I thought you were the one that taught me about chosen family. That you introduced me to the notion that I could choose the people I keep close to me. That family didn’t always have to mean by blood. Maybe I believed that because I loved your family so much and how they raised you. Because they welcomed me in with open arms. Because I finally felt warmth and comfort in their stability. Their consistency.

There are remnants of you everywhere I look

The last thing I told you was that you’d spend your life looking for me in every person you meet

I can’t help but admit I sometimes do the same with you

I found beauty in your mediocrity

I held you so close we became one

I miss you most when I’m in the arms of another

When I’m left alone with my thoughts and memories and what ifs

As if I were stranded at the base of the Grand Canyon with no rescue in sight

Any attempt at escape is futile

22 years ago, I was supposed to be born. I was a week late to my due date. My birth. I was late to class today. It’s become a habit of mine. A habit I’m ashamed of. Maybe I’m destined to be a procrastinator. Maybe I was destined from the start. Or maybe I’m just stubborn. Stubborn enough to make up my mind and spiral when it doesn’t go my way.

In high school, I used to sleep during my lunch period instead of eating. I would find any time during the day to sleep. I skipped first period once with my best friend to sleep on the bathroom floor in the big stall. I was overworked, overwhelmed, and just plain over it.

The fizz of soda being poured into a cup on my kitchen counter reminds me of late nights with my mom. My hair was greasy, long enough to touch my tailbone. After mamá left, I didn't know how to properly shampoo. I kept my hair up in a limp ponytail for days on end, refusing to shower. Mom ordered pizza and rib tips from mama Luna's that came with a free 2 liter of RC cola. We would binge watch America's most wanted sitting on her bed.

I can’t remember the last time I took a bath. Life has gotten ahead of me. Perhaps it is time to get ahead of life. I’ve spent 10 years in these double digits, existing as a double digit. Excitement for what the next year would hold. It’s time to say goodbye to one.

I don’t know if the turmoil is bearable any longer

Where is the truth in separate worlds?

My chest is weighted by a million bricks

Each one holding its own roaring flame

I am floating eyes with blurry peripheral vision

I live within the walls of my mind

Everything around me is nothing but a perceived thought bubble transmitted by my brain waves

How can I love something that isn’t even there?

I don’t know if it’s the danger I miss

The not caring about what goes inside this temporary vessel of mine

If it’s the careless laughter and hysterical tears

Puffy eyes every morning because of it

If you see me sprawled on top of an uncovered mattress Saturday morning with the stench of sweat and sex around me I bet you’ll feel sorry. I’m not even in my own place! I wind up in the mouths of the desperate, lipstick and all!

Tuscan skies hover over like a blanket

They smell of salt and soot and yell when the wind aggravates

I find shelter within the cold November evening

When the city is hazy at 7pm on a Wednesday night

A bit childlike in some radio waves but advanced in most event horizons

I hope we don’t let the emotionally detached dictate what we become

And who we become

And whether or not we shall grow and become