A Good Thing

Hey you beautiful people.

I know I left you all on a bit of a low note. Sorry about that. BUT! I remain optimistic for things to come and here's why:

1) I got cast in a local production of Newsies so that's pretty fuckin' great.

2) I get to have a trial run as a waitress this Tuesday morning and that's a job so that means money and experience.

3) My mom was able to help get food and food is important so that is good.

4) I got a really super duper awesome idea for a play/musical and am in the very beginning stages of putting it together.

5) I've been pretty hella productive around the house lately what with cleaning and such. Go me!

Anyway, even though things are scary and not everything is perfect all the time, something good might always be around the corner. You just gotta be patient. Your good thing will come. It will.

Hope y'all are staying toasty warm!

Hasta la próxima,

Much love xoxo

Maya

Troubles

Hi there. It's getting quite late and I haven't managed to fall asleep yet.

Part of it is because I've been distracting myself by watching wedding vlogs. Wedding vlogs make me immensely happy. I need the distracting because if I lie awake too long tossing and turning, I'll remember how hungry I am. And I just cannot afford to be hungry right now. I had dinner already and that is that.

It's frustrating even to write this. I dunno. The past week, I've had 1 1/2 meals each day. There's only so much food left in the house and my dad and I have to make it stretch, so I really can't be pigging out on snacks any time I get bored. I know how I get when I get hungry, so I've avoided feeling it as often as I can. A good way to do this is by falling asleep, because when you're asleep, you can't know or feel how hungry you are, thus, a good two more meals are saved.

Needless to say, I spent a good portion of this week sleeping. And filling out financial aid forms for college. And sleeping. And washing dishes to pass the time. And sleeping.

My dad's been extra busy helping Javi out with his boarding school applications so he hasn't really had a lot of time to focus on me, or himself for that matter. And I mean, it'll be over soon, I guess, what with deadlines and due dates coming up. Anyway.

It's never a good feeling to know the person you depend on is not doing too hot. This I know because financial aid forms are very nosy and I was required to ask my dad some invasive questions. Living with a parent who struggles with mental illness is difficult. He knows this. He knows that I know this. And just like anyone with a mental illness (myself included) he has his good days and his bad days. I feel like my job is to make sure there are more good days than bad. 

My dad is pretty high functioning, all things considered. Just not when it comes to your basic everyday things like making his bed and doing the dishes and taking out the trash and getting us food.

Very few times in my life have I opened the fridge door just as my stomach gurgled, only to find it completely empty (and this is just a testament to my privilege, I am thankful I have experienced this only a very few times). All that was left inside was our water pitcher and an empty jar of mayo. Deciding I needed to eat soon lest I crave the early onset of a migraine, I scoured the cupboards for anything left since my brothers departed after the holidays. In this search, I found a can of tuna, a can of corn, some rice and some soup. I laid all the items out on the counter so my dad could see, strongly hinting that we needed to go grocery shopping ASAP.

Very few times in my life have I also needed to ransack my house for spare change, just to go get food. I looked at my dad, handing over the four bucks and eighty-six cents I searched all over my room for. That left us with a total of $26.86 to go shopping with. Something was something.

Again, writing this is infuriating. Because with every word I write, I feel like a privileged fucking hog who grew up in a white castle with unicorns and rainbows and butterflies. And maybe I did. That's not to say I wasn't aware of poverty—growing up in the Dominican Republic couldn't shelter you from that. But I lived a comfortable fucking life. And god bless me for that. I thank my lucky stars I was born into a nice enough family whose sole priority was our education and that we were loved. I am so lucky.

What I can say is nothing, absolutely nothing in this world can prepare you for when that rug gets tugged right out from under your feet. Sure, you think you'd know what to do if you were in a similar situation but until it happens to you, holy shit dude, you have no fucking idea.

And so I convinced my dad to go grocery shopping with the last of our cash. Because we needed to. So we got milk and eggs and bread and some other things I forget, knowing that we probably won't go shopping for another long while. That is, unless he reaches out to my mom for support.

Having divorced parents who are weird about money really fucking sucks.

This is all just a long-winded bitching rant to say that it's almost 2am on a Monday morning and I'm the kind of hungry where your stomach feels like it's eating itself and might kill you.

This wasn't meant to worry you all. Or, I dunno. You can think what you like. This is just how my life is going right now and you can think of it what you will.

We're gonna be fine, things are just shitty right now. It's okay.

I love you guys very much and sincerely hope you are doing well.

Hasta la próxima,

Much love xoxo

Maya

The Fire

by: Maya Wilson

Growing up, I didn't know anger.
Anger was this wooden box full of smoke,
tucked inside people's mouths and then forgotten.
Anger wasn't yet a fire. It wasn't dragon's breath or a bugle horn.
That didn't come 'til later.
For now, I learned that anger formed snakes of people's tongues,
daring them to twist their words into this and that.
Anger was slippery and it was quick,
a smoke that filled your lungs and made you sick.
It was a warning sign and the disaster.
It was a way to sedate others, to keep them in your grasp.
When I was thirteen, I learned that smoke can burn.
It knows no mercy, even if you ask.
It's painful, and bubbling and a little too hot.
Anger was a cruel friend, who mocked and feigned sweet.
Anger lashed and licked away, leaving scars to rot.
But soon, it turned to flames, clearing all in its haste.
The fire and flames took the house down with it,
The girl and her dreams, and every last minute.

Fridge Poetry

Hello my loves. Odd to think this is my first post of the year 2019.

I turn 19 this year. I go back to school this year (fingers crossed). Wild.

Anyhow, in a desperate effort to pursue my creative interests, I opted for an old friend of mine: poetry. I hadn't written anything new in quite a while and so you can imagine my frustration when I remembered how difficult writer's block can be. That is, until I remembered there's such thing as fridge poetry.

Below, you'll find Maya's 3am musings from the magnets on her refrigerator.

..........

careful bunny blood

cuddle only through bite

know before he was claws

and will eat on sight

..........

that sudden sweet taste

can come like soft sleep

why be careful

..........

only his howling

went to her

for the path did not

..........

soft sweet love

too pure but sudden

this darling thing must not bite

..........

before they try

care no more

my dead must live again

have caution but

see presently

who are always human

..........

i am deranged

my sight destroyed

would you hide my face

if she touched it

..........

a bird with hate

watches life through eyes

of guilt and chance

..........

my little dear

dead again

before the cold

if i was pure

i'd be your blood

& come home

..........

devils kiss to be violent

humans bite flesh for love

..........

So nothing crazy moving or inspiring yet but the words on the fridge spoke to me. I had to listen.

Here's to less writer's block and more writing.

Hasta la próxima,

Much love xoxo

Maya

P.S: Happy 21st birthday, C. Don't get plastered. Love ya.