Expectation : a belief that someone will or should achieve something


I am expected to be a certain way.

I am expected to act like a trophy wife.

I am expected to be a house maid.

I am expected to be classy at all times.

I am expected to be discreet.

I am expected to say yes all the time.

I am expected to change for the sake of someone else’s comfort.

I am expected to always be on time.

I am expected to bite my tongue.

I am expected to bow down to the all mightiest of the house.

I am expected to be someone who I am not just because you are not happy.

What about my expectations? What about my feelings, my requirements, my standards and morals?

What about the fact that I feel suffocated and trapped everytime I have to just pretend that didn’t hurt or that the simple truth is that you are wrong?

What about the fact that everyone expects and apology from I and never gives one in return to all the pain and mental suffering you cause?

What about the fact that I pull myself apart to run around doing everything they ask of me every single one of you and no one helps me out or considers how they make me feel about all these things that are just plain selfish of all of you to expect?

What about the fact that your expectations had led me to cry quietly in the shower and day dream about hurting me just to feel something other than anguish…

Wandering Soul…


Many hello’s to all near and far.  I’ve got to admit that writing has been a distant friend of mine for a couple of months now and I do not know if it is the lack of inspiration or the lack of will that has kept me so quiet. Then again, I’ve been pretty quiet in a lot of situations lately. I know my post are always so up and down, from one extreme to the other. In reality that’s not even how I am, but, the situations in real life tend to make me react this way.

Lately, I feel voiceless. Like no matter how carefully I choose my words, no matter how much thought I put into them, they never come out because they won’t be heard nor understood. I feel like the things I need to say to save my soul are not allowed. I feel unhappy. Lately, depression  has hit me so harshly and not in the I cry myself to sleep kind or every song makes me sorrowful, but just in the way that it leaves you tired and the endless questions your mind has for the people involved are just always there.

No I have not cried. I have not sang.  And this is my first writing in such a long time and even reading this back to myself I feel chaotic and confused. The constant unhappiness I feel about a lot of things and situations that feel unresolved plague me and the sad thing is that I do not feel safe in speaking of them to anyone because the people I love do not understand how I feel or how to react and I am scared of another fight.

I am unhappy.




The Story She Never Told … (Short Story)


All alone. That’s what she was. Empty and cold. Her heart withdrew within the deep shallows of her dark places that she had created to save herself from so much pain. She never wanted to let go of him. She wanted to hold him close because he was the light that shown in her darkened world.

After all, he had saved her from herself and she hated to admit the simple fact. Pathetic. She knew he would leave. She knew that he was wild and free, untamed, and held so many haunting memories  that he could never let go of. He was a mess, a chaotic, black whole of a mess. She had loved him either way.

But she always knew you could never hold on to people who always let go. She couldn’t beg him to stay, to realize the errors in his ways, to see how much she had given of herself to him and he just wanted to dream of different worlds and be let lose to harm himself and wait for her to pick up his pieces. He wasn’t fair. She never could let go.


This sun don’t shine when I’m alone
I lose my mind and I lose control
I see your eyes look through my soul
Don’t be surprised, this all I know

I felt the highs and they felt like you
See a love like mine is too good to be true
And you too divine to just be mine
You remind me of the color blue

I think that I am good with love, sometimes. I’d like to paint love like the fairy tale that it should be and should feel like, but, I have come to understand that it only is the tale that we create or make it to be. The one that best fit our moment at the time. There are so many versions of love, so many twist and turns, so many acceptable and unacceptable terms. So I’d like to say that yes, yes I am good with love, sometimes.

I’d like to tell you that the stories of love, each one that made an impact on me had a very nice story, but its far from the truth. Each story of love seemed to get worse and worse with each person. To be honest I have only been in love twice, not including the now. I have told only three people I loved them. And all three were drastically different in every way.

One love, was my first love. The second, was a very much like instinct to love and nurture kind of love. The third and ultimately the most devastating love, was the hard lesson, the one that changed me, the one that hit me so hard it left me empty and confused about love. The one that haunts me. The final one, and hopefully last, has been quite a ride but ultimately one that I have felt full devotion from and sweet blissful love.

I feel that each one deserves a post to themselves, showing each one for what they truly were and are and acknowledging each unique success and fail. I hold them close, as lessons mainly, and as memories of the loss of a girl I once knew.

To The Moon & Back (Short Story)

She had never contemplated her life this much as she sat there looking out her window. She stared endlessly at the immense blue ocean. Its waves came and went and she almost wished they’d sway her back and forth just so that she could get out of this reality she had to accept.

“I am sorry. This is really not how I wanted things to go, but I… I just, I need to do this. I need to live my life for the time being. I love you. I never wanted to admit it, but I am in love with you. But, I can’t keep you to myself, I won’t treat you right. You need someone that is not me.” He said calmly as he let his fingers creep up her leg, to her arm and then his fingers wrapped around hers.

She turned her stare to him. Tears threatened to fall. He was in love with her?

“You aren’t in love with me. How can you say that and treat me as you have? How can you sit there and expect me to believe your lies when all this time, I have been here for you and all you have done is lie and manipulate and wash my brain with empty promises and false statements of love! Love?! This isn’t it and I! I have loved you way to much and I! I have shown you with all of me that I love you! You love me…” She yelled in anger and frustration.

She felt enraged and confused, how did she not see this coming. Every time he got close to her he snapped back and gave her the same line and then she would pretend she was okay with it just to keep him close, hoping and wishing that with time he would realize that she was meant for him.

“I can’t continue hurting you, I do love you… I always have.” He almost sounded regretful.

She couldn’t stay here anymore. She jumped out the car and ran away from the miserable moment. From the fake love he gave her. From all the lies and the pain he inflicted in her. She ran back to earth where her head needed to be and left her heart with the stars and the moon. And from that she swore she would never look back.

Mess is Mine…

Do you like walking in the rain?
When you think of love, do you think of pain?
You can tell me what you see
I will choose what I believe

In my eyes, are my tears of joy, of pain, of sadness, of memories that will only be just that till the day I lay my soul in the ground to turn into dust. I’d like to think that when I am in my truck ,driving these endless roads, you turn and you see the girl full of hopes and dreams. Maybe, you see her shedding long time tears of fear, or maybe you see her singing a song with her heart in hand.

That’s what I do. I sing my heart out to the songs that are like bookmarked chapters of my old life. Sometimes the emotions clash with the present but then again maybe it is all the same. The familiar dull ache of remembering your name or your face. The familiar tug at the heart that reminds me that people change but memories stay the same.

And pain it seems to me, that it is all I have really known to come out of love. The unrequited love, the could of been love, the love that intoxicated you and left you empty, the kind of love that was meant to be but not the right time. So many types of love that you experienced them all at such a young age and it left you bitter.

I’d like to think that when you see me cruising by in my big blue, you see me smiling with the tears streaming down my face. Listening to a song that triggers your memory and reminds you that I shall never fade. I hope you feel the same pain you caused in me and that all the memories flood your brain and you feel nostalgic for what you told me once a long time ago. I hope you regret and you fret and you miss me so.

Stressed Out…

We used to play pretend, give each other different names,
We would build a rocket ship and then we’d fly it far away,
Used to dream of outer space but now they’re laughing at our face,
Saying, “Wake up, you need to make money.”

I don’t know if maybe my emotional death is due to the change of seasons. It’s winter time in LA. Finally, I can wear cozy clothes without trying so hard. I can let loose my despair and pain and become a cliche writer. Ha! I’ve been writing a lot, mainly in my personal journal about personal things, get it? It’s made me more sarcastic.

My marriage has survived 7 months. Trust me that is a major accomplishment. It has been one hell of a ride so far, its been good, its been ugly and its been bad. Just as well, I’ve experienced profound feelings of being in love and also ecstasy without taking the actual drug. However, I’ve learned a lot, and to be honest, I am still trying to cope with most of it.

Marriage is such a vulnerable state of mind. You must communicate and trust. You must be dependable and no what battles to go to war with. You learn to accept flaws and faults and realize that without those flaws the good qualities would be dull and pointless. No, I did not say that you assumed and little meaningless arguments that will somehow turn into bigger discussions because surprise! You both have explosive characters. Its a blast.

Most importantly, I’ve noticed that most of the time I re-treat to my mind and shut down. I hold my tongue. I leave out a lot of words that are meant to be said but are not meant to be heard. Also, the thought of losing a person is killer. You pray a lot. For sanity, for peace, for God to so kindly protect your stubborn husband and to let you roll through another day in harmony, well at least something nice of that sort.

You quickly realize who is the most dependent person between both of you (aka: me). You come to feel lonely after an hour of not having them around and it makes you miserable till they finally get home and then you are wishing they were back at work leaving you alone. It makes you think a lot, I wonder half of the day if he loves me more, if he misses me, if he hates me, is he still angry or will he be fine, does he hide things from me, what are his secrets? Dwell, cry, and then dwell some more.

Then that process follows with questions about yourself. Am I crazy? Why am I so clingy? Ew, get it together! But the minute he steps into the room you feel calm and nothing matters but him and your love and the fact that he is home. So you put your face on and do it all over again. Marriage is amazing. I am neurotic. Match made in heaven.