so, uhh...

i'm an idiot && created a new blog, when really i meant to add to this one..
so here you go.

http://colocha89.blogspot.com/

E is For empty

Good hurt

Sometimes the only thing that can help cure wounds is more pain. To go in and clean it out; get rid of all the dirt and start clean; let the wounds really heal. The longer it seems that they can go uncleansed, the harder it will be to heal. The pain intensified is the only thing that will really help the wounds to heal.The only way to heal is to hurt more. A kind of hurt tha makes the soul cry, and the heart hope for a better tomorrow. Will there be scars? Of course there will be scars; but scars that make you stronger, make you remember, not scars that are hurt eat time they are touched.

"scars remind us that the past is real. i tear my heart open, just to feel."

dreams

Dreams are like the reality that we wish we had.
The happiness we want to achieve
The small thoughts that never develop into anything because we are so rushed to move on the the next idea.
Dreams are what we hope for.
Dreams are our fears
Dreams are our anguish.
The things that we never hope come true
the things we never want to admit to ourselves that are true.
Dreams are never what we expect.
Dreams are exactly what we need.

Dreams are the place we can get away.
where everything is perfect.
where we can reflect on ourselves.
where we can be a kid again.

Dreams are God's way of reaching out
Dreams are my connection to God.

Arquitectura de la urgencia

Arquitectura de la urgencia


alguien a quien puedo admirar.
alguien a quien puedo aspirar.

one time... i almost got married.

i was driving down the 85. on the overpass off the overpass on the pleasanthill exit. i was speeding, im sure. going 80, 85 maybe? i could hear myself starting to be scared. i felt my heartbeat in my ears, the beads of sweat starting to build on my forehead. and then everything went in slow motion for a second, my life didn't flash before my eyes, i was strangely aware of everything, there were no cars behind me, the wall was too close to me... and then everything was in fast forward one wall, then the next wall, then the next...each scrape on the side of my car to match the ones in my heart.

the tire was starting to pull away from the car, like my life slipping away from my hands. my heart pounding louder than i've ever felt it, like i had just been running the last three months of my life, and finally stopped. like my world was crashing. along with my car.

for a split second i saw the wall. not more than three feet tall. surprising actually. the car could have flipped over. the car could have gone over the edge. all the edges and boundaries had been pushed, why not this one? and why not this one too? what did it mean to be standing here, next to the car? the scraped, bruised car... matching the interior.

This is what I look like. this is what i was. broken, scraped parts, a torn off tire, smashed mirror, unusable parts... al laid out before me, pushed to the edge, but not thrown over.

legal alien- pat mora

Bi-lingual, Bi-cultural,
able to slip from "How's life?"
to "Me'stan volviendo loca,"
able to sit in a paneled office
drafting memos in smooth English,
able to order in fluent Spanish
at a Mexican restaurant,
American but hyphenated,
viewed by Anglos as perhaps exotic,
perhaps inferior, definitely different,
viewed by Mexicans as alien,
(their eyes say, "You may speak
Spanish but you're not like me")
an American to Mexicans
a Mexican to Americans
a handy token
sliding back and forth
between the fringes of both worlds
by smiling
by masking the discomfort
of being pre-judged
Bi-laterally.