Longing

I don't have the heart to poison the flower rooted in my veins. But how do I explain that its gardener is far away and it can take a lifetime to meet him again?
What can we do when we constantly find ourselves chasing the further star in the night sky?

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My therapist wants to know about my relationship with my country

From the other side of the Atlantic, nine thousand eighty kilometers away, I open my eyes and I look at the ever-grey sky. I am exhausted, my soul hurts, the disconsolate ache of today. I struggle to cope with the pain that breaks me from the inside, unable to keep scrolling down the news that never fail to horrify. Damned headers, promoting the way she died. She did not die, it was a femicide. My mouth is shut in solidarity, the knot grows in my throat; I disappeared for a day, but ten women in México won’t make it back home. Lives, aspirations, dreams, plans; everything abruptly cut. How to modify the course of History? Attempts to figure out my place in this big world and how to start to clean up this mess. I saw the suffering, I experienced the pain. But I believed in resistance, I believed in change. I was brought here on a mission: Education is a force to unite nations for peace and it’s ironic that this stirs in my heart urges for chaos &
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People I hardly knew but still think about

Two Mexican ladies at the airport, waiting with me for the snow to calm down. The man standing outside of Walgreens, wishing me a good day. The frozen yogurt woman who once visited Puebla. The grandmother I greet every Thursday on Hinman. The funny boy in my high school, his jokes and compassion. The man at the metro stop who genuinely believes aliens walk among us. A guy working at Subway, he always gives us a free cookie with a smile. The creepy man who followed me for a block asking for my number. The Mexican lady selling tacos, and her arguments with her coworker. The real estate agent who showed me my first grown-up apartment. The kind and artistic girl in performance arts and creative non-fiction class. My kindergarten teacher, who I discovered to be my cousin once removed. My latine mentor and her daughter. The guy who withdrew early decision to take care of his young brother.
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Is resisting a protest?

I grew to hate every newspaper header. I set them on fire, burning flames, ashes. Humanity, where did it go? Do you mind stepping in? I wonder what kind of puppets are we. If I am the promise of tomorrow Where do I stand today? What does this convey? I want to destroy my crystal sphere, fear. Tear. Veer. Clear the gear. Done with words and formalities, those cannot stop fatalities. How does one modify the course of History? You can resist, but the crowd will shape the journey.
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Ojos de ópalo, corazón de ónix

No planeaba que al llegar la primera noche del año me sentaría a escribir esta carta más bien esporádica que sin embargo es una de las cartas que escribo en uno de los momentos de mayor lucidez en mi vida. Pero aquí me encuentro, cerrando la cortina morada que cubre mi cama. Sí, la cortina que ha sido confidente de todas nuestras conversaciones y tonterías de después de las once, la que guarda los cuentos que contamos y es testigo de los planes que no se concretaron. Pero tan pronto como abrí una nueva hoja en mi diario, supe que esta carta no sería fácil de escribir Me he mentido a mi misma. No sé si es la esperanza de que cambies, o cuál otro disparate impulsa esta falta a mi integridad. Pero lo hice, y tal vez me cansé.  Así que me senté, me coloqué una manta en los hombros, y asumí la aflicción que me acongoja. ¿Desde cuándo? Ahora que empiezo a ser completamente honesta conmigo, creo que desde hace dos inviernos. Hoy ya no me excuso más, porque mis justificaciones son la mayor des
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Mirror of introspection

Empty dock, clouds, and rocks. Sunlight, water, and sky. An atmosphere ever wet & the smell of salt everywhere. A balanced palette of colors; blue, yellow, red, black, and white. Winter arrived, never this warm. Not the warmth in your skin, an impossibility with gelid mist. The sky reflected in the sea at peace. Is just the wind, the ocean, and you; you alone with your thoughts, and memories from back home. Home is where you stand and where you stood yesterday; maybe it is something in your heart available where the sun shines. Used to be lost, somehow found in the unknown.
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