I need you.

Dear X,

I miss you. I need you to hold me. I need you to take care of me, cherish me, feel me, help me, take the lead, be masculine, cherish my tears and sadness.

Are you real?

Dear X, are you real? I’m starting to wonder whether you can hear me all these years and feel my pain.

Are you really someone who can embrace me when I’m in pain?

Today everything was back at normal. Angel’s mom wants me to behave the way her family behaves so that I can show that I respect them and can fit in. I did what they said. It was a harmonious day, which is all they want. It’s pretentious and unrealistic but because a part of me has died so I don’t feel that pain anymore.

There are plenty things I can write about how Angel’s and his family’s fear of anger and conflicts—-whether others’ or their own is fucked up and cognitive dissonance. But I’m gonna pass that today.

I’ve thinking about Jesus and how he told me 7 years ago that he did love me 14 years ago (ok when I was 19). He listened to my sorrows and could empathize with me. The biggest problem with Angel is that he can’t relate to my feelings because his upbringing was much much easier than mine; he had never starved a day when he was a student or jobless and yet I had to be paranoid about not getting food for years while I was in school and looking for a job. He never had to worry about making the same mistake twice or not being able to drive or not being able to use a screwdriver. He never wanted to nor had to do housework. I am exhausted from running all the errands at home and yet he is terrified of my frequent anger.

I’m not gonna discuss where to go from here because I don’t think about that. I can only take what life gives me. I’m writing because I miss you, X. I wonder what it would feel like if Jesus and I had more money to be together back then. That would have shortened my journey by a lot but would having a family with him be any easier? I guess not. I’m starting to believe that having a family with any man will be just as difficult. There would be other problems say insecurities, education background, men’s incompetence in housework, men working long hours and coming home late, financial stability and abundance, etc. Tonight I just wish X could embrace me and feel the wound in my heart.

Back at Square One

At this moment, I feel the exact same way I did ten years ago; the only difference is that I must move forward for my child. I feel just as lonely, as hurt, as sad, as angry. The dream does not exist. There is no dream. There is no happily ever after. There’s no understanding me. There’s no walking in my shoe. Romance is different from having a family. Very few lucky ones can have both, or does anyone have both? I don’t know anyone who does. I just want to be alone, crawled up and crying nonstop. And yet this is still a luxury because I can’t let my child see my tremendous pain.