Dear Ex-Bestfriend,

You’re a badass. There was always something about you that I low key wanted to emulate. There is some thing (or a few) about each and every one of my friends that I really admire and hope for in my own life. 

You especially, are someone I wish I was as cool as. I’ve always wanted to not give a fuck in the way you do. 

Slowly but surely I am becoming every bit as much of a badass as I saw you as. You’d probably be hype about my septum piercing, and some of the boys I’ve talked to.  I had a nose stud too, I had to let it heal up but I plan to get it back. 

I’m doing a lot of big things all the time. Every once in a while I think about how you’d react to a lot of them. Sometimes it’s hard because it feels like you’re the only one who would understand how funny I think certain things are, or why I get so bad about certain things. It’s sad because you were truly more of a sister than a friend. 

You were a sister who would probably have your opinions about me being a sorority woman, a sister who would probably think my music taste has become trash. You were someone I could call literally at any time of day and get an immediate response from. 

I guess I kinda miss you. I hope you’re doing well, and are on your way to becoming everything you want to be in life. I’ll always be cheering you on, and would still risk going to jail for you if the circumstances called for it.

The Chronicles of Being a Child With Divorced Parents Pt. 22364721537486353628

I just finished writing a long text to my mother, because in my family, that is the only way to get a full sentence expressed. 

See, my parents have been divorced for like 12 years, I’m going to be 21 in August, and I’m still dealing with the same crap I dealt with since day one. 

That’s a lie, things didn’t get really bad until probably a year or two in to having a split home life.  Ever since then, all I’ve wanted to do is get the hell out and start fresh. 

For as long as I can remember, I have been thrown into the middle of things that I shouldn’t have been. I have been the child playing mediator between grown adults. I have been the child who is asked  to “be the bigger person” for the sake of keeping peace one too many times. I have been the child who would rather handle things on her own than dare ask for help in order to prevent an argument. I have been shoved off on one parent because the other was taking care of my brother’s needs. I have been forgotten about because the adults have been so consumed by themselves at some points. I have been the target of anger that I did not cause. 

Unfortunately, it doesn’t end there. I will forever be the most misunderstood by the very two people who are supposed to understand me the most. I will forever be more of a burden than a blessing. 

I may be crying right now writing this, but part of me still believes that I have been put through all of this for a reason. Part of me believes that I would not have become the strong, badass, woman I am had I not dealt with all this crap. I just can’t wait for the day it ends for good. 

Public Blog = Public Life 

A good friend of mine asked me for the name of my blog today. It’s always kind of weird to me sharing that with people I’m close to. This is totally strange given the fact that the URL is posted in the bio of all of my social media accounts. 

I guess it’s one thing to know strangers might be reading your stuff, but it’s a whole other thing thinking about the people you hold close reading    it. Although I do my best to be less of a perfectionist every day, I do worry about what people who know me actually think of my writing. 

It’s not that I think I’m a great writer or want to become a famous blogger or anything, I simply don’t want to suck completely. I also write these posts in hopes that someone somewhere will understand why I do it. Though it may seem that the people I call my friends should understand me the best, I’m not quite sure they would understand my blogging in the way I intend it to come across. 

Sometimes I blog about things that none of my friends know about. Other times I blog about things my friends absolutely know about, which is sometimes scary. I don’t want anyone I’m close to to feel exposed. I also don’t want the wrong people thinking I’m talking about them in a post, or any sort of misinterpretations like that.

Documenting your life publicly is risky in so many ways, but it is also freeing. It has really helped me work on saying what I mean to say, and choosing my words wisely. It has helped me really sort through a lot of things without having to messily get other people involved. It has also given me a bit of confidence. 

The friend I mentioned at the beginning of this post said she enjoyed reading what I’ve got on this site so far, she even agreed with some of the things I wrote about not being able to juggle two men at once. Though I am well aware that she is my friend and is low key therefore obligated to be positive about my stuff , I also know she wouldn’t lie to me. So, maybe I’m okay at this afterall. 

Ha sido mucho tiempo

Ha sido mucho tiempo (It’s been a long time) since I have practiced my Spanish through writing. Though I am not quite ready to give you a fully bilingual post just yet, know that it’s coming. 

I truly love being Latina, but unfortunately that love is questioned and doubted because I do not speak Spanish as often as I should. I say this as someone who genuinely feels like she should speak it more, not as someone who has been pressured by others to believe that she should speak it more. 

I love the Spanish language, sometimes it is the only thing that gets me through. I literally have days, weeks even, in which I will only listen to Spanish music. The fact is, even the saddest Spanish songs make me feel better about life. 

I promise I’m not a person who finds joy in other people’s pain or anything. I simply just really love the way everything sounds in Spanish. English is nowhere near as magical or mystical for me. 

Sometimes (meaning a lot of the time), I have a hard time admitting that I do not know the language of my people in the same way that I once did. It’s also hard to admit that the fear of being judged or messing up is what keeps me from speaking it more. 

My last post, however, was all about how it is okay to make mistakes and not be perfect. So, one of the many things I plan to do before my 21st Birthday is to get back into the swing of Spanish. I would particularly love to get back to writing it, because that was always my strong suit in school. 

Getting back on track with my Spanish speaking and writing skills will enhance my life in so many ways. I’m even hoping to conquer Portuguese when I’ve got a handle on Spanish once again. Mostly, as sad as it makes me to say, I think it will help truly solidify my identity as a Latina. 

I know, and so do a tone of other educated people, that mastery of the Spanish language is not essential to claiming any rights to Latinidad. But, I also know that learning more and more of the language will open my eyes to whole new realms of knowledge and such. 

I feel that in order to reach the goddess potential I feel I have within, I must achieve this goal. After all, I’m not just some regular schmegular goddess, I’m a Latina Goddess (nothing we do is regular or schmegular, we’re always extra af). 

Perfectly Imperfect

I spent a good portion of high school thinking that my first tattoo would read “Perfectly Imperfect”. I specifically wanted it along my spine because of the fact that my spine wasn’t straight. For some reason, putting it there just seemed right. 

Well, now I’m almost 21, I’m still tattoo-less and I could still use a reminder that I am just fine the way I am everyday. Another tattoo option I considered was “perfection is irrational”. It’s been a while since I’ve really thought of it that way, but I still think it’s true. 

It is crazy for anyone to think they could always be perfect. It is crazy to tear yourself down for being human. We all make mistakes. Some mistakes obviously have a bigger impact on our lives than others, but mistakes are a part of life. Mistakes help us grow. 

This is something I have to remind myself after my first actual day at this summer job. It is okay for me not to be perfect, it is okay to ask questions, everything is okay. 

It is also okay to not perfectly fit into the mold society has carved out for us to fit in. The various intersections of who I am are what make me perfect. There is no one in this world I’d rather be than me. (Even though I would probably love being a less anxious me) My “flaws” have potential to be my best assets. I am perfectly imperfect, and so are you. 

57 til 21 

There are 57 days till my 21st Birthday, and I am finally ready to start getting my shit together. Well, I’ll start getting my shit together after my work training tomorrow. I should be asleep right now so this post may seem a little rushed, please forgive me. 

So, what exactly does “I am finally ready to start getting my shit together” mean? It means a few things. 

First and foremost, it means I want to crack down on all the things I said I was going to do this summer. It means that the selfish summer of self-improvement that I planned for will be pursued with enthusiasm. The past few weeks, I’ve been in a sort of lull. Every once in a while it happens, I lose motivation entirely. My motivation has returned and I think I’m sorta ready to take the world by storm. 

Getting my shit together also means establishing some things with myself about my relationships with people. Instead of withdrawing from people like I was planning to do a little while ago, I am going to continue my efforts to be the best friend I can be. 

Of course, these days I can’t seem to write a post without mention of my relations with men. Well here it is, this weekend I was finally freed from a few things. Firstly, I was finally freed from the crutch that was the last guy I had actual feelings for. Second, I was freed from believing that there is no hope in the realm of love for me at all. Most importantly, I was freed from my cares about societal pressures, opinions etc. 

For the first time in a little bit, I’m super happy. I’m excited to just keep being me and doing whatever the hell makes me happy. 

What will make me really happy is feeling as though I am on top of the world 57 days from now. I want to be the best me yet as I take my first legal drink (well, first legal drink in the US). I want to be so in love with myself that boys are only occasionally mentioned in my posts by then. 

57 days til 21, I totally got this. 

If You Can’t Beat Em, Join Them? 

Boys are trash.  Basura. This is not something that is up for debate. 

Even the guys I value and appreciate in my life have proven to be trash in some ways. You can’t live with them, and you can’t live without them. 

Often times, guys have to face the “dog” stereotype when it comes to their interactions with women. Loyal men are often thought of as hard to find. Women often believe that men have a habit of juggling more than one lady-friend at a time.

I have witnessed a lot of men juggling more than one woman, and for a while I wondered what it would be like to juggle multiple guys. How people regularly find themselves juggling partners is beyond me, because I can never get one person interested in me enough to stick around.

I am also well aware that things like this are inherently different for women because of all the stereotypes at play and the way society shames women for being comfortable in their sexuality etc. 

Recently, however, my life has been playing out like a cheesy Rom-Com. It’s the typical two great guys, one girl scenario. The truth is, however, that it is really hard for me to even just text more than one dude at a time. Entertaining more than one man feels wrong. I’m not the type of person who enjoys hurting people, and that is what I feel people who juggle multiple people at a time do. 

Now, I’m a little extreme in that I couldn’t even like just be dating a few guys. Even in the very early stages of stuff I feel wrong about potentially leading people on. 

So while some might say “If you can’t beat ’em , join them”, that is not something I think I can do. I don’t think I could ever be as much trash as a lot of these dudes out here (I say “a lot” because not ALL dudes are trash).