The story of kale, tangerines, and the realizations I made.

I ate a piece of kale the other day.

It was growing in a garden box at school, so I pulled a leaf off of the plant and ate it.

It was a nice, sturdy piece of kale. It tasted pretty good. I continued munching on it as I walked over to the baseball field.

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Kale can be a nice snack, if you’re into dark leafy greens. But, as many experienced plant-eaters know, raw kale is quite tough to chew.

My jaws were getting a little bit tired, so I switched over to eating a different leaf that I had also picked from the garden box. I’m not sure what plant this was, but it was softer and sweeter than the kale.

As I was chewing, I twirled the piece between my thumb and my pointer finger.

I started to study the leaves. The kale was dark and rough. It was much more aggressively textured than the other leaf.

It was at that moment when I stopped chewing, for I noticed dozens of very tiny, white bugs all along the sides of the leaves.

I swallowed my bite, then tossed the remnants of my half-eaten leaves aside. I decided not to dwell on it too much, because I didn’t want the thought of the bugs to take away from the otherwise positive experience I had eating them.

(I would like to apologize to the innocent lives I took that day. I didn’t thoroughly inspect the leaves before eating them, and that was selfish of me. To the bugs that once inhabited the kale: I am sorry.)

On a completely unrelated note, this morning my parents and I went out to our tangerine trees. It was time to prune them. After about an hour of picking fruit and chopping branches, my dad said to me: “This is a chore that very few other people your age have to do, but you have to remember that it just makes you more cosmopolitan.”

Though I didn’t really enjoy being outside when it was 40 degrees, I did find comfort in the fact that our work would provide more fruit for us next season.

I never realized it before, but I am so thankful that I know how to take care of citrus trees.

I live in a place where I am fortunate enough to grow my own food. I take that for granted.

I hope that I will always have this luxury, bugs and all.

“sometimes it takes more courage to live than to kill yourself”

i hope you’re okay.

i miss you.

you seem happier now, we both do.

but, we both know deep down that we will most likely never be fully okay.

i ask myself all the time… what could i have done better?

how could i have helped you, made you see what i saw in you?

you sat on the edge for a while, staring over the ledge at the busy freeway. i stood starring at you from below, sobbing.

in your mind, there was nothing to live for, nothing worth living for.

live for me, i thought. live for me. please live for me.

it’s selfish, but i needed you, in all honesty, i still do.

i loved you then, i love you now.

you didn’t jump because you knew that if you did, it wouldn’t kill you. you’d survive the fall and, when you woke up, you’d be sent to a place far worse than the center we were at.

i lived with you for two months in a residential treatment center for eating disorders until we were both discharged.

we suffered together, we cried together, but we laughed together too.

we’d talk in spanish complaining about the staff, we’d talk about boys, we’d talk about all the things we’d do once we got out of center for discovery (the treatment center we were at), and all things we would do together.

at the center, all sharp objects, from knives to pen caps, are locked in a cabinet which only the staff has a key too.

i remember that one night in our room. i heard a noise coming from your side of the room.

the staff who watches us at night had fallen asleep and someone had forgotten to lock away a pen cap.

you lay in bed, a broken pen cap in your hand, and blood on your wrists.

i ran to you and tried to take away the cap. you pushed me away, i lunged at you again and took it.

i grabbed your arms and forced them around me. you sobbed, begging for the cap. i could almost hear you internally begging to me, “end this please, end me please.”

you kept on saying please in between sobs. over and over again: “please.”

“shhh,” i whispered crying. “shhh”.

you were seventeen at the time, i was thirteen.

i was a ninety-pound, anorexic, thirteen-year-old girl living in a metal hospital.

you were a bulimic, suicidal, seventeen-year-old girl living in a mental hospital.

i held you for what felt like hours, i hugged you until you stopped crying.

you’re nineteen.

i don’t see you much anymore, we talk sometimes though.

you were sent back to the center twice because you relapsed.

you seem better now though, you seem happy now, but i worry a lot.

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you’re nineteen. if you go back to your old ways, you’re parents can’t legally force you back to the center, you’re an adult.

if you wanted to, you can find a bigger ledge, one that could end it all.

i can’t protect you anymore, i’m not there to grab the pen cap.

you are happy now, but we both know how fast things can change.

i hope you stay happy forever. please stay happy forever.

if you are ever sad, please tell me.

thirteen years old in a treatment center, fifteen years old in my room writing this, twenty years old wherever i’ll be then, no matter what age or what place, i will always be here to hold you.

two love poems

It’s Inevitable, Isn’t It?

It’s inevitable, isn’t it?

The loneliness we all know

Too well to ignore.

Loneliness is a shadow

That follows the lovely moments,

The beautiful moments, the love.

We know both sides,

We know dark yields light,

But, just like that, we know love might

Be temporary just as all other things.

Temporary in the way it sings;

Temporary with its whizzing wings;

Temporary, because we know what wins.

What wins is not light, or day, or love,

Or night or dark, or loneliness.

What wins is the cycle

Of all we know,

All we love,

All we despise.

__________________________________________

Go. 

It still hurts, believe me.

You left me half a year ago,

You broke me then, you know?

I tried to hold you back,

Have you back, the way we were.

You didn’t.

You didn’t want that, you didn’t want me,

Didn’t want me in your life,

In your heart, in your camera roll, in your mind.

And see what you did?

See what I did?

I lost the mask I had put on your face all this time.

I began hating to hear your name all around,

I forgot how I ever loved you.

That’s the funny thing about love.

You never think it ends

When you’re its guest.

You think it will last forever and go on and go on and

Go.

Go, go and leave me and don’t remind me

Of what you gave me and took away,

What you promised and didn’t keep,

What you told me and meant with all your heart,

But what does that matter, if your heart has changed?

It still hurts, believe me.

Cutting you out of my memories,

Ignoring birthdays and anniversaries,

Seeing her.

But that’s the funny thing about love:

We are so willing to fall in love and fall on our hearts,

And we think it will go on and go on and

Go.

Mother, Mother

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Mother, Mother,

Please don’t frown,

Nothing’s turning upside down.

Mother, Mother,

Open your eyes and see

That love is in everything.

Mother, Mother,

Please don’t cry.

It’s not too late to give love a try.

Mother, Mother,

Don’t be mad.

For I promise, it’s our love that’ll make you glad.

Mother, Mother,

If only you could see

That our love could fix anything.

Mother, Mother,

Don’t shut the door.

We know we’re not welcome anymore.

Mother, Mother

Please don’t be angry

Because it’s your anger that makes you scary

Mother, Mother,

Put that drink away.

We really wish that you would stay.

Mother, Mother,

Please don’t die,

Because if you do, it’ll make us cry.

Mother, Mother,

Why can’t you see

That life is better than it seems.

Mother, Mother,

We love you so,

More than you will ever know,

Mother, Mother,

Please don’t push us away,

Because it’s our love that makes us stay.

My Christmas

photo credit: pinterest.com

I found this a while ago, while looking through notes on my phone:

To many people, Christmas is a day to wake up early and run to all of the presents that await you. Many of my friend’s stories on Snapchat were pictures of things they got, like a Hydro Flask, new phone, drum set, AirPods, and more, with the caption “Merry Christmas.”

Unlike many of my friends, for me, today was not a day focused on gifts. I spent the day with my grandparents and parents. We did not exchange physical gifts, our gift was being together as a family.

Instead of being sad or mad that my family doesn’t celebrate Christmas, I took a different approach. Today reminded me of all I have and all I can do to give back. Christmas is about giving, so I did, but a little different that most people did today.

This evening, I spent over two hours signing petitions, calling senators, and sending letters to change the injustice happening today.

This evening, I sent, signed, and made over 105 petitions, letters, and calls.

No, today I did not wake up to an abundance of presents. No, today I did not celebrate Christmas like most people do.

But today, I used my power to make a difference, in my opinion, and learned my ability to express my beliefs is better than anything that could be under the Christmas tree.

Take advantage of your gift. Make a change today.

Feelings

I don’t even know what to call this.

I’m mad.

I’m sad.

I’m frustrated.

I want to punch a wall.

I want to cry.

I wanna talk to someone, but I’m scared.  I have brought it up to a few people, but they’re not the ones I want to talk to. But, I don’t know how to talk to you.  I don’t know how to tell you what I’m feeling; I don’t really know what I am even feeling.  But, I know it’s dumb.  I don’t care if you hang out with your friends, but yesterday was a bad day so it annoyed me more than it ever should have.  I don’t care if I see you later on Saturday, I don’t know why it made me upset.

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Clearly, Saturday really isn’t the thing that is getting to me.  But, I don’t really know what is getting to me.  I honestly just miss you and hate how hard it is to see you.  Also, I’m starting to develop real feelings, which I have been scared of, and have been trying to stay away from since last year.  I don’t want to push you away, but I am scared I am going to subconsciously do that.

I have no clue how to bring this up and actually say this to you and I know my hints are too subtle, but I know you’ve read a couple of my blog posts, so hopefully, you’ll read this and understand it.

What if You Knew?

If only you knew.

I don’t know if it would change anything, I don’t even know if I would want it to. But from time to time, I find myself wondering: what if you knew?

Would I be the one wearing your jackets? The one that you’re waiting for when class is over? The one that you’d sit down with at dinner and who you’d tell how your day went? The one that you’d miss whenever I wasn’t with you? The one that could make you as happy as you’ve always deserved to be?

The thing is, you are happy. She makes you happy and I’m happy for you guys, believe me. You’re good for each other and I’ll leave it at that. I’ll never do anything to interfere with what you guys have, that wouldn’t be right. I know that. But, deep down, I still find myself wondering, what if you knew?

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Would you chose me over her? Probably not, there’s no way. She’s a 10/10. I’m, well, not. She’s with you, I’m not. If you knew, you’d probably think I was insane with no morals. You’d probably avoid eye contact with me for the rest of the school year until I leave this place behind, hopefully forgetting about how terribly difficult it is to see you across the room, wanting to be there with you, but knowing that, with your arm around her, you’ll never even consider me to be more than an acquaintance.

I hope you don’t know that I’m talking about you. I hope you’ll never know. But from time to time, I find myself wondering: what if you did?