And then they wonder why I'm sprung...

23

Pssst...it's my birthday today. 

That's right. Another year older, still not sure if I'm wiser...

Actually, I think I am. This time last year I was kind of a mess. I was coming off of a long streak of really big fuck ups and my future looked bleak at best. My life is completely different now. I'm still making mistakes but that's just human nature. The difference is, my mistakes aren't quite as catastrophic now and they're made in the hopes of trying to accomplish something positive but failing at it. I've learned there's nothing wrong with that. You can't get it right every single time but you also can't give up.

So that's my motto for this next year of life. I will not give up. Not on myself or on my goals.  I will try my hardest to be more patient with the rate of my life improvement plans. I will appreciate how far I've come instead of feeling defeated by the long road ahead. yes, I'm aware I sound like a self help book right now but it's my birthday and the promise of cake makes me a better person.

A big heartfelt thank you to everyone in my life who is and has been so supportive through this past year. You guys are incredible and I love you all so much it might burst my heart.

Now, about that cake...

To my future children...

  If you’re reading this, then you’ve probably already read the letters that preceded this one. I hope it has helped you to understand why your mother is insane. Now, keep in mind that I am writing this being (almost) 23 so some of this may not exactly be accurate. Nonetheless, I have a feeling of what kind of mother I will be. Your teenage years will suck. You will go no where. You will have no social life. You will (probably) have to take random drug tests for no apparent reasons. You will be forced to endure a lot of “sex talks” and “please don’t get pregnant” lectures. For all of this, I am deeply sorry. The mistakes of my youth will undoubtedly haunt yours.
            Now, there some things you are more than likely feeling towards me that I would like to refute;

1. “My mom doesn’t trust me”- I do trust you (unless you’re a criminal, then I probably don’t’). The problem is that I was a bad teenager and I fucked up A LOT. I made a huge mess of my life and it has taken me a really long time to get to a place where I even feel slightly normal. I don’t want you to go through what I’ve gone through. I want better for you. I want you to take advantage of the opportunities I let slip away. I will demonstrate these wonderful feelings by being an over bearing nightmare. Enjoy. 
2. “My mom over reacts to everything”- Yes, I do. Please refer to #1 for the reasons why. I promise it is all out of love so just shut up and deal with that shit.
3. “My mom is the reason why I’m insecure”- If you have ever felt this about me, then I have failed you. I promise I will try my hardest to, in spite of my crazyness, make you feel loved. Never ever think that you are not good enough because if you are my kid then you are perfect to me.

I honestly wish I could say that I have all the answers and that “mommy knows best” but probably don’t. All I can tell you is that I will always love you and be there for you. I will never give up on you. I will never turn my back on you. I will never make you feel unwanted. I hope I’m a good mom to you. I hope we have a good relationship and we are open with each other. I hope this helps you understand me. You are the reason why I wrote this. You are the reason why I got my life back on track. You are my reason for everything.

Love you more than life,

Mommy

To my big brother, or at least you used to be...

I stole from you. There’s no way around that. I stole $250 from you and bought a shit ton of booze and pills and partied my ass off for two days. You know this because when you made claims about the money my uncle told you I was doing drugs. I was wrong to steal from you. I was wrong to use that money to party. I was wrong, but so were you. See, when my uncle told you how fucked up I was, you were supposed to want to help me. You were supposed to try to save me. You were supposed to try. Instead, you bailed. You cut me off and I still haven’t heard from you.

            You and I were never that close when I was growing up. That was mostly due to our 20 year age difference and the fact that for most of my formative years we had little to no communication. However, for about 2 years before that night we had built a stronger bond. I counted on you. I trusted you. I spent most of my time at your house. I saw you like a brother and a father rolled into one. In fact, it was you who told me to rely on you since our dad couldn’t be there for me.

I fucked up, and you will never know how sorry I am to have lost you. You fucked up, and you will never know how much you hurt me. One day I will go to your house with my head held high and my life put back together. I will hand you $250 and a copy of this letter. I will pay my debt and feel free to tell you exactly how you broke my heart and our bond. After that, I will walk away from you like you did from me.

With love,

Cristi, your youngest sister.


Update: My brother and I have both taken the first steps towards a reconciliation. I'm not sure if things will ever be the way they were before but I am very glad to have him back in my life. 

Master Cleanse

I was browsing through Instagram last night and I saw that a friend from HS was starting The Master Cleanse and it made me curious...

Flash forward to this morning: I've been looking online for tips and reviews and testimonials and so far no one has really said anything negative about it. Don't get me wrong, I'm pretty sure that no solid food for 10+ days is going to suck so hard I might go on a cow murdering rampage...if I do, cookout at my house y'all!

Back to the original point; My birthday is this Friday and I thought after spending 48 hours eating my weight in frosting TMC would be a great way to clean out all the crap (pun totally intended) that I will undoubtedly ingest. Plus it will be an awesome (yea right) way to start my next year of life. So with all of that in mind, I will begin TMC on Sunday. Since its a long weekend I figure I can spend the first two days of the cleanse at home complaining and missing food in peace.

I'll blog out my progress and take some before/after pics and all that jazz...wish me luck!    

To Sophie, the most beautiful cat ever...

I think it’s kind of silly to write a letter to cat, especially since you can’t read it. I want to write it though because I feel like I need to thank the universe for you. I’m not sure if you’re aware of this but when I first adopted you, I was living out of my car. My mom had kicked me out and I had no where to go. Now, I have no idea why the brilliant idea of getting a pet when I didn’t have a home came up but it did, and I chose you. Thankfully, a few days after I took you my mom let me come back home. At first she was not thrilled about you (she’s not big on pets and our building didn’t allow them). I fought hard to keep you because having you made me happier than I had been in a very long time. You were so small and warm and you loved me so much. I was and am your whole world. Every time I come home you rush to the door and beg for attention. I sleep soundly every night snuggled up with your furry little self.
            I don’t know if you know this, but you’ve saved me on more than one occasion. When I’m at my lowest and I feel myself slipping away you curl up next to me and put your paw on my face. This may seem insignificant but every time you do this I remember that at least one soul in this world needs me. I remember that, even if you’re just a cat, I matter to you. I cry my woes to you. I confess my sins to you. I profess my adoration for you on a daily basis. I might not be here writing these letters if you had never come into my life. I’m thankful for you every single day.

With all the love I can give,


Mommy (the one that puts the food in the bowl)

To the sick bastard who molested me...

Did you know that for over 14 years I didn't remember what you did to me? My little brain put it all in a box and buried it deep in the back so I wouldn't find it. Did you know that I'm starting to remember? So many details are coming back to me. Like nightmarish flashbacks of a day I still can't believe I lived. I'm almost glad I can remember now because so many things about me make so much more sense. For example, I now know why I hate the smell of antiseptic cleaner and why anything that involves doctors or latex gloves gives me anxiety attacks. I now understand why older men make me nervous and why it's hard for me to look people in the eye.

Do you know much you fucked me up? I have intimacy issues in spades. Most days I battle with the feeling that my body is not worth respect and simply not mine to control. Most days I wonder why other girls want boyfriends and love stories and I just want someone to protect me. You did that to me. You and your fucking latex gloves. I trusted you. I trusted that you were a good man because you saved my dogs when they were sick. My mom trusted you; hell the whole neighborhood trusted you. I guess that's what happens when you live in a place where the monsters can hide behind little girls' shame and silence.

I just want to know what the fuck possessed you to hurt me. I know that you know what you did is sick. You'll be very glad to know that the story you gave me to cover your sickness worked like a charm. I even got grounded for the whole summer for “skipping school to play with the puppies in your clinic”, how fucking cliché can you be...

I hope I was the only one you did this to, but I know that your routine was far too well executed for it to have been your first time. It was my first time, did you know that? Well the blood on your fucking latex gloves must have given that away. “It'll hurt a little but I need to make sure you're not sick”, what a fucking joke. The best part is that you made sure I understood I wasn't sick and that I had been a very good girl during the “exam”. “Don't worry, you don't have to tell your mom since I already took care of you”, these are rough translations since you said it to me in Spanish, but that's pretty much the gist of it. Did it make you feel better to tell me over and over that you were a good doctor and I should be glad you took care of me? I bet it did.

My old therapist said I had to forgive you. That was the last time I spoke to him. I don't give a fuck, I won't forgive you. I was a happy child. I was warm and affectionate with everyone. You took that from me. You don't deserve my forgiveness. I hope it haunts you at night. I hope you know that you disgust me. I hope you know that in spite of your sickness, I grew up just fine. I hope you know that I, and whoever else you did this to, will never forgive you. I hope you go to your grave ashamed of yourself.

In retrospect, I'm madder at myself than I am at you. My brothers were doctors so I should have somehow known the difference between a vet and a people doctor. I wonder if I questioned you about that. I wonder if I resisted. I wonder how you convinced me to lie for you. There's still so much I don't remember, but I remember enough. I remember you. I remember the sting. And I remember my blood on your fucking latex gloves.

I hope you rot in hell. I hope God, or the devil, or karma, or whatever makes you pay for what you did.

Sincerely,

Your “best patient”


Update: While I still have a very shaky recollection of what happened, I've come to terms with it. I've learned that I am more than the things that have happened to me. I still don't think I've gotten to a place where I understand him, but I forgive him. 

1,000 in 1 year

So um, I just got my thousandth pageview...quite possible that it was just one of my friends and not a stranger, but nonetheless, its pretty exciting.

I started writing this blog almost a year ago to the date and I honestly never imagined how much my life could change in such a short time. I'm incredibly thankful to have the people in my life who form my support system. The one person that I have to thank more than anyone else is my mom. We've been through so much together and even if our relationship is still very fragile, I know we're on the way to a better place. My best friends have been incredible. You guys have stuck by me and shown me how to be a better version of myself. You love me and accept me for me and I couldn't be more thankful for you if I tried to be. Last but not least, my girlfriend has made a huge impact in me in the short time that she's been here. You've made me so happy and I am so lucky to have you. I still wonder sometimes how we got here and I can't wait to see where we're going baby. I love you very much not just for who you are, but for who I've become by loving you.

So you see, I'm a little more grown up than I was a year ago. I've become more financially responsible (pause for the shocked reaction). I've become happier with myself and with my life. I'm working on my issues with my family and while it's not perfect yet, we're getting there. Unfortunately, this year was not all sunshine and rainbows. I struggled with bouncing from job to job and endless amounts of drama. All of that pales in comparison to my dad passing away. It has rocked me to my core and I don't think I will ever be the same. I miss him every single day, but his death has helped me to hold myself to his standards and live my life in a way that would make him proud of me.

I hope I continue to write and I hope the few of you that read it are entertained by my weird self.  

To “Cielo”, the girl who brought the magic back...

I’ve tried to think of several ways to write this letter without it sounding like some sappy mess, but I’ve had no luck. So here it goes…

            When we met, you had a girlfriend and I had a disaster of a life. You were a very rare combination of utterly sweet and completely aloof. I was hooked from the start. Looking back on it, I don’t think I ever stood a chance. I took one look at you and something in me knew that I had to have you. Fast forward to a year later (almost to the exact day), and I found myself driving to your house to take you on our first official date. I was so nervous I thought I would hurl. I brought flowers and candy. I met your mom, sister, and dog. I was so nervous I thought I would hurl. We went to dinner and barely said more than 10 sentences to each other. This of course led me to freak out internally. I thought you didn’t like me. I imagined you sitting there thinking “what the hell am I doing with her?!” This was made all the more awkward by the fact that I was sleeping over your house that night. The fateful date concluded and we went back to your house. I’ll skip over the nervous jitters because I’m pretty sure you remember them as well as I do.

            At around 12:4(something) AM on May 18^th, 2013 you kissed me for the very first time. I was so nervous I thought I would hurl. I realize this is not the most romantic notion, but it’s the truth. When you kissed me a lot of questions in my mind were suddenly answered. You see, I had wondered why you were put in my path. While I’ve always been inclined towards girls I’ve never really dated one before. Not to mention the fact that my jaded self had completely ruled out the idea of finding anyone special. When you kissed me I knew I was wrong. You’re someone special. That little flutter, or spark, or magic, or whatever you wanna call it, was dead until you came along. I felt it when I first met you but it had been so long that I didn’t recognize it. When you kissed me, I felt something in me light up again. In you I found all the fairy dust that I had given up on.

            We have now been dating for 3 months. It hasn’t been perfect, but nothing ever is. It has been wonderful, exciting, chaotic, fast, and scary. I write you letters when I can’t put into words how I feel about you but even they don’t do you justice. You’ve amazed me. Your sweetness and kindness is unlike anyone else’s. You’re so goddamn beautiful my heart melts just looking at you. When you smile at me I wish I could stop time and stay with you just like that forever. I realize forever is a very scary word for you but whatever, deal with it.

What shocks me the most is how easily you seem to understand me. I’ve tried every way I know how to scare you and test you (sorry about that). It’s not because I want to lose you, quite the opposite actually. I want to know what it is that’s gonna make you go so I can cut that shit out quick. I don’t want to lose you. Those words are scary for me. I try my hardest not to get attached to anyone because I’ve been left behind and forgotten one too many times. I’m attached to you. You make my day better. You make me smile and laugh uncontrollably. You get me. How did this happen? How did I get here? I worked so hard to build up so many walls around my heart that shit was like Ft. Knox. Somehow, you seemed to have just walked right in and made yourself right at home. The weirdest part is how happy I am about it. I should be freaking out. I should be running. I should be scared. I’m not. I don’t know if this is just a temporary something or a forever kind of deal, but whatever it is, I don’t want it to end.

Yours,

Nat

Update: We are still very happily together and she has by far become one of the most positive influences in my life. I'm incredibly lucky and blessed to have her and I remind myself of that every day.

To my inability to dance...

Hello, I am Cuban, did you know that? Yup, Cuban. Born and raised. This means that I am supposed to be able to dance, keep time with beat, and also have a big ass, but I digress. Would it really have been so difficult to give me just a smidge of dancing talents? I mean, I don't want to be a ballerina or anything like that but it would be nice to be able to salsa like every other Cuban ever. I know it's not all your fault, my mom can't dance either so I am aware that there some genetic issues at play here too. However, haven't you heard of mind over matter? We could've made me a better dancer.
I admit, I am at fault for not practicing but my lack of talent is so intense that it's a little pathetic to try. I even suck at Zumba, and no one sucks at Zumba. I often fantasize about how I would dance to certain songs (if I could actually move to the beat, that is). It makes me sad to know that for as much as I imagine the moves; my body will refuse to execute them. It's not so much that I can't move my feet, or my, hips, or my other body parts to the rhythm of the music. The problem starts when I try to move more than one body part at a time to the rhythm of the music. I'm seriously beginning to think that I'm just wired wrong. I feel very Pinocchio-like, wishing I could dance like a real girl. Screw you brain, just screw you.

Sincerely,
Two left feet, can't move to the beat

To the voice in my head that convinced me to do drugs...

What the fuck were you thinking? Seriously, what was the brilliant thought process that led us to that decision, because I sure as hell can't remember? I'm not angry about the weed. I love weed. It makes me happy and its way better than pumping Xanax bars into me to numb my thoughts. I'm mad about the pills and powder. I'm mad because I expected to have better inner voices. I'm mad because I wish you didn't exist. I'm mad because I wish I would've never listened to you.

I was a good girl before then. Ok, maybe not good but I wasn't a borderline junkie. I know that to most people (especially in Miami) taking ecstasy is no big deal, but it is to me. I can't figure out why I did it for so long. Maybe I was searching for something. Maybe I wanted to be someone else. Maybe I was escaping who I was. I do know that I became hooked on that shit. My body craved it, and cleaning my system of it was hell. I hope you enjoyed watching me twitch for no apparent reason. I hope you enjoyed the night terrors. I hope you enjoyed the flashbacks in the middle of the day. I hope you enjoyed watching me sink to my lowest and hurt my family shamelessly in order to get my fix. I sure don't enjoy remembering it, any of it.

I'm not saying that everyone who rolls will become addicted to it, but I did. I still find myself craving that feeling from time to time. I guess I'll always crave it but trust me, I could do without it. The worst part is that I'll never be able to take it back. No matter how much I change or mature, I will always be the girl that rolled in the sand fucked up out of her mind the first time she tried ecstasy. I will always be the girl that did coke with her psychotic ex and didn't tell anyone how much he hurt her. I will always be that girl because I was that girl. It's the mark on my permanent record that I won't let myself forget.

For the record I saw myself completely different at the time. I didn't see myself as an addict or even a party girl. I thought I was fine. I was so not fine. I wish I would've listened to my real friends who tried to snap me out of it. I wish I would've never taken that yellow monkey. I wish I would've stayed home that night. I wish I wouldn't have gone to pick up my dad at the airport while still rolling. I wish I would've seen myself clearly and stopped before the shit hit the fan. Damn you voice in my head, damn you to hell.

Maybe it served me as a lesson; to learn to hold on to myself and not follow others who I know are wrong. Maybe in some weird way it made me stronger. I know everything happens for a reason, but I still can't figure out why you convinced to do it.

Sincerely,

Nat, who is no longer a pookie head

Update: Clean and sober of everything :)

To my first baby...

You lived warm and safe in my belly for 10 weeks. I felt you. Everyone says I'm crazy, but I know I felt you. Your dad was a violent, reckless, drunken asshole. He is the main reason why you only lived for 10 weeks. I'm so sorry I wasn't strong enough to keep you. It wasn't just about being strong. I wasn't going to be the mom you would've deserved. I'm still so immature and unprepared for life I didn't want you to suffer for me. If I had kept you then you would've never met your dad. I know first hand how much it hurts to grow up without your dad being around. I couldn't do that to you.
I remember the day I found out I was pregnant. I was at your dad's house and he was in jail for destroying my car and almost paralyzing someone in the accident (among other things). I stared at that pregnancy test like it was going to catch on fire. I don't know if you know this but I wanted to keep you. I knew I wasn't ready to have you and I knew that it would be a bad life to bring you into but I wanted you. I still want you. Some things you just can't undo baby.
I am constantly haunted by the thought that you felt pain when they took you from me. I am constantly afraid that in punishment for getting rid of you I will never have another baby. You were a blessing, regardless of the circumstance and I rejected you. I am so sorry to have done that to you. I am constantly heart broken at the thought that you don't forgive me. I hope you know that I did it more for you than for me. I still don't know if I made the right choice. I will live with that doubt forever. I often wonder who you would've been. I wonder if you would've been happy or if you would've resented me for giving you a shitty life. It's that last thought that cemented my decision not to have you. I hope you forgive me. You lived warm and safe in my belly for only 10 short weeks, but you were there. I will never forget you. You made me a mom. It's because I'm your mom that I knew that you'd be better off not coming into the world. In those 10 short weeks, you changed me. I loved you even though I didn't know you. I will always love you.


With all my heart,
Mommy

To vodka, you sexy sexy beast...

I love you, honestly I do. I owe so many fun filled nights to you that I thought why not pay a little tribute to the magical elixir that is you. I wish I was a poet so I could write you a wonderful sonnet filled with all the beautiful things I think of you, but alas, I am not. I hope you are content with this simple letter. My favorite way to drink you is with Sprite and a lime wedge, although after a couple of those I honestly don’t care what I’m drinking as long as I’m drinking. I’ve always said that vodka is a dangerous thing, and it is. See, with other forms of alcohol you have a phase where you are tipsy and feeling nice before you get shit faced drunk. With you baby, there is no foreplay. You go from 0 to 60 before I can even notice (especially in shots). I remember very clearly going to a club and drinking only two vodka Sprites and before I knew it I was “allegedly” on my 7^th cup and giving my friend a standing up lap dance (don’t ask). Its nights like these that make me love and hate you.

            While I had a blast that night, and so did my friend, it wasn’t exactly a shining beacon of good girl behavior on my part. If we were to compare alcohol to people, you’d be the bad boy boyfriend that you know you should leave but it’s just too damn good. But fuck it, I’m not exactly known for making good decisions when it comes to love. Sure, I’ve gone through phases where I was loyal to other liquors. In fact a very compelling argument can be made to prove that I’m still not over tequila, but tequila makes me slutty and so our affair has since come to an end. For now, I am a one drink woman, and baby that drink is you. I’m sure we will have many more nights of romance, where you will undoubtedly convince me to do dirty shameful things that I will regret in the morning. I look forward to them.

With love,

Nat (or whatever fake name I gave the creepy guy watching me give that lap dance)

To my father, who will forever be my hero...(written before he died)

We have a special bond. I've known that my whole life. Some of my first memories are of you. Talking to me like I was an adult and fueling my curiosity with your never ending knowledge of the world. You are the reason I am me. Even though I left you so young I never once doubted our bond. I was so angry at you for such a long time. I was angry because I knew that in order for me to leave my home you had to say it was OK. I hated you for saying it was OK. I wished you would've fought for me to stay. I believed with all my heart that you simply didn't care whether I was there or not. Being the bastard child tends to have that effect.
I don't know if you know this but I have a hard time feeling yours. Even as a child it baffled me how you and my siblings were so tall and athletic and different. Being short, clumsy, and looking like a mini version of my mom did not help your case. Don't get me wrong, I've never doubted if you're my real dad I just felt like I didn't belong. You had your wife (whom I adore) and you had my brothers and sister with her, and you guys were a family. And then there was me and my mom, and for as long as I can remember she was my family. I didn't know where you fit into that equation and therefore I didn't know where I fit in your equation. Leave it to me to over analyze how YOUR affair affected MY status in the family. To be fair you and my mom did a stellar job at managing the little mess you created (I still know my custody schedule by heart), but that didn't stop me from feeling out of place in both families. I guess maybe that's it, while everyone else had one family unit, I had my mom's family and my dad's family and the twain shall never meet.
In spite of that, you are the best father a girl could ask for. I remember you used to come see me every day and would ask me a million questions about my day. I always felt like you were the one person who truly cared what I had to say. You valued my opinions and I so needed it. It still breaks my heart that I didn't get to share so many things with you. It hurts me more than you can imagine knowing that you won't be the one to walk me down the aisle. But you made the choices that led you to your current state and I can't punish myself for them. I know it hurts you more than it hurts me.
Your ever so fragile health has never been a secret to me. You've been sick for as long as I've been alive. In fact, I'm told you had one of your first heart attacks while holding me. In many ways I am so angry at you for not caring enough to take better care of yourself. You may never get to see me graduate. You may never get to meet my future spouse. You may never get to hold my kids or teach them the things you taught me. You may miss out on some of the most important moments in my life. The irrational side of my brain wants to know why I didn't matter enough to make you want to get better. I want to know why you were satisfied to only be a grandfather to my siblings' kids. I want to know why you didn't care enough to be healthy for me. I want to know why I got stuck with the short end of the stick.
I know that you didn't mean to be sick but you know that you could've taken better care of yourself. Every time I heard that you were in the hospital or feeling really bad, I silently prayed that this time you'd get scared enough to change. It finally came but I think it came too late. I still don't trust that you'll stay healthy. I still don't trust that you won't go back to your old ways. I'm more or less prepared for the news that you didn't.
I hope I can be as good of a parent to my own kids. I hope my kids feel like I believe in them like you believe in me. No matter how angry I am at you, I wouldn't trade you for the world. You are always first and foremost, my hero; the one who used to wake me up from my nightmares and make it all better, the one who taught me how to swim, the one who was fearless, the one who I felt safe with. Never doubt my love for you. Never doubt how much I need you. Please fight to be in my life forever.
Love always,
Parruchi

To my battle buddy...

It has been 11 years since you and I met. I still remember seeing you in the hallways of our middle school. You walked around like you were above it all and just too cool for school. It intrigued me. It was more than just curiosity that led me to you. I’ve always felt a weird magnetic pull towards you. We’ve gone through break ups, drama, fights, career changes, puberty, etc. and yet we manage to always find our way back to each other. Granted, a lot of that had to do with the fact that for the first 6 or 7 years you really wanted to get in my pants, but that’s not the point.

            During the past year our friendship has evolved more than it did during the first 10 combined.  Chalk it up to us living together for about 6 months, or sharing highly confidential information with each other, or just plain dumb luck. Regardless of the reason, I am so glad we did. I’ve told you many times that it’s hard for me to know where I stand with you because you’re not exactly the most expressive of people, but I’ve learned to pick up on your cues. For example, when you give me speeches about how my life is a mess, I know it’s because you honestly care for my well being. Along with bonding with each other, this past year we also bonded with each other’s families and that is something I treasure.

            It’s not easy for me to allow people into my inner circle. For as loud and out there as I am, I rarely trust anyone enough to really let them in. However, you’ve been the exception to that rule since day 1. You make me feel safe, and it’s not just the soldier thing, it’s an Ernesto thing. I slept soundly (most nights), knowing that if by some chance my nightmares became a reality; you were there to protect me. You have taught me so much, including how to parallel park, and for that I am thankful. I’m even willing to share partial custody of Sophie, who has since then become your foster-kitty. I still have all of the pictures of you playing with her and the underwear I bought you, which even I’ll admit is a little weird but whatever (they’re awesome). It brings a smile to my face whenever I look at them because they remind me of all the fun we had together. They also make me incredibly sad because we won’t have fun like that again. You’ve moved on with your life and I’m incredibly proud of the choices you’ve made.

            I’ll admit, you moving to Colorado left me feeling a bit abandoned and I don’t think any amount of daily phone calls will change that. I don’t seem to handle being left behind too well. I know you did it for you. I know you did it for your career. I know it was the best choice. That doesn’t mean that it doesn’t suck either way. We often joke about how I will handle your deployment but the truth is I have no clue how I’m going to get through it. You have become a very vital part of my life and for better or worse, you leaving just plain hurts. I know one thing for sure, from the moment your plane ascends to when the wheels finally touch ground again, I’ll be praying for your safe return.

We are not the same kids we were when we met. You have matured into a strong man whom I am proud to call my friend. We still have a long way to go but there’s no one else I’d rather fight my battles with. By the way, I did not curse once in your letter so I get extra points for that.

Love you (even when I hate you),

Natalia (I still hate that you call me that)

To my 16 year old self...

You are NOT fat! I know all of the other girls in color guard are skinny bitches and that sucks, but you have a great rack so suck it up. I'm not entirely sure how time travel works but I hope one day you will get to read this. In preparation for that day here are some things I wish I knew at your age;

# 1. You are smart. It's not a crime. Stop being fucking lazy and get good grades. Trust me, community college sucks ass.

# 2. Love yourself. It took me 22 years to learn that lesson and most days it’s still hard to face the mirror.

# 3. Guys will say/do anything to get in your pants. You only get one first time so save it for the one who actually means what he says.

# 4. Choose your friends wisely. Most of the people in your life right now are fake as fuck. The ones who stick by you through the crappy times are the ones worth keeping.

# 5. Stop trying so hard to fit in. You're better than they are. You are kind and good at heart and that counts more than popularity, I promise.

# 6. Don't be so unhappy with your life. You have more to be thankful for than you realize.

# 7. Appreciate your family. I know they're loud, embarrassing, always in your business, and you feel so out of place with them, but they're the greatest support you'll find. Love them because they love you.

# 8. Be a better daughter, to both parents. I know you're all angst and resentful because mom took you from Cuba and makes you feel fat and worthless. I know you're forever pissed at dad for signing the paper to let you leave Cuba. They did it for your own good. They know how much they hurt you. They know you won't forgive them for it. Forgive them for it. Be better, they deserve it.

# 9. Stop eating your feelings. Food is not comfort or love or anything else you desperately want. I don't say this for your looks because as I mentioned, you are not fat. I say it because your health is in danger and trust me babe, you will want to live a long life.

# 10. Don't try to fall in love. You're gonna meet a boy. He's going to be amazing. You're going to fall head over heels for him and it will be effortless. Be good to him. Fight for him. Make it work because losing him will nearly kill you.

I wish I could tell you that we end up having the happily ever after but I don't know that yet. I will tell you this, you will meet amazing people whom you'll love forever, you will cry and suffer but it will always lead to laughter, and you will be extraordinary.

Love,

You (5 years wiser)

P.S. Listen to mom, she knows it all (except about love, she's pretty clueless there)


Update: I'm still struggling with the whole self love thing, but the new romantic interest in my life is making it a thousand times easier. The boy mentioned in #10 is just a memory now and I'm happy to keep him that way. Still totally eating my feelings...but I don't try to fit in anymore. I've found people who love me for me.