Released

I leave for the weekend and you decided to turn around
Do your thing
Not give a fuck
And let this drown
Goddamn, I knew this time would come
Didn’t know for how long it was going to last
But I know now
Deleting your apps so your ex won’t suspect shit
I dreamt about that
I told you I was a witch
And that I’m not a bitch to fuck with
Ain’t giving you your stupid jacket back
Don’t even trynna call to come get it
It’ll be far gone, cuz I’m gonna wear it
That’ll be like a trophy and I’ll wear it nicely
It’s a Levis so it was quite pricey
Called you and you hung up the phone
Fuck you, nigga!
Just go back to yo’ momma’s home!
Daddy issues fucked you up, you ain’t far from that
You turned out to be just like your dad
Got yourself lookin’ in the mirror with his face starin’ right back
Do whatever you want
Cuz’ I officially don’t give a fuck
You wanted a pity party, well now you’ll have one
Boo-hoo, R2! I feel so bad for you!
Poor baby, you got so much on your table!
Your head spinning so fast you just can’t be stable!
I feel so sick…
The only good thing ’bout you was your big ass dick
But like that one I’ve had plenty
I know I deserve much better
But now for a fact I know that you’re really not that clever
Fuck this shit!
I’m tired writing about this bitch
You just like fucking Kanye
And I’ll be like Amber Rose
Good luck finding someone that’ll fuck and lick your ass-hole
Peace out
I’m out
Forget ’bout me too
I won’t be around

 

Imprisoned Mind

Do I still think about him? Oh, every day.
Every single day his memory attacks my brain, and if I don’t snap out of it, it’s like I’m falling in an endless pit swalloing me whole.
Sometimes when I’m driving, it just hits me and I start screaming from the top of my lungs to get it all out, if I don’t do so I just start sobbing uncontrollably.
I just keep remembering the good times, because that’s what we mostly had together, a good damn time.
Every heart break makes me lose a little faith for what could possibly be out there for me. I close the door on people, but most of all, I close the door on myself.
When will this be over? I don’t know…I don’t even know if I want it to be over.
I dream of him about every three weeks, dreams where I go looking after him wanting to stay with me. But he doesn’t, not even in my dreams he chooses me. He rejects me and it kills me.
The thing is that we didn’t have a chance to say goodbye. The last time I saw him, he was flipping me off with both hands walking the opposite way on puddle filled alley. The last words that I heard from him were “I can’t talk, they’ll throw me in jail” through the phone. We just stayed there for a minute listening to each others breaths.
But until this day, I wonder; Does he think of me the way I think of him? Does he remember me the way I remember him? Does he cherish the good times just like I do? Does he feel some kind of guilt? Some kind of remorse?
These are the questions that come to mind when I end up in that self-destructing turbine.
Then, forcefully, I think about the things that he did to me, the other girl, that last day, all of that just to make it go away.

Up to Date

During the time that I’ve been back in California with my family, there have been three court dates. The first one didn’t go that well because,obviously, I wasn’t there personally to testify and didn’t have enough evidence; so I sent screen shots from the messages that I had with his sister and him, admiting and recognizing his anger issues. After the second court date I was informed with good news, my case passed and he was finally declared guilty. On the third court date he was going to be charged, I was asked to send a letter if I had any type of requests, which I did, but every time I sat down to do that, I would get lost and just couldn’t. When I did manage to do so and send the letter, it was too late, it arrived a day after the hearing. What I wanted to request was a substance abuse program, that way he would be having to do scheduled and sporadic drug tests. Now he has to do community service, 18  months of probation, and the domestic violence program (which includes, counseling, and anger management).
Now, I was told that I could request restitution, something that I gave a good thought on, asked my friends for advice and their opinions, and acceded to do so.

There’s an upcoming court date in June where the desicion’s going to be made. Hopefully, everything goes well, like it has been since I decided to leave Oregon.

#BitchBetterHaveMyMoney

Off we go…

So before hitting the road, I went to fill up the tank, get some air on my tires, an oil change and a quick check-up. Well, when I went to get my check-up, the mechanic told me that I made a good desicion on getting it done, I didn’t even take a look under the hood, because my radiator cap wasn’t there. It sucks to realize that the person you loved, maliciously, wanted to hurt you, to leave you stranded in the middle of nowhere…

I don’t even remember where my first stop was, if in Idaho or somewhere before that in Oregon. During that first night I called his mom to let her know what had happened, that I wasn’t going to press charges because I just wanted to get as far away as I could. She understood the position that I was in, actually, she understood it very well because she was in the same position I was in years ago with her ex-husband, my ex-boyfriend’s dad. His dad, an alcoholic, heroin addict, bipolar, schizophrenic. I can clearly remember how he would say that he has always been white trash, that he had worked so much to not be that type of person.

When I finally reached Utah, my car started failing, it was hella cold outside and my needle was fluctuating straightly to hot after every mile I would try to drive. I ended up staying four nights in a Super 8 Motel in a very small populated city, Tremonton. The bills were adding up, my funds were running out, and my desperation and depression were increasing by the minute. Every night, before going to sleep, I would have to do yoga and respiration excersizes to make my heartrate go down and stay down. My company on my slepless nights was a woman from the 24 hr Domestic Violence hotline. Sometimes the calls would consist of nothing, I just wanted some kind of company that knew exactly what I was going through, and she would bear with me every time I called.

 

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                                                                                                                                           Motel 6    Tremonton, UT

Second Strike Pt.2

It was past midnight and he wasn’t up yet, my tablet was his alarm clock, but it was already packed. He overslept and was running late for work. Then, at 1 a.m., I heard him get up so I turned myself facing the wall with my pepper spray in hand without the safety lock on under my pillow. He quietly entered the room, got his clothes from the closet and ran to work. I felt in peace and was able to relax for a little. He would get off from work at 8:30 a.m., but this time  he got back at 6:00 a.m., came in and went straight to the restroom to take a shower. I got up half an hour later, dressed up and walked into the kitchen. There he was, sitting on the living room floor with his memorabilia box beside him looking at old family pictures. Then I saw his face red with puffy, glossy eyes. I gave him space and finished packing some other stuff, returned to the kitchen, and told him..

Me: “If you have something to say, this is the time to do so”

Him: “I don’t know what to say”

Me: “Look…one of the worst things that someone can do is to not to say what they’re feeling, because the regret afterwards of not doing so is  an awful one. But I do have something to tell you, I want you to be happy, and it’s clearly not going to be with me, and that’s fine. I don’t want you to live with someone that keeps you unhappy. Besides of all the shit that you did to me, I’m only going to take the happy memories. You, well, it’ll be on you on how  you want to remember me by. I love you so much, tried my best, but wasn’t enough. I don’t want to leave this way…pissed. Can I give you a goodbye hug?”

He wasn’t able to look at me in the eye when I was telling him these words. He then just threw himself into my arms and started crying hard on my shoulder. I just hold him tight, inhaled slowly so that I could remember his smell and ran my fingers from my right hand through his hair.

I walked into the room and continued packing, he walked in and said that he was going to fight for me, to fight what he destroyed, to fight for our love. That he was going to fly over there and bring me back to our home. That he wasn’t going to let something that has changed his life in many positive ways to slip away. I told him that we needed time apart, that he needed time alone. That maybe, some day we would work, but not now.

 

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And as you can see, because of this picture, I decided to stay, to give him a chance…to give us a chance, another chance.

Second Strike Pt. 1

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We were working things out, things were still kind of on edge, but I had hope.
My friends were very worried about me, they wanted me to fly back to Tijuana, to be with them and with my family, somewhere safe. So I started lying to them and to my parents, telling them that we were broken up, that things were done aftert that fight, that he wasn’t living there at the apartment anymore.

I don’t remember how the discussion started, but I do remember, myself, being on my knees, between his legs, while he was sitting on a rocking chair that his aunt gave us; he was stubborn, and well, being a dick. After having a somewhat long of a conversation, or at least that’s how it felt like; I told him, in a calm but serious tone, that my patience has a limit, and that God’s my witness I was patient…so then I asked him  “What is it that you want? Because I know what I want, and what I want is to be with you, to be how we were,I don’t want no one else.”…he just paused and said “What I want is for you to want to leave”…my heart dropped, was in complete disbelief. After he begged me to stay, after all the promises that he made, after all the loving words that he said. I said that it was fine, if that’s what he really wanted. I went to the bedroom and stayed there, he didn’t care seeing me cry, he didn’t care the sadness that showed on my face, he got his phone, the apartment key and left, again…
I stayed in the room the whole day and afternoon packing again for the second time..I was so mad, frustrated, I felt betrayed, worthless and played…
It was night already, I was chatting on Facebook with a very good friend of mine, unfortunately she has been in an abusive relationship before, when he got back. As soon as he walked through the door, my body started shaking non-stop, couldn’t control my body, my hands and jaw were shaking uncontrollably…He got into the apartment yelling “I’m gonna make some noise!”, he came into the room, I was frozen, again…stiff as a board, he grabbed some stuff from under the coffee table that was across from the bed, dragging everything out, he crumbled a letter that I wroted for him and soaked in with water and threw in the kitchen trashcan, while he did this, he was looking at me and smiling. He ripped the curtain that separated the bedroom from the rest of the apartment, and then he tried to throw me out of the bed by pulling the sheets, which are mine, off the bed and lifting the mattress. I could smell alcohol on his breath…He went to the bathroom and started to take a shower, he was “rapping” what he was feeling at the moment, and what he was feeling was clearly hate toward’s me. I coulnd’t listen to him for another second, so I put a CD on the DVD player and played it as loud as I could. He then went to the living room and slept the rest of the night. Something that I couldn’t do because I was afraid, afraid of him maybe entering and try to do something to me in my sleep…

To be continued…