To My Sister...

Dear Sister,

            I understand that I grew up to be a despicable human being. I also understand that I will never be the kind of a person that you would ever maintain a friendship with. I’m sorry that you’re forced to do so because we share blood. But there are some things that you have to understand as well; I grew up to be a fucked up person, and I have no fixing.

            I don’t need to be educated and raised, anymore. That is already done. Irregardless of how bad the results are. You have to understand that you are not my mother. And, don’t worry, my failure as a human being won’t be attributed to you. And weirdly enough, it won’t be attributed to my mom, either. I am responsible for my own failures. I am responsible for my own sorrow, and for the pathetic excuse of a life I live in.

            There’s something else I want you to know. I love you, I genuinely do. But I hate who you have grown into. Or, to be exact, I hate the person my mom has turned you into. Because even though she doesn't admit it, she loves you more than all of us. She has you in a golden pedestal. And even though you may have come to disappoint her, you have not come down from that pedestal. And the same goes to your offspring.

            Even though as your younger sister, I was the one destined to imitate you, I have turned into a completely different person from you. Whenever you talk to me about things of your interest, I slip away, and don’t listen to you. I’m sure you do the same. But despite all of that, I have to say, I envy you.

            Although I dislike the fact that my mom nags at me, and tries to be my mother again, I do wish she loved me as much as she loves you. When Camilla was born, she made such a big effort to be there, to go, and just be there. The day I graduated, she didn't even try to get out of bed. Most of all, I envy that you had my mom in full. I was 14 when my mom slipped away. You were 22. I was a kid with a mom with menopause. I am jealous of the things you had. Things I will never have.

            

I'm Not Allowed To Complain

  I, am not allowed to complain. Thanks to the fact that I am not a person who is married, I don't have any children, I am not sick, and nobody's life depends on me, I cannot complain. I can't exalt pain, I can't say I hurt, I can't say I'm tired, sad, confused, stressed, or in an edge, even though I am.
   I'm lazy, selfish, conceited, self-centered, careless, and all of the negative things of that sort that you can think of. But, my back hurts from my job. Whenever I get my period, I feel like every single drop of blood is going to desert my body.
  My mind, ears, and eyes are tired of my mom's disease. Because of my selfishness, I got to realize that I am the only one that has seen my mom through every time she's been sick, and every time she's been fine. My siblings and dad haven't been there in the entirety of said sickness.
  I have grown tired and weary of my sister trying to be my mother. I'm tired of hating and loving my father. I'm tired of what life has become so far. I'm sad to report, that I AM TIRED OF LIFE.
  But, I'm not allowed to complain. How dare I complain when I don't have a child? How dare I complain when I don't struggle with sickness? How can I, Vasti Flores, dare to complain when I don't have a family to keep alive? I'm an ungrateful little brat that has chicken-shit issues compared to 99% of the world's population.
  Therefore, I am not allowed to complain. I cannot bother anyone else with my chicken-shit issues. My problems are superficial. So much so, that they don't even get to be called, "issues." I can't complain. And you know what? Maybe that's not such a bad thing.

My Feelings Toward The Real Me

I’m angry. I’m angry with everybody around me including myself. I’m angry with my parents, my siblings, my teachers, classmates, but more importantly, myself. Ever since my birthday, a couple of times a day I stop and think, “Crap! I’m eighteen!” And I’m getting older, and I struggle with the fears that my age is bringing. I’m standing on top of a time bomb.

I am angry with myself because I have so many blank pages that I didn’t get to fill, and I won’t ever get to. Now, at my age I am willing to go anywhere and do anything, but now I hate myself for not having this same attitude I have now. And even now, I hate asking for something because I want to void the struggle of asking my parents.

I live my life laying down in a bed and sitting down in different classroom desks. But my mind is somewhere else. In my world, I have an amazing, excellent paying job with a beautiful boyfriend that makes me feel like a goddess every time we’re together. But that’s just in my stupid mind. I wish I had been born in a different situation in which I didn’t have to fight and work so hard for what I want.

I’m angry with myself because I’m so lazy, yet so ambitious. Why can’t I be hard-working and ambitious? I know what my dream job is, but I’m not talented. I sing horribly, and my dancing is absolutely disastrous. I’ve never acted, but I have no doubt in my mind that even if I did it, I wouldn’t be outstanding. I’m angry with myself because my mom keeps telling me that God has a plan for me because He has kept me alive, but I’m afraid I just came to this world with no glory, and that I’m going to leave the world the same way.

I hate myself for not having the skin that an 18-year-old should have. Instead, I have the skin of a 40-year-old. I hate myself for being who I am. The real me.

The Destroyer of all Earth

            Why must the world be the way it is? I see the world’s injustice, and there’s nothing I can do about it. There’s death, pain, devastation, sorrow, grief, and above all injustice. There’s superficiality. Things that really matter are not taken into account by the rest of the world. I’m surrounded by people that live in a fairytale, and all my life I’ve been living in one as well. And the worst part is that I’ve known this. Everybody knows it and we just don’t want to abandon that fairytale because it’s just too beautiful. And sure, every fairytale has its villains, but none as bad as the villains that live in reality.

            How can I go out there? How can I fight injustice? What can I do? I now realize that God has spoken to me in very discreet ways. And with the tools I use every day. At church, the preaching was that I was supposed to go out into the world, spread His word around, but I know I should do more than that. There’s so much more to do!

            I saw injustice being done at the Mexico-USA border. Why can’t they understand that all we’re doing is looking for a better life? That’s all. Everybody does that. Americans move to other countries all the time, and yet Americans criticize us for moving to this country. Now, I know Americans can come back saying that when they do, they do it legally. And we would, too if America didn’t do it so difficult!

            That injustice is literally minutes away from where I am. And even with it being so close, there’s nothing I can do about it. And then I leave my own world, where war, natural disasters, racial tension, religious fighting, and inhumanity reign over the whole world. Where issues are far away, and I can’t do anything about it, however, I can’t ignore it either.

            I think that the major thing that makes the world the way it is is the injustice. I know that “Life’s not fair.” But it’s not fair because humanity itself is not making it fair. Big, and powerful giants give themselves great and luxurious things when they really have done nothing to deserve those things, and that’s not fair. While those who work hard everyday can’t even get a fraction of what the giant has. Meanwhile, the same person is betrayed by another big and powerful giant. It’s not fair, but he is the one that started not being fair in the first place.

            The “Golden Rule” is an amazing way to live by if only the entire world could live that way. But not everybody lives that way, and so the world is full of injustice.

            Injustice, and those who practice it, have made this world the way it is right now, and the way it’s always been. It’s up to everyone to not let it stay that way.

I Don't Need To Get A Life

Everyday I say or do something that never really makes sense. I usually laugh and tell myself that I need to get a life. But you know what? I already have a life. I may not live the way kids my age live, but I don’t need to. My life may be lame, but it’s my life.

            I have parents that don’t understand what I want. But I have parents, and either way, they love me. I have a sister that sometimes seems like she doesn’t believe in me, but she still tries to support me. I have a brother that thinks I’m a complete moron because I don’t do things the way he did when he was in High School, but he still brings and takes me when I need. I have another brother that rarely acknowledges my existence, but I trust in the love I know he has for me. I have friends that never seem to view the world the way I do, but it’s okay because that doesn’t stop us from having a good time every time we’re together.

            I’m 18. I’m not supposed to have a vivid life. I don’t use the measly excuse of my youth to do things that might be rushed for me because, you know what? My youth will end when I decide for it to end. I don’t care if I don’t go out to party every weekend of if I still don’t drive. You know why? Because I have an entire life to do what kids are hurrying to do, now. I don’t need to “have a life,” I’m fine the way I am. And I will be because I do have a life.

Perhaps What the Entire World Wants

            I think that there’s a pretty big possibility that I’m going to fail at every plan I’ve made and changed concerning my future. Maybe I won’t be able to even go to college in the near future. I’m not saying I won’t go at all, I’m just saying that perhaps I won’t be able to do it soon. I know it’s a very important thing. You know? Going to college. I just have come to learn something new, something that for some reason, it hadn’t occurred to me before: Ultimately, it’s not about being professionally successful. In the end, all I want to do is survive.

            I want that at my funeral when they say, “She lived a good life.” I want them to really mean it. When I die, they’re not going to say, “She went to an amazing college, and was a top student in High School.” Unless I am some sort of genius at a certain subject, my profession isn’t what I’m going to leave behind in this world.

            When I die, and my children demonstrate traits such as nobility, kindness, and hard-working attitude, people might say, “Their mother raised them up well.” Not “their mother was the head of a major corporate company.”

            Or maybe it’s the opposite. Maybe I fail at everything everybody thought I was going to be successful at, but in the end, I can leave the world knowing that I lived helping my family, and I can die knowing that I’m not hated by everyone I ever encountered. And I guess everyone has the same goal, but we don’t know it yet. I think that in the end, we all just want to survive and be happy.

I Was NOT Born This Way

            I wasn’t born this way. I keep hearing the “I was born this way” thing from everybody that feels their personality is being attacked. They keep saying that people shouldn’t judge the way they are, because they’re never going to change, and the world should get used to it. But the thing is, I wasn’t born this way. I have changed so much since my childhood and even from a couple of years ago until now.

            I used to be more quiet and afraid of those who acted more superior to me. You know, those people, or, kids that society has placed in a sacred spot. I was intimidated by these people and, now I don’t feel any kind of intimidation. I now feel that it doesn’t matter what people say or think about me.

            I used to be happy and would trust anyone with anything and didn’t care. Now, I have serious trust issues. I trust people, but there’s always this bug at the back of my mind that makes me be cautious from any kind of betrayal that I might encounter from anyone. Unfortunately, because of many things I’ve seen throughout my life, I just happen to not trust male adults. I feel that men don’t have real intentions of being good at a close distance. I just don’t really trust anyone in this world.

            My mom, dad, and basically my entire family, enjoy a bit more trust from me. However, that tiny bug is still there. I feel as if, I don’t know, maybe this isn't my real family. Or maybe they really don’t like me. Maybe they’re nice to me because they don’t want to look bad in front of the rest of the world.

            Maybe I’m just paranoid. The point is, I am very different from how I was when I was four years old, and way different from when I was born. I have lived, and will live some more. Times will change, and so will I. So, no, I was not, “Born This way”.