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The innate desire to be someone other than yourself… lingers.

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I am not okay. I don't think I ever would be okay; and I guess that's okay.

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I'm lost.

There's nothing to hold on to; nothing to see

Darkness surrounds the screeching silence

I sit and I wait; I weep and I try...

I try to find my way back home.

I guess I've always been lost...

Because I don't know... I just don't know!

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Hoarding

Some of us fill up the space we have with items that have very little to no value and sometimes no meaning for others. But somehow we manage to find meaning and value in the smallest things, thus preventing us to rid of such items.

Take me for example. I have a tendency of keeping items which people can easily get rid of. I am talking about glass bottles and jars, shoe boxes and other boxes, paper towel and toilet rolls (the cardboard tube), and other things that items come in, like rectangular foam. Then I always tell myself, I'll make something out of this one day. It's been years, and I still haven't. So I force myself to throw away these items and it feels as though I am throwing away a brand new computer.

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I have a habit of pushing people away. I don't want them to go, but I create scenarios to make it easy for them to leave. Then I'm left waiting for their return, for a phone call, email, anything... I'm left in turmoil.

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When I want to see you, I close my eyes and sleep. If I wake without seeing you, I force myself back into slumber.

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It's getting harder for me to breath each day, but before I die I will finish what I've begun a long time ago; which is the very thing that's killing me.

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Even though I complain about the way I look at times, I rather be natural than stare at something I'm not.

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Same Face

I am organizing my computer files for I can then post whatever I want from the past. Anyways, I noticed that my face looks exactly the way it did 17 years ago, lol. I don't have any pictures on my computer from before then, so not sure how long I had this face of mine. No wonder people were confused about my age when I was in High School. I had smile lines and eye bags for such a long time, here I thought that it was from aging. People still get confused with me even now. I guess it depends on how I dress. The only thing that changed was my body, due to having a child.

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When you get older but still have the mind of a teen. So you don't realize that you're getting older... until you notice your skin is sagging...

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That moment when you realize that you haven't changed at all.

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I texted my mom today

Well, technically it was yesterday. But I didn't get a response until today. I haven't spoken to her since 2017 and I haven't seen her since probably 2014... not sure...

I wasn't raised by her my whole life, just until probably the age of five. I was raised by my father's sister due to a court decision. She wanted me, but I didn't know to what extent since I was raised to dislike her. Little did I know about what she has done for certain members of my family, and because of that I texted her yesterday to say thank you.

She speaks Spanish and my Spanish is not great at all, especially writing wise, but she understands it, the whole family sorta does.

This was our conversation:

Yesterday P.M.

2:42 (Me) Luz?

Today P.M.

1:04 (Me) Ma?

4:25 (Me) Soy yo... tu hija... Queria saber si esto todavia es tu numero.

4:27 (Her) Mi niña si estoy aquí

4:28 (Her) Te Amo

4:29 (Me) Te amo tambien.

4:30 (Her) Estas bien como se encuentran

4:30 (Me) Estamos bien. ¿Y tú?

4:31 (Her) Bien a Dios gracias

4:32 (Her) Vienen para aca

4:33 (Me) No. (My son's name) todavia estás en escuela. El estás en 11 grado. Tienes 16 años.

4:36 (Me) *Recent up close picture of my son smiling with a thumbs up* Es (my son's name) 😂

4:37 (Her) Guao ya, yo había perdido la cuenta ..todo un adolecente, idéntico a ti 😃

4:37 (Me) 🤣

4:40 (Me) Solo quería decirte gracias. No pregunta porque. Te amo. Adiós. 😘 🤗

4:41 (Her) 😘 😘 😘

So the whole time... I have been just trying to send her the 4:40 message, but then I would notice she was trying to say something so I was deleting it and waiting... She should almost be 59 years old this year....

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Micro Space

Many people, in the state I live in, either have a house or talk about wanting or getting a house.  Usually people who desire a house have a family under their care or they desire to have a family someday.  In my opinion, living alone in a house can get quite boring and sometimes can also get a bit scary; especially with all that space.

I, on the other hand, do not desire a house. Don't get me wrong, I had moments where I imagined buying a house with many rooms, a basement, and/or attic.

Each room with its own color scheme. The basement - an arcade paradise with all the dance game varieties. The reading room - filled with bookshelves and a side of mirrors. The toy room - large area rug in the middle surrounded by showcases. The tech room - filled with gadgets and computers with the latest updates to get my business started. Three bedrooms, two separate kitchens, and two separate living areas with separate entrances for business purposes.

As detailed as the house is, I do not desire it. I would've, if I had people that I kept around to share it with. Sadly though, I'm a runner.

I desire quite the opposite: micro-apartments. I would like to live somewhere at or below 100 sq ft. I have read such apartments or rooms exist in most major cities. In NYC, the price for such a spot may be $1,000 or more compared to other countries.

In the Summer/Fall of 2013, I temporarily lived, with my son, in a 'micro' apartment in San Diego, CA. The apartment is between 125 sq ft to 150 sq ft and the rent was $900/month. It was the perfect size for me, but it was quite the opposite for my son. We had to move, due to a family emergency. At this moment and time, these apartments are being rented for $1,377. Yikes!

I currently reside in a 900 sq ft, two-bedroom, apartment with my son and roommate. My son and I have the smallest of the two rooms and even that room feels too big for me. We have been living in this apartment for many years and to be honest, no matter how many times I change stuff around, it doesn't feel like home. I am only staying here for my son's sake.

In the past, I thought I needed more space - like my own room -because I don't have a space of my own. My space is everywhere and nowhere at the same time. I even thought if my roommate moved out, this place would finally feel like home. I then realized that is not exactly the case.

After visiting NYC on my own, two times in the past two months, it occurred to me that I am definitely a fan of small spaces. The hotel-sized room of 229 sq ft to 362 sq ft was comfortable at first, but then it started feeling too spacious.

I remember curling myself up in the corner of the room, behind the ceiling to floor curtains, and looking down at the people outside. This made me feel more relaxed. It was like a little getaway section of the room; an escape from all the available empty space.

Someday I will live in a micro apartment.  I would actually live in one right now, if I could.  But, I do not live in a major city nor do I believe there is an apartment under 100 sq ft in my current area. 

Right now, I’ll just deal with the vast space in front of me and suffer just a while longer until I can find a place to call home.

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My Creativity

I travel to find myself; to release my inner creativity. Just like some people I have come to know, I find inspiration in my surroundings using all or most of my senses. I pay attention to the sounds drifting through the air; to the odors swiveling around; to the way things feel on my skin; to the interaction with my taste buds; to the details within my sight range. Inspiration can truly come from anywhere.

I grew up drawing, writing, singing, crafting, and solving puzzles. When I received my first camera, I immediately felt like a professional. With so many things to do in this world, I was able to engage in some sort of creativity every single day of my life.

My greatest creations, however, come from negativity. Sorrow, pain, anger, neglect, severe misunderstanding… basically, anything that causes a great deal of damage to my mind. I grew up in a somewhat negative environment… so I guess I was conditioned, from an early age, to release the negativity through creativity.

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Can you see me?

I am sitting in front of a floor to ceiling window, in a NYC hotel, on the fifth floor, with just my underwear on. Anyone can see me if they look up and I can see everyone that passes if I look down. Even then, people won't be able to see me, except for my body. Most of the time, that's what some people care about. What is underneath your clothes. Now I wonder... in a nudist community... would people care more about me or is it still the bodily image?

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Help Me Please, Somebody

I feel so alone inside no matter how many people surround me, no matter how much I smile, no matter how much I interact... I feel like a walking lie. I say that I do not lie, but in reality I am lying all the time by pretending to be happy, by pretending to be fulfilled, by pretending that I am definitely okay. But I am not.

I Am Not Okay.

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Runner

“I am a runner. I am not talking about the marathon runners, nor the make it a routine to run every day type of runner.

I escape.

Relationships, family, friends, work, life, love, confrontations, social environments, quiet environments… I probably ran away from every possible scene I can think of. Not every time, of course, but I have probably escaped at least once in each scene.

It’s not that I try to or that I want to run. It’s more like I need to run. Just like the marathon runners, and the make it a routine to run every day type of runners. I just need to run.“