¿De dónde viene la voz que me asalta; quien creo esa imagen horrible en mi espejo?
Niña entrañada con los sueños de otros. No son mi ideas no tengo darles poder.
Yo controlo lo que significa “yo”en luz y oscuridad.
Cuando esta verdad se me olvida, el universo me recuerda.
That I’m able to quiet my thoughts through meditation, even when it’s only a few minutes at a time, has deeply affected my life and sanity. I don’t constantly feel a vague sense of hopeless unease. I’m able go longer between attacks by the mean voice in my head that tries to convince me that I’m worthless, stupid, unloved and unworthy of anyone’s friendship. I can sleep most nights without nightmares. I don’t stay up ruminating and regretting. I recognize that I’m enough.
Cold fingers caress the back of my neck, and I hear a young woman whisper in my ear, “She hates you.”
Is it true? I wrong, I was I bad? I have this vague sense of unease and jolts of panic contract my heart. As the anxiety gets worse my body temperature increases and I start to sweat. Oddly my legs get cold and numb like the blood is no longer circulating in them. It becomes harder to hear the words spoken around me until it all sounds like a million crickets chirping inside my head. I’m in a social situation unable to get up and leave. My spirit begins to disconnect from my body and float a few feet away. For a while at least no one can hurt me.
I know I’ll have to come back into my body. I’ve earned the punishment, and I should hurt. I deserve to feel the ache in my chest and the stinging verbal slaps across my face. “You will be sorry you will pay.” My father’s mantra rooted deeply into my head more meaningful than ever.
Maybe it is too late for an explanation, but you once said, “it is never too late.” Now that you are not with me I miss you a lot! I told Tami it could not work we (you and me) are too different but I was wrong. We are a lot alike. I am so very selfish I always lost when I wasn’t but this time I still lost. I never had anyone in my life care for me as much. I did not know how to handle it. I guess what I am trying to say is that I apologize for trying to push you out of my life.
I think I resented you because deep inside I was afraid everything you said was true. What I wanted so bad could never be mine. It hurt to hear it. Now what I am trying to say is “Will you please give me a chance to build a real friendship between us. I fear the first time I never gave you a fair try. I also wanted you out because I was hurting and breaking and I was too ashamed to let you see that part of me. And that part of me was Angelina, but Raquelita I knew you never loved Angelina and that is who I was when I lashed out, and she is the one writing to you. Now I could only say “I was blind.”
W/b if you are willing??
p.s I never intended to hurt you, I honestly felt you wouldn’t really care. I was wrong.
Angelina Nina Orozco 3/16/90
It is the passion and warmth in Angelina’s embrace that makes me stay when logic tells me to leave. Angelina, Nina, claims my breath and heartbeat belong to her that I belong to her. I want to believe to have faith in her love for me. It’s hard to focus when I am dizzy from her scent and intoxicated from her taste.
She likes us to lay close, naked; bellies pressed together so that I can feel her expanding womb. I feel the soul growing inside her and sometimes my heart aches with sadness. She wraps her arms around me and pulls me into her. Whispering that it would have been mine had I not been born in the wrong shaped body. Convincing me that the love I give her is imprinting itself upon the 16-week fetus. She urges me to believe that our shared orgasms can overwrite DNA with the constant release of hormones. So I allow myself to accept it as truth.
I punch the concrete block fence long after my knuckles are raw and bloody. I drown with self-doubt and uncertainty whenever Angelina goes to see him. She says she does it to please her mother so that she doesn’t get suspicious of our relationship. I want her to tell her mother about us. I don’t want to be a secret. I may only be 15 but unlike Nina I can’t just live in the moment, I need to make a plan if she expects me to care for her and the baby. I walk back home.
I stand before the throne of judgment and the book of life
Determination etched deeply upon my face eyes staring straight ahead
I offer no excuse I do not beg for mercy
Skin and flesh bubbling, melting off my bones
I concentrate on how I lived my life, those I loved
My ruined body twisting bending back in agonizing pain
Eternal payment for my sin, loving woman instead of man
Inflicted upon me by a merciful and caring god
“Angelina, do you think he’d ever make you choose?” I ask my lover as we cuddle naked in her bed under a colorful quilt her great-grandmother made before she was born. I love the sense of history as much as I do its warmth.
I feel her body pull away from me a little as she turns her head away and sighs. “I think he is afraid.” Turning back to me she kisses me softly at first then hard stealing my breath preventing me from breathing she inhales all the breath in my lungs into hers.
“What is that about?” I gasp trying to catch my breath, coughing. “are you a succubus all of a sudden?”
“Raquelita, I’ve put off telling you, please don’t be upset, I’m pregnant.” She quickly rolls on top of me pinning me down I imagine I can feel a small hard roundness pushing into me our bellies pressed together.
“What will you say when he asks you to choose?” I whisper. My heart is beating wildly.
“Ahh, mi amor, what answer do you think? What could I say? Please don’t ask me this. I don’t want to hurt you let me love you instead.” she says regretfully as she bites and sucks my neck.
“Yes, no. Please.” I moan, heartsick and afraid how can my body betray me and become aroused?
“Just enjoy what you have when you have it, for however long it is.” She whispers as if reading my mind.
I’d just walked into my room, and all I wanted to do was change out of my school clothes. I wanted to lay down and take a nap. Pretending to be normal was exhausting. Always on alert censoring my thoughts and words. I shouldn’t complain after all Krissy did pick me to be her partner in Algebra class.
Thinking about her my heart fluttered, skipped and then beat faster. Arms behind my head eyes closed I smiled at the memory of her saying my name. It took great effort not to tremble when I sat next to her. It was impossible not to feel her body heat radiating along with the smell of her perfume. I wondered if she knew the reaction she was causing. I’d kept my face neutral with a practiced smile on my lips, so I was confident that she didn’t have a clue.
Broken out of my reverie my mother shouting for me to bring in the trash can. Groaning at not having a moment’s peace, I got up shuffled down the hall and went out the door to get the can from the curb.
The concrete was warm and rough underneath my bare feet. Maybe I’d wiggle my toes in the thick grass after I’d put the can up. I’d have to focus on not overdoing it and getting yelled at by my parents. They just didn’t understand how intense and enjoyable the sensation was. Although to be fair, I suppose rolling around was a tiny bit much.
The pain came before the sound of shattering glass, a bottle breaking against the carport wall. I was confused I couldn’t grasp what was happening. I saw the top of my right foot bleeding profusely from many cuts. I tried to walk forward, but my foot couldn’t support me. I’d stepped on a large piece, and it was embedded in the bottom of my heel. I hopped inside the house on one foot trying to avoid the glass.
I cried out for my mother I begged her to come quickly. My father came in from outside at the same time she rushed into the room. He told her to leave that he was already taking care of it. I’d been disobedient, I went outside without shoes on and so was suffering the consequences. She walked out without once having looked me in the eyes.
I feel an empty hole where my heart should be. One day I will cut myself open and see if it is missing.
The world does not see me beating my fist against my forehead trying to numb my mind, to silence my thoughts, a cracked record repeating, “stupiddumbstupiddumb.” A young child filled with fear of her creator, I died with the first bloody thrust of the maker’s tool. Emotions muted by thick black clouds of depression nothing can penetrate the shell around my heart. I remain as a shameful stain poisoning the soul of this broken and scarred body.
My anxiety feels like molten lava poured over an iceberg inside my skull. My brain boils and bubbles up flashes of painful memories before transforming my thoughts into a reddish-black sludge. Taking deep breaths and holding them as long as I can before my vision goes gray against the pressure building inside. I am defeated. I am not enough and never will be.