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.

Go on

As I sat waiting in my car to deposit my check, someone walk near my car. I waited for them to leave before I got out of my car, I was scared. It was 10 PM and I was by myself. Once I walked over to deposit my check I heard a man's voice call out to me. I couldn't hear and the man looked polite enough, so I walked towards him. He asked if I knew any good place to camp out because he was homeless. I told him a place that he could camp out, but told him that there are some patrolman that sometimes go around to check parking, and that he should be careful to stay near the water in the street. He thanked me for the advice and then turned to walk away. I feel so guilty for being a for being afraid of him when he just wanted to know a safe place to camp out for the night. And it got me thinking, life is hard for a lot of people, how dare I let anything stop me from helping people. That's what I was meant to do, I always knew it. People in the world have very bad lives. I know there are some people who devote their lives to changing legislation, to activism, but I need to be the person that goes and actually helps. And nothing should get it The way of that, not even my grief. Because life goes on.

Life isn't fair

But what else is new?

My mother will never be as happy as she was when Tristan was alive. When I have my first child, we'll cry. We'll cry for happiness and we'll cry for sorrow. We'll celebrate life and acknowledge it's eventual evaporation. For what else can we do?

Here I sit in my room talking to Tristan's spirit. Telling him he is loved and never forgotten. Even in his death I send him positive energy. I tell him he is so loved. I tell him we would do anything for him. I tell him that even though he is gone, he is a part of our hearts and we will always love him.

Even though I find myself thinking, Tristan will never experience this. He'll never eat at a Benihana, I am almost glad he is gone. He would have grow up with two abusive parents that sheltered him from real love.

Months before, she asked us not to contact her and Tristan. She asked us to stop being in his life. At the time, that was too much. My mother and I cried on the phone when she told me. It wasn't fair of her to take him from us.

And now that we'll never see him again... That's too much for my soul to handle. I find myself crying, screaming. He would have turned three on February 27th. That makes me sick to my stomach. But when I go to the toilet, I can't be sick. All I can do is cough and drool, dry heave and cry.

I want to be sick. I want something to hurt so I can fix it. I want something to be physically wrong with me so that I can make it right, because I can't make my mind right. I can't stop the horrific images of what his last moments were like.

I can't stop the sorrow. I can't stop the pain and I can't stop him from being dead. I can only whisper to him. Send him all the positive energy I have. I can only remember him dancing, talking and yelling. Smiling and happy at Christmas time.

But Christmas will never be the same. Nothing will ever be the same.

-_-

I can't donate blood until September 1st because I had sex with Patrick, who's slept with other men. That would've been nice to know before I drove all the way to the donation center. I guess I'm also upset for lots of reasons.

I've been irritable lately. I don't think it's a part of the grief process, but it very well could be. I don't wanna go out really, I want to sleep and eat. Hopefully Stirling will make me do outdoorsy stuff this weekend. His mom is going out of town, so I'm spending this weekend with him. Should be awesome :)

Happier

It's so nice having a boyfriend that's as attentive as Stirling is. He's really amazing because he can tell when I'm upset and he isn't freaked out by it. He's really good with my emotions and with my physical distress. He gives me lots of massages whenever I need them, and even when I don't.

Here's the story: we went to the beach and sat down in the sand with our subway sandwiches. We dug a hole for the bonfire and put the newspaper, pinecones, and wood in the hole. I wrapped myself in the blanket that I made and snuggle close to him while he watched the sunset. Once the sun was looking like it was going to set soon, I grab the bag of gifts that I made him. I made him a poster with the pictures from when we went to the Monterey Bay aquarium, a blue and green art piece that I made, a blue heart that I crocheted, and a Cthulhu mug (because he loves everything Cthulhu).

I did everything I meant to do except it took me a long time to sing to him. I have the perfect song picked out; The way I am by Ingrid Michaelson. I have been practicing in for about a week before hand but once it was time to sing, I was really nervous. Interesting because I haven't been nervous in a very long time. But I was nervous to sing to him. It took me a long time to summon up the courage, but finally well if you're watching the fire on their very cold night on Carmel beach, I sang to him and I think he liked it.

On the way home, we stopped at a Safeway and he picked up some Smirnov ices that we drink at his place while we watch the Princess bride. Then we went to sleep and I had to wake up and go to work the next morning. That was the most perfect day that I've ever had with just one other person. It'll be hard to top that day ever again.

I really like that I make him so happy just by being me. He doesn't want me to change, he doesn't want me to be less myself. He's completely happy with me being anything really. And I really like spending time with him. He is probably the most considerate person I've ever met, massaging my hands, my back, my neck… whenever it looks like I might be in physical pain, he's there to help me out.

But perhaps the best thing about Stir Fry is that we can have respectful intellectual arguments about anything. We often talk about women who call themselves feminists that aren't, because that particularly upset him, but whenever we argue we do it from a place of respect. I hadn't gotten that from a romantic partner before him.

In other news, I am indeed going to London over the summer. I just turned in my application for the scholarship today, and will see if I get it! Despite everything shitty that's been happening in the past couple months, I'm really glad that I didn't have to slow down my life too much for it. Although I miss my nephew and my sister is now in a ward, I am still going forward with everything I plan to do. And I am proud of me for that because that proves to me that I am a strong person.

What I've been trying to do is see the beauty in life especially after my nephew was murdered. Even while we were in North Carolina, I found beauty in the bowl that I made for my mother, the throw that I made for myself and the second that I made for my parents. Now I find beauty in the sky, the wind in the trees, the hearts that I crochet, the art that I do, in life itself. It's a difficult thing to go through, but I have such a great network with my parents, Stir Fry, and my very strong will. I've never been the type of person to close my heart for any reason, and I won't start now.

Lately

I broke down on Thursday night. I guess it finally hit me everything that happened to Tristan. I screamed and cried as I drove home from work. The grief cycle is pretty weird, I thought it would be over, but apparently it takes a really long time. I don't know. 

Anyway Valentine's Day is coming up. Still and I are going to eat lunch at sunset on Carmel beach. And really great especially now with going on. I'm good with just letting me talk and listening to me. Today is February 9 and I have an appointment with the counselor again. She said she wanted to just meet up with me again and see how I was doing. She said that I'm handling this relatively well for the situation but that I could use some help. And that's true, I really need some strategies for when my mind starts to wonder because I thought about hurting myself in the library. It was really scary so I called my dad and we talked for a long time. He said that he felt the same way closer to the incident but that he was better now. It helps that I'm biking every day at 6 AM because at least my body is physically healthy, even if I'm not mentally okay.

In other news I am really sick of thinking about Patrick. He doesn't even care about me so I don't know why my mind keeps going back to him. Stirling is a nice guy and he cares about me and I'm really glad to be with him but some things just will always make me think of Patrick and that really sucks.

But then again life sucks doesn't it? Isn't it a listen here out of really terrible really sad things some beautiful things are born from them. That's what I'm thinking about, how after Tristan I made some very beautiful things like that bowlsket with the pretty yarn and the two couch throws that I made.

I don't know when reading this post or who it's for but here it is I guess. If this seems awkward and choppy it's because I'm using talk to text while I'm cooking for myself. Some other updates are then balancing work and school is more difficult than I thought it would be. Also one of my bosses is very upset when I can't work, it's not fair that she makes us feel guilty for not being available, I have a life outside of Benihana. Anyway on my drawing class is picking up a little bit and my tile and Mosaic class is very fun, we're actually making our own tiles which is really awesome.

One well another good thing about biking in the morning I don't have the physical symptoms that come with the grief process because my body's too busy exercising. It's almost like healthy body, healthy mind.

This is really all over the place, I don't think I'll use talk to text again for blogging. It's much better to type out my ideas so that I can organize them, this post is now pretty awkwardly unorganized. I guess that's it for now, nothing else is really new.

The song Little red Corvette makes me think of Patrick. It's all about this person that Prince really likes but sleeps around a lot and Prince wants her to only sleep with him. I don't know I keep thinking about Patrick especially with everything that's going on, but I can't help it. I mean when you find something that you really believe is love you hold onto it. But I guess it only went one way because he let go of me.

First day of school!

Spring semester here at CSUMB. I have class in an hour. I'm excited, actually. I have lunch packed and my work clothes in my backpack. On Mondays and Wednesdays, Stir Fry and I are gonna eat lunch together on campus.

Also, I'm not eating processed food anymore, so I eat only vegetables, fruits, breads, pastas, organic chips, legumes, you get the idea. So for snack I'll probably boil some eggs.

Lots of my friends go out to eat, so it'll be a little difficult, but I'm up for it.

I missed a call from a psychologist I met with. She was just checking on me, seeing how I'm doing. She knows everything that happened and thinks I'm grieving properly and that I'll be okay once I'm done grieving.

That reminds me of something I like about Stir Fry; he knows when to just let me talk. Once I found out about Tristan, we skyped and I just talked, for I don't know how long. Another time I asked him to just keep talking while I fall asleep so that I would fall asleep with his thoughts and not mine. He's so nice. 

Oh also, Stir Fry's mom is going out of town Th-Sun so I'm gonna stay there Thursday night to Sunday, depending on what my work schedule will be.

I think that's all the random updates I have... Oh no, my new roommate Nsharra. She's a sophomore which I didn't want, she gets really drunk which I didn't want, but I suppose compared to other 19 year-olds, I'm glad we have her. She and I share a room which is difficult, we both like to watch tv shows before we fall asleep, so we have to use headphones. But she is pretty great, she helps me clean up the kitchen, and the first night she was here, she held the dustpan while I swept. So points for her.

I FaceTimed with my parents last night, I can tell they miss me, but they really want me here, away from Cianne, away from them, focusing on me. And so I shall. My first class today is voice training and two people I know are taking the same class, so it'll be fun. I suppose I should be warming up, but I'm not done with my breakfast.

Okay, I do believe that's all the random update news I have. Overall, I'm doing well! I'll post again sometime this week.

I thought about Patrick while watching Silver Linings Playbook. I was thinking about the connection people can feel upon first looking someone in the eyes, he's the only one I've had that with and it's been mutual.

And I've decided to ask Stir Fry to be my boyfriend. He really goes out of his way to satisfy and care for me. And while I'm thankful, I also feel bad. I've done so little for him and yet he enjoys bending over backwards for me. I guess the only thing I can do is spend whatever time I have with him making him happy as well. I have big plans for Valentine's Day! I just hope I'm not working.

Oh, I'm training to be a host at Benihana on Tuesday!! Finally, employment! 

Lots of shitty things happened in the recent past. I'm just glad that life and love go on. 

I'm afraid of what life will do to a relationship.

So many things can happen. Things I never would've imagined in a million years have already happened. My nephew is gone. I thought that the love a mother has for her child could keep that relationship strong, but that's not always true.

I thought the love one person has for another could keep that relationship strong, but things like distance, abuse, jealousy, and misplaced emotions tear relationships apart.

Sometimes life gets in the way, and if that's true, what's the point of trying to date someone? I have a great time just sleeping with people and remaining friends with them, but I met someone who's again making me question what I thought I knew.

I call him Stir Fry. He's the nicest, sweetest, nerdiest, most awkward person I've ever met. And he's just great. He makes chainmail bracelets, so he understands how I feel when I crochet. Besides that, he's good company, a great listener and has the most awesome friends.

But what happens if I open my heart again? Anything could happen. Any terrible thing could befall either of us. I guess what I'm saying is that I'm afraid, and there's nothing I can do about it. But I don't wanna spend my life being afraid to love either..

I don't know.

Stir Fry and I are going to Carmel Beach for Valentine's Day, we're gonna have a bonfire and some food, it'll be a nice romantic time. I suppose if someone asked me to be their girlfriend, Stir Fry would be a definite yes, no question.

Typed on December 26th, 2014. Never posted.

Tristan, it's your Auntie Shantie. Yesterday was Christmas and you were nowhere to be found. No matter what the investigation may be, we're still hoping you're alive and that you just wandered off somewhere. We hope they find you, because you can't be gone. You still have so much to do and experience. No one should take that away from you.