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Her

I thought she was the problem

That turned out to not be true. 

You cared so much about her pain

When the source of mine was you.

But that, you did not focus on;

About that you did not care.

It was okay for me to feel pain

As long as she was there. 

I knew it was too good to be true

When she was nowhere to be found.

But like I had predicated

She was soon back around.

So here we stand again, 

Exactly where we once were.

You never cared about hurting me

As much as you cared about hurting her. 

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Untitled

It wasn’t quite "love"

But I knew no other word.

Any other word I knew

Seemed confusing and blurred.

“I love you” meant

“You made me happy today”.

“I enjoy our many talks”

And the games that we play.

“I love you” meant

“You made me feel seen”

“I appreciate the kinds words”

easing all the negativity that has been.

“I love you” meant

more than just platonic connection.

Feelings of lustful desires

With attachment injections.

“I love you” meant

Your affection I don’t want to share.

Slightly past the line

Of a casual affair.

“I love you” meant 

I care for you and want you to stay.

No concerns for the future;

Just enjoying today.

“I love you” meant different

than how most tend to say.

by using the wrong words

I just scared you away.

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Love

Love is a risk -

It’s a chance that you take.

It’s your feelings towards someone

And the connection you make.

Love is vulnerability

And the secrets you share.

It’s smiles for no reason

Caused by someone who cares

Love is to laugh

Love is to cry.

Love is to never

Want to say bye.

Love is not a feeling;

It’s something you do.

Love is a person

And my love is you.

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Heartbreak

It’s the would of, could of, should of

That keeps me up at night. 

The expectations vs reality

That I constantly have to fight. 

How it is vs how it should have been

All playing in my head.

Staring at the dark ceiling,

Laying awake in my bed. 

The ‘you’re not here

When you should have been’.

Along with the ‘you’re missing everything

I wish you would have seen.’

It’s wanting you here

Knowing you’re better there.

It’s wanting to make right

Everything that wasn’t fair.

It’s having so much say

But saying nothing at all. 

It’s the countless number of nights

Of letting the tears fall.

It’s the memories of you

that deeply break my heart.

It's knowing I still care for you

When I should have never start.

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Standing Blue

Standing blue and standing proud

Standing by, right in the crowd.

Standing blue and deeply pained,

For the heavens an angel gained. 

Standing blue, in endless grief

Hundreds still in disbelief.

Standing blue and standing tall,

Crying through your last call.

Standing blue, wishing you'd respond

As the deafing silence goes on and on. 

Standing blue, and standing strong

As your legacy moves along.

Standing blue, with sighs of ease

Knowing that you'll rest in peace.

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Take Me To The Ocean Today I learned something; the find peace in the ocean. After day difficult day, I rather go out the beach as the sun begins to set and sit down in the sand.

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Your Beauty

Your eyes are beautiful to me;

Like those are hard to find.

The most comfort I have

Is when they stare back into mine.

When I look into them

I see a whole new place.

I feel like I defy gravity

And float into space.

Blue, they are, just like the sky

Or a royal pool.

That shine that lies within you

Shows through this shade of blue.

But somewhere in them

I also find the color green.

This is the color that conforts me

Into a place so serene.

Your smile is simply gorgeous

That lightens up by darkest day.

Painted on your face

That stunning smile should always stay.

Your beauty if incomparable;

The most perfect that there can be.

You are the most perfect thing

Ever seen by me.

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When I Just Couldn't Win l

I have spent this entire past two months feeling like I had to compete with her, for just about everything: your attention, your affection, your company. I felt like I was crazy; like I was competing with someone who wasn’t even in a race. I was made to believe that there was no race and there were no willing participants. Then the time continued to pass, and it began to feel like I shouldn’t be competing anyways because I was already losing with no way to catch up. It felt like we were racing towards 100 points, and even though I had been in the race for years before her, she had reached 95 while I was struggling to get 10. It became exhausting and defeating to keep trying; but I kept on trying because I could not understand how someone who was not even trying was making it to 95 points. It wasn’t until the truth started coming out that I realized that I was not crazy: that there had been a race going all along, and she had been racking up so many points because she was at a huge advantage.

It was right at that moment that I realized that I was not only participating in an unfair race but also that I would never be able to win; so I gave up. I realized that she will always be more accessible to you, because your schedules are similar enough to give you the same time off but not exact enough to be monotonous. For this reason, you will always ask to do “fun” things with her, because it will always be during times that I am stuck at work in our completely opposite schedules. She will always be the symbolizing of carefree and fun while I will have to be the reminder or mortgage payments and bills to be paid. She will always just smell nice and be soft and composed, while you’ve seen me at my worst, smelly, sweaty and puking over a toilet. When you think of her, it will be reminiscence of smiles and good laughter while thoughts of me will be tinted with struggles and hardship. She will always want you because you’re put together and looking nice. Meanwhile, I have cringed away from your morning breath, random farts throughout the house and unbearable pms, but not once wanted you less. Your conversations with her will always make you feel more interesting, because she’s just know getting to know the things I learned about you without you telling me. She will always be the smile on your face, and I will be the guilt in your eyes. She will always be inevitably good to you, as you treat her with the kindness that I taught you through our arguments, fights, and not-so-great moments. She will always be a connection, one that stands in the way of my ability to connect with you. She will always make you feel okay, because in the surface, things are okay. And I will always be the reminder that deep within, we have some things to fix. It was at this moment that I realized that she will always win and that there was no use in continuing on this uphill battle.

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In any one given day, I have so many thoughts and so many feelings that they've become too much for any one person to handle. I have tried, sharing these with different people, because they say that keeping it all inside of you isn't healthy. And they're right, it's not. It's got to come out; somehow and some way. I think that's why I have always turned to writing. It let's only those who actually care read; because I'm tired of trying to sort out who actually cares. These thoughts, they aren't always pretty and people don't ever want to hear or see what's not pretty. Everyone claims to want to get to know you, to judge you when you're not okay. No one wants to get to know you because they just think you're interesting. This world we live in, these people we live with, well they're just far too shallow for a deep soul like me.

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“Hey, it’s Hannah… Hannah Baker.”

I know; your heart started pounding as you read those words and you actually heard it in her own voice. This show has been talked about so much lately, having actually made it into the national news. It is getting so much outpour, both good and bad. If you have not heard of it nor have you watched it, I can only assume that this is the first time that you’re logging into the internet within the past few months. Because, it’s been everywhere. Oh, you have been online recently, and you still don’t know what I’m talking about? You do; you just don’t know it yet. Go ahead, take time to simply google 13 Reasons Why and go to images. “Hannah’s” face will pop up immediately. It is being used for so many different things in social media lately, from memes to new coverage. All the talk about it has been slowly simmering within me. The show was intended to highlight and show the realities of teenage mental illnesses and how all of our actions [regardless of how small] can have some drastic events on others. However, the show has been getting a lot of backlash lately, saying that it is creating and increasing thoughts of suicide and/or glamorizing suicide. 

First and foremost, the show is not meant for children and even preadolescent youth. The plot takes place in a high school and addresses a lot of mature content and language that is not quite appropriate for the younger ones. Their minds are much more impressionable, and truly do not need to be exposed to all that; what they do clearly need is better parental supervision. 

But for the older audience who seems to agree with these ideas, I can only assume that you’ve clearly never experienced severe teenage depression and thoughts of suicide. There is nothing in the show that makes suicide appear to be fun, as a solution or alternative to anything. What it does show is a person in severe need of help, who feels isolated, hurt, hopeless and entirely lost; who is being negatively impacted by the actions of everyone around her, unknown to them. So I challenge you to watch the entire series if you agree with those earlier mentioned thoughts, and if you don’t connect in a deep, personal level with Hannah Baker then you can safely say that you’ve never experienced severe clinical depression and genuine thoughts of suicide. And yes, I am very well aware of how I sound and the dark depths of my mental health that I am essentially admitting to. For this reason, I will be taking in first person [plural], because I can admit that I have been a part of that population; of the ones who have been depressed and have genuinely considered suicide. 

The lack of knowledge is even further supported by the idea that if someone else mentions or commits suicide, it would convince another person to do the same. Suicide is not a contagious disease that can be caught by exposure to it. You do not first come across thoughts of suicide because hear about it from someone/somewhere else. They are not “Oh, I am feeling really sad lately. X person/thing says that suicide is when I end my own life because I am feeling so sad. So that’s a good idea or that’s what I’ll do.” Original suicidal thoughts are so much more than that and are fabricated by the sufferer’s own mind, and by the heightened feelings of worthlessness, hopelessness and lack of reason to live. They creep up into your mind and the more that you fight them, the stronger these thoughts become. & when you don’t fight them, well they only win. It a constant losing battle, in where you are damned if you do and damned if you don’t. Where you feel yourself losing and caring less and less, and you realize how completely powerless you are; and the less amount of control that you feel you have, the more intense the feelings of loss and carelessness become.  

Thoughts of death and suicide is a sensitive and scary topic to most and the feelings that come attached with it are intense and unavoidable. The mental state and emotions are the drive behind the forces to go through with it. & even with that, it is often something so scary, that most people who do attempt it can’t actually go through with it. Some think that this is for attention-seekers and you know what? I agree with that, to a certain extent. Some of us are seeking attention; the attention of a person who cares enough, who does enough, to understands enough to find us the help that we have been desperately seeking and have not been able to find. Others don’t; they don’t want the attention and to be saved, mostly because they don’t feel there is any hope of saving them. They attention they seek is to help someone else, is to be that teaching lesson for someone close to them, in order to prevent this from happening to someone else. 

So to stop all confusions about this topic, there is absolutely nothing glamorous about suicide and depression. & it is not contagious, and your child is not any more likely to commit suicide because of this show as they are to contract Eboli from watching a documentary on the disease. If you’re concerned with child’s risks of depression and suicide, please speak to them and try to understand that it is something that is far beyond their control. Be there for them, and be loving. Seek them the help they need, and THAT is what is going to make a difference in his/her actions.

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No Fair!

“No fair!” is a child’s common complaint. But what was truly unfair about your childhood?

Having as many cousins as I did (there’s too many of them to count), “fairness” was a constant concern within my family. The only way to keep all the children from fighting was to give them each the same thing, and for each one of us to be treated the same way at all times. Because let’s be real… relatives wouldn’t be relatives without the constant need to compare.  What I find to have been truly unfair about my childhood is how much stricter my mother was with me, in comparison to how she is with my sisters now. **

I got my first phone during my freshman year of high school, as a surprise. Why? Because I would stay home alone after school and was to use it to contact my mother. Of course, texting had already become the primary means of communication by then. But the coolest thing my phone did??? Yuuup! That was the game I was able to play on my phone when there was nothing else to do. & the most astonishing aspect of it all was the fact of how entirely delighted and thankful I was to have this. I was not expecting to be getting a phone at that time, but after having spent a few years without a phone, having this was one was more than I could have hoped for. Lauren got her first phone in elementary school, and had an iPhone by the time that she was in middle school! Oh, and even when she’s without a phone, she's got the iTouch to be in contact with the outside world.

I learned from an early age, how to work my mother. I learned pretty early on how I was expected to behave and what things I needed to do to get things I wanted. Always before approaching my mother, I had to know the answer to every possible question that she was going to ask me. I had to know how I would do X thing, what role other people would play, what role she [my mother] would play when it was, who would be there… it was a list. It was a checkbox list of information that I needed to gather before I even approached my mother to ask if I could do said thing. I have tried to teach this trait to Lauren in multiple occasions; she seems to struggle with the idea that parents are in charge of the child.

Maybe… just maybe… I did not have as much attitude as these two have. But maybe I did, and I just learned that I needed to correct or keep butting heads with my mother. I will never know…

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I Win, Mother!

Do you remember the first time you felt you had won an argument with a parent? Does that still feel like a victory today? Knowing my mother’s personality, I would have never thought that I would see the day when I would manage to win an argument with her. & I’ll be honest with you, I was never the child to argue with her. I would rather sit silently and take blame for something that I was innocent of than to argue back with her. And the thing is: no, I didn’t actually win. I was wrong in what I had done which is what led to the argument. BUT… She admitted that what she had done was wrong and unfair too, and THAT felt like a victory. I was 18 years old and living at my mom’s house. My girlfriend [at the time] had invited me to travel up to Ohio with her, as she was driving up with her family for the holidays. I asked my mother for permission to go, and she had very hesitantly said “yes”. During the months leading up to the trip, she would make passive-aggressive comments towards me about going away for the holidays and how much she did not want me to go. I would usually ignore her snide remarks towards me about the trip, not wanting to create an argument. The night before we were supposed to leave, another friend had a small gathering at her house before she was deployed back to wherever she was at the time. We all gathered at her house, and I’ll admit that there was alcohol involved. I was supposed to have returned home that night. But I did not drive and everyone had been drinking. In the midst of the fun and party, I ended up unintentionally forgetting to text my mother to let her know that I intended on staying the night. I woke up at 9 a.m. the next day to a few texts from my mom, and I knew that I was in deep trouble. I woke up my girlfriend and asked to be taken home. I arrived at home around 10 a.m. and clearly everyone was already awake [freaking Hispanic households on a Saturday…-_-]. I entered the house and apologized extensively to my mother for my lack of communication and attempted to explain that it was a better alternative than having been brought home that night. She dismissed me and I went into my room to begin packing my outfits for the trip. She even helped me locate the duffle bag that I was to use to pack my things. Once all the bags were packed, I began to get ready to depart. I receive the “I’m on my way” text message and I began to scurry. Unable to decide between two shirts, I went to ask my mother for her opinion. Her response to me? “It doesn’t matter. You’re not going.” My body filled with rage and I yelled at her, for the first time. Needless to say, an argument ensued immediately after this happened. Following the argument, when the dust had settled, I calmly confronted my mother on her decision. I explained how unfair I felt that she had been to me, having allowed me to even pack my bags without the intentions of letting me go. I told her that I felt that she had used a mistake of mine to get her way, unfairly. To my surprise, however, she put her head down and admitted that she was in fact doing just that; using that event against me in order to get what she wanted [which was for me to stay home for the holidays]. Just hearing that was enough to dissipate all of the anger that I had. I could only assume that having recognize that had to have been hard for her, much less actually verbally admitting it to me. Still today, almost seven years later, that moment still feels very victorious to me. It was at that moment that I think I realized that my mother was not 100% unreasonable. For once, I saw her as human and not just “my mother”.

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You Call Yourself What??

I came up with the name for this personal blog long before I ever really knew what a blog was or that this was even one. You see, I am a person who truly loves sharing my perspective and ideas with others. And despite my mostly controversial thoughts and ideas, I tend to feel this need to share them with the world. … Making me relatively “Outspoken”. But my anxiety makes my brain very scattered and my brilliant ideas don’t translate as smoothly, making me sound like a confused two year old. & I know that it is not because I don’t have good ideas; but because I struggle to organize my thoughts. This is where writing comes in. However, my purpose for writing is truly to just organize my thoughts and just “let them out” so that they don’t keep fluttering around in my brain. I see it as an archiving mechanism. I feel or perceive something a certain way, and I must make sense of it before I can clump it all together and put it away. However, my writings aren’t really meant to be for someone else. They are meant to be for me. I don’t feel the need to push my opinions and ideas down else’s throat. Whether we agree, or not, I don’t intend my writing to be directed at any one person in specific [most of the time anyways]. If someone is at all interested in knowing how I feel/think about a given topic, the writing is there for them to read. But if they’re not at all interested in knowing my opinion, why would I waste my time [and theirs] and breath explaining to someone who isn’t interested in listening? Thus, the “Silently” aspect of the name was born.

[marip92]

Personal Blogging

This isn't something that I have actually done yet; blogging about personal stuff. I have always been a pretty to-myself type of person, and I usually don't like people knowing about my stuff. However, I have been feeling that there is still so much within myself that I need to work through and that there is still so much about myself that I want to explore. But most importantly, I know that I am the type of person who won't share about these things; not until after they've passed. So I think that I should start writing out some of my feelings/thoughts/ideas about the world around me. After all, my shoes are different than yours.

[marip92]

I have been deeply struggling with nail-biting again. It picked back up during the move earlier this month and I have not been able to shake it since. The most frustrating part is feeing this anxiety that has me biting and not being able to control it, especially since I had it under control before. I have been trying to be patient, waiting for the dust to settle but it is getting out of control. As I was biting today, I could taste small drops of blood, but even then, it wasn't enough to get my hand out of my mouth.

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I really am a bad person. I’d like to apologize to everyone who thought otherwise.

submission #407 (via 10secondstosayitall)

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Yes, I do enjoy walking at night. The world’s more to my liking then, not so loud, not so fast, not so crowded, and a good deal more mysterious.

Cornelia Funke, Inkheart (via theliteraryjournals)