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The Fuel


If the oceans were divided into nations, I surely belonged in the Pacific. I whirled down towards the vortex of death until I went to the Pacific. The Atlantic with its colorful waters and the Indian with its treasures in sunken ships, had not swept me away. My soul reached out to the Pacific after a night of turmoil and savage thoughts of the brutal past that life almost left me. Life felt devoid of love and the thought of loneliness for my sentence of life had soured my heart. I needed an escape to release my angst, and Bali was the destination.


After a long ride from Ngurah Rai International Airport to the Lovina Hotel in Singaraja, a tall and slim fellow with almond eyes and tawny complexion greeted me in his beautiful brown batik sarong and a cream button-down shirt at the entrance of the resort. The three o'clock afternoon sun was glorious as the cool breeze caressed my sweaty forehead.


"A cup of welcome tea, miss," he said, offering me a ceramic cup of jasmine tea and led me to the lobby of the Lovina Resorts. The sweet taste of red ginger and brown sugar refreshed my palate, and I felt the nostalgia of paradise setting into my chest.


"Thank you," I said, as he took my bag and led me through the path towards the back of the garden, as we walked farther down after the swimming pool, passing the small temple shrine. Purple orchids and pink hibiscus lined the path towards the thatched roof bungalow with black gravel and the red earthen soil. The bungalow sat feet away in distance from the ocean, with a veranda at the front facing the shore.


"Here is your room, Miss. Breakfast is free at the main lounge until 11 am, and we have a restaurant near the lobby for lunch and dinner," he said, as I slipped ten thousand rupiah in bills into his hands and we shook hands for goodbyes.


He'll probably be the last person I will meet, I thought because I felt emptiness burrowing into my soul since I almost died.


"Terima kasih, miss," Fajar said, thanking me in Bahasa, the national language of Bali, Indonesia. "We give plenty of privacy for our guests here, but if you need help, please don't be afraid to ask."


"Metta, my name is Metta," I said, as Fajar left and as familiar as any man who entered my microcosm of life. I felt a tinge of pain from the yearning for healing and companionship, as I inhaled deep for air from the humidity.


Two four feet birds of paradise tropical plants were at the corners of the room, with teak windows and large paintings of Batik patterns on each four walls. A queen bed with four pillows arranged in taupe colors with a matching soft cotton blanket was in the middle of the room. The ivory marbled floor cooled my soles and my body.


The bottle of merlot at the kitchenette drew my attention. Whisky brown and Jack Daniels were in small ounces on the kitchen bar, but I opted for merlot and advised on its solace and comfort. I poured a small glass and walked to the back open aired shower with slippery wet rock floorings as I toured this bungalow. I slipped and fell on the ground and was out for a moment before I came out of the nauseating fall. The broken wine glass was underneath me and I cleaned it up before I walked out.


The slow death of loneliness crept in as I wondered outside to the veranda of my bungalow. On the shore further from the veranda in front of me, I heard a couple of fishermen speaking in Bahasa. I was somewhat fluent in Bahasa because of my Balinese mother who spoke to me in Indonesian since I was a child.


"Ada ikan apa tidak? Kenapa net-nya hilang?" said one man. I knew he was asking his companions if there were fishes, and if the net was gone.


I saw from the corner of my eyes to the left, a grey dolphin had flipped on its back onto the shores, singing its own canticle of the ocean paradise. I spotted my weekender inside my bungalow and scavenged for a pair of shorts, a sports bra, and a shirt, then quickly put those on and treaded barefoot towards the beach.


I paced on the sands barefoot, guided by the clouds moving as slowly as my two bare feet. Jogging towards another few yards to the northern part of the hotel, I reached the rock barriers of the resort. Pushing through the sweat, I tried to pick up my pace, but my right ankle was yanked underneath me as I slumped on the sand face first. The grip shook my being as I looked down and saw a hand reached out from a clump of seaweed below me. Closing my mouth with my hands, I heard a murmur of foreign words.


"Tolong saya," said the being inside the clump of seaweed, asking for help in Bahasa.


Another hand reached out from the large clumps of seaweeds, trembling and wet in agony. Reaching out to the shredded seaweed, I scraped the remains of the green leaves over its face, for which those hands belonged, and discovered the face of a man. His face grimaced with all his teeth that were fangs inside his mouth. His slanted eyes accented his skin dark as soil, except…his lower half, was that of a fish. His hair was dark locks of curls flowing down his body.


In front of me was a merman, the fantastical being that existed only in stories, yet, this was my reality. I gasped from the mesmerizing surprise that shook me. "Where did you…?" I tried to ask. Groaning a painful wail, the merman was in distress as I swept the seaweed away from his body or his fins. What being existed in this modern world?

The questions lingered as I saw part of his scales were ripped from the nets that caught him. The twisted netting must have caught his fins, as they were tangled in the sharp twists. Blood trickled down my wrist as I pulled the nets out of his fins and tried to untwist it.


"Scissors, I need scissors…" I said to myself. "This can't possibly be."


I finally unwound the netting and saw torn scales on his pelvic. Neither the blood nor the skepticism inside my mind stopped me from helping him. I felt the urgency of kindness as red blood as human's trickled with each scale being torn off from the netting as I picked it away. "We have to get to my bungalow," I said to him as if he understood me. I took off my shirt and used it to wrap him, pulling him behind me with the shirt tucked under both his arms as he gripped on the cotton. I pulled him out of the shores and away from view.


Reaching my bungalow not far from the shore, with no one in view, the beach was deserted as most north shore beaches often were during off-holidays season in September. The evening sunset greeted me as I hurried to open the door, pulled him inside, and closed the door to lock it.


I took him underneath the shower head and turned on the warm water just enough to warm him. He shivered with blue tinged lips as I fear for his life while the humidity caused me to sweat in drips.


"Cool down for me," I said. I took his right hand and placed it over his heart, or where I thought his heart might be, over his left chest. Pearls of sweat rolled down his forehead as water dripped down from the shower over his taut tawny skin to the sides of his stomach. My tears rolled down from his exasperation and from seeing his body torn apart with his scales ripped and his fins twisted and bloodied. I felt his heart drumming beats of fears and confusion.


"Don't worry," I told him. Underneath the tepid water showering down, his eyes softly closed.


I turned off the shower and dried him, cracked some acetaminophen pills I brought from home, and sprinkled them over his wounds. That and some vitamin C powder I placed over his scales could act as healers. I hope you are okay, I thought.


 "Dari mana kamu?"  I asked him where he was from.


"Samoedra," he answered, meaning the ocean.


"Nayan, nama saya," he said, as I nodded, acknowledging his name.


"Metta, my name is Metta," I replied.


"Terima kasih, Metta," said Nayan, thanking me in Bahasa. His tongue was the same shape as a human's; only his teeth were small fangs arrayed as if pearly horns in a row.

I continued to dry him off with the towel and let it soak some of the left-over blood, but the medicine had soaked it and stopped the blood from flowing. I pulled him over my shoulder and brought him to the sofa near the bed, placing the pillows underneath his neck and turned off the air conditioner.


"I'm sorry this happened," I said to him. Silently, I asked for forgiveness for the fishermen's netting that caught him, twisted his fins, and ripped off his scales. I felt sin percolating inside my gut, as if I, a human, had caused him pain.


His eyes were moist. "Not your fault, Metta," said Nayan, in Bahasa. He leaned back and closed his eyes again, this time into a deep sleep. As I went to my bed and closed my eyes, thinking that perhaps, tomorrow would come and this would all be a dream.


But it wasn't.


In the morning, Nayan awoke and laid still on the chair, neither in tears nor in anger. He stared at me, perhaps expecting some sort of words from my mouth.


"I am human," I said in Bahasa as I wiped my eyes from an awakening in the morning. I tapped on his stomach and reached down to palpate on the portion of his gut where his scaled fins began on the lower pelvic of his body. His eyes grew wide and I knew I had scared him with my touch. He swiped my hands from his body and said, "Saya putra duyung," telling me he was a merman prince.

I examined the rest of his fins down to his lower side and there was no more blood trickling down. The acetaminophen had acted as medicine for his body.


"I have a daughter," said Nayan in Bahasa. "Help me so she won't be caught by the fishermen." His eyes glistened, but I saw no tears, only sorrow written on his glowing skin. For whatever it's worth, I wanted to help him, as I knew he wasn't a con-artist dressed in a mermaid outfit and this reality may be far-fetched, but it was as real as grapefruits.


He reached behind my ears, and I felt a sharp pain. I shook out and stood up, as I realized that an extra layer of skin grew out of my skin and protruded behind my ears, all the way down to my ear lobes. I touched it and it felt soft and supple with tingles. I inhaled to breathe down to my gut, clearer than ever before.


"I know my daughter is waiting," said Nayan. I realized he must have swum near the snorkeling gardens with his daughter when the net caught him. "You can breathe now."


I didn't understand what he meant by breathe. I was already breathing. I looked to the dresser for a swimsuit and put it on in front of him as he stared at me in disbelief about this human undressing her form. At this moment, all sanity was gone, and I was left with the sense that I needed to act based on kindness, not skepticism.


"I will swim to where we were and look for her," I said to him, not caring if he understood.


I walked towards the northern part of the shore, and kept on walking past the rocky areas and dove into the water to where the sign that said snorkeling areas, no fishing allowed. I swam underneath the waters and held my breath enough to see the garden under the ocean, with the brittle starfishes, puckered puffer fishes and sea urchins down under the sea. The gobi swam by and a jellyfish swam over other invertebrate animals in the ocean expanse.


I looked behind the rocks and felt a rush of waters followed me from behind. Instinctively, I swam upward for some air, but realized my lungs had the capacity to inhale and exhale under water.          

You can breathe now…, I thought. I pulled myself out of the water to the surface, realizing that I was miles away from shore and I was breathing under water. It felt as love had swept me deep into the ocean with my lungs and chest whole and complete. I didn't fully understand everything at this point, but I knew something was guiding me. Perhaps it was divination?

I was on my own and here I was, in paradise, helping a merman who needed me. No part of the past in my life mattered. I was looking for Nayan's daughter to save her life from the fishermen who might murder her.


I went back down to the garden under the ocean, and saw farther into the darkness a glimmer of fins, as if a billion stars were captured inside a seashell. I followed the iridescent light, and it swam behind a rock. Swimming fast with whisps of my legs creating a current, I saw trailing long hair nearby, reddish tone but dark and long. Then I saw a face, with round brown eyes, showing its fangs at me, as it pushed towards me and tried to bite my neck.


I pushed away and, gesturing with my hands in front of me, begged her to stop. This little mermaid, with long red mahogany hair and brown eyes, with pearly fangs inside her mouth, was ready to bite me. She scratched my hands and arms with her long fingernails, and tried to pull me to her. Something inside my chest burst, and I said in Bahasa, "Your father begs for you to go home." I breathed and didn't gasp for air, instead I was breathing under water and the moment baffled me. There was no way in a million years humans would be able to breathe as mermaids would, but here I was, speaking to her and breathing in the deep ocean.


"Where is Nayan?" the little mermaid asked me.


"Go home!" I tried to tell her to leave the snorkeling area for fear more nets would catch her. "Nayan is safe. He is with me."


She looked into my eyes, and asked, "What is your name?"


"Metta," I answered, as I felt tears come out of my eyes with prickles in the back of my eye socket, but what came out was a whisp of dark liquid as the octopus poison in front of my face. Legends told that mermaids do not cry, and tears would come out as dark ink under the ocean waters.


In front of me, the little mermaid smiled as her hair lingered about her and her fins scattered the sunlight, producing a bright, iridescent glimmer about her being glowing in the darkness.

"Ena," she said. I nodded, then shooed her away with my hands flailing to tell her to leave as I closed my eyes. When I opened them, she had disappeared.


I swam up to the surface and towards the shore. I knew Ena understood that the shore was dangerous territory and her father would return. Fishermen were not to fish near the snorkeling areas because they would destroy the reefs; yet some irresponsible fishermen would try to do so, to catch exotics marine life and endangering the lives of the ocean.


When I came back to my room, Nayan was still in the chair and it was drenched with fluid, with the most foul scent. I realized he had urinated in the chair that he had slept in. He smiled at me, and apologized in Bahasa, "Maaf," he said. He looked to the floor and moved his tail fins up and down.


I took my towel from the bathroom to wipe the floor and saw the brown colored stain on my bath towels.


There was a knock on the door.


"Ma'am, breakfast is being served and almost out," said the voice that sounded like Fajar's.


"Oh, thank you, I will come there," I replied quickly, not wanting him to come in. I heard footsteps walking away and I turned to Nayan.


"Your daughter is safe. We will have breakfast, wait here," I told him. "Stay quiet."


I walked towards Nayan and caressed his cheeks. He softly smiled.


I stepped outside and locked the door behind me, and prayed no one from the cleaning crew would come as I placed the "Do Not Disturb" sign on the door knob.


The main lobby boasted muffins for breakfast, with bread, coffee, teas, cheeses and marmalade. I took some bread, muffins and marmalade with some bags of chamomile teas.


"Ma'am, if you have company, you can ask him to join you," said Fajar, with a smile.


"Oh, I am here alone, Fajar. I intend to enjoy myself," I replied.


"Very well, miss," said Fajar. "Breakfast is the most important meal. You can take as much as you'd like." As he looked towards my loads of foods in my hands, as I walked away. Fajar must have thought I was a freeloader. At the same time, inside my heart were nerves from the thought of whether or not Nayan would eat these delights of a morning meal.


Back in my bungalow, I saw black liquid streaming down Nayan's cheeks. "Ena," he murmured. "I feel her sorrows."


I went to the kitchenette and heated up a cup of water and placed the chamomile in the cup. As I made the tea, I spread the marmalade on the bread and cut up small pieces of the muffin for Nayan. I took a plate and offered it to him.


Nayan looked at the muffin and didn't respond, then I took a small piece and ate one, as I smiled at him, and offered it to him again. "It's okay. Food," I told him.


He ate it and swallowed it, and he must have felt the sweetness as he closed his eyes and inhaled then breathed in.


"Sugar," I told him. "It's wicked."


I gave him the cup of tea. He shoved it back to me, spilling the chamomile. He pointed towards the door, and I understood that he wanted to go home.


I sat on my bed and tears came to my eyes as I have longed for companionship, yet here I was, not meeting a normal man in hope of true love, instead a merman. The desperation and loneliness crept up again as I sobbed. I stared at his chiseled face and high cheek bone with his pointed nose and deep set eyes. Nayan was as handsome as humans were, as he looked embarrassed with a scowl on his face, looking towards the ground.


"I'm sorry," I told him, partly out of shame wishing for his companionship and the other part out of the dangerous misfortune for Nayan of being fished out from the sea.


"What is this coming out of my eyes?" asked Nayan, wiping the black liquid off his face.


"You're crying. Those are tears," I answered. "I'm crying, too."


 "Why are there tears?" he asked.


"It's an emotion, from the heart," I replied in Bahasa. "I'm scared to be alone in this world."


His eyes empathized with me as he teared up with the black liquid streaming down, and said, "I am scared for my daughter. That she will be caught. She swims too close to the shores." He sobbed, and touched his own tears. "Mermans don't cry. I never knew this feeling."


The moment sparked a multitude of emotions inside of me, love, joy, surprise, and excitement, as I realized I was bonding with a merman in real life. This felt real. This merman was becoming my friend, the company I never knew I needed.


"Everyone cries," I told him. He nodded, and reached for me with open arms. I kneeled in front of him as he touched my hands.


"You are brave," Nayan said. "Stay alive. You are important."


I kissed his forehead.


"Stay here," I said as I walked out the door, locking Nayan inside. I walked towards the garden and looked for something to roll Nayan onto the shores, because I didn't want to drag him on sand. There was a wheelbarrow near the other side of the garden and it must be for the gardeners to place their plants, but I took it and rolled it towards my bungalow. I took it inside and placed Nayan's slim body upright. I covered him with the inner layer of sheets and told him, "Don't say a word."


I rolled him outside and towards the beach as I saw Fajar running behind me, waving at me.


"Ma'am, if you need help, I am here for you!" he yelled.


"Stay there, Fajar! Don't come close!" I shouted at him as Fajar stood still several feet away from me, and I added, "I just need some time alone, please."


"Understood, Ma'am," he said. He closed his palms together and bowed away.


I continued to roll Nayan out towards the northern part of the resort and finally near the snorkeling area, I picked his body over my shoulder and laid him on the waters. He sighed and exhaled. "Go home, my brother," I said to him.


He laid with his body and uncurled his tail fins and held my hand. "You are good," he said, as he swam further towards the sea, but as I thought he was swimming away, he took my arms and dove inside the waters. I reluctantly followed as his daring dive besieged me. I swam down into the waters with Nayan, through the snorkeling areas into a large open rock underneath the waves. He kept me close to him, holding my waist as he grabbed my arm and held me tight and we swam deeper into Samoedra.


The squids were swimming and glowing in the dark, and I knew we were in depth beyond what swimmers and snorkelers could handle. We were deep down into the ocean water as I couldn't see the ocean floor. I was afraid I might be attracting sharks. Nayan took me into his arms and we swam underneath the ocean water, him close to me, and holding my waist from behind.


In front of us were large open rocks and hills of sea anemones as they moved to the current, and behold in near distance was a cave. He took me into the cave as we swam through the anemones and out of the other side was a village of more rocks and caves. There in the present moment, were other mermans and mermaids, with Ena amongst them.


"You are not alone," whispered Nayan into my ears. He didn't let go of my arms as he held me close. "Keluarga," he uttered in Bahasa, which means family.


The merman closest to him chanted a melody whose noise travelled to me, and it felt forthcoming. "We are with you," said Nayan. "Even when you are up there."


Love had swept low under the ocean and took me into its arms, as I fell forward into the abyss of hope in the waters. My eyes cried as black liquid came out of them, and I gasped as the mermaid furthest from me uttered, "No more sadness."


The oldest mermaid swimming in her tail fins came towards me with her white long hair, as she reached out with her arms and smiled. I swam towards her and hugged her as she gave me a small starfish into my hands. I took it and placed it inside my swimsuit as I wanted to keep it with me when I swam to the top and on land. My beating heart felt warmth as I was immersed in liquid love in the depth of the ocean.


"Remember us," said Nayan as he touched my cheek, and pointed to the sky over the ocean. I nodded and swam out of the caves, and out of the mermaid village towards the snorkeling areas and was hoisted up by the waves onto the surface.


I swam back to shore and reached the sands. I searched for the small star fish rock that was in my swimsuit. I took it and kissed it, as I sat on the sands by myself and realized that my loneliness was a thought that was to be offset with the alternate optimism of this present moment. The memory of this fantasy that no one could take from me.


I cried on the beach because I found out I was a lover, a family builder, a sweet warrior, and an authentic being and holy not out of hubris, but out of revelations in these waters. I saved a merman and the act proved my quality and honor. I forgot that I much attended to my depressive thoughts that I forfeited the possibilities of miracles and surprise.


I was on the sand, feet and body halfway towards the waters in my shorts, my swimsuit and my tears. For the first time, I didn't wish for something to be different. I wanted to be alive, I wanted to be the person who saw a merman and helped him. I wanted to do more for the world. I wanted to save the ocean, the inhabitants, their ocean community. I came to Bali to escape my thoughts and to leave life behind, but found a different purpose. I sobbed over the waters and touched my face, and there was no black ink, just tears of gratitude.


I walked to my bungalow, and I was about to shower when I slipped on the ground, and bumped my head. I must have passed out for a long moment, as I woke up and felt a big bump over my forehead and I felt blood trickled down.


I heard another knock on the door, and I realized there were broken glass from a wineglass under me.


"Miss, this is Fajar, your taxi just arrived," he said, over the locked door.


"Taxi? What Taxi?" I ran to the mirror. I had on the same outfit as when I arrived, and I saw the opened glass of merlot on the kitchenette counter. I opened the door, and Fajar said, "Miss, you will miss your flight if you don't go now. The taxi driver requested you an hour ago. Hurry!"


I looked to my room and my luggage was still intact, and I felt like I had just arrived. But, now I have to go again? What happened?


"I just got here, Fajar," I said to him.


"No, Ma'am….you have been here for a week. You kept putting the 'Do Not Disturb' sign on your door and no one could enter your room. Perhaps you will be happier in the States where you lived before," said Fajar.


"What? A week…but it can't be," I said. "I was just here overnight."


"Ma'am, the flight! You must hurry!" said Fajar.


I glanced at the time; it was 8 am. I looked for my plane ticket, which said I had a 9 am flight from Ngurah Rai to Los Angeles Airport. I ran to the main lobby and got in the taxi, I saw from the corner of my eyes, Fajar had smiled. As he turned, I saw an extra layer of skin behind his earlobes. I tried to feel for my ears and they felt smooth and complete. I reached into my swimsuit that I had under my clothes and took out the small star fish rock, and uttered, "Thank you," as I ran out, got into the taxi and rode towards the airport.  


For the first time in a long time, I felt whole. I wanted to live forever and most of all, I felt brave.






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Grateful for what it is

There was a time when I didn't know why I existed and why I was placed with such predicaments as sexual assaults all of my life. I was harmed and I didn't know how to cope, but today I felt like a changed woman. I didn't want to remember the incidents although one day I will remember it again and I will have to recount them, but I felt warmly accepting of the fact that was my past and I won't be able to change it.


I realized I'm just one former victim now survivor and will become a thriver. I was just being molded into something beautiful and although the assaults weren't supposed to happen, I won't discount that it did shape me. Through rough edges and every type of psychiatry, I tried a lot of psychotherapy and I am happy that I utilized my sources. I am grateful and will always live in that mode forever. I won't want to live as an ingrate with the temper of an old dementia patient. I want to live to 100 with joy and gratefulness in my heart. 


I don't know if I will become a writer or not and actually, it's not my goal to be famous and celebrated. I just want to share my story and perhaps I can help someone somehow. My story is tough and it is full of tragedies and although it makes for a good book, I still have fears that the enemies will laugh and tear my books apart. The memories that shapes my books and drives my creative mind also sometimes gives me it's own traumas.


I remembered the time when my journal was stolen in college and copied and spread all over campus until I ran to the nearest bathroom and tried to calm myself down from the panic attack. I realized I had enemies then and I still have enemies now. Those doubts are all about them and my fears all came from those incidences. It still scares me, even now. But, I will try my best to uphold my desires and work for my goals to flourish towards gratitude.


Some writers have it easy with their journals and their educations and MFAs...but even then, they also have their tragedies. I won't lie, I am scared to death of never sharing my story at all and I end up becoming a has been, and a folktale of a survivor who worked hard on writing only to find herself to die trying. I still remember the curses and abuses from those women and men who wanted me to fail, because it is so hard to shake off. Yet, I will try my best to not think of negatives and sleep well while thinking three positive thoughts. 


Here is to being the underdog, and the one without the degrees in writing or a PhD in anything. I will keep working and keep being grateful, no matter how long it takes to make the content I'm dreaming about. So here is to being grateful and being content, as I am, and working on my goals to help me grow in the long run.



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I can't wait to get older!

I'm at a point where I don't care what happens, I just want to live to 100. I know other people have the opposite reactions and would love to just live to 70, but not this girl. After watching The Golden Bachelor last night, I am so excited to get older, not because of the prospect of having love at an older age, but I think people become kinder if they're aging with supportive people around them. Right now, I have girlfriends and guy friends who are so kind and they are so supportive and happy that I'm helping my Mami and writing and working retail at a place that makes me happy. I'm really excited about getting older and being with my friends and hanging out talking about everything life has to offer, even as we are all aging gracefully. 


I know, and it was verified by their stalking phone calls and abusive phone calls that some people aren't happy that I'm getting support and writing and being happy, but to hell with them. I could care less if they died. They've never been that nice to me and they just wanted to use me to get to better people and most of all, the women I was friends with want to abuse me to get to my boyfriends and ex-boyfriends. I have enough worries with caring for my Mami, so those people should already be happy anyway because they succeeded in abusing me and I did nothing to harm them.


I'm happy that I'm writing, and it makes me happy and it heals me. Some days I'm writing nonsense and writing about my traumas and heart aches, but I'm still writing. Other days, I am writing about hopes and faiths and walking with confidence that someone out there received hope and help from my writing. I'm really thinking deep about the things I write and I do write it to help others and not to just help myself. I'm 100% writing to help myself already, but the thought of it helping others, gives me a lift that no one can take. My craft will only get better as I age and I'm so excited! I can't wait to get more mature and to enjoy my maturity. My late Papi sometimes tells me that I'm like a kid, but I know I was a mature kid because I was already taking care of my parents by the age of 35. I'm happy I did, and the happiness took maturity.


With my Mami, I'm so happy that I'm caring for her. Some days it is heart breaking to see her ache and I was scared when she fell down while walking on the sidewalk, but even during the pains, there was joy and I'm happy with her. I'm not always thinking about marriage or thinking about love all the time. I just walk my life and just keep it going with my job, my Mami and my writing and my pup, Mimi. Life is going to get better, and I'm excited to get older because I think by that time, no one will care if I'm dating or not (thanks to The Golden Bachelor, I now believe that I can be found by true love), and no one will care to sabotage that relationship because I've had problems with women sabotaging me and hurting me since I was 15 years old.


I am excited, and I am hopeful, THANK YOU THE GOLDEN BACHELOR. I am now happy that I watched this show, after getting bored of the violence and trauma associated with the show the past few years.  I am a fan. 




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Miracles of Joy

The rush of wind directed my puppy, Mimi, around the corner of a neighborhood where we walked this morning. She kept steering me to the inner hamlet in Loveland, and I noticed I was the only person on the street. Hundreds of Autumn leaves were on the ground as a rush of wind came and made the rustling noise as the leaves walked on the ground towards me. My mood changed for good because of the moment of beauty of leaves walking on the street and even Mimi stopped to witness its miracles towards my mental health. It was so pretty that I was in awe and recorded it on my IG and had to post a realization that these small moments curbed depression and seasonal affect disorder. I was so happy because it was so beautiful and I will always remember to savor moments like these in my life.


Another small miracle of joy came to me when my father passed away in 2021. It was snowing and I wanted to take a long walk outside to relieve some stress. A woman was walking her dog and one of them was a miniature puppy that was weeks old, and we were the only two people on the side walk walking. I couldn't pass the moment without petting the miniature cuteness. For a moment, my tears subsided and the woman asked me what was wrong. I told her that my father had passed away and she empathized because it was still Covid-20 time and we were to stay in our dwellings for quarantine procedures as she understood my sorrows. I asked her if petting her puppy was okay and she was happy to help me and let me cuddle with him. 


Once I was driving with tears in my eyes from work in 2022 because some co-workers were abusive to me and took my belongings and I couldn't stop sobbing. Out the corner of my windshield, I saw a huge bird that turned out to be an eagle perching on the electric pole as it spread its wings to show it off to me. I stopped crying because it was glorious and I was breathless because it was such a big bird and I rarely see eagles in the area.


Something brought these small miracles into my life, and I knew that it was The Almighty. I didn't ask for it, because it came to me at desperate moments, and I did pray for God to intervene in my sadness and bring me joy. I believe my prayers were answered and I know He will help me throughout my life. I realized it and I now have proof that He is faithful to me. All I wanted was help and that was my prayer, God Help Me. And now I know.... He showed me up.



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Fleeting Thoughts

Perhaps it was Seasonal Affect Disorder (SAD) that has me a bit on edge about my mental health. It is pretty common for those with PTSD and Major Depression. I was in tears because of it, like today and the fleeting thoughts about an ex-boyfriend who I've asked to marry. I wanted to elope so much because I was so in love with him, but it hurts me because it was so long ago but the thoughts were still there. I cried and cried and it hurts me thoroughly through my chest because I know he is long gone and I know it was a tragedy of an experience, but the SAD symptoms had it's winding thoughts.


My Mom was tired of it and so was everyone I know about this misfortune, and I was so fearful of what will happen to my life because of my own illness. I never want to end in self harm and I knew there were a lot of people who wanted that to happen to me, but I am not afraid of them. I just pray fervently that those people will never come across my life anymore and for me to never meet anyone who wants to harm me again. 


I surrender my life to God, because I don't know what will happen to me in the future. I could only hope and truly, that is what was left in my box. I'm worried for myself and I realized that I have to take care of myself more. I won't be able to take care of anyone because no one will take care of me. I am alone in this world and I only have my Mom left, and my siblings have their own families and they won't have time for me. I will try my hardest to keep close to my friends who care about me and will reach out to them when I am so afraid and hurt. The tears keeps coming, even now, as I am typing this blog. I think the SAD symptoms has got its effects over me. 


I will try my best to keep going. I don't want to end at such a wasted way as self-harm and I don't want to keep being this way. I will have to do more therapy and it will be forever, but I need it. I don't want to be hurt by anyone but I won't cower from people. I will keep making friends and keep going and keep working even until I'm in my 80s. I will keep on going....I will keep on going...I will keep on going....I will keep staying alive....staying alive, staying alive, forever....and forever more.



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Thoughts of my Journey in Forgiveness

I know I was hated. By a lot of people, and especially those who assaulted me and those who blamed me for being a victim. I pray forgiveness for them all. I send them love and forgiveness for the unmerciful abuse they sent me, because I don't want to get even, instead I want to get better. I want to heal and I want to confess all of my turmoil and heartaches to God. All of my broken pieces and all of my self-harmful thoughts, and all of my thoughts of the past and all of my failures and rejections, all of the curses that were said over me and even prayed over me, yes..all of those, I say bygones and claim forgiveness over them.


I know there are still some people (especially from past friends and from the men I dated) who wish destructions over me, as I recalled how much they hated me because they've committed crimes over me and it was just because I was working hard and trying to improve and succeed. I also know there are those who wish for me to never amount to anything, and become disabled and handicapped and harmed and end in suicide, and the reason I know this is because they've voiced it out and yelled it out over the cell phone to abuse me. 


I didn't know that I was hurting anyone, because truthfully, I didn't harm them, instead they wanted to yield my life to them and let them take control of my heart, mind and soul. They want to harm me and abuse me so brutally that I won't dare to live. To all those who hurt me, I forgive them all. 


I forgive those who harmed me and abused me. Those who stalked me, even the ones from California to Colorado, and those who abused me through the cell phone and yelled out profanity and called me a bitch and a whore and prostitute. I forgive them all who want me to end in suicide, and I will continue to forgive them each day as I live. I forgive those who want loneliness and singlehood for me, and I don't believe it is my business to know if those people married or not, or have children or not. I forgive those who don't want me to have true love. I forgive them, and I will never harm them as they've harmed me. I have a lot of class and honor towards myself and God.


I forgive those who want me to fear life and to fear living and breathing. I forgive them all. I forgive them for the assaults, the abuses, the slander, the gossip, the labelling and the curses that they even prayed over me. 

Forgiveness is so tough for me, because I didn't do anything wrong to them and I usually feel that forgiving someone usually means to open my heart and life back to them. But, it doesn't have to be. I won't let them harm me again, especially after being assaulted by a group of men, I won't let them assault me or harm me again, even if they stalk me and put a gun on my face.


My forgiveness is not weak, it is strong, because the harm done to me were brutal and severe. My forgiveness is strong and it comes with protection from God towards me, I truly believe it. 

I will try with all of my might to keep forgiving them each day as I know it will be difficult and the road is a long journey. But, forgiveness was never meant to be easy, and those who said it is, probably never tried it. 


The good thing is, I know I am forgiven by God, and I don't need the approvals from those who hurt me, because that's just intimidation and not a resolution. I know I will cause some hatred even with me forgiving at all, and the people who hurt me perhaps believe they don't need it, although that's their hubris, not mine. Yet, I will forgive with all of my might, and I will keep forgiving, each day, one day at time, until God and my mental health proves to forget the times it happened, and that it was a long ago incident that I chose to forgive. 

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My Lamentations

Father, Have I forsaken you? Why am I afflicted with the mental ailments? When my panic attacks consumes me and leaves me without answers and I gasp for air of the tribulations and desperate need for oxygen? Father, have you not seen my distresses and the hatred of those who hate me and want me to leave this Earth? They come in hundreds and they all pray the same cursed prayers for death of my life. Please Father, have mercy upon my soul and upon my body, mind and health, restore my blessings and restore my mind to peace and calm, as I toil with panic attacks and my work becomes a dreaded occupation. Please help me, so I can work my field and be amongst my friends who love me and care for me at work where I can help the community and heal my life. Have mercy on this servant as I work with my peers and want to complete my mission and purpose to write, pray and labor with joy, so that these panic attacks won't hinder your blessings. Father hear my prayers and laments, as I feel curses over me and into my life from those who hate me and want heartaches and sufferings to harm me. Please cast out demons from my life, my soul, my health and mind so those who do have the powers to offend you with curses and tremors towards me are dumbfounded and avail to nonsense.


Father, help me so I know what to do during these trial times and evening pursuits of labor and mercy so I know how to handle myself. Please help me so I won't be harmed and I won't end my life. Please help my thoughts from spiraling and unknown thoughts of harm towards myself when I don't know what to do during these panic attacks. Please cast out the demons of hopelessness from me. Please cast out panic attacks out of my heart, mind, and soul and even the medications that need to be amended, please guide me through it. Please help me live and help me to live without these burdens of mental ailments although it is a diagnosis, but it doesn't have to be a life burden. Please help me so I know how to handle myself and how I can carry my life and how to carry my illness and how to cope from it. Please forgive me for the things I don't mean to do and for the things I did that was wrong in Your eyes. Help me, God, don't place me in the predicaments of failures and harm. I pray and plead that You will place me in the places of thriving success and to see my growth and my maturity flourish. Please help me, Jesus, to pluck out and cast out the panic attacks from me and the chest I breathe in and out from, to please help me thrive and breathe in love and exhale compassion and to keep breathing in and out for service for You, Jesus. Please have mercy upon me, Jesus, please Father God, hear my lamentations and hear my cry as I suffer these panic attacks during the days and evenings and I cannot function properly without proper breath. Please help me. Cast out these panic attacks from me, forever. Amin.



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In case you're reading this....and in case you are alone.

Sometimes I hang on by a string, and I could hardly speak of my trauma. It all started when I was abused, since I was young. There was so much fear inside me and I often felt I won't make it in life to be a stable adult. I still felt this way, even now. I just hope and pray that those moments won't spiral and I end with suicidal ideations. For some people, like me, there would be moments when it feels like no one cares. If you do feel this way, dial 988 or dial 911. I don't want you to think that you were meant to leave this Earth before your time. You're important to me, and I have so much compassion for those who have mental health issues.


When I tried to end my life, I almost swallowed all of my pills and another time, I wanted to slash my wrist; but there came a moment when my late father broke the door down when I was in the bathtub, and the earlier time, when my brother slapped my hands from swallowing my pills. There were people who cared about me, and I was lucky. AND.... I know there are people who cares about you.


If you want to end your life, don't. It's a deadly solution for a temporary problem. The thoughts are fleeting and often it comes in spurts, as I deal with PTSD and Depression and I know first hand, how the trauma works. 


Just Breathe, and let it bubble through you and dial 988. At the other end of the phone is a person who cares for you. 


Today is September 10, 2023, and it is World Suicide Prevention Day. I lost friends from suicide (5), and as a suicide survivor (a person who attempted but lived through it), I want you to know that I feel it is more profitable that I lived than died. I have so much to show and to give the world, even when those asshole haters still want me to die and trust me, they come often into the fleeting thoughts, and the memories of the assaults and the bullying still hurts, but don't hang around those thoughts. You are meant to live, not to die. 


Today is special for me, because I survived it and I'm a survivor, and I survived through so much. I love you, and I know you, and if you don't think I do, just let me know that you are a suicide survivor and I already know you by heart. We are kindred spirits, and we need to stick together, to survive together and to be stronger and to live until our last breaths.


Live long and prosper my friend. Dial 988 or Dial 911, and yes....I care.




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Labor and Worship

My feet had red welts yesterday and my bones were sore. I worked my shift and was part angry for the work, and part grateful for the employment. I felt lesser than with my life, with my dual degree and manual labor job, but my mental health and the assaults prevented me from truly being efficient with a desk job, therefore, so be it. Writing was in my mind the whole time and I couldn't write yesterday because I was so tired, and I felt guilty.


Madeleine Engle once wrote that worship of the craft of writing should be done rain or shine and labor or pain. Those weren't her exact words, but I believe everyone understood that during tired days, it would be the perfect time to worship the craft because the mind works best under the pressure. Well...yesterday, I was sore and cried beyond belief of the pain and the anxiety nearly led me to another suicidal ideation. I was hurting and I couldn't do anything and I fell asleep after the Valerian kicked in. It was to my benefit to sleep and my mind was ready to go into a dream filled slumber. My mind wouldn't have worked properly to compose any sentences right for reading. 

Where should I draw the line? Should I write everyday, even when my bones hurt? I plead to God to give me another choice than write during times like these. To relax for instance and to take a break. I felt I was allowed one, but today, the same thing almost happened but I didn't give in to the pains, instead I wrote, and here was I, typing aways for my 15 minutes of writing, without stopping. The only difference between today and yesterday were the tears and the mental health. I was so tired that I was crying and couldn't compose anything, but today, I was calm, and even now....I am okay.


Sometimes I have to give in to the fact that I wrote my writing with the flaw of my mental health, but what writer isn't? Everyone has some sort of mental health issue, and I won't let that get the best of me. Yet, yesterday, I felt the pains of my hard work and I took the time to rest. It felt right and I was happy I did it. But, from now on...rain or shine, labors of pain, won't stop me. I promised Madeleine when I took the oath of writing. I promised to use my craft to the best of my ability, and to keep going, even when the going gets tough and I had no way out. I promised myself to keep worshipping God through my craft and skills, even when there would be no one else but me to enjoy my own writing. I knew when I wanted to become a writer, this journey would be a very tough and long road. 


I will keep going, and no matter what, with a job was better than without one.


Just write.

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Love Thy Neighbor

The morning promised me a new day and it does often well, but this morning I found myself with memories of her, the woman who broke into my parent's townhome to steal our belongings and my monies. She followed me to Colorado and ended with marrying the man I once loved and it hurts me beyond belief. Her reason was "equality" and "Justice," but where does the justice lie?


Love Thy Neighbor, the verse in the Bible says and I remember that I did not do anything to her, and instead she was sent to me by a lot of hateful people and they all wanted my demise. I have these bouts of memories often and I try to not think of the past and revert to the present moment to help myself and heal. 


The battle goes on each day and each day I meditate to keep those memories away, and to let the bubbles leave me and let go. I realized she took love from me, but I didn't want her to take everything else from me. I will find another love, and I would rather know that I have my sanity and my family intact than to let her take them away too along with my life from self harm. She often stalks me at work and at places I frequent, but I realized that it was all her mental health. I don't want to be her and I don't want to be with her people, whoever they may be. They seemed to be money hungry, lecherous, dirty swindlers and hateful people. I won't want to be with their group and my Father and Mother both told me to let them go, and move on. I have moved on, but memories forced me to let it all out, and meditation asked me to release it unto these pages to let go of the heartaches and the longing for him. I don't deserve to be treated lesser than good. I've been through too much and was hurt beyond belief that I went to the hospital and almost took my own life. I don't deserve to be surrounded by her people and even the man I once loved would want her to be around and to pay her alimony and hurt me in return. 


I am now conscious of the evils that she did and what the man I once loved would be willing to do for her, which is everything. I don't want to be them, and I deserve better.


Love Thy Neighbor, well, I didn't love mine, and I found it self-preserving to not love her and him. They caused me my life and they caused me my mental health and well being. It was with respect for myself that I don't love them, and to keep myself intact and care for myself to not love them. I chose to forgive them, but that's about the bottom line. I want to make sure I will be healthy and be protected from their abuses that they did to me, and protect my own family and our children. We were targeted often in California and I don't want them to keep hurting us and hurting my parents and our children. It has to stop. They came from a place where group violence was a norm and it was to my benefit to not love them. 


It was to love them that I chose to not love them. They needed to learn their own behavior and the evils they did to me. They hurt me and broke into our home and hurt my parents behind their backs, when we were also low income and hurting ourselves from the sexual assaults and the bullying and they kept on. We have to stop loving them, it was too unbearable for us to live with. We needed to help ourselves. Don't get me wrong, I was not prejudiced or racist towards her, she broke into our home and stole our belongings and my money, so it was not about her race, it was about her behavior. She knew she did wrong and she kept on with it. They have to keep away from now on, including starting with me and my memories, and the thoughts of the hurt they caused me. A lot of pain were inflicted by them and I don't want them to inflict pain upon my brothers and sisters. We became smarter and we now know how to help ourselves and to protect ourselves, and it would start with the police department and then the prosecutions with them against us and legal means will be taken towards them and their abuses and even to the man I once loved and their involvements with her. I stopped caring for them and their well being. I was once very cautious of them and what they would want, but now...I want them to go to jail.

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