Amalgamation

Sup.

I haven't been able to write for months. I mean, I've tried. But I never ended up finishing any of the posts I meant to write and so I've been left with an amalgamation of sorts. I thought I'd share them anyway.

..........

It's been exactly one month since I turned twenty and one month since I last saw all my Vassar friends. It's been a month since I had possessions that existed outside of a carry-on suitcase and a month since things started to go downhill.

It's hard to believe that a month ago, I was still convinced I'd be going back to school in two weeks' time; that I'd spend a week touring Chicago with my a cappella group; that I'd get to go back to my room and spend quality time with Jessica, with Charlotte & Leila; that I'd get to crash Evan's room so we could blow out our very late birthday candles; that I'd finally be able to go on a real date with the guy I was trying not to crush on for months.

..........

Heya.

It's late, I know. 

Bit nauseous, bit of a headache. Can't seem to sleep. Just one of those nights, I suppose. 

I'm in a mood I think. There were excellent parts to this week and parts I wish I could forget. My anxiety's been real bad.

..........

Hi friends <3

I meant to write something in the month of October but it seemed to have escaped me. The days dragged on, each one feeling longer than the last. A blur of nightmares, skipped meals, and incomplete assignments. My friends are gems, though. We're all just trying to make it through. Only three weeks til home.

Rip so I wrote that weeks ago

..........

I dunno what's wrong. I mean I should know what's wrong. I'm pretty sure I know what's wrong. I haven't taken my meds for a week. That would do it. It wasn't exactly on purpose. I dunno. Maybe it was. Maybe I'm self-sabotaging again. Maybe my brain doesn't want me to succeed. 

I'm in the middle of a Dungeons and Dragons game at the moment. Should I be paying attention? Probably. I'm trying to. I want to. I also can't shake the need to violently vomit. Withdrawals, probably. Oh, and the Big Sads. That, too.

Being home is hard. It's a lot. It's knocked me down lower than I thought it would. I can't wait to go back home. Real home. School. Where my friends will be. Where I want to be. 

I want to be okay. I want my brain to stop scrambling. I want to feel okay in my body. I don't want to hate being alive. 

I'm trying my best to feel like an interesting person. Like I can be good at things. Like I might have talents. Like I might not be mediocre. The company I keep is hard to beat. Not that there's anything to beat. I'm proud of them. I appreciate them. I love them for who they are. I'm just not them. Or anywhere near them. I want to like myself. 

I'm so tired all the time. My body hurts all the time. I think it thinks I'm fighting a bear every day. Or getting hit by a bus. Or battling the flu. My bones hurt. My muscles ache. My head throbs. My stomach churns. Why do mental poisons seep so deeply into our bodies?

..........

Hi there darlings.

I know the holiday season can be extremely difficult for some of us. It certainly is for me. Whatever your reason may be, I want to make sure you know you are loved and cherished and cared for, if not by anyone else, then by you. Be your own best supporter this holiday season (it's also a-okay to ask for help when you need it.)

..........

It was so bad. The screaming just never stopped. I just wanted to have a good Christmas. A good anything, really. Family isn't supposed to cause you this much pain. It isn't it isn't it isn't. Only a little more and then I'll be home home again. 

..........

We broke up. It was the right choice.

..........

A civil war? In this economy?

..........

HEY BITCHES!

Things have been kinda... good lately? Food has been more stable and fun (I get to cook a lot of it) and my brothers have been nice to me which is unheard of. My dad's about the same but we've binge-watched a lot of shows with my brothers like His Dark Materials and Peaky Blinders and Ink Master. It's been nice. My cats have each slept in my room more so, yaknow, maybe they love me after all. LINNEA ADOPTED A DOG! AND SHE'S NAMING HIM MONET! LIKE A BALLER! And he's going to be my little nephew I am so excited. I started knitting again (thanks to Jessica crocheting boob triangles) and I started collaging again (thanks to an identity crisis.) Oh also JESSICA FINALLY GOT HER ROOM ASSIGNMENT AND SHE'S JUST DOWN THE HALL FROM ME I AM SO BEYOND EXCITED TO SQUEEZE THAT WOMAN AGAIN! And also we finally watched The Warriors (her and her dad's fave movie to watch together, so I think I'm part of the family now.) I'm hella fucking nervous for school to start again because I still don't have my class schedule ahahaha but hopefully the imposter syndrome stops getting to me and I'll actually feel like I belong at Vassar. Oh, and I've made tiktoks? I dunno, man... I'm a new woman or whatever.

..........

Aaaaaand that concludes all the things I meant to write but never finished (minus the Thanksgiving and New Years' posts, those will have to wait.) I know it's not much but I guess you can at least see the progression of my different mental states or something? Wack. Anyway.

Hasta la próxima,

Much love xoxo

Maya

Para Mami

Algo que quice escribir hace mucho. Ya basta de esperar.

..........

Para Mami

by: Maya I. Wilson Estrella

I can’t seem to write about anyone but you.

Wanting you to love me. Wanting you to care.

Wanting you to treasure me and always be there.

I’ve been so far away. I haven’t left you notes. 

If I had, would you even read what I wrote?

Wanting you to be proud. Wanting to be good.

Wanting to be just as loud and also understood.

Hold my hand, please. It’s been so long.

I don’t know where I’m going, I don’t want to be wrong.

Have I been missed? Do you remember my name?

It’s me, Ma. Did you notice the rain?

It’s your eyes, your smile, your nose.

I’ve still got all my fingers and all of my toes.

Wanting you closer. Wanting to forget.

Wishing I’d called. Wishing you’d fret.

There were nice parts sometimes.

Petting my hair back, temple kisses, applause.

The times I was purer and devoid of flaws.

You read to me, danced with me, I sang in the womb.

Why’d I have to go on and grow up so soon?

Mándame besos, bendiciones, tu fuerza, tu paz.

Muéstrame que yo sí soy capaz.

I’ll miss you for always, I’ll love you forever,

Gracias a Dios our relationship is better.

..........

Te quiero, Mami.

Hasta la próxima,

Much love xoxo

Maya

Love in the Time of Corona

I don't know what I'm trying to write.

Nothing I could ever write would heal this kind of hurt. And yet here I am trying to make some sense of it all. Or maybe not make sense of it, just... I dunno. Throw my thoughts into the void.

Everything has happened so fast. Two weeks ago, we all happily left for spring break without a care in the world. Some of us came prepared for the worst, others did not. I have attempted to take every step with grace, but have not been so successful. First, the rumors. Then memes, warnings, emails followed. News headlines flashing COVID-19, Coronavirus, Global Pandemic. It just doesn't go away. Hasn't gone away. Week two in self-quarantine trying to keep clean, trying to keep sane, trying to make the aches of missing you all go away.

I think I told myself to write this as an attempt to journal my way through the outbreak. People kept journals during the World Wars, during the Great Depression, during the Spanish Influenza—why should this be any different? Our world is at war with a virus we don't yet know how to beat. It's perhaps our scariest enemy yet. And while I don't think it productive to fall into a complete state of panic, people need to do better. Wash your hands. Stay home. Practice social distancing. Remain six feet apart. Don't hoard supplies. Be a decent fucking human being. We are all hurting. We are all scared. At least be kind.

Things are scary right now. They are. Between trying to navigate the transition to online classes, to figuring out where I was gonna live, to making sure my parents were safe, to scrubbing my hands raw, to battling with loneliness in isolation, to wondering what I'm gonna do when my medication runs out, to attempting to function at all like a regular human being... It just... It's a lot. I've been fortunate enough to be able to stay with Linnea's family in MA for the time being. YD is doing the same with a friend from RISD. Javi and Mami are stuck in the DR apartment. My dad is in VT working the frontlines every day as a retail employee at a pharmacy. Talk about modern-day soldiers.

There has been so much uncertainty and so much distress on all fronts. So much is out of our control. I've tried focusing on the little tiny baby things I do have control over (like eating and sleeping, showering and brushing my teeth, going for a walk or at least looking out the window) and yet I still can't seem to do them all enough. Evan's been pushing me to stay on top of it. Linnea's been trying to keep me sane. Vassar students everywhere are scrambling—for their belongings, their GPAs, their friends, their canceled graduations. Professors and administration can barely keep up with the ever-changing news. Entire states are being shut down left and right. Outside feels like a ghost town. Still, the only way out is through.

When things are scary and frightening and uneasy and unknown, I find it comforting to revel in the small things. Like raspberry jam on toast. And crossword puzzles. A weighted blanket for bed. Hamster feet. Hugs of every kind. Facetime. Fun-filled pasta. Rediscovering club penguin. Cooking dinner together. Puppy licks. Disney movies. Children's books. A hot shower. Solitude at 3am. Plants that continue to grow despite it all. I am so lucky to be cared for and healthy and safe. Not everyone can say the same.

Please be kind to yourselves and each other. The world has needed tenderness for some time now. Give it to her.

Hasta la próxima,

Much love xoxo

Maya 

A Peek Inside the Good & the Bad

Dearest friends,

Just a peer inside at what it looks like to text me while I'm in crisis *insert upside-down smiley face* Many thanks to Evan and Linnea (who I owe my life to twelve times over). Also if you are easily triggered by a distressing stream of texts, you probably shouldn't read this right now. I mainly jotted this down for my own healing. Please take care of yourselves in these unstable times.

...

Hey
Um
So
V strongly dissociating rn
I'm okay
And safe
But I'm trying not to throw up and I feel like an alien
A close family friend of mine just passed away this morning in DR from COVID-19
I just found out like twenty minutes ago
I'm not physically able to cry
That's all
I'm sorry
...
Evan I wanna throw up
Sorry
That's gross
...
I wish you were here
...
It's like stuck
I mean
There's nothing to throw up
Linnea made me breakfast and I couldn't eat it
I had like half a slice of an English muffin
I'm so nauseous
...
Also I have this nagging feeling that I'm disappointing you
...
No but like
I
It's dumb
I know it is
But I can't
I can't shake the feeling
Fuck I'm sorry
...
I mean the food thing, and the sleep thing, and the general taking care of myself thing I just like
Wanna be better automatically
...
I know but I feel like my baby steps aren't fast enough and you and other people will be disappointed
And like it's embarrassing that I'm not better at it already
Cuz I am an adult and I should know how to do these things
...
I feel like there's a rock in my throat
...
I want you to be here so we can blow out our birthday candles
...
I'm okay I'm okay I'm okay
...
I'm trying
It feels like there's
Like there's
Um
Ropes?
...
Ropes on my ribs
It's too slow
It's going too slow
...
Breathing
Heart rate
It's slow
I'm gonna die if it's too slow
...
I'm okay I'm okay I'm okay
My ribs feel on fire
...
Gross
...
I'm sure your grandkids will think it's funny tho and call you a gorilla
Or a monkey man
Tarzan
...
Fuck what do sharp chest pains mean
...
Cool
...
Cool cool cool
...
My ribs won't expand all the way
Why is this scary
I'm sorry
...
Am I making all of this up
Wait
I
...
It feels like
Like
Like I'm not me
Like I'm someone else
This is all happening to someone else
...
I talk to her tomorrow
...
Mhmm
...
But I'm okay
...
I'm just
Sleepy probably
...
Mhmm
...
What do I tell my professor?
I mean I don't really care honestly
...
It's
...
I feel drunkish
Like I'm okay
Just
Woozy
...
Barbara
...
Uh huh
Yeah
...
Weird sentences one after the other but I love you too
Like lots
...
False
But thank you
...
Rude
I love you a lot
I'm so sorry I'm so mean to you all the time
I never mean it
You're my best person
You're a good person
That
I'm
Tired
Barbara then sleep maybe
I'm sorry
...
Do you hate me?
...
Thanks cool
You're a good Watson.

...

To all my friends who have ever helped me through a crisis—I cannot thank you enough. You have saved my life more times than I can count. I love you I love you I love you <3

To Jenny, who spiced up the world with her kindness, her bravery, her art—Ya te extraño.

Hasta la próxima,

Much love xoxo

Maya

Come See How The World Could Be Pt. 1

Hello, my dears. I began writing this the night of April 24th, but as you know, life gets the better of me sometimes. Anyhow, here's a post I've been meaning to share for quite some time now. Enjoy <3

*contains Hadestown spoilers*

*for real, if you haven't seen it yet do not read this*

*seriously, turn the fuck around and read something else*

*kay, whatever dude, you've been warned*

April 24, 2019. 7:30pm. Walter Kerr Theatre.

My dad and I knew what the story was about. I mean, we'd listened to the entire soundtrack on Spotify already and both knew how it ended. At least I did, anyway—my dad doesn't always connect the dots.

When he first asked me which show we should watch as our joint birthday present, Hadestown was honestly a plan B. I'd never seen Wicked before (I know, I'm a musical theatre abomination) so naturally, I pushed for that one first. Of course, as many things turn out to be, it was too expensive. I had to come up with a new plan. I knew my friend Claire had raved about Hadestown (thank you Claire) and even though I had had the soundtrack on loop for six months, it didn't occur to me I could actually go see it. The Broadway debut wasn't even scheduled until late April. But the universe was aligned and tickets were reasonable and so we decided to go.

The usual crowd of theatre-goers was there: elderly retired couples who need a way to spend their time; crazed NYU musical theatre majors who obnoxiously know every single detail about every single cast member's life, not to mention are singing the songs at the top of their lungs before the show has even started; elites looking to be noticed at a new and trendy social gathering; mothers with daughters and husbands with wives; and then people like us, who seldom get the privilege to watch a masterpiece unfold.

We piled into the theatre like a swarm of bees. My dad and I made our way up the steps to the mezzanine but the second my eyes landed on the stage, I couldn't move. Dramatic, I know, but true. A vastly bare stage save for a couple of barstools, tables, and upturned chairs. There was no sign of a pit, so I assumed the orchestra would be onstage. A jukebox in the corner. A spiral staircase. Exits. The whole space had a presence about it. Like we were about to watch something important. Like we were gonna watch something that mattered.

Everything the eye could see was earth-toned. Browns, tans, greens, blacks, reds. By the time we took our seats, it felt like a lifetime had passed. And it would take a whole other lifetime for the show to begin. Patience is not a virtue I always possess.

Finally, people started spilling onto the stage. One by one, they greeted the audience with a smile and a wave before setting up their first position. Naturally, the audience began to clap and cheer, eager for the performance to begin. As I had predicted, the orchestra sat on the far sides of the stage, acting almost as pub-goers and setting a more natural, intimate tone. Our beloved narrator, old man André De Shields playing Hermes, stalked across the stage, meeting each cast member with a meaningful gaze or a firm handshake—almost as if he were welcoming them into battle. It was a somber sort of thing.

Dressed in all sparkling silver, he addresses his crew "'Aight?" They respond, "'Aight."

Cue the blaring trumpet, tooting the first few notes of "Road to Hell." Instantly we are captured by the cast's innate ability to be connected to one another and the audience. We take Hermes's word as given—no one questions him or his glorious sass in storytelling. He introduces us to our players: the Fates, Hermes (God of Travelers), Persephone (Our Lady of the Underground), Hades (God of the Underworld), the Greek Chorus, the Orchestra, and finally our young lovers, poor boy Orpheus and hungry Eurydice.

And then Eva Noblezada (Eurydice) opens her mouth to sing, and the rest of the world is lost to me. "Any Way the Wind Blows" began and my whole body covered itself in goosebumps. Hearing the sinister plucking of violin strings, watching as the Fates took on the form of the Winds, watching Eurydice pack her few things hurriedly, it was like I was in it with them. Call me crazy, but I could feel the winds changing as it happened.

And then she meets Orpheus.

"Come Home with Me?" he asks.

He tells her of the song he's working on, how when it's finished, spring will come again. And then he'll make her his wife. He kneels and presents her with a red flower. Reeve Carney (Orpheus) does this with such a delicateness and vulnerability, you can't help but root for him. From the very beginning.

Eurydice agrees but won't give in without a fight. "Wedding Song" is charged with playfulness and sexual tension and I swear to the gods, the bisexual in me would KILL to marry both Orpheus and Eurydice every time I hear it. They tease each other, they circle each other, they giggle with an innocence only found in first loves.

And so Orpheus sings "Epic I", where he explains the ancient love story of Hades and Persephone. When he sings, it's as if time stands still. Like you're stuck in the most delicious jar of honey and can't get out (not that you'd want to).

But as soon as it happens, the moment is gone, and we're on to the next song.

Bam! Spotlight on a drunken Persephone (played by the brilliant Amber Grey) as she struts down the spiral staircase into Summer. In "Livin' it Up on Top" everyone and everything comes back to life. Everyone onstage springs into dance and laughter, which is such a contrast to the way things felt before. To my absolute delight, there's a Latin-feel dance break where they jam like there's no tomorrow and let me tell you—when a theatre vibrates with Latin jams, you'd have to be crazy not to enjoy it.

When it's time for Orpheus to give his toast, he says: "To the world we dream about. And, the one we live in now." Granted, I know this line is coming. I always know it is. How could I not? I've listened to the soundtrack for months, and yet it gets me every time. May we always seek a better tomorrow, but let us not forget the wondrous present and the miracles that can be achieved in it.

And then we get to remember how earth-shattering it is to fall in love. Orpheus and Eurydice fall into it right before our eyes. In "All I've Ever Known" Eurydice struggles against love, against falling, because she's only ever known struggle and hurt and heartache. The fear of falling in love is brought to life in a very real, tangible way. The two lovers end up promising the world to one another, unaware of the storms yet to come.

"Way Down Hadestown" finally introduces us to the king of the underworld, Hades (played by a domineering Patrick Page), who's come to pick up his wife Persephone. He's early, once again, but who could blame him? He missed her. With the collection of Persephone comes the changing of the seasons, and no one is ready for that. It's too early. It isn't time. But Hades waits for no one, so off they go.

Orpheus leaves to finish writing his song, the song that will bring back the spring, but he leaves Eurydice all alone to fend for herself in the wind. "A Gathering Storm" comes to twist a knife in their wounds, leaving Eurydice desperate and lost. Meanwhile, Orpheus attempts to write.

"Epic II"

The grounds open up and we descend into the burning depths of hell. Suddenly, we see coal miners drenched in sweat, muscles twisting tautly under their skin, dirt smeared across their faces, a dead look in their eyes—all indicators we've arrived in Hadestown. Just to further the doom and gloom, the Greek Chorus engage in a "Chant", and Persephone isn't all too pleased with her husband's new shiny kingdom. They circle one another like birds of prey, eager to feast on the other and tear them apart. All this time, Eurydice finds herself losing her battle against the cold, against the wind. She calls for Orpheus but Orpheus doesn't come. He's got to finish the song. A steady feeling of urgency weighs in on the audience. We know something's about to happen—and not something good.

Of course, Hades swoops in to lure Eurydice to Hadestown, offering her a deal she could never turn down. "Hey, Little Songbird" is a delicate dance wherein Hades acts as the serpent tempting Eve, in this case, Eurydice. He offers her food and shelter and a "soft place to land". The hungry young girl, desperate as she was, couldn't refuse.

After accepting her ticket to the Underworld, the Fates slink in like slippery black cats come to watch a show. Each moves just as gracefully, just as elegantly as the next, each voice just as velvety thick as the last. "When the Chips are Down" serves as a narrative of what happens to people when times get tough—what do you become when you've lost everything you have? What do you become when you've got nothing else to lose? What do you become when there's nothing left?

Resigning herself to fate, Eurydice sings "Gone, I'm Gone" as a final goodbye to Orpheus, who has yet to know what will become of her. Completely oblivious to what's just happened, Orpheus goes looking for her, only to find out she's gone.

Thus begins the song that from the moment I first heard it, moved my whole body to gutwrenching tears: "Wait For Me."

Hermes reveals that there's another way to get to Hadestown, a way that doesn't require a train ticket. Orpheus, desperate to see his love agrees to do whatever it takes. Turns out whatever it takes leads to quite a dangerous road. And this is why theatre became my very first love: the complete magic one can create just by adjusting a few lights, the journey you can take someone on with a simple melody, the transformation that occurs when you find yourself in a character's shoes, the amount of empathy you can have for someone who isn't even real... It's wild to me. It's magical. It's the best thing to ever exist. And every single one of those things is captured in Wait For Me.

I knew this song was coming up. Papi knew it too. And yet I still found myself utterly unprepared. Nothing can prepare you for the first time Orpheus utters those words with complete anguish and desperation. Nothing can prepare you for the feelings of loss and loneliness and despair and hurt and anger and hopelessness and fear that come attached to this song. Maybe it's 'cuz I'm an empath, maybe it's 'cuz I feel things far too deeply, but Wait For Me strangles my heart every single time.

I remember that was the first full pause the director decided to make. The end of Wait For Me had everyone in the audience gripping the edges of their seats. Me, on the other hand, it had me choking back strangled sobs and shaking as I clung desperately to my dad's coat, letting the tears run freely down my cheeks, down my chin, staining my shirt as they fell. I didn't care. I had never felt a work of art so deeply before. I didn't know what to do with myself. Truly. It took well into the next song for me to stop hiccuping and sniffling. Just... there are no words. Nothing I say could ever do that moment justice. It was the most magical moment I've felt in theatre in my life, and that is saying something.

Then came a song that hit just as hard but in a completely different way: "Why We Build the Wall."

Literally nothing could be more relevant in the USA than that right now. It sheds light on the twisted power dynamic between Hades and his workers, it shows him as a benevolent father figure just looking out for his children when in reality he is manipulating their thoughts and creating fears and threats that aren't there. Pointing to an enemy that isn't there. At this point, Persephone dresses in all black, no longer the fun-loving goddess she was before. She knows what Hades is doing is wrong, but she's too far drowned in alcohol and sadness to do anything about it.

Eurydice is last seen following Hades up the steps to his office, ready to sign her life away to a life of constant toil in exchange for basic human needs. Persephone copes the only way she knows how: "Anybody want a drink?"

Blackout.

Act I really left us with nowhere to hide. It asks that we come with our hearts on our sleeve, open hearts, open minds. It served theme after relevant theme—the notion that poverty can drive people to do things they never would've imagined, the idea that poverty and the poor are the enemy and we are to keep ourselves as far away from that as possible even if it means building a wall, what happens to us when we're so blinded by love that we forget to do the things necessary to keep us alive, the distances true love will take us when we work hard enough. I sincerely cannot explain how much this musical has affected my life, and this is only a recap of Act I! We haven't even gotten to Act II yet.

If you've made it this far and you still haven't seen it live, I strongly encourage you to as long as you come emotionally prepared to suffer quite a bit. Like I said, never have I ever been so moved by a work of art so strongly as this before. I mean it I mean it I mean it.

I'm sorry this has already gotten obnoxiously long, I just tend to stretch things out when I care about them. In this case, I care a lot lot lot. And you should too. Los quiero!

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.

Fragments of a Fragile Mind

The universe works in funny ways. Last week, things got a bit dark and fuzzy again.

If it weren't for my dearest friends, I don't know where I'd be.

Here are mere fragments of the things said, all from different conversations, bits and pieces of the state of mind.

The purpose was to show the scattered frenzy that I can become and ultimately, to show that you are not alone. The fact that I'm writing this right now proves that I was not alone, even if it felt that way.

I can assure you at this moment in time I am safe and okay.

Caution: May contain triggering content. If you are ever at risk, please get help. I beg of you.

..........

Sorry sorry

I feel sick

So many things happened

How can I not let that define me?

I was trying to be rhetorical, asshole

The sad part is I wanna try again...

Except I wanna succeed this time

I wanna hurt again

So fucking badly

I am so so sorry

I won't do anything tonight

But I cannot tell you how lovely dying sounds

How lovely slipping away sounds

I

I'm trying to be okay

Over and over again

I love you all so much it hurts but I can't tell you how much I want to die

I'm so fucking weak

But I can't get out of my head

You shouldn't love me

Fuck

I want to go

I want to go so badly

My head is pounding

So exhausted

But I'm all snot and tears and yucky

All I'm gonna dream about is dying and I'm scared

I'm sorry for keeping you up

I just feel so fucking lonely

Fucking hell

I just wanna be loved

I don't wanna be judged

I wanna be hugged and told that I matter

And fall asleep not hating myself

I want people to fucking give a shit about me

I don't want to disappear into nothingness

I want to hurt because I don't know how else to be okay

I want the outside to match the inside

Just

I just can't go to work

There's so much blood

I'm literally itching for sharp edges

I'm craving it holy fuck is this what addiction feels like?

I can feel the hurt in my chest, I can physically locate it

I don't even like blood

And how I could so easily drown myself there

It feels like there's this little parasite in my brain telling me that I want things that I don't really want

And I'm too tired to cry anymore

It's just been the worst night ever

Just know that I love you please

And I hope that you love me

But I cannot promise you that I won't try again

I'm sorry if I've failed you

I didn't mean to scare you I'm so sorry

Goddammit 

I just really want to not exist

And I can't bear to put you through another Rosie

I want to end it so bad

I feel like I'm suffocating

But I'm not actually sick

My head throbs

Please don't leave me

I feel lonely

Not your fault

And I couldn't think and my heart was literally ITCHING, like a mosquito bite but inside of me

And I kept scratching at my chest and trying to breathe but it was suffocating

I felt physically attacked

My head was pounding with a migraine. It still is.

And I just can never win ever

I am never right

I am never understood

I'm still in bed

I just feel so unaccepted here

I'm just so angry

I just feel bad

I haven't eaten since 7:30pm last night

I don't want this to get worse

Everything feels so foggy right now

My whole body feels heavy

I still can't get out of bed

I don't know

I'm sorry it's not like I meant to

I love you too

..........

Bless the hearts who endured with me through the early hours of the morning. I couldn't have done it without you.

Please know that I am home and safe and okay. As okay as I can be.

And again, please get help if you are in need of assistance. It is the best thing that will ever happen to you.

I love you all.

Hasta la próxima,

Much love xoxo

Maya

All the Important Words

The thing about writing important words is at first, no matter what, they're gonna sound like crap. And for a while now, I've been sitting here thinking of important words and the various forms they could be rearranged so they sound like something real but I guess sometimes the important stuff is just gonna sound like crap anyway. Am I making any sense? Oh, bother.

I guess my point is I'm sat here on my bed in a Vassar V-neck and it's 86 degrees outside and I've got second degree burns on my arms and legs from river rafting and I've been up for a consecutive twelve hours trying to finish a book and my owl glasses are on and my face is a mess but I pulled myself together enough so I could sit here and try to write important words.

See, I just finished reading Jennifer Niven's All the Bright Places and without spoiling anything, I can tell you that novel takes you on one heck of a ride. I speak as a teenager. I speak as a seventeen-year-old girl who knows what it's like to love someone so very much and lose them anyhow. I speak as someone who has been there, on every single side of the equation. Listen, recent events in my own life may have allowed for this book to dig a deeper hole in my heart than perhaps it may have if everything had been all right.

My parents are recently divorced.

My very good friend took her own life.

I split with my longterm boy/best friend.

The dark is creeping its way back in and my country is on the brink of revolution.

And yet I am grateful. You see, if anything, All the Bright Places has made me feel more Awake than ever. If you ever read the book (which I highly recommend you do), you'll know what that means. It's just... It's filled with important words—things that need to be said. About adolescence, about mental illness, about friendships, relationships, people, life. We're all just people trying to understand one another and sometimes we think we speak the same language when really, we should be paying more attention to our dialect.

I don't know if that made sense.

In any case, I was in the kitchen a couple of minutes ago, sleep deprived and eating a shitty apple, when suddenly I wanted nothing more than to shout all the important words—loud enough for all the important people to hear.

I love you. More than anything.

Don't leave me.

Please.

I wanted to beg but then the important people would have been alarmed and thought I'd gone insane.

But maybe I am.

Maybe we're all insane and we're all just trying to get by as quickly and quietly and unnoticed as possible?

I'm hungry again. The apple was spoiled, anyway.

I look up at the mirror on my wall and I quite literally feel as though I've aged in the past twelve hours. I can't begin to explain... Just... Like it's just finally there was someone in the world who knew. She knew, and she grabbed the important words and arranged them perfectly and wrote them down and now they're out in the world.

Sue me for having a marshmallow heart, it came with the package.

I need to get my mind off this book, off the fatigue, off the feverish sunburn, so I open my closet and rummage for nail polish.

Only I just remembered I'm shit at painting nails.

My arms look puffy. I think they're swollen from the burn.

I sometimes think my thoughts are much like an angry sunburn: light and near unnoticeable at first, but building in color, building in rage as time goes on; painful and red and stubborn and unflinching when pulled; stinging and burning and seething when touched.

I stand up and feel the skin pull taut around my knees, like rubbery leather. Those for sure will leave an ugly tan.

I wish I could make all these thoughts more cohesive. I'm not really sure which direction I'm going in anymore.

But none of us do.

It's all a mystery and who knows, maybe that's the best part.

I tried to take a nap but all I could think of were Luc and Rosie.

And then all the people who were taken too soon.

What if Matt hadn't fallen asleep and what if Genji had worn a seatbelt and what if Ben hadn't been drinking that night and what if Luc had warned someone and what if someone had just known about Rosie, what if...?

I miss them all so much it hurts.

I dreamt of Rosie and of Luc and just pictured myself hugging them and apologizing over and over and over, tears streaming down my face and they just looked down at me and smiled and patted my head and didn't say a word.

But they were right there. Right in front of me and I couldn't do a damn thing to save them now.

It just didn't seem real. None of it seems real. It's been months and months and none of it seems real.

I suspect it's the sort of pain one doesn't ever really get over, just learns to cope with.

To all my important people:

Know that you are loved. You are so loved and like it or not, you are a part of every single person you've met. You have changed them and become a part of their story and goodness gracious, they would not be where they are today if it weren't for you.

Know that you are needed. I need you. Holy fuck, do I need you. Don't you dare leave me. Not anytime soon.

Know that time will heal. I sound like a right hypocrite because I'm guilty of tricking myself into believing none of it will ever be okay again. But that's simply not true. You've got to believe that someday, you will be okay again. Things will be okay again. And if it's not okay, it's not the end.

I suspect my train of thought has dragged you all over the place by now. I'm sorry.

My mind is a messy place, but you already knew that.

I'm hungry. I should probably go do something about that.

Take care of yourselves, please. Treat yourself like you would a small child.

I love you.

Hasta la próxima,

Much love xoxo

Maya

The Field

Hello fellow readers. I dunno why the idea for this story has been swimming around in my head for a while but I kinda needed to get it written down before it drove me crazy. I dunno if it will make much sense to anyone or if it will even be enjoyable to read but alas, here you go.

..........

I don't know why he made us do it.

Besides, it's not like he even had the right—he just got here. New subs never know what the fuck they're doing.

Detention's never been a joyride but it sure as hell was never this bad.

One Friday after school he just decided to do it, though. I don't know why we didn't just run away. 

All four of us piled into the back of his pickup while he drove us out of the lot, then out of the neighborhood, and then out of the town.

The other three didn't seem to give a shit about what was goin' on.

Jason stretched an arm out the side of the truck, spitting up gobs of saliva and watching them splash on the road as we zipped past.

Amy kept her head down, knees pulled up to her chest while she picked at her arms incessantly.

Becca toyed with the chain around her neck and sucked the crucifix into her mouth. She's an atheist.

Me?

I tugged the beanie over my eyes and decided I might as well take a nap while I'm at it.

'cept the road got bumpier and I could tell we weren't nowhere near Cortland anymore.

Just fields. For miles and miles.

He pulled up to the side of the road.

"All right, dirtbags, get outta the car," Mr. Lawlor said matter-of-factly, like it wasn't weird that he just pulled up in the middle of bum-fuck nowhere and asked four teenagers to hop outta his truck.

"Lawlor, what the hell we doin' here?" Jason spat at the ground and folded his arms across his chest.

Jason's a real manly guy. You know, real tall, beefy, linebacker... That sort.

His brother served in the army. Hadn't seen him for two years.

"I'll tell ya what we're doin' here," Mr. Lawlor began.

The girls hopped off the pickup and Becca leaned against a tire, the crucifix still in her mouth.

Amy stared at the ground.

"You four are gonna do as I say, ya hear?" he took up this weird authoritative voice, one none of us had heard before.

I watched Becca tense up out the corner of my eye.

"Elliot!"

I turned my head to face him.

"Tell me what you see," Mr. Lawlor said.

My eyes widened at the rope in his hands. My words caught in my throat.

"I-uh..." I blinked, "Rope, sir?"

"That's right, son, now show me your hands,"

I could sense the others around me and I wondered if they all expected me to bolt.

Listen, I'm no track star, never was, never will be. And it was gettin' dark out and I had no idea where I was and...

"Good man," Mr. Lawlor wrapped a tight cord around my wrists, binding them in front of me.

"You kid, c'mere," he was talking to Amy.

I could tell she was shakin' real bad but wasn't making any moves to run away.

Neither were Becca or Jason.

You see, whatever happened out here couldn't be worse than what was waitin' for us back home.

Mr. Lawlor took the end of my rope and looped it around her wrists, binding us together like cattle down a line.

Amy started picking at her hands.

"Mr. Figg, hands please,"

Jason didn't comply at first but he figured what the hell? He owed us that much.

"And lastly, pretty girl, I'm gonna need your hands,"

"What for? I don't do handjobs," Becca didn't bat an eyelash.

Amy stifled a laugh.

"I'm afraid that won't be happenin' today, Miss Hansen," and with that, Mr. Lawlor grabbed both her wrists and pulled the cord, far tighter this time.

"'Scuse the precaution, kids, I just can't have none of you runnin' away, you see..."

"Lawlor, tell us what the fuck we're doin' tied up in the middle of nowhere," Jason was getting impatient and you could tell by the way he grew about a foot while speaking.

"Jason, I don't care for your language right about now." his tone was unbearably condescending.

"Yeah? Well I don't care for your shit right about now! So if you could kindly tell us what the hell is goin' on, we would highly appreciate it," Jason was making Amy nervous.

I could feel her whole body shakin' right next to me.

"All right, since you asked so politely, I'll start with Miss Hansen over here," Mr. Lawlor put both hands on Becca's shoulders and ushered her away from us, out into the fields and far away.

"Get your fuckin' hands off me!" we heard her screech at him, but I don't think it did much difference.

It was so dark now, we couldn't hardly see each other's faces.

"Shit, guys, what's he gonna do to her? We need to get the hell outta here!" it was the first time I ever saw Jason panic.

Amy started tuggin' at the cord that bound us together.

"It's no use tryna run away, we're still connected to her," I said, nodding towards the yards and yards of rope between our connected knots.

Jason tried wriggling out of his cord but it didn't matter.

We weren't gettin' outta here, the rope was too tight.

Then we heard it.

A shriek more piercing than anythin' I'd ever heard before, like it was splitting the air around us.

Amy's eyes widened in fear and I tried to think of something, anything that could make her feel better.

But then it came again, louder and followed by broken words and hackin' sobs.

"DON'T—GODDAMMIT—KILL ME! JESUS CHRIST—KILL ME!—PLEASE!"

Becca sounded like she was choking on somethin' and for a second I thought it might be her crucifix.

The irony in that would just be...

"Holy shit, man, we gotta do somethin'!" Jason was looking at me pleadingly now.

Amy looked to be absorbed in her own world, 'cept the skin round her nails was bleedin'.

"What do you mean?! We interfere, we're both dead!"

"Elliot, get your head outta your ass and help me think of somethin'!" Jason looked as if he were about to cry.

I shut my eyes real tight and tried to channel Lin.

Lin was my big sis. She was great at everythin'. Smart, beautiful, talented. You know.

Only one night she and her boyfriend got drunk and he tried to drive her back to our place, but...

Well, you get the idea.

I opened my eyes and turned my head to follow Amy's gaze.

He was back.

Without Becca.

The fields were quieter now.

My eyes scanned his body for blood but I didn't see any.

Did he just...? Did he choke her to death...?

God, that must be a bad way to go.

"Jason? The fields are waitin' for you," Mr. Lawlor had some sort of sickly grin plastered on his face and I wanted nothin' more than to clob it off.

Jason's eyes met mine for a split second before I saw him visibly tense up and make his way over to our sub, a stiffness in his gait.

I gave him a small nod and held my breath 'til I couldn't see him anymore.

"Ohmygod,"

I turned my head and there's Amy, trickles of blood trailing down her fingertips and splattering in neat drops on the ground.

"Fuck, Amy! Stop that!" I tried to pick her hands apart but the way I was tied up, I just couldn't.

"Ohmygod" she kept whispering to herself and I could see the tears pooling in her eyes.

She picked more intensely at her hands and before I could scold her again, we heard Jason.

It wasn't as pained as Becca's scream, it was more of an... angry yell?

I shut my eyes again and tried not to think too hard about it.

"Fuck fuck fuck! I can't let him take me... I-I need to get outta here, I need to... I need," Amy's eyes were glazed over and her chest seemed to be moving up and down a bit too fast.

"Hey, Amy, you gotta relax, kid," I tried to coax her, "It'll be easier for you that way,"

"No no no no no! You don't—you don't understand, I... My Ma! Elliot, without me, where's Ma gonna get her shit, I—"

"Shit? Amy, what shit? What're you on about?" I couldn't understand her.

I'd known Amy since kindergarten but we'd never so much as had a five minute conversation together.

"Her drugs, for God's sake! My Ma's an addict, I thought everyone knew!" she looked at me with pure anger in her eyes and that's when we heard Jason's screams again.

"I HATE YOU!—I—I GAVE YOU EVERYTHING!—FUCKIN' H-HELL, I—FUCK YOU!"

What Jason said threw us both off for a bit.

I dunno, it just sounded a bit... personal? To be screamin' it at Mr. Lawlor, at least.

Gave him everything?

"I hope it's fast,"

I looked at Amy and saw her eyes shut tight. I figured I'd follow suit.

The last of Jason's screams blew away in the wind as Amy and I waited for our turn.

And then he was back.

"You're next, darlin'. You'll thank me later, Miss Evans, I promise," Mr. Lawlor winked at Amy and she struggled on for as long as I could see her.

The dark took over after that.

How in the hell did I end up here?

Fuck it, I shoulda listened to Lin when I had the chance.

"Stop smart-mouthin' the teachers, you hear?"

"I know, Lin, I know, they just—they're so dumb sometimes!"

"Suck it up, kiddo, that's life. Now quit the sass and stay outta detention!"

She was always tellin' me to do the right thing, you know?

After the crash, I—our dad, well... Lin was my dad's favorite. Everybody knew that.

After she... Well, my dad started goin' out a lot and comin' back home at three, four in the morning, and...

He didn't like me very much. I tried to stay outta his way but... Anyway.

"I TRIED, GODDAMMIT!—I TRIED, AND YOU—JUST LISTEN TO ME!"

Amy sounded like her throat was being torn to shreds.

I felt sorry that I never paid her attention much. She was real beautiful when you really looked at her.

"WHY CAN'T YOU JUST?–GOD, WHY CAN'T YOU LOVE ME?!"

What?

Did she and Mr. Lawlor have a...?

No, but she couldn't have. Mr. Lawlor only started subbing a month ago, that's too soon, that—

Then she screamed again. This shrill, hot fire of a sound, like the ground was vibratin' underneath you or somethin' was clawing at your chest.

I wanted her to stop. I wanted it all to stop.

Why didn't he just kill us on the spot? Isn't that what he wanted?

I thought back to Becca and Jason.

Becca and I used to be good friends, you know... Back in middle school.

Her father was a preacher and she'd been to church every Sunday since she was a baby.

'cept somewhere along the line, I dunno, we just kinda... stopped being friends, I guess?

Then the rumors started about her father pimpin' her out to his friends and, well...

No wonder she stopped believin' in God.

Jason and I, though... We never really saw each other 'cept for detention.

His brother used to go to our school. Jamie, he... Jamie never went to college, you know.

Jamie went straight into the army. He was real popular in school.

Jason, though... I guess he was always just in Jamie's shadow. Somethin' like that, I suppose.

I heard his Ma's real tough on him. I heard she threw him outta the house once.

"Elliot Moss, looks like you're my last one."

I shook off the last of my wanderin' thoughts and looked up.

I took a deep breath before following him.

Mr. Lawlor placed a hand on my shoulder that made my skin crawl.

"Look, sir, whatever you're plannin' to do, just... Just make it quick, alright?" I held my breath and waited for something.

I sensed that we were far, far out in the field somewhere. I couldn't make out the pickup anymore.

"Nonsense, Mr. Moss, I'd just like to ask you a few questions," he looked at me as if he were harmless.

What kind of sick bastard was he?

I nodded, wanting to get it over with.

"Your mother, she's passed on, hasn't she?"

I tensed up. It wasn't a question.

"How did you—?"

"I'm a teacher, Elliot. We've got access to all your records," he said it as if it were obvious.

I fought the urge to puke.

"Now, I take it your mother was a nice woman, Elliot. What can you tell me about your father?"

I wanted to punch this guy in the throat.

"You have no right to—!"

"Your father, Elliot, what has your father done to you?" he raised his voice at me and it took everything in me not to shrink away.

"My father hasn't done anything to me," I lied between gritted teeth.

"Then tell me why you're shaking right now, tell me!" Mr. Lawlor grew three times his size and I swear I couldn't see the end of him.

"I'm not—I—Fuck you!" I clenched my fists through the ropes and swallowed the lump in my throat.

"You had a sister, didn't you? Real bright, wasn't she?" he circled around me and I felt my chest tighten.

"Don't you talk about Lin—" I started but he cut me off.

"Lin, was it? She could've been anythin' she wanted. Your father wanted her to go to medical school, didn't he?"

I wanted nothing more than to impale this bastard with scathing knives.

"What? How did—?"

"The files, Elliot! The files! Now, focus!" his voice rang in my ears like a chainsaw.

"When she died, he wanted you to be just like her, didn't he?"

"I—"

"Didn't he?!"

"YES! FOR FUCK'S SAKE—YES!" I gasped and swallowed a sob.

"When she died, do you think he resented you?" I hated the way Mr. Lawlor had burrowed inside my brain.

I couldn't even tell where his voice was comin' from anymore.

"I—no, he—"

"His only daughter's dead and he's stuck with you! Now, Elliot, tell me, did you pay for it?!" he grabbed me by the collar.

"LET GO OF ME, YOU BASTARD! LET GO!" I screamed, knowing no one would hear me.

Mr. Lawlor swung his arm back, ready to punch and I lost all sense of who I was.

"I DIDN'T DO ANYTHING! IT'S—IT'S NOT MY FAULT!—I'M SORRY, DAD, I'M SORRY!"

"Fuckin' scream, Elliot, I want you to scream for it," Mr. Lawlor placed a hand on my shoulder.

I let out the wildest yell I think I'd ever made in my life and crumbled to the ground in a heap.

I couldn't see anymore.

"That's good, kid, that's good..."

The rest is a blur.

..........

So. Yeah. I wasn't quite sure how to end it since I wanted you guys to kinda come up with your own conclusions...

Sorry if that was a load of bullshit I just made you read. Anyway. Let me know your thoughts and such. It'd be much appreciated.

Hasta la próxima,

Much love xoxo

Maya

Carpe Noctum

Hello lovelies.

I had to write a ten-paged script as my exam for Drama Workshop. I pulled this together at the last minute cuz I suck and that's what I do.

Anywho, I thought I'd share.

..........

Carpe Noctum

Daniel—age 17

Nicholás—age 14

August

Dan: C’mon, bro. It’s almost 11. If you’re gonna catch the shower, you better come quickly.

Nicholás: I’m comin’, I’m comin’. Jeez…

(They climb out the window stealthily and start climbing a tree that leads to their roof)

Dan: (reaching his arm out) Need help there, man?

Nicholás: I can do it myself.

Dan: Alright, alright, just tryna help.

(Dan pulls the hoodie over his head and sprawls out on the roof. Nicholás remains quiet.)

Dan: So how’s that robot comin’ along?

Nicholás: There’s not gonna be no robot.

Dan: (baffled) What do you mean no robot? Nicky, you been plannin’ this for months! Didn’t you ask Papá to register you?

Nicholás: Yeah. And when I did, he said “You got twenty bucks? You got a job? You bring food to the table? Yeah, didn’t think so.”

Dan: (under his breath) Bastard.

Nicholás: (picking up tiny pebbles and throwing them off the roof) It’s whatever. I sold the parts to Charlie for a Hamilton.

Dan: (outraged) Bullshit you did! Nicholás, those took you forever to get! So what? Now you’re gonna have some pendejo like Charlie Johnson take all the credit? For ten fuckin’ bucks? Jesus!

Nicholás: (equally mad) Well what else was I gonna do? Steal twenty bucks and go anyway?

Dan: Bro, you coulda asked me. I woulda found a way.

Nicholás: (dejectedly) There’s no point, anyway. I’m not goin’.

(Both brothers sit in uncomfortable silence for a few moments. Then, a flash of stars zoom past the sky.)

Dan: Hey, Nicky, look! The shower’s startin’!

Nicholás: (as if forgetting all his troubles, smiles) Yeah…

Dan: Shit, man, this one’s insane.

Nicholás: D’ya think one might land here?

Dan: What’re you, five? ‘Course not. It’s just God’s way of shakin’ things up when he gets bored.

Nicholás: You think so?

Dan: ‘Course.

(Both smile at each other. A sweet moment before indistinct yelling is heard from downstairs. They wince.)

Dan: Goddammit, what are they killin’ each other for now?

Nicholás: (quiet, like a small child) I dunno…

(The following is heard from within the house. Only silhouettes are seen through the windows.)

Mamá: What you mean you told him no? Andrés, he’s a fourteen-year-old boy! This could be his only chance to go!

Papá: I’m not givin’ no fuckin’ kid twenty bucks to go compete in some bullshit competition, Laura.

Mamá: Oh yeah? Well that “fuckin’ kid” happens to be your son, Andrés. And if you don’t give him the kind of love and attention he needs, you’re gonna lose him.

Papá: Shut up, woman, you don’t make no sense.

Mamá: Mi amor, this kind of opportunity could send him to college.

Papá: Stop talkin’ shit. That ain’t never gonna happen.

Mamá: But if you just gave him a chance, he could—

Papá: (losing his temper, slaps her across the face) Goddammit, I said shut up!

(Back on the roof, Daniel and Nicholás look visibly concerned, angry, and upset. All the while, yelling continues from inside the house.)

Dan: (balling his hands into fists and making as if to leave) That’s it…

Nicholás: (grabbing his arm) Are you crazy?! He’ll kill you!

Dan: (yanking his arm free) If I don’t go down there, he’ll kill Mamá first.

(Dan jumps onto the tree as Nicholás stands up quickly to retrieve him.)

Nicholás: Danny, stop! This is about me, not you.

Dan: It don’t matter who it’s about, Nicky—

(All of a sudden, we hear from within.)

Papá: (completely enraged) You know what, puta de mierda? You care about him so much? Why don’t you try and stop me from beatin’ his ass, eh?

(Mamá screams in protest and footsteps are heard going towards what we assume is the boys’ bedroom.)

Dan: (realization dawning on him) Shit, Nicky, if we’re not in bed, we’re both dead. Let’s go.

(Nicholás jumps onto the tree and both boys climb down, back through the window into the house.)

October

Nicholás: Hurry up, Danny! I don’t wanna miss the beginin’.

Dan: (laughs) Jesus, I know, I know. Calm down.

Mamá: (heard from within) Daniel, where do you two think you’re goin’?

(Both boys stop in their tracks.)

Dan: (knows he’s caught) I… uh… we were just… I was gonna teach Nicholás how to get to the top of the tree?

(Mamá looks unconvinced.)

Mamá: Uh huh. At 11:30 at night? I don’t think so.

Nicholás: (pleadingly) Mamá, we just wanted to go watch the meteor shower. I promise, we won’t be out long…

(The boys wait for an answer. Mamá smiles.)

Mamá: Okay, pero cúbranse bien! I don’t need neither of you catchin’ a cold out there.

(The boys breathe a sigh of relief.)

Dan: (kissing his mother on the cheek) Yes, Mamá.

Mamá: And make sure Papá don’t catch you outside when he gets home, oyeron?

Nicholás: Si, Mamá.

(The boys scramble up the tree and onto the roof.)

Nicholás: (wrapping his arms tighter around himself) Damn, it is cold out.

Dan: (unzipping his hoodie and tossing it to his brother) Here.

(Both lie down and look up.)

Nicholás: There’s a party next weekend.

Dan: You goin’?

Nicholás: I dunno.

Dan: (teasingly) Well, you should. Maybe that chick Lia Martínez will be there…

Nicholás: (slightly embarrassed) Shut up, Danny.

Dan: (more teasingly) Maybe she’ll wear one of those lil’ kitty costumes, or fuck, better yet—one of those dirty police officer ones—

Nicholás: (annoyed) Shut up, man. She ain’t like that. She’ll probably be Harry Potter or some shit...

Dan: All I’m sayin’ is you’re gonna wanna take advantage of these parties ‘cuz once you get to be an ol’ man like me, you don’t got time to go to parties no more.

Nicholás: What? ‘Course you do. That’s what college is for, dumbass.

Dan: (solemnly) Nicky, I don’t think I’m goin’... There’s no money…

Nicholás: But… yeah there is! If Papá can afford to go out every night, you can pay for college, can’t you?

Dan: Nicky, I—

(A burst of stars shoot across the sky)

Dan: (changing the subject) Hey, look!

Nicholás: But Daniel—

Dan: Just drop it, Nicky. I don’t care much, anyway…

(They sigh and look silently up at the meteor shower.)

Nicholás: D’you think Mamá’s ever seen one of these?

Dan: Huh?

Nicholás: A meteor shower. You think Mamá’s ever seen one?

Dan: I dunno. Probably not.

Nicholás: We should show her sometime.

Dan: (smiles) Yeah. We should.

(A rickety old car slowly pulls up to the driveway. Papá gets out. He’s clearly intoxicated.)

Dan: (whispers) Shit, he’s back. (he notices something) Wait, is that…?

(A woman leans out the driver’s window and kisses Papá full on the mouth.)

Nicholás: (disgusted) What the…?

(Mamá is heard shouting from the front door of the house. The woman in the car drives away. Papá and Mamá confront each other in the front yard. Yells turn into screams.)

Mamá: (hysterical) How long, Andrés?! How long, ah?

Papá: None of your fuckin’ business, woman.

Mamá: How long have you been screwin’ her in our bed, ah? Tell me,carajo! Tell me!

(Papá strikes her across the face and pulls her close to his face, trying to seem intimidating. Mamá only sobs.)

Papá: Don’t you fuckin’ talk to me like that or I’ll kill you, you hear me?

Nicholás: (sliding off the roof onto the ground) Don’t touch her!

Papá: Where the hell… you supposed to be in bed.

Nicholás: I said don’t touch her.

(Nicholás makes as if to move closer.)

Papá: (grabbing Mamá by the throat) You come any closer, I’ll kill her.

(Dan, still on the roof, calls 911.)

Nicholás: (desperate) Stop, just stop! Let her go! Daniel!

November

Mamá: (giggly) I can’t believe I’m doin’ this.

Nicholás: (whisper-yells) Shh, or you’ll wake Papá!

Mamá: Trust me, he won’t be wakin’ up for a real long time.

Dan: Tequila?

Mamá: Tequila.

(The boys try helping Mamá climb up the tree.)

Mamá: Ay, Madre Santa! I don’t know how you boys do this all the time.

Nicholás: (laughs) It’s called practice, Mamá.

Dan: Mamá, you want my jacket?

Mamá: Ay, thank you, mijo, but you need it more. (notices how far they are from the ground) Dios mio, what if we fall off?!

Dan: Relax, Mamá, you’re not gonna fall.

Mamá: Y si me resbalo?

Nicholás: You’re not gonna slip, I promise.

Dan: Shh, it’s startin’!

Mamá: (in awe) Santa Maria…

Dan: It’s crazy, isn’t it?

Nicholás: It’s beautiful. (slightly teasingly) Just like you, Mamá.

Mamá: (jokingly) Ay, mijo, all God’s creations are beautiful. Just some more than others.

(They laugh.)

Mamá: Do you boys know any constellations?

Dan: I mean… I dunno if you can see it now ‘cuz of the shower but… see that string of stars over there?

Mamá: Aha?

Dan: That one’s Hercules.

Mamá: Oh, like the sexy Greek god?

Nicholás: (embarrassed) Mamá!

Mamá: (chuckles to herself) I need me a man like that.

(Both boys cringe but laugh nonetheless. They watch the shower in silence.)

Dan: Mamá?

Mamá: Tell me, mi amor.

Dan: Why don’t you leave him?

Mamá: (sitting up, sighing) Daniel, you know I can’t do that.

Nicholás: (aggravated) Why not?

Mamá: Because, amor, I can’t make it out on my own. Papá’s been with me since we were fifteen… I can’t just leave him after all he’s done for me.

Dan: (also aggravated) After all he’s done for you?! Mamá, he ain’t done shit for you! And he could care less about me and Nicky. He don’t care about any of us!

Mamá: (trying to convince herself) Daniel, you know that’s not true…

Nicholás: It is! I don’t get how you can stay with a descarado like that.

Mamá: Both of you, stop it! Your Papá loves me, and he loves you, too. He just has a hard way of showin’ it.

Dan: Mamá, stop lyin’ to yourself! He’s dangerous—I’m serious!

Nicholás: Please, Mamá. Promise you’ll leave him?

Dan: Please?

(Mamá, clearly uncomfortable and upset by the conversation, gathers herself and climbs back down the tree.)

Nicholás: Mamá!

Mamá: Good night, mis hijos. Don’t forget to shut the window when you’re done.

Dan: Mamá!—

(Mamá exits)

Dan: Goddammit! Why is she like that? Why can’t she just… fuck.

Nicholás: I dunno, man.

December

Dan: Nicky, you up here?

Nicholás: (sniffles) Go away.

Dan: C’mon, man. Please?

(Dan climbs up the tree and joins Nicholás on the roof.)

Nicholás: (start sobbing almost uncontrollably) I coulda done somethin’, Danny, it’s all my fault! I coulda pushed her outta the way or—

Dan: Shh, listen, Nicholás, there’s nothin’ you coulda done, alright? She was twenty feet away. It wouldn’ta mattered.

(Dan slings his arm over his brother, trying to contain himself.)

Nicholás: But—But we t-told her an’ everythin’ an’ she just, she didn’t listen! Why didn’t she listen?

Dan: I dunno, Nicky.

(They sit in silence. A meteor shower begins. Neither of them look up.)

Nicholás: You think she’s up there?

Dan: ‘Course. Right next to Hercules.

(Nicholás wipes his nose on his sweater and glances up. Dan looks over at him before fishing something out of his pocket.)

Dan: Here.

Nicholás: What?

Dan: (handing a five dollar bill over) So you can start savin’ for next year. You’re goin’ to that competition whether you like it or not.

Nicholás: What?

Dan: You heard Mamá. That could be your only shot at college so you might as well take it.

Nicholás: But what about you?

Dan: Don’t worry about me. I’ll be all right.

(They both look up. Blackout.)

The End

..........

Sorry about the slightly very depressing themes. Take care of yourselves.

Much love xoxo

Maya