Natasha Collazo
Bio
**Studying Modern Journalism @ NYU**
Project: The diary of an emo Latina
I get inspired at the mid of night
Stock market by day, howler by night
✍🏽
Inquiries: [email protected]
Instagram: @sunnycollazo
Do all things in love
Stories (91/0)
William Blake’s Nebuchadnezzar 1795
This is one of those writings that sat in my drafts bin since November. At the time, it was the upcoming week to Thanksgiving. I noticed many were expressing gratitude for challenges. I have a chest full, that every time someone says “write down what you’re thankful for” I could not do so without writing a book. So I wrote my story of sickness I encountered in 2022 that lead to severe depression, which lead to residual trauma, and the restoration of it all. I got overwhelmed writing out every detail that I couldn’t bring myself to publish this piece, until January, 2024.
By Natasha Collazo4 months ago in Art
Crime Busters
The NYPD have been fighting crime since before the Seamstress Killings. First, there was the Bronx Bandit where the victims were found packed in suitcases after various motel rooms were burglarized, with stolen credit cards, watches, jewelry or anything of value. The Bronx Bandit was taken into custody in 1982.
By Natasha Collazo4 months ago in Criminal
- Top Story - December 2023
The suicide note
I have made mistakes in my life. I will have regret the decisions I’ve made. I shouldn’t have done some things, and yet I did it without taking others into consideration. I was selfish and wrong. And for that, I will cease to exist. Martha Callis.
By Natasha Collazo5 months ago in Criminal
Things that are free
Things that are free. A poetic rant. A child’s laughter and expression when they open a gift or see the lights. The magic in their eyes. Wholesome and unaware of absolutely anything at all. Hugging your parents. Being the child yourself, and having no regrets when the Good Lord calls them home. Music that tingles, and jingles your bones. It makes a moment present. Nothing needs to be rushed. Watching a lizard, or a squirrel do it’s thing on your very own property. No need to contribute to your times own robbery. We share this planet with everyday beings like the little silky guy that lives in my mailbox. I have a lizard farm and never think to watch while they stay warm, behind Spectrum and Dukes Energy. Being a remedy, to the person dying, crying or trying. Sitting and reading. Using your eyes, for some don’t have that luxury. To do as little as see, the rigged bark of the trees. Feeling the flow of my brain water dopamine. Or to create and transfer words onto the paper of someone’s heart. Why are we so worried about wrapping presents when you’re overwhelmed from the start, with ‘to do’ lists the size of the sea, that do the opposite of what’s free. A gift is something that is given. And there are so many gifts this Christmas that we cease to receive. Look around you and don’t waste this season, believe in it’s reason. And when Christmas is over don’t wonder why it went so fast missing out, when the present turns into the past, because you simply didn’t choose to be. Tonight I sat by my window and watched raindrops fall from some leaves. And yesterday, a bluebird rubbed against my paper-thin heart because it reminded me of someone who still has a piece of that part.
By Natasha Collazo5 months ago in Poets