awake, in what feels like the middle of the night

kissing him, I began to cry

I don't know if I'll ever understand why

so many memories and so much pain ravage my mind in the night

all that is joyful and all that is not

they intertwine and torture me

he's gone, but he is here

can I ever love again being so broken deep inside?

beneath all this joy is sorrow

and I regret sharing with so many people

people I called when I was suicidal

people who didn't answer the phone

although mostly I am happy, although I smile and laugh and love

something inside me is black and dead

some part of me will always know sorrow

some bone deep inside me will always know grief and loss

and will keep me awake when I should be resting

will continue to make me cry inexplicable tears as I kiss him

An Open Letter the BLM Mothers Supporting Hillary Clinton

Dear Sybrina Fulton, Geneva Reed-Veal, Maria Hamilton, Gwen Carr, and Lucy McBath, mothers of Trayvon Martin, Sandra Bland, Dontre Hamilton, Eric Garner and Jordan Davis,

Your plight is unmatched, your sorrow is never-ending, and nothing can bring back your children. But supporting Hillary Clinton will not prevent future murders of black people. You claim that all of you felt "a genuineness" about Clinton. That she "listened and followed through" for you. Please understand this is only because of who you five women are. If you were not the mothers of murdered black people, she would not have given you the time of day. Just because she is a woman does not mean she will do all it takes to prevent more black mothers from losing their children. Hillary Clinton is not listening to and following through for you to be genuine, she is doing it for the black vote. Again, if you were not the mothers of murdered black people, she would not have listened to you or "followed through" for you.

For example, at her fundraiser in Charleston, South Carolina on February 24th, 2016, when a protester asked Clinton to apologize for the mass-incarceration of black people that she caused in 1994 and for calling black people 'predators', Clinton responded with, "I'll talk to you later," "you're being rude," and allowed the protester to be taken away instead of answering her. In 1994 she called black children "super-predators" with "no conscience, no empathy" and that she wants to "bring them to heel". Given, the people she's talking about were on drugs and therefore not in their right mind, but that requires even more delicacy, not harsh words. Would you vote for her if they were your children she was describing? I think not. Hillary Clinton will always change her position on any stance to get more votes.

There are popular videos on youtube of Hillary Clinton that contain videos of her telling lies and follow up videos that contain the truth. In these videos, she opposed gay marriage in 2002 and 2004, and in 2013 claimed to be in support of it. In 2007, Clinton blamed home-buyers for the foreclosure of their homes and for the housing crisis. She says, "they should've known they were getting in over their heads". In 2016, she claims that we have to make sure that middle-class people should never be put in that position again, but that the people we need to worry about are businesses like Lehman Brothers, who contributed over $300,000 to her campaign. Clinton also repeatedly claimed that on March 25, 1996 she landed in Bosnia under sniper fire, when video shows no such danger. During her husband's presidency, she supported NAFTA, which some say caused job losses in Iowa and Pennsylvania, but in 2008 claims she has opposed NAFTA "from the beginning". Hillary Clinton has two constants: she will do and say anything to become president and she will always act in the interest of the banks that support her. All of this information can be found in this video: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-dY77j6uBHI

I implore you, through your broken hearts and loss to vote for someone who has the people in mind, not banks. Someone who is consistent in their message and who has been fighting for the rights of oppressed people for decades, not someone who repeatedly lies. Someone who listens to angry voices about the problems they are facing and wants to change them. Someone who is funded completely by people, not banks. I implore you to vote for Bernie Sanders. Black women, mothers, grieving parents, your grief should not drive your political decisions. Politics is about electing people who care about the plight that you have faced and want to make a difference. Bernie Sanders is genuine. He chained himself to a black person to protest segregation. Bernie Sanders listens to anyone who speaks to him and with the help of people like Lucy Flores, Pramila Jayapal and Zephyr Teachout will be able to follow through with his plans to send more kids to college, break up big banks, and work for the people.

I think it hurts to see young people in love.

I think having those feelings shoved in your face reminds you of the heartbreak you've been through. As an older person, having youth shoved in one's face is hard enough, but remembering those memories, the ones with teeth...

It's been a while, again

Wow. A lot happened since I last wrote. I broke up with Stir Fry. He was really sweet and a nice guy but overall, he just wasn't right for me. Darrin's baby is due this month, I think. My auntie had her baby a week ago. I said I wouldn't date again and then at MMA club this tall black guy with big eyes and a dimple kept checking me out. I was really trying to stay single but somehow he convinced me and we've been dating for 3 months and some change. I don't get along with my roommate anymore so I basically live with him now. Let's call him LinkedIn.

I'm doing my capstone project slowly. It's about Tristan, of course. I had some other ideas but Tristan is what I care about. Sometimes I still can't believe it. He was two months shy of turning 3 years old. I hope I've accepted that he's gone, but I know I can't. He was such a loving kid. Anyway, the capstone is soothing in a way. I took him for granted when he was alive because I didn't think he was going anywhere. But my capstone is giving him life, in a way. The life that was taken from him. I get to imagine him going to school, I bought him a Spiderman backpack. I get to imagine what his first girlfriend would have been like. I bought a mirror to somehow show him taking a selfie with a girlfriend in teenage years. I imagine him graduating high school, then hopefully college. (I still need a cap and gown from somewhere.) Finally, I get to imagine him getting married, starting a family, growing old and dying at a ripe old age, years after I do.

It's soothing because I feel like he was cheated out of a life he more than deserved, and I'm glad that I can give that back to him, in a way.

I don't cry as much these days, but some things still make me think of him. Our visiting artist, Claudia Bernardi goes to places in South America where there have been mass killings and other human rights violations and helps the communities create art to heal. That reminded me of Tristan. Those people got the bones of their loved ones. They got to bury or cremate them. They got to have a funeral. We never got to bury or cremate him. We're left with knowing that our Peanut's body is somewhere else right now. We don't get his ashes or bones because the case isn't closed. That hurts so much. As much as the pain.

It's not a sharp pain, it's a dull depressing weight that I carry with me for always.

Hi again

I feel bad that it's been so long since I blogged. I quit working at Benihana and went to London. Mythology and Urban Anthropology are fascinating subjects and I love them. I was sleeping around when I was in London because before I left, Stir Fry said something that I thought was him being okay with me sleeping around. It doesn't matter what he said, I was so willing to have his approval to sleep around... Anyway, when I came back, he told me that he was just kidding. So I basically cheated on him for six weeks.

I told him about it and he wasn't even angry with me, just hurt. But I couldn't live with myself. The next morning, he said it's great waking up to your favorite person. How can I still be his favorite person after I cheated on him? I shouldn't be. I couldn't live with knowing I've taken him on such a rollercoaster ride the past couple months. From taking a break to not taking a break to this... I just can't do it anymore. He's been such a great friend to me but I think that's where we should stay until I figure out who the fuck I am. Because I never thought I'd do that to anyone, but I did... And he was willing to stay with me. He was more hurt that I broke up with him than anything, because he loves me. But I don't love him. I mean, I love spending time with him and he's a great friend. I love that we do things together and he shows me new things, tv shows, music, etc, but... I don't love him.

What if I just kill myself? I thought that just now. What if I just disappear? After a while, people would stop looking and accept that I'm gone. The newspapers and news stations would lost interest. I'd be a dust particle in the wind. I don't know. I'm not suicidal, I just wish life was easy. I wish my nephew wasn't dead and that the grieving process wasn't so weird. I wish I knew what kind of person I was and why I did what I did. I wish I wasn't so fucked up. But most of all, I wish I didn't feel okay for so long and then randomly crash into suicidal thoughts. I guess that's it for now.

A while ago, my counselor asked me something.

She asked how I felt being the "together" child. The one no one needs to worry about. At the time my younger sister was in a psych ward and my older sister still is in jail. My answer is still true now.

It's always been like this. My older sister has always been in trouble and my younger sister has always been the focus of my mother's attention and affection. I'm the one "she doesn't need to worry about".

I think that's why I feel like I don't matter sometimes. I grew up in a family where I didn't get as much attention as the other two siblings, so I don't speak up when something's wrong. When something bothers me or I need help, I try to do it myself rather than inconvenience other people.

Just the curse of being the middle child. I've heard it from other middle children. They're the functional ones. No one really pays the middle child any attention unless something is wrong. They only have liability insurance whereas the other children are fully insured and get regular checkups.

This isn't an excuse. I shouldn't use this reasoning to continue not speaking my mind and not telling people what I'm feeling, but when you're raised getting those subconscious messages, what else can you do but stick with them?

I'm trying really hard to defeat this part of myself, because my problems do matter. I need help sometimes and I need affection as often as other people. I guess that's why I'm always in a relationship. My dad isn't very affectionate and my mom's affection is directed towards my younger sister most of the time.

It makes sense, doesn't it? I think that's why I like Tadpole so much. He makes me laugh and pays me the attention and gives me the affection I don't get from anyone else.

I suppose that's why there's no "perfect person" out there, there are people who are perfect for each of us.

The weird thing about grieving for someone is that for a while you think you're okay. You still smile and laugh and enjoy life but then you remember that they're gone forever, that you'll never hug or hold them again. Grief is a weird cycle because I can go from okay to screaming in the same day. From acceptance back to denial back to disbelief.

I want to be around people, and I don't. I'm lonely but I want to be alone. I don't know if I'm okay. I don't know if I'll ever be okay again. Right when I think I'm okay, I break down, I shatter again. Just when I feel like I was piecing myself back together.

Do I even want to have kids with this brutal reminder that they can be snatched away and no one can do anything about it?

I don't know.

I keep breaking down

I was in class a few days ago and Tristan popped into my head and I started crying. Just now I was thinking about when Briana gets out of jail. I thought about when and if she tries to come to my parents' house for Christmas. Christmas. The day he was murdered.

The suicidal thoughts I had before were gone, now I just miss him. I miss my little peanut. He was so small, so innocent, so sweet. Once when Darrin and I were on FaceTime, Tristan blew him kisses before he left.

I keep having horrific visions of what his last moments were like. Utter fear and confusion. Wherever his spirit is, I apologize for not being able to help him and I tell him that he is so loved, I send him my love even in death and hope it gets to him. I hope he knows we love him. I hope that on some higher level of consciousness, he understands that there's nothing we wouldn't have done for him.

The number two keeps hitting me. He was only 2 years old. He didn't even get to turn 3. He didn't get to grow up and go to school with other kids. He didn't get to graduate high school, go to college, get married like he was supposed to. He'll never again feel the sun on his face or walk next to his Pop Pop. He won't open gifts with his Gigi and I'll never get to hold him again.

Christmas time used to be my favorite time of year. Now, I don't know what it'll be. I don't want to celebrate or sing songs, I don't want a tree. I want to watch videos of him and look at his pictures. I want to cry and scream and throw things. I want to remember his happy little face and stop imagining his fearful last moments.

I don't want to put my life on hold, though. I know that would do no good. I just want my goddamn nephew.

 

It's not fair...

Being away from someone you care deeply about. That's how I feel being away from Tadpole. I was only attracted to Patrick because he was so good-looking, but Tadpole makes me laugh no matter what. He's just a funny person who's known some sadness in his life and has chosen to be happy. I admire that in him.

I'm planning my life out and I want Tadpole to be a part of it. He's a very good match for me, someone that I trust and that wants me for himself. It just sucks that our lives don't match up right now. We both have shitty wifi, so video chatting is sucky, and texting is nothing like talking to him face to face.

Even though I'm grieving and my sister is dealing with a mental disorder, I still find myself thinking about Tadpole. He wants to be with me and have kids and live together, without a doubt. The only problem is, it could be 3 years until I see him again. It's not a terribly long time, but I think he may be the one for me. The best one. The best friend, the lover, the life partner.

That just makes it shitty that I may not see him again for three years. But what I try to focus on is that we met at all. Despite both being born and raised in the same state, we both met each other all the way across the country, and I think we fell for each other the day we met. The more I talk to him, the more my chest hurts knowing he's so far.

Three years isn't a long time, but it'll suck. He wants me to wait to do the Peace Corps, but I can't. I can't wait to help people. I'm not cut out for the Army, the Navy, the Air Force, the Marine Corps, any of that, so I have to help people another way. I don't want to spend my life taking and never giving back to the global community. I have to focus myself on what has to be done first and then on what I can do later. I want to do the Peace Corps and then start graduate school because I want to do both and get them out of the way.

I know that Tadpole will always be there for me, no matter what. Three years from the fall, I will spare no expense to reunite us. I'll do anything in my power just to be in his presence again for as long as possible. But until then, I'll have to put up with the hurt in my chest.

This isn't to say that Stirling isn't a great boyfriend, he is. He's just not the one for me. He talked me through my nephew's murder, my sister's bipolar diagnosis and he's a great listener, but both of us know we won't last long as a couple. He hasn't found who will be his 'the one', but my heart will always be Tadpole's.

Best lyrics:

I am the sun, I am the air. I am human and I need to be loved, just like everybody else does.