Even with riches I want to feel pain
The same one I feel now
The one that keeps me going
The one that keeps my work pure
I never want to forget where I come from
I dont want to neglect the struggles and disapproval I’ve felt
When I was told that if I don’t go to high school in Brooklyn I won’t go to school at all
As if that would stop me
My first fear that year was getting lost Cuz she told me not to call her, she was not going to help me
In two months I graduate from a school in Manhattan
I will be going away aside from being told no and being told stories of people who killed themselves after they left
All these things came true but my proudest moment was telling my mom she would not have to pay a penny just like I promised even when no one believed it was possible
Thank you Skidmore
I shall not forget all these things I have done when people told me it was not possible
Its where my writing comes from
That’s where I come from
And if that’s ever forgotten
Who I am will never be remembered
Even with riches I want to feel pain
My goal for this year is to be more appreciative of things. I am the person who always is looking for more. I am not saying to be satisfied. I would not like to be satisfied, that is the number one barrier for succeeding. I do wish that I would just appreciate what has been given to me and what I have worked for before I seek more.
This task will be extremely difficult. Changing a mindset always is. But I feel like I have to in order to be the person that I want to be in life. The people around me need to know why I love them so dearly. But these things are hard. It is always easier to reflect on negatives and tell a person what they are doing wrong, especially living with a family that has done it constantly.
But tonight is my last night where I reflect on all the negatives and cry as much as I need to. I will think about all the things that have hurt me and all the people who actions have spoken differently from their words. This way tomorrow I will be able to turn the leaf. I will be over all the negatives and ready to embrace the positive things in my life. Tomorrow I will smile thinking of all the things and people who have built me into the amazing person they say I am. To them I will say, “Thank You.”
I never imagined such a great support as I have received here. One of my biggest supporter is stormy1812 ( http://stormy1218.wordpress.com/ ). Always so sweet and comforting with comments and advice. Thank you so much for this nomination.
Questions and Answers :) (Get to know me!)
They will not be pushed aside and turned
Into your own all ’cause you won’t
- http://stormy1218.wordpress.com – For the great support. Not sure if I can nominate the person that nomincated me, but I did anyways.
- http://realtalented.wordpress.com/ – For amazing poetry
Here are ten questions for you guys to answer.
- What brought you to writing?
- What about your origin defines who you are most?
- Describe the difference between who you are and who you want to be?
- What do you feel is your greatest accomplishment yet?
- A type of animal you are most like and why?
- If today were your last day,what are things that you would do?
- Why not do those things from the previous question now?
- What do you want your mark to be on the world?
- If people could remember you in one word, what would that word be?
- What is your dream?
Rules for this award
- Must link back the person that nominated you
- Answer the ten questions
- Nominate 10 blogs for the award with 200 followers or less (sorry I only chose two)
- Create ten questions for your nominees to answer
- Notify your nominees that you have nominated them
Thank you so much again for nominating me stormy1812, it means a lot. I had so much fun writing this blog. I cant wait to hear the answers to my questions. Mood? Excited!!!!!!!!!!!!
Just a bad day. Where every little thing hurts like the world is ending. Where every time I write I want to stop because its reliving the pain. But I know that that is the only way to get over things. Its funny. My life is not half as bad as others. it actually is not bad at all. But every little thing that happens affects me insanely as if they were the worse things in the world. I suffocate with the idea of that I am being left behind and ignored and the idea that I am being utterly ridiculous.
I guess I feel twice as much as I should. And that twice as much does not do me any good.
If my pen could talk you would know more than I want you to. You would know that the day my grandfather died was the day I lost my superhero, the day I lost my superhero was the day I stopped believing in magic, and that day I lost my childhood. There was no superhero to save me, no magic to imagine, and no childhood to resemble happiness.
If my pen could talk you would know I was only seven when this all began.
If my pen could talk you would know that home was not a home to me. I was bullied. Growing up in a Dominican household I was raised to believe in religion and that men were superior. When my ideologies and visions did not match theirs I was wrong and belittled because of it. Taunts such as, “You’re adopted,” “You’re fat,” “You’re ugly,” made home feel foreign. My mom was oblivious and my dad was never there to witness it, but it did happen. I questioned my value in life and tried to run away.
If my pen could talk it will tell you that I did run away. To school. School was a place where I found people who believed in me. School was a place where I excelled. It was place where I was at ease to be myself. School taught me what writing was and it was there that I found my permanent home. My notebook and pen. And Oh how I wrote. My life reflected through the pained words. It was the first time I realized that I was heard, that I mattered.
If my pen could talk you would know that the start of high school was my reinvention period. I was tired of being separate people in school and home. I wanted to be myself in both places. School allowed me to grow and become confident with who I was and able to stand up for myself. I decided to forgive without any apologies. Sometimes, my family says that they appreciate me because I am strong willed; a compliment I will cherish forever. Finally my family recognized me for who I was and that is when I began to speak about what I had been through. I realized that I am a warrior. I am a writer. I am worthy.
If my pen could talk you would know that I was pushed down so many times and brought myself right back up. Today I know my value and no one could take that away from me. There would be no one to oppress me and my ideologies. There would be no one to talk to me in a disrespectful manner because I respect myself too much. I will not be belittled. Not anymore.
I am a Dominican American defined by independence and determination.
If my pen could talk you would know that it is hard to believe and love yourself when your own family does not. Even today, I am excellent in school. I have not heard an “I am proud of you,” from my parents but today I do not need it. I no longer need people to approve what I do because my approval is enough. I am appreciative of the conflicts I went through. It has taught me to be accepting. Today I accept other ideologies, their culture, and the way they act. I accept the differences of the world. I accept that a house will never be a home.
If my pen could talk you would know that today I know where home is. I know that as long as I write, I will be home.
I see the picture
There on the wall
Painted in black and white
With a girl who stands by her family
No matter what
Let me give you a clean white paper
Why don’t you pick up the paintbrush
Use blue for my arms
Because of my freedom to write
Use purple for my head
For the peace I want to find
Use red for my feet
For all the struggle I have been through
Filled with scars to resemble strength
And paint my hair
For the bright things I aspire
As for my heart and my vagina
Paint it black
Not for darkness or damage
but for the rare opportunities that others get to see it
Paint me alone
Because I am my own person
Paint me colorful
I am everything in one
Paint who I am, the real won
I am not just black and white
Every time I come to write I seem to forget what it is I want to say. I seem to get wrapped into too many thoughts to be concious of anything. But somehow I still manage to get some where.
As of now, even with this writing piece, I do not feel good enough. I have not in a while. It seems like everything that could go wrong is going wrong. It could be that I am focusing on the negatives. I just know that I am hurting.
I do not yet fully understand it and so neither will you. It kind of like a blank space in my heart with so many people to love and a million reasons why. I question everything. Like now. I think some things are left better in my head. Lately when I go to write I stay stuck.
And so call me glue. Just sticking other objects together, Have you ever tried sticking glue to glue? Impossible isnt it? Yup. And that is because it is only good enough for others but never good enough for itself.