together are national holidays with lighted skies and picnic tables.

by Margarita Romero

space girl

some have roses in glass cases
their greatest love,
their greatest fear,
encapsulated

but she's more than flowers
she's the quietude in your sunset,
your secrets to the moon,
unsaturated

by Margarita R.

*Hadn't written anything in a while but this one occurred to me while listening to Space Song by Beach House.

I knew the probability of early miscarriage, but facts and statistics can never prepare you for the loss. Doctors never tell you what it feels like to flush your baby down a toilet.

It's like losing a limb and feeling phantom pains. One night you're laying in bed and you feel a tug at your heart, and it hurts, but there's nothing there.

There is no closure. You only wait for days to pass by so you can think about it less.

Just finished watching an episode of The Handmaid's Tale. In this episode June is pregnant and starts bleeding, she bleeds all day, but in the end her baby survives. And then she tells her baby, while in her bellly, "You're tough, aren't you?"
And it broke me. It just took me back to that day. I bled all day and I wanted my baby to be tough, I wanted a miracle, but miracles aren't real. Awful things happen to you whether you deserve them or not. Good things happen whether you deserve them or not.

Being a woman in this world is heartbreaking. There are losses that only we suffer, and they stay with us forever.
How easy to be a man. How unfair.

"Don't let the bastards grind you down."

Get your shit together, Maggie. Get it together.

Today I had to call to cancel the ultrasound I had scheduled for tomorrow.
I had been having easier days and today it just hit me again. I miss being pregnant. I miss the tiny person I never got to meet and hold.

I lost my baby.
Nothing has ever hurt this much.

I loved this baby so much already. I bought baby clothes, and little tiny socks. A friend bought a tiny "The Very Hungry Caterpillar" outfit for him/her. The due date was Dec. 30th. I had the first ultrasound scheduled for May 30th. They were going to draw blood for a test to determine the gender.
Instead I had my first ultrasound around 2am this morning to find out my baby had passed.

My baby.
I don't know what to do with all this pain. It spills out everywhere.

brother husbands

Fausto told me about this thing people do with cigarettes. You lick the filter end before lighting your cigarette, and once you light it a letter will appear after a few puffs. It's supposed to be the first letter of the name of your true love. I tried it twice today and I got a heart both times.

Maybe there's too much love to be enjoyed for it to be just one person? Maybe I'm poly and I'm going to have a bunch of brother husbands and they'll all work to buy me lots of presents. One can be handsome, one can be romantic, another can be funny, an artistic one, and a smart one. I'll color code them so it never gets confusing.

I need to get in touch with TLC.

On a more serious tone, I do feel like Poet Louise Glück: 
"afflicted with longing yet incapable of forming durable attachments."