26yo bi Xicana. There's always more to write about, in more interesting ways than white men. Follow me @arte.con.ariana, all tips will go to @openyrpurse, both on Instagram.
Our Universe Condensed
I believe there are things we are not meant to know Like what is at the bottom of the ocean Or inside the largest black hole the smallest quark hiding away it's charms and stranges Instead we do not know the extent of our mistakes in curiosity That some of us stumble into Like when time abandoned me For when I looked in your eyes Our universe condensed To the points where we danced in a living room we shared And I kissed your head everytime I passed you And I resented you when I didn't have energy to sit with you anymore And we waited years to be together Without touching for months Kronos laughing at us For our illusion of forever And to the points where we would no longer be together And I saw my own death With you holding my hand Or a passing thought in your head Until time returned to instill the illusion again In the moment For me to make a decisión To sit next to you And look forward to what we will win and lose In meaning And time
I am no longer worried about people knowing where I am. It doesn’t matter. They can see me when I come back. They can spend their days with no thoughts of me, until a story with me wanders past, and they say “I’ve been thinking about her, I wonder what she’s up to now? I hope she’s happy,” or sad, or disappointing, or whatever they think of me. To those fleeting thoughts, I say, “I’m not happy, or sad, or disappointing, but I am alone.”
I started a newsletter. Well, first, I quit my job. Five months later - after and while trying to be an audiobook narrator, an independent college counselor, a digital concierge, and applying for food assistance and many jobs - I had the audacity to start a newsletter.
The first time someone used me, I thought I was a ship on the horizon, helplessly waiting to be tossed as I saw a storm coming in. I thought I was sailing out at sea, a place I had chosen to be, but getting to a point where not even my wits could help me. It was not until the thunder was rattling my bones and the lightning was blinding my eyes, that I knew that I was not a helpless ship - I was the kraken.