Ariana GonBon
Bio
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.
Achievements (1)
Stories (41/0)
Angry Love
Dear Güey, I hate that we don’t talk every day. I hate it more that I do not know what we are. I keep forgetting to not take your flirting seriously, that we are 2000 miles away and at closest we were a seat away but never touching. You would never consider a long distance relationship, but we act like something open, wanting to open our mouths to each other but instead giving it to others. And we know about it. We know about each other’s love lives but never mention each other. Why? Because we do not want to admit anything. We do not want to admit that we like each other because we know it’s stupid. Insane. Crazy. In. Love.
By Ariana GonBon3 years ago in Humans
Raging Mind
I can feel an itch between my shoulder blades, a heaviness in my chest, as I try to occupy my hands and mind before I give too much thought to the things I actually need to focus on. My upcoming move? No. My first time moving in with a romantic partner? No. My need for a full time job again? No. I need to pack for my move and apply to jobs. I need to apply myself to pack and pack my mind with maturity to apply to a job.
By Ariana GonBon3 years ago in Fiction
Carnival Godmothers
Sirena She wanted her hair to be green. She knew from the start that that’s what she wanted out of the life that had been planned for her, but not the plan her mother wanted to see. She wanted it to be green especially in her baths, when her long hair floated and it was not a strain on her little neck. The frizz of her hair did not exist there, the hard brush strokes of Nana were not possible then, her hair was wild thing, a blob of mass like a jellyfish lazily floating towards the surface. She wanted it green like the mermaids, so that she could blend in to the reeds that she saw at the bottom of the tiny river near la iglesia that used to be used for baptisms, like in the days of the Jordan. She wanted the fishies to wriggle through it, think it an anemone and raise their babies there. She wanted the sun to be a dancing light that was wavy every time she moved. She wanted the water lilies to be her bouquet when she decided to marry her new life. She wanted to swim rather than run. She asked and asked and asked for the color of the lily pads, of the grass, of the trees, of the algae, to be the color that defines her head and identity. She wanted the little straight hair she had to look like the stalks that hold flowers up and her big curls to be something people admired when the sunlight turned them to a forest.
By Ariana GonBon3 years ago in Fiction