Twenty

Twenty.
I am Twenty years old.
I have inhabited this Earth for 7,305 days.

I cannot look back onto my life without crying.
I have been through some shit
And I will continue to go through shit.
I still vividly remember crying and hoping for things to be better,
For things to change.
And It has.

As I write this, with tears in my eyes,
I am sitting on my black couch,
In my little apartment.
My cats, Logan and Lacy,
Are laying next to me,
Watching the show I have on my tv.

I still wish to reside within my mother’s womb so I can be protected from the harsh world.
I still wish several things could be different.
I still wish I could change the past and fix my mistakes.
But it helped me get to this point in my life.

This past year,
I have realized my potential.
I am capable of great, outstanding things,
I am capable of ruining everything around me with no remorse.
I enjoy my own company.
I enjoy losing my absolute mind and picking myself back up.
I enjoy chao, but I am starting to like peace.

As I start this new decade and enter my twenties,
I realize I am actively changing and developing.
I am taking the steps to take care of myself and those around me.
I can say that I do love myself and those around me.

Living is an art
And I plan to create a masterpiece.

The moment my dad told me he didn’t love me

The moment my dad told me he didn’t love me

Wasn’t very shocking.

It was disturbing, 

But also confirming.

Days before this happened,

I already had thoughts about how my dad didn’t love me or show me much affection and attention as a child.

He didn’t show up to any of my concerts,

He always backed out of taking me somewhere,

And he even showed up after my high school graduation.

It was bad to the point my teachers thought my mom was a single mom. 

There were good moments and memories,

But he still wasn’t really there. 

The moment my dad told me he didn’t love me

I couldn’t focus on his comments for too long.

I had to clean up my apartment,

Take care of my kittens,

Prepare dinner,

And go to work.

“That’s what grown people do.”

Mind you, 

I’m not even in my twenties. 

My dad prioritized his job before he would prioritize his wife and daughter.

My dad would make sexist remarks and told me I would never marry because I’m not submissive.

Mind you,

I am very submissive and motherly to the men I am dealing with. 

But I am not going to be submissive to my dad.

My dad never saw me as his equal

Or his daughter.

So the moment my dad told me he didn’t love me

Was an weird moment,

But comforting.

So I do

I didn’t ask to be a woman.
I didn’t plan it beforehand,
And my parents didn’t plan it.
If I knew how this world treats women,
I would’ve definitely been born a boy,
Or not been born at all.

But I’m here.
I’m here 
Where people are debating about my womb,
Judging my curvy body,
Criticizing my skin color
And fetishizing my ‘erotic’ nature.

It’s a cruel joke.
I didn’t ask for any of this.
I don’t want this reality.
I feel betrayed by my eyes whenever they open
And bring me back to my hopeless reality.
I feel wronged every time by heart beats on rhythm.

But I’m here.
And I have no choice, but to make the most of it. 
I want to have fun
And make people miserable.
The natural evilness within me is fueled by my own hatred and dismay.
She is impulsive, cruel, sharp-tongued and motived.

Every time I try to be sweet and good, 
She reminds me how nobody, but her, cares about my being
And all I have been through due to me being sweet and kind.
She tells me,
“This world has and will always be cruel to you,
why don’t you return it?” 

And so,
I do
as she says.