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.

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Fuck Your V-Day

I woke up at seven, got up and started getting ready for work. Nothing better than having my mom telling me shit about how I don’t do anything in my life, great. That was a hellavuh good morning for me. Went crying to my room and only gave myself four minutes to do so. After that, I realized that I wasn’t crying because of the shit my mom told me just then, but because I realized it has been a year already since I move back to San Diego since I left Oregon, since I left the one that I thought was ‘it’. My mind didn’t know it, but my heart did (or subconcious, whatevs). I’m pretty sure I’m not the only once that has experienced this kind of situation.

Since elementary, I remember getting so excited for Valentine’s, just going to the store to buy candy and the most awesome V-cards there were out there to hand out to my classmates.
At first it didn’t hurt, seeing that most of my female classmates would receive anonymous letters from guys declaring their love to them, roses and fancy chocolate being delivered. It didn’t hurt because I would think to myself “Next year…”. “Next year” never happened to me. But who am I to blame? Really? Who would do that? Who would be the poor bastard to like a chubby, four-eyed girl with a slick back ponytail like me? No one. I never had a secret Valentine, or just a Valentine for what matters. Just grew up hopeless in that department. A big ass hopeless romantic.

I was bullied for my physical appearance growing up, since first grade of Elementary, all the way up through High School. From how I would pronounce my “ch”, how my glasses were so big and thick, the extra pounds on me, and not really having a style, well, pretty much for everything. Girls would talk to me behind my back and boys would laugh right in front of my face. And I really didn’t understand why, why was I the target of so many people. Fortunately that didn’t make me change the way I was, kind.
Everything that I’ve been through has made me who I am right now. Yeah, I may be read like a female version of a Don Juan, but I do have feelings. I’ve had very nice bonds with my men, and also shitty experiences/feelings with them as well. Life has taught me to be a cabrona. It has its advantages and disadvantages, and they are usually in two extreme opposite poles.

That’s how I grew up disliking Valentine’s Day. I think I’ve only celebrated Valentine’s three times, and that was because I was dating my first boyfriend (around five years ago). Nothing before that, and still, nothing after that. I could say that I could care less, but damn, it looks like it feels hella nice. *Exhale slowly* Oh well, that’s life and I can’t do anything about it. Fuck everything and everyone, especially you, Cupid! You keep freaking missing!

 

 

Mirror, Mirror On The Wall-Who’s The Dirtiest One Of All?

It was late at night, I already ran out of coke and my friends were planning on getting some more and go to another friends place to keep on partying but I decided to stay.
Went to my favorite bar in downtown Tijuana, the bar that never closes, and ordered some 40’s of Tecate Roja with a friend that I thought was going to be alone, not accompanied with her boring ex-boyfriend. So, ofcourse, I was the only one getting drunk, whoopy…
Then, finally, things got interesting when this guy comes in and joins the opposite end of the table. Hubba! Hubba! I see him, and notice him looking back at me as well.

I knew it. I wanted him. I was going to have him. #feelingdetermined

We both knew who we were but he has, or was, been in the longest ass relationship ever with a girl that has the bitch face resting syndrome (she’s actually very pretty and has huge tits), but Ms. Steal Your Man saw him without his bodyguard and only with male friends that looked that were ready to have a great time, and so was I.
Like about a 40 oz later, he and his crew got a booth and about half an hour after, the booth right next to his was free with my name written all over it.
My friend, my very fun friend, decided to leave with her ex, even when I clearly stayed and passed on good blow because she wanted to have a “drunken” night #myballs. So before she left, I asked her if she could quickly ask for his name and introduce me to him, but she got “nervous” #goddamn. **Ps. That’s the easiest way to meet someone when a couple of drinks are in your system, but she couldn’t even do that …**

A friend that we, the guy and I, have in common sat with me and we were just remembering the good ol’ days. I asked him what was up with his buddy and ‘assured’ me that he was still dating his girl, but I decided not to believe in that. Trust me, I wasn’t the only one after him. Before I made my move, I saw how two girls failed. The second girl didn’t take the hint and was just annoying the fuck out of him, so I decided to play hero and save him #ifyouknowhwatImean. That’s when I just turned around and made a “come over” sign with my hand, and he did. That was it (Thank god for my psychology classes and body language reading abilities).
He sat on my left side and our buddy was on my right. While we were laughing and ordering more drinks, he was touching my leg up and down and squeezing my ass. That’s when I thought “Hu, the girl ain’t on the picture anymore eh’?”, because we were right next to his homies, which are his gilfriend’s friends too, so I just went with it.

About an hour later we were leaving that joint, I opened the door and the sun was blinding our eyes, who know’s what time it was.
We arrived, went into my crib and sat in different couches of my living room. I went quickly to my bedroom to get my water pipe and weed. Started lighting it up, offered him some but he declined. I smoked a little more, placed everything aside and locked him down, with my legs ofcourse. Damn, things got hot very quick. He didn’t mind that I was on my period #real #best (Don’t worry, it was my first day, so no murder scene going on).

Not even kidding, we fucked in the couch, we fucked in the dining room against a full sized mirror, also fucked in the kitchen against the refrigerator, fucked in the restroom against that mirror, left him in the shower, went to my other shower to rinse and clean everything and joined him again; we fucked standing up with the water running over us, and also laying down on the tub. We finally took the situation to my bedroom; we fucked standing against my mirror, again, and on my bed. He fucked me so good, as if he hadn’t fucked in years.
That rough, hair pulling, face slapping, ass spanking, name calling, shoulder biting, raw, hella good kind of sex #mykindofsex. Damn, he was good. I came multiple times and so did he. We both passed out, well, he did, I was only able to rest my eyes for like an hour before I had to get up and take care of my babies (pets). He woke up around 7:00 pm, I laid right next to him and asked him for his phone so I could delete all the porn videos that we made earlier that day #lol.
When we were saying our goodbyes he said “We’ll see each other soon, maybe sooner than we think”, in my mind I was like “Fuck yeah, baby”.

Afterwards, I just stayed at home, ate pizza and watched movies. The next morning I had to trace my steps and clean up the whole house. Our hand prints were on all the mirrors throughout the place (If you’ve ever been, you’ve seen how many I have…plenty!) It was like going back to memory lane, remembering what happened in every mirror that we stopped (fucked) by. If only mirrors could speak.

I could get addicted to you.

We finally got there, after a very long drive on the saturated freeway. Entered to the back part of the venue where the concert was taking place and headed right to the front on the left side. The lights were bright, and as soon as the two lights that were blinding my eyes moved away, I saw him.  There he ways, rocking away on stage. Didn’t mind him though, knowing that his woman was somewhere on the back or side watching him, and probably trying to see who was eyeballing him. Right after the set ended, I went to the bar next door to get a drink. Caught up with some friends, and headed back to the venue. As soon as I crossed the gate, what a coincidence, he was walking towards my way with his girl on his arm. I did’t look, I just kept doing my thing and kept walking. I danced and sang the whole time the main band was playing. My eyes were closed while I was moving to the rhythm of the music, looked up and saw him across the stage, without her this time. I could just feel him watching me.
The concert ended and the group that I was with and I jumped back to the bar next door and got a couple of more drinks. That’s when he confirmed me that she was gone for the night, when I looked at my phone and saw a missed call from him. I just texted him back “bar next door”, gave him the green light on my side as well. Knew he wanted me to go after him, but this time, I wanted him to go after me. Everyone had their buzz on and were ready to keep partying.
He was planning to go back home, so I left to the hotel with a friend of ours. I didn’t have any expectations for that night, so I wasn’t hoping for him to go party at the hotel. I get off from my friends car, got my purse and started walking towards the room, and there he was again with the rest of the crew. Half a smirk appeared on my face because at that moment I knew that  I won, that we won (again).
Got in the room, placed the beers in the mini-fridge, and threw the bag of coke and weed on the table. Party was set and going, lines were being snorted. We still kept our distance; he was hanging on the other side of the room, then he got up and got his stash out and prepared some lines on another table. I went up to him and started a conversation, he offered me some and I took some. The way that he got me out of that hotel was by telling our friend, the one that got the room,and I if we wanted to keep partying at his place. Got my things and headed out. Lighted up a cigarette, turned around and noticed that it was only going to be the two of us. He called for a cab, we took off and arrived to his apartment. Started smoking out of an apple while he was getting some white lines ready along the coffee table.

It has taken me a while writing this, just keep getting interrupted with those hot, vivid memories. Okay, focus girl, focus.

Music was playing on the background, got comfortable on the sofa, he sat next to me, placed his arm around me as I leaned in.  Ours lips touched and tongues brushed. Heart rates started rising… I turned to face him, he hold my hand and leaded me to get on top of him, locked him down on the couch with my thighs around his. Placed my hands on his shoulders, and began kissing and giving gentle licks on his neck. Started from the bottom and went up to his ear tracing the way with the tip of my tongue. Took his earlobe and sucked it for a little while. Felt his body shiver and his hands moving to my ass. He slipped his hands between my legs and started caressing my pussy. Breaths were getting heavier and clothes were getting off. We took the situation to the bedroom, laid him down and got on top of him again, now I started from his earlobe down to his shoulders, took his shirt off, kept going down while kissing his chest, licking his stomach and lightly biting his hip bones. Looked up and he was looking back, I had his complete attention. Looked back down, unbuckled his belt and unbuttoned of his pants, looked back again, and he was still with me, paying close attention to everything I was doing. Unzipped him and went down.
There are two types of guys while they’re getting blown; the ones that look away and/or close their eyes throughout most of the act, and the visual ones, like him. It doesn’t make me uncomfortable, it makes me feel sexy. I would look up at him when I was down, see him with his mouth slightly open and just taking everything in, or wait, that was me. There I am, face down and ass up between his legs. I lift my torso, and crawled towards him like a kitty cat while making eye contact. Got back on top of him and we started dry humping, building up anticipation.
Line after line, kiss after kiss, fuck after fuck. That’s how five hours of our night went. It was just like a movie. I couldn’t get enough of him, and he couldn’t get enough of me. You know those kisses where you barely touch your lips? It’s more like an exchanging of breaths? Those I find very passionate, that simple act that makes you feel a strong connection with the person your with, as if you were one.
I tried going to sleep for a little, but he wouldn’t let me. He would start touching my butt and kissing my neck, getting me hornier and hornier.
“How many times can I fuck you before I leave?”
“As many time as you want, baby.”
He knows exactly where to touch me and how to talk to me. He accepts me as I am, as I do to him. He worships my body just as I do his. He loves it when I dance for him, and I do it with pleasure. I’m there to fulfill his dreams and needs, and do it willingly.
He sits down on the edge of his bed while I twerk for him on the carpet floor facing away  while he watches and masturbates. He fucks me there again in a way that I can’t move. He’s the one that makes me moan and wet the most. I love it. I squirm. I cum.
I get up and get on the bed, he places me on the edge so I that I can keep dancing for him. I thought he was standing behind me, but when I looked around, he was on his knees, having the full view of my plumped pussy and asshole. Damn, he loves it, and I love that he does. His arousal turns me on.

Unfortunately we only had one night for each other. I’ve been craving him since I got my foot out of his apartment. My mind has been busy reliving everything that happened that night. Like a porn movie left on replay.
He said that this couldn’t happen anymore because his consciousness started catching up to him, and I respect that.

But I know that he’ll be back.

They always come back.

Ex-Mother In Law

Just when everything seemed peaceful and in order, I received a phone call from a debt collector, saying that my ex-boyfriend didn’t finish paying something from the property we were living in together. Unfortunately both of our names were on the lease, which means that if the debt wasn’t payed on time, it would affect to both of our credits.
I, naively, called his mom, because there’s a no contact order between us, and as soon as she answered I told her that this was going to be an awkward phone call, but I was just letting her know, because I knew that he already had a bad credit and woulnd’t want it to get worse.

Well, the phone call didn’t go as expected, she started raising her voice at me, telling me how I fucked up his son’s life, how I was wrong on not accepting that he didn ‘t love me any more and that he was in love with someone else.
Really, Shawnee? I fucked up his life? It was all my fault? Wow!… I kept my cool, listened to what she had to say and answered ..
“Look, Shawnee, I didn’t call to cause any problems, on the contrary, it was just to let you know what was going on because I can’t have any type of contact with your son. Second, I know that he’s your son, and that you will obviously take his side and support him, believe me, I ain’t asking other wise. And last, both of us know what he did, but if lying to yourself makes you feel better, go ahead.”

After hanging up, a lot of things came to my mind…She was blaming ME for what happened to his son, she was blaming ME for all the money that has been spent since then.
Seriously, how ignorant can a person be… I was 1000 miles away, and my case passed, evidence was accepted and I didn’t have to be there in person to testify against him because they had MORE THAN ENOUGH. Just think about that tiny little note, Shawnee. All of this was caused by him, not me.

Have a good day.

 

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