Querencia

 How lucky am I to be loved by you? We met in the balmy summer of 2012. I turned 21 that summer- the summer I met you and I knew my life would never be the same. I was a keen young woman, looking for adventure in Madrid, knowing that I had to go to Paris to study for a bit. My friend recommended that I reach out to you as I knew no one in Madrid besides the person's couch I was crashing on and the front desk worker of the hostels I would switch in and out of.  I remember walking down the halls of the Prado and Reina Sofia together. I distinctly remember the look in your eyes as you explained some of your favorite paintings. I remember the tamber of your voice. And all I yearned for was time with you. And I got time. I got those few weeks that summer of 2012 in Madrid with you.  When I left you at the end of that balmy summer, there was turmoil within me. Leaving you felt like I had to leave a part of something bigger behind, a part that I didn't quite seem to know, but fe...

will I struggle constantly over you will I ever forget the feel of you but why am I here, laying in the sweater you gave me the one you never asked for back will I forever have to dance to the songs we loved alone twirling myself with the seams of your ghost your fingers strumming my guitar urging me to come closer to your heart  The falling was the best part  The staying the hardest  The San Francisco fog rolled in Lost in the motion of the mess  You asked me to write a song  and it takes me back to that day under the sun when nothing you could do or say would be wrong  our excitement at the start line, waiting for the gun

 I smoked a cigarette and I thought of you.  I remember the person I am when I am with you.  I remember how I feel when I drink wine with you.  I remember the smell of the air when I walk with you.  You are my most beautiful memory.  You are the one of the proudest parts of who I am.  I love you, Madrid. 

Have you ever created a resume and applied for jobs for your immigrant Father who is going to be laid off?  I have. Have you ever felt yourself cut open your chest, lay your heart on the floor, and cry at the sight of it? I have.  Have you ever dreamt of a life without guilt, free to use the money you have earned so hard so that you can do the things you love with the people you love? I have not.  As I work until the late hours of the night... after a full day's of work.. looking ahead to a full day of work ahead, I feel my heart crackling into pieces I don't even want to place together.  I think about my Father... the fact that English is not his mother tongue.. I think about the fact that he has no idea what to do or how to do it. He told me I catch him, but my heart tears at the catching as this is the man who tore my heart open as a child.. a childhood that withered away because it was too painful to remember.  Now, I wither. I have been withering since the ...

You were the biggest love story. A story that grew over the course of 6 years, thousands of miles, many characters, and a stagnant presence of the two of us.  Two ships passing in the night  Going opposite directions, at the same pace.  A story that was meant to be written, then erased.  An unnerving desire and curiosity.  Now it is time to turn off the porch light- the one I knew I needed to turn off. The one I kept lit for the past 6 years through the chanceful visits and sweet nothings.  I guess I didn’t know how much I really cared. How much I didn’t want it to end. But I care a lot more than I thought I did. But all I really wanted was for you to be happy and I did know deep down that your happy ending did not include me. I knew it would not be me, though I would whisper to the clouds a hopeful sigh.  The way you’d touch my face, move my hair behind my ear, gently place your hand on the back of my neck. The way you’d gaze over at me and smile and ...

I acknowledge, as a person diagnosed with depression and anxiety, that some days will be bluer than others. Some days will be murky. Some days I will feel like I am hopelessly trying to stay afloat when I feel the metaphorical waves crashing down on me. The days I run to the bathroom to cry, just because. The days I wonder my purpose, and why I am working hard to get to a place where I am unable to see the outcome. These are scary days. I lack less control on these days, smile less, speak less, isolate myself more, and choose numbness. This feeling is familiar, kind of like an old habit. One that I can sit within silence. One where I sit with loneliness- crippling loneliness. I guess I learned a long time ago the beauty of sitting with myself, which is the very reason why I travel alone once a year to challenge boredom, challenge non-social pressures, and challenge the feeling of interaction. Every one of these trips that I take, my mind speaks louder, sometimes screams and it is t...