Indulge Me.

September 5, 2019 - 1:37 AM

I'm walking with a pebble in my shoe. And my mind isn't preset to view things as they are in reality. Everything exists on either side of a dichotomy,—it's drab and uninviting or it's dripping in tinsel and amethyst—there is no in between. I can't stand where I'm headed and I can't wait to get there. 

"Fine I'll tell you what my grandmother told me. The secret to a happy life is to--stop it! Aye, Noel, make her stop!" As it turns out, making my mother stop throwing vases across the room was not my ancestors' secret to a happy life, but maybe it was in that instant. Either way I was determined to live the happiest of lives, should it kill me. I was an ambitious six year old child. Then I realized I was poor. "You don't share your bedroom with your three siblings and a nephew? Mentiras."

I would drop hints at my parents when I wasn't denying them love.

"Mami, did you know Franki lives in a house? Her rooms pretty big. Well, it's the size of ours but it seems bigger, you know, because she doesn't have to share." I thought I was the patron saint of subtlety. Sometimes I understand why parents resort to beating their children. 

I kid. Child abusers deserve boiling ammonia poured into their nasal cavities, along with cheaters and litterers. 

As you age, adults stop affording you the benefit of the doubt. Everything is direct. I miss the sugar-coating that I could see right through. Made me feel grown-up.

It's all fine and dandy when you watch Jennifer Lopez struggle to make a living for her and her film spawn as a waitress in New York, but hold on there one second. I need to start paying bills? That's reasonable. I guess I could get a part-time job waitressing. I guess since I'm graduating I could start working full-time for the summer. I guess I could take a gap year and just keep saving, and I guess, and I guess, and I guess.

My god. I'm J-Lo. I'm just missing the beauty, the talent, and the fatherless kid.

That's just the worst case scenario.