Hey y’all. I stumbled upon this very old post of mine that I’m finding very relevant at the current moment. I’m very happy not to be in this place anymore, but it’s also a humbling reminder to really reflect when feelings of depression happen to resurface. I’ll elaborate more in another post, but for now, feel free to take a look into my past. 🙂
Verbal Portrait of 9/26/2015
I hide behind a smile.
So, hi everyone.
Depression is a motherfucker, and most of the times I try to put forth my best effort to combat the feeling.
One week of happiness can be brought down in an instant. Thoughts, words, texts, emails, videos, photos, and more can trigger the depression in the blink of an eye. And in the moment, it feels like there’s no going back.
I’ve hidden behind a smile my entire life. I’m sure many of us have. But, I’ve done a great deal of work on myself to unveil the masks that have once trapped me.
My gift for authentic expression means vulnerability, which can be quite bittersweet. At this point in my life, my authenticity means not being able to see my parents anymore. It means that for the very first time in my life, I may be spending the holidays alone.
Maybe I just need some time to adjust to the new circumstances of my life. Maybe the depression will eventually subside.
I just wish things were easier, you know?
Hey everyone! So, I had a stranger spend the night recently. It was unexpected, but I actually did end up enjoying myself.
Let me just give some background info on how the night ensued. So, I was supposed to go out with my closest friend, but she ended up cancelling last minute while I was out running a quick errand with another close friend of mine. As we were on our way to run our mutual errand, a pretty cute and seemingly respectful guy ended up asking for my number (more on him in another post). This made me feel confident – I was on cloud 9 and overcome with joy. As my friend and I made our way back home, I was feeling a bit frisky and I decided to hit up this guy I met online the week before. I really just wanted to make out and feel on an erect penis (lol), but when the guy made his way to my neighborhood, the vibe felt a little different. He seemed pretty chill and goofy, and I felt somewhat comfortable around him.
Anyway, time flew and before we knew it, it was 6am. The dude asked if he could sleep over because he was tired, but I was super hesitant – my room was in the middle of being cleaned so there was shit all over the place, I hadn’t shaved my legs, and I just generally wasn’t as “on point” as I normally would’ve been had I had time to prepare. I guess I just didn’t feel prepared to have a guest over. Whatever. But I ended up agreeing to it anyway, no matter how vulnerable I felt.
I quickly cleaned my room and made space for him on my bed. He layed down on my bed and I made my way next to him. He then wrapped his arm around me and he ended up falling asleep pretty quickly. It was all just so cute. I, however, couldn’t get over the fact of what I’d just done – like, Elle, what the fuck are you doing? There’s a fucking stranger in your bed! I even hid my purse and some other valuables just in case this dude ended up being a fucking klepto. I was paranoid as fuck.
Anyway, he ended up leaving later om that afternoon. I walked him to the elevator of my building and we made out until it arrived. He kissed me goodbye and said he would text me when he got home. And I went back to my apartment to lay down on my bed and reflect on what just happened lol.
Maybe I’ll see him again soon? 😉
Hey. I’m here to vent some more. I just had sex with a “DL” dude that I’ve known for quite some time now. Although the sex was good, I never feel fulfilled sexually when we’re done because his needs always seem to trump mine. I wonder when I’ll meet someone who will be just as attentive to my needs as I am with them. That’s all.
Hey y’all. I had a random memory of my childhood today and thought I would share it with whoever happens to read this post. Enjoy!
Picture this: an overcrowded classroom in East Harlem. It must have been the 2nd or 3rd grade. On this particular day, we had a substitute teacher, Mr. Leon de Peña. He was an interesting older gentleman with bouts of extremely boisterous energy. He also had a strong citrusy scent that permeated wherever he would walk. Mr. Leon de Peña was definitely a character. Anyway, he must have been teaching science or english because we were learning the differences between the words “female” and “male”. Everyone was being called on to participate and declare which word belonged to them. I pretty much zoned out the entire lesson and realized too late what was happening. As Mr. Leon de Peña inched closer to my desk, panic started to set in. “Which word should I say?” I thought to myself. “I know! I’ll just say female because that’s what sounds correct for me to say.” I felt validated and confident in my answer. As Mr. Leon de Peña approached my tiny desk, I bravely declared that I am female to the entire class. “No!” commanded Mr. Leon de Peña. “Are you a girl?” Mr. Leon de Peña asked me assertively. My many classmates’ eyes darted towards my direction. Ashamed, I answered no and looked down suddenly. This took me back to an unhappy place – yet another one of the many reminders that my feelings would never be validated. Mr. Leon de Peña was still looming over me and asked, “So, what are you?” “Male,” I replied bashfully. “I am male.” Mr. Leon de Peña had received the affirmation he needed and moved on to the next student. “Phew! What a relief,” I thought to myself. And for that moment, my misery was temporarily alleviated…