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Tired, truly
Tired, truly. Of words that fall out reckless from careless tongues; half-formed, half-thought, like they were never meant to mean anything at all. How can’t they see or understand pain unless it’s theirs to claim? How can their eyes never learn to read truth unless it flatters them? Tired, truly. This thing once called common sense now feels rarer than peace, rarer than listening. This blindness to another’s ache. How strange. Tired, truly. Of being weighed, measured, and still found suspicious for just existing without apology, for being ambiguous. Tired, truly. Of being the quiet storm holding the walls up when others crumble. The twenty-four-seven adult in every room; steady,…
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Hispanic Heritage Month in the Times of Cholera
I don’t need a month or a season or a reason to celebrate my heritage, but we’re halfway through Hispanic Heritage Month and I haven’t posted about it on here yet, so it’s about time. My heritage month is a time to honor the heartbeats of cultures that pulse through history, celebrating the vibrant traditions, languages, and rhythms that shape the very fabric of who we are. It is a moment to lift up the voices and stories that echo with strength, resilience, and beauty; the stories that have too often been unheard or misunderstood. Through music, art, food, and dance, we recognize the indelible mark left by Hispanic and…
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When all else fails, move on
Why are life experiences so repetitive? That feeling when you know you’ve been there before, emotionally, and you already know what happens next. It’s so conflicting. It’s like you want to hit fast-forward to see if life surprises you this time. But it doesn’t. And you want to know what the (not so) funny thing about it is? You gained experienced the first time you were there, but somehow you still don’t know how to handle it; what the best course of action is, or what the process will be like. These are meant to be lessons, but I’ve learned nothing. What I’m referring to in this particular post is…
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To the big girls in the house
I don’t get to cry about it. I dare not. I’m supposed to be the strong one; the one who holds everything together when it feels like everything is falling apart. It’s exhausting, not going to lie. Pretending that I have it all under wraps when, inside, I’m one minute away from a meltdown. But what happens when you’re the one with the “common sense,” the one who thinks things through, the one behind the logistics, the one who keeps everything running smoothly — like some invisible thread holding the fabric of it all intact? Or at least the one everyone thinks is all that? When the truth is, while…
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My words
In an ideal scenario, my words would be for everyone but some like thrillers, while others like suspense; Drama, where others prefer RonCon Similarly, my words won’t be picked by everyone And I’ve made peace with that My words are not for the conformist Not for the pretentious Not for the egocentric Not for the trends seeker Not for the devoted religious Not for the shallow hearted Not for happily-ever-afters My words are for stripped souls who are not afraid to let it all show The ones who find comfort in comforting others The nostalgic who understands time-travel My words are for the quiet observer For the stargazer and the…
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Hug my worries away
Have you ever woken up within your four walls, a world thick with uncertainty reaching for a hand to hold, a reassuring voice, only to find an empty hum? A silence that seeps into your soul, gnaws at your psyche until it’s just you and your prying thoughts. Alone. There are days when it feels like the world turned its back on you, when the lows become persistent, the only mental state you know. I’m guilty of holding back tears pushing through so fiercely I can do nothing but catch them on their way down. It’s in that moment I realize how much I’ve underestimated hugs. But have I? A…
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Protecting your heart and state of mind
Half my life, I’ve been protecting my heart so damn hard I subconsciously isolated myself. I haven’t grown cold, though, just wary. I am not incapable of attachment, I’m just cautious. The thing that leads you to protecting your heart is that you start recognizing the patterns that once hurt you. You, being a good-natured human being and all, never understood what disrespect and mockery looked and felt like. So you gave out a lot of chances to the people who, often through jokes, put you down. The very people who kept taking advantage of your kindness thought they could do it endlessly, without consequences, and you kept giving them…
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Hooded Heartless Complying Thugs: A Poem
I’m broken by the sound of weeping mothers as they’re dragged down by yet another hooded heartless complying thug dehumanizing people for a thousand bucks I don’t want the drums of war to sound, no more the battle, no more the bound of men and women torn apart, their hopes reduced to aching hearts Don’t want to hear the cries of children lost in pain as their lives are swept away like torrential rain I don’t want the skies filled with smoke and our ancient histories buried, our ties broke How dare I not want the world to burn? A world that still has so much left to learn I…
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New gate, same solo me
I made my way to the airport just like I have in the past eight years — on my own. All alone. And I’d make my way to my final destination the same way. In the beginning of everything, I would get dropped off and picked up. I had so many eyes on me. I felt so supported and protected. It went on for a good while. It’s not like I couldn’t take myself to the airport because I always did when I had to. That was one of the easiest parts after moving away from family and friends — being independent, getting myself to places. But on days when…
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Surviving elementary: Teacher Appreciation
Life as an elementary teacher is ever entertaining. Kids keep you on your feet. The only reason you may need coffee is to keep up with their speed. Their questions are endless. The drama, infinite. But their smiles are sweet. Chance put me in this journey; one that I never saw myself in, but one where I very much fit in. Many people can teach, but not many have what it takes to make it in elementary. You must accept “potty talk” as a possible daily occurrence. The many ways their minds wonder will have your own head spinning. But just like puzzles, it all falls into place, and talking…
