Accidental Selfies. Taken (unknowingly) While Adjusting Camera Settings.

20’s

I thought my 20’s would be different. I thought it would adventures with my friends, lots of nights in the arms of someone I love, and working like a dog making a name for myself in my career.

It’s not like that. I spend most of my nights alone and forgetting my value because I’m so lonely. As for the career thing, well goddamn me for thinking my path forward would be more sensical.

Tonight is just one of those nights where I’ll probably cry, listen to sad songs, burn gas driving around then come back home accepting my fate. The loneliness I feel hurts my skin, my head and my heart. Why does living feel so overrated? My thoughts feel like they’re on shuffle. I wish I wasn’t so tormented. I thought I’d found peace... I guess it’s back to the drawing board.

(11.6.17)

This is what it’s like to be loved by me.

Choking

I could feel myself choking, on his internalized self loathing and the humidity.

This damn window is always such a bitch to open, but finally- I cracked it open and the rush of air was tickling the hairs on my body, and quenching my lungs.

The floor feels so cool on my skin, my always buzzing with warmth, skin. The shadows and colors on the ceiling look like so inviting and forgiving. They whisper to me, “you love you, that’s enough,” but I don’t believe them. As I gaze out the window I can see the sky, it’s perfectly clear. It looks painted actually.

Buzz, buzz.

What does he want now? To suffocate me further? Leave me alone! Go lie to the world somewhere else. Yo sé quién soy. Soy hermosa como soy. I hate him. I hate how this makes me feel.

I miss you.

Yea, I miss me too. I miss how free I was. How I had no fear, but now I fear losing your love. Losing. I fear losing, but I can’t and I won’t. I can’t lose out on love. Real, free, trusted love.

15 minutes.

That’s all the time I have to pull myself off this floor and feel like a whole person again. To feel my soul light up and be the roaring fire it truly is when it isn’t being snuffed out and stifled by bigotry and insecurity. Ahh! I’m tired of crying hot tears of desperation.

A kiss. A hand on my knee. A lie.

All this to make me feel special behind closed doors. Doors so heavy and thick that they can barely be opened. Doors that if we ran through them hand in hand we could be free.

It’s hot out. 9PM. 80 degrees Fahrenheit. Where is that damn breeze. I’m choking again, this time on the smoke from his day old blunt. Damn, anything else you want to suppress? It doesn’t really matter does it? Of course it does but he’ll never get it. Only one of us choking. You can’t know the feeling unless you’ve choked before.

(8.5.18)

Yes we are! ✍🏽

We are editing like crazy to get this ready! 🎞✂️🤔

GOALS

Reblog to have the same amazing year as Sandra Oh’s having for 2019

Clear Skin & A lot of money

Clear Skin & A lot of money 

Clear Skin & A lot of money 

Clear Skin & A lot of money 

Clear Skin & A lot of money 

Clear Skin & A lot of money 

Clear Skin & A lot of money