day 265

My sophomore year boyfriend was the epitome of the worst first boyfriend. He was the first boy to ever   let me know that I am no where near perfect. One time before school, I told him I didn't want him to walk me to class. He smashed all my things against a brick building. It was the first time I didn't cry over him. I wasn't scared of him anymore. I broke up with him. A few days later, I avoided him before school. We shared lockers. He caught me before I ran off. Said, why can't I have my last kiss?

I slapped him.

day 264

When my ex boyfriend proposed to me last summer, I was eighteen, in love, and I had no idea who I was. Sitting in the back of my ’97 Avalon, we pushed the seats forward, reclined them til they touched the back seats, and jammed out on our guitars. He taught me how to sing and I mistook that for freedom. I forgot the difference between singing a duet because you are lonely and singing because you love the sound of your own voice.

He proposed to me through song, it was not well thought out, but I was in love and we all know people are more convincing with guitars in their hands. We were young. Summer makes you do crazy things. Like give up your dreams to dream of being somebody’s wife. I still sing unconsciously when a full moon is out. I know it’s because I love the sound of my own voice. 

day 263

The E! News exclusive interview on my experience so far in heaven:

Heaven is everything I've expected. They feed you well up here. It's taken awhile because everyone is needy, but I've finally gotten what I've wanted. The love of my mother, the humor from my siblings, my evil devil pup, air conditioning, hot showers, a beach, sunscreen, an iPod with infinite life, and a personal chef. 

My chef cooks for me all the time. That's all that really matters. And he has everything that he wants, too. A happy chef is a happy me. Yesterday, he grilled steak. Today he will be grilling hot dogs. I love hot dogs. With mustard, relish, ketchup, everything. Everything. Especially onions. Tomorrow he will be grilling burgers. I just need cheese and a bunch of onions.

Onions are obviously my favorite food-- err-- condiment? Whatever. I just seriously love onions. I can eat them with anything. I don't really care about the onion breath. I don't really get onion breath anyway. I mean...that's obviously how I got famous, remember?

Wait, what do you mean there are no onions in heaven?

....Do you even know who I am?

....oh goodness...

Let's not air this interview, please. *hair flip*

day 262

Betelgeuse

my father is six foot two with the heart of a gentleman. he speaks only when spoken to and breathes with the wisdom of a million Chinese proverbs sitting on the edge of his tongue. one time before he put me to bed, he told me the story of his undying flame of a love he has for my mother. told me he would never leave her, or my sister, or my brother, or me.

my father is six foot two with the lungs of an honest scholar. he clenches his fist as well as he bites his tongue. my father protects me. from the monsters in the kitchen cupboard and the ghosts underneath my pillow. he was the tooth fairy, Saint Nick, the mail man, and the tree house creator. his hands are calloused from the labor of hard earned work. taught me how to be a woman. to clench my fist at the boys who became ghosts underneath my pillow.

my father is six foot two with the stride of an elephant herd. taught me to never leave anyone behind. told me the story of his undying flame of a love he has for my mother. told me he would never leave her. or my sister. or my brother. or even me. taught me how to be a woman. to sit pretty and watch as all hell breaks loose. to summon the demons in the hallway closet and hide them in the kitchen cupboards. we all eat up this bullshit anyway. my father taught me how to let my lies rot the porcelain on my teeth.

my mother is four foot nine with the patience of a saint. I don't know how to resurrect the fire in my parent's marriage. my father is six foot two with the stomp of a thunderstorm. they let the fire wash itself out before I even learned how to swim in my mother's womb. my mother taught me how to chew my way out of bad situations. sometimes I wish I didn't have my father's teeth. I wish the porcelain was strong enough to chew my way out of the womb. show my parents, look mommy, look daddy, I am every nightmare you've ever had. I wish your flame was strong enough to break me, too.

day 261

for sale:
"golden skin"

imported from Cambodia
made in America
free
free shipping
will pay buyer to take off hands

your ancestors worked too hard in the killing fields for you to burn your skin like it is not temple.
your parents scold you  every summer for playing too long underneath the sun.
do not let it kiss you.
you are woman. you are not vulnerable to warmth. you build forest fires with your mouth. to speak. to pray.
some nights,
you pray to wash the bronze off your skin. it feels like turning sixteen and kissing your first girlfriend. not afraid to show you love the skin you live in, but suffocating yourself in the comfort of your own bedroom.
you pray to not burn.
to not let the flames on your tongue backfire onto an escape route.
you pray to speak with kindness.
let the hatred burn you inside out.
let the pride boil embarrassment.
you pray to wake up powdered geisha and small smile.
big eyes to build glass.
break porcelain.
wake up doll pretty.
lace and cold skin.
you are woman. you are not vulnerable to warmth.
cold lungs. breathe out Winter. ice cold.
no warmth in soul.
you've burned from the inside out.
imploding.
exploding.
fragile.
handle with care.
I pray to not break.
I pray to not burn.
pray to scrub and not scrub
scrub
stop scrubbing
careful with your hands.
your ancestors worked too hard in the killing fields for you to burn your skin like it is not temple.
pray to free the demons from your skin.
golden skin. sun kissed skin.
do not let it kiss you.
your first girlfriend kissed your hands until the callouses melted into your palms.
golden skin.
will pay buyer to take off hands.

day 260

To the girl who hogged the bathroom all night to fix her make up:

My heart is a mermaid throwing skipping stones in hopes of hearing the echoes of a beat. You have given life to an alter ego you named Home and have kissed the skin of your destruction after every bad break up. You avoid the girls who speak without fear and consideration. You haven't taught yourself how to swim in the oceans your insecurities have created.

I don't know how to help you. I don't know if the mermaid in your throat will cry out for forgiveness.

I don't know if you will ever forgive yourself.

day 259

junebug

The guy I've been sleeping with has graduated from the university and is moving today. He is starting grad school in the fall. It's unfortunate to say that I will miss him because he is one of the only men who has never treated me like a piece of meat. He cooks me breakfast, taught me how to use his shower, and kisses me on the cheek. These are the simple things everyone wants and gets called naive for loving.

In elementary school, we had to make acrostic poems describing ourselves using our names. I put Intelligent for the I and Naive for the N. My teacher questioned me and asked how it's possible to be both. I said I have no idea. I questioned myself because it was the first time I've ever felt stupid.

The girls I've dated or have tried dating still leave a bitter taste in my mouth. I have been hiding the fact that I've been gay for awhile and it's getting tiring. I am finding myself in the beds of men who I will never give my heart to. I don't know if this is because I keep picturing myself waking up in the lace of her arms. I don't know why I do the things I do.

The guy I've been sleeping with is going to school to be a doctor. One morning I woke up early to read him random facts. I do this everyday because I want to know everything. He knew pretty much everything with modesty. The girl I've had my heart wrapped around for weeks on end is moving at the end of summer. She's leaving for school. 

I still use intelligent to describe myself, but I still know that I am naive. It's possible... I grew up for years trying to be one or the other, but what am I supposed to do if I'm both? I am in love with a girl who makes my heart cringe but I still long to rest my head on the chest of someone humble.