Messages I’ll Never Send: Roseo

I stand on the balcony where we cuddled as we smoked together and watched that pathetic excuse of a sunset and I think of us.

I love your fiery passion. I love being nested in your arms as you sweetly sing to me La Vie En Rose. I love it when you kiss me and translate Italian words into your broken yet sexy Spanish. I love how you carelessly laugh so loudly in public, covering your face and then looking at me with those dreamy brown eyes that can make me so weak.

I think of all of this and curse the distance between us. I wonder of the things I’d do to have you back here again, but then it hits me.

I don’t want you near me.

When the distance isn’t physically far it can emotionally seem like it is. When you’re near me I delve into the illusion of your infatuation. I fall head over heels for you. I want to be around those big arms while you whisper beautiful promises you don’t really mean. I get torn between that ardent fire in you that melts me to the core and the sharp coldness of your distance, which isn’t always measured in kilometers.

I can’t seem to decipher your code, I don’t think we could ever be on the same page. I’ve tried many ways to cope with that fact, none seem to be working. But what I do know is that the sweet memory of you is like good wine, it gets better as time flies by.



Messages I’ll Never Send: Inu

Yes, I woke up really tired, I almost missed class, I was sleepy the whole day, but I’d honestly do it all over again. I want to play with your coarse black hair while you teach me words from your language. I really want to lay down with you and try to pronounce “hayete” but fail miserably. I wish the clock would turn to that time you took me to Bellevue and we watched the city and stargazed while touching the freezing waters of the windy beach. I miss the way we kissed on that bench under the rain while listening to Lana Del Rey. I don’t want to turn this into a corny message that’s such a cheesy cliche, but I want to thank you for changing me and helping me see how worthy I am and how badly I’ve been treated before. I wish the distance was shorter, but there’s nothing we can do about that.


A Little Poem

I often wonder

Why is it that I really dislike winter?

Is it the piercing coldness, or the fact that it is so stormy?

These unstable hindrances that distance us from others and hampers our activities

Or is it maybe the fact that everything is gray and dull?

The lack of sunlight turns the luster and radiance into dimness

What about the many things that die?

For winter isn’t the liveliest of seasons

I wonder about this as I walk in the cold alleyways, the rain pelleting down upon me and the wind violently pushing me with its icy gusts

And then it dawns upon me,

For I, am winter

And I despise winter.

Bully’s Acceptance

Chilly November night, random Uruguay Street pub, people’s voices are muffling our table’s conversation. It is chilly outside, I am very tipsy which is allowing me to feel the Deep House beats from my neck down my spine. My friend is beaming with happiness, it is her birthday and she is very excited. She calls a guy. My vision must’ve been blurred because I couldn’t make out the exact identity of the person.

Then it hit me.

It was my high school bully.

It has been two years since I graduated and I’ve been trying to efface most things related to my high school, from classmates to memories. I started university as a blank page, ready to start all over again.

But then I see him.

It really doesn’t affect me as much now, I’ve grown as a person and learned to let go of the past. He comes to our table. I act normal. I greet him and basically give him the least amount of attention without being borderline rude. However, things changed towards the end. I am not a smoker, but when I am out with my friends and having a good time, I might light a cigarette for the fuck of it.

And then he decides to make the snide remarks he was so well known for.

Wow bro, I didn’t know you were this cool. I wish I had know back in high school. So yeah, let’s forget what happened then,

Then he raised his glass.

Here’s to the past.

I am dumbfounded. I can’t help but look at him, lick my teeth, roll my eyes and raise my cup with a sigh.

I initially wanted to rage in this post. I wanted to write about the feeling of getting your bully’s acceptance. I was going to rage at the fact that after all the years of having to deal with his shit, with all the taunts and slurs, with having my pictures constantly hung in the bathrooms I was graced to get his oh so wanted acceptance -not apology- acceptance.


I raise my glass to you guys,

Here’s to the past, to moving on, and new starts.

Here’s To Failed Attempts

Raised expectations.

Failed attempts.

That sums up most of my situation with guys.

When you let hopes soar, more or less like taking the steering wheel out of logic’s grasp.

Yes, I admit it. I’m a victim.

I was a victim to those brown eyes, a victim to that big nose, of those chimp ears, of that high pitched girly “grandma” voice. But i didn’t care. The way you ate the popcorn off my hands made me forget everything. When you slipped a few kissed before sucking the popcorn away mesmerized me. I remember the way you pulled me towards the couples’ seat inside that cinema. The way you whispered and moaned into my ear hypnotized me. I was in a daze, and I couldn’t control myself. I kissed your lips, cheeks, neck, hands, chest. I wanted to leave my mark everywhere around you. I let my hands explore your body, reaching where no guy has ever been before. Yes, all that in the movie theater.

How can I forget the first time I gave you a blowjob, in the bathroom stalls? We had a thing for public places. I remember the looks you gave me, you looked ecstatic. You knew I was very good at it, you loved it. I remember how that failed when that old man stormed in, casually asking his grandson if he wants to take a piss. I do not know how we held our laughter.

How about that time we were almost caught by the janitor. We dressed each other silently and plotted our escapade. We got away with it, but that’s when things started to go downhill. You became quieter and colder.

Oh, and when you stood me up… That day was awful. Listening to “Sober” by P!ink while walking around DT all alone, realizing how nothing’s in place. I broke down in the middle of the street. I found my salvation once again to be in religion. I went to a church and prayed, prayed for everything I could think of. I remember getting a message from you saying you overslept and how you wanted to make it up for me the next day. Little did you know I had put up a fight with my parents to come, little did you know how many excuses I had to make up. I started to thing of all the negative things about you. The way you kill me when you made me jealous and insecure. The way we did what you wanted. Always.

Things eventually came to an end.

Yes, it was my fault, I admit it.

Yes, it hit me hard, I won’t lie.

All those failed attempts somehow managed to give me hope.

And now, after a couple of drunken nights, here I am, chatting with a guy that happened to be your best friend and I start to realize that after two months I’m starting to finally move on.

You’re not fucking worth it.

You’re not worth me hearing those remarks about how hot other guys are.

You’re not worth the irresponsibility and carelessness.

Here’s to getting over you, and all the mess you left behind.

The Story of The Damned Wig

My childhood is full of untold stories, bittersweet memories who shaped me. They are parts of me whose personal importance might not only be underestimated but also not understood. However, when such things are bottled up for too long, they become burdens to carry for a lifetime.

I was around four or five years old when, playing  with my best childhood friend inside a women’s clothing store; happy and careless as innocent children could ever be. Suddenly, the mannequin’s wig fell off to the ground. The wig happened to be styled as the employee’s hair, and an idea that was deemed funny to my toddler’s humor crossed my mind. So commited a mistake that I still regret nowadays. I picked it up, put it on, and goofed around mimicking said employee jut for fun’s sake. I pranced around joyfully, but little did I know that my father had spotted me from outside, and he was furious. He stormed in and threw the wig off my head, and just like the other time I got yelled at, humiliated and hit. But to me, what hurt the most wasn’t the fact that it was all a joke nor that they never let me explain what truly went on and not even the physical pain but what really made this incident so memorable was the fact that I was made sit alone and watch my friend blissfully play inside the shop while I was punished for something as simple as wearing a wig.

Bucket List: Kissing A Girl

The night started settling in and the place started to get crowded. People started drinking more while others were tipsy already. Amongst them was a fellow classmate, whose experience with handling alcohol and going out until dawn didn’t give her the best reputation. I went up to her and grabbed a few more drinks and had a very brief chat. The music started getting louder, so loud I could feel my insides move. A while later a friend of hers came in impromptu, interrupted our conversation and snatched a kiss from her. My mind was still processing what happened when a mutual friend came in to share a smooch with the guy that came in unexpectedly. I was in shock, and it was conspicuous. 

That was when it happened. That was when my friend picked her lips out and signaled for a kiss.

I felt awkward. I pointed at myself to make sure she meant me, and she did. I was a bit hesitant, but I knew deep inside that I’ve always wanted to kiss a girl. I didn’t want to leave her hanging though, nor did I want to give hints of my hesitation, hints that would make people question why I didn’t want to kiss her. So, I just closed my eyes, pouted my lips out and slowly went for the kiss.

And it happened, our lips met with a quick peck. I expected the taste of cherries or strawberries, my expectectations ruined by reality. She tasted like pizza, cigarettes, and a hint of alcohol. Not a taste you would want to have stuck for the rest of the night. That quick smooch left no effect on me. It didn’t make my heart beat faster, nor did it make me wanting more; it literally felt like nothing. 

The young and naive me learned a couple of things that day. I learned that I shouldn’t raise my expectations, girls are not always pink and girly. I learned to to underestimate the effect of alcohol. Yet most importantly, I discovered that kissing a girl feels hollow, almost feels like kissing your own hand. But who knows, maybe it was because it was a quick peck…


I remember meeting Irony in a summer two years ago. She was an average girl; pretty tall, beautiful hair, pretty insecure. I recall that time I was wearing a formal suit, wanderig, lost and alone under the heat trapped in my thick suit. The day I forgot my wallet and had to buy food from the spare change in my pockets. Saw her wandering alone too, and recognized her from a time we sat with our mutual friends. She walked with me, I offered her the only cupcake I had and watched her happily take it and throw it in her handbag carelessly, my Arab upbringing concerning hospitality prevented me from taking the unwanted yet precious cupcake back. I remember walking in the sun together, chatting and babbling and getting to know each other. I was hesitant to give her my number for I thought that we wouldn’t quite click, yet I wasn’t rude and gave it to her.
And that is how Irony started doing what it does best.
Every time she would talk to me, I would reply late, answer briefly, making sure not to allow for a conversation to develop; however, Irony has ways to make tables turn and before I even knew it, I found myself actually enjoying those little conversations, contributing more and more to develop this kindling friendship. Things started to develop even with the 10 hour time difference. We managed to somehow stay up as late as possible to talk about the randomest stuff. She was there with me when things were going from bad to worse. She was there when I started going through the difficult stage where I would dip cookies in vodka and drink sake till my throat would burn. Irony found a way to break all possible barriers to sneak her way into my heart; and when she got there, I opened up to her. Confessions started to pour left and right, starting from small ones and gradually go to scandals that would ruin my life.
Yes, it was that very busy day when we decided to play 20 questions, and everybody knows what kid of questions teens ask when it comes to that game. I remember coming out to her, and how she said she liked me and how every guy she likes is gay. We both laughed off and started talking regardless of how extremely busy I was. I set my priorities straight.
And that was when Irony struck me.
Our chats continued on their normal pace, disregarding that there was almost no more time difference anymore. Those days when we planned to meet once again. The days when I told you about the perfect guy every single person I knew had a crush on.
Those were days things changed.
I began wondering if I did something wrong for you would answer late or not answer at all. Your answers became briefer and briefer until you would totally ignore me. I pondered about how karma is really a bitch, what has been done to you returned to me, what went around came back around. But this time it had been different, an amazing friendship was jeopardized.
What happened to the days we would discuss our childhood, our school’s infamous secrets, talk about our hot mutual friends, the Kama sutra sushi rolls, the time we caught the drunk women urinating in public, and most importantly, those endless talks where we would pour our hearts out.
I guess only Irony would know…

P.S: happy belated birthday…


You might think that I hate you; however, you are the world to me.
You, the victim of my many deadly glares, the many hurtful words I have said.
A person I would die for, a person who doesn’t know how much I love them. A deep unconditional love only very very few and limited have the privilege, or the disadvantage, to receive from me.
You don’t know that all I do is because I love you so much and don’t wanna see you going through the rough and unthinkable paths I walked with sadness.
My heart breaks when I see you imitating every single one of my footsteps. Almost throwing yourself into the never ending abyss of the mistakes I have commited.
You see me as a superhero, a role model, somehow digging deep beneath the layers of fake laughs and foul actions. You seem to find a spark in me that makes you happy, and I unconsciously try to put it out.
Because you want to be like me.
But I don’t want you to ever be like me.

Lean on Me – Part 6

The first rays of sun settled and Samir could feel Hani’s brawny hands tightening around him. He was woken by Hani pulling him close, sheltering him from an unknown danger. An unusual rustling of leaves and an ominous absence of Hani’s touch made Samir feel worried. A macabre compilation of suspicious noises made Samir want to get up to check what was wrong. Samir parted his eyes open and sat up to see what the fuss was all about. To his dismay, he found a couple of guys beating his lover with guns. He yelled and jumped right at them, but his offense was met by a blow that knocked him off a few feet away. He inspected his surroundings: his beloved Hani all bloody and naked, a two or three guys taunting them with guns, one of them his own brother.
Shoot! My brother’s annual hunting trips! Samir thought, hating himself for not  remembering. Samir hurried towards Hani to check up on him, to kiss him and hold him and protect him.
“Would you look at what we have here, boys?” Addressed Naeem to his friends. “Princess Simio and her lovely fairy. Fairy? I meant monster. Look at him, all hairy and fat. I wish I had the chance to beat you up that other day.”
Samir felt his eyes water. This was the second time he dared to cry in front of his brother after their childhood days. He put his hands on Hani’s face and kissed every inch he saw. He wiped the blood from his wounds and kissed them with care. Hani moaned with pain, he was badly hurt. Samir just wrapped his one and only into his hands and closed his eyes. He could not bear seeing him in such pain. It took most of Hani’s strength to sit back up and cuddle Samir.
“Guys, this is so adorable, the ape and the princess love each other a lot.” Said Naeem mockingly, throwing a kick towards his brother’s stomach as the bullies laughed. Samir fell off Hani’s arms, which caused the latter to go towards him to check up on him with one loving caress. Samir took a moment to get himself together, that heavy combat boot puffed all of his air out.
“Stop it!” Managed to say Samir, clenching his teeth. “You’re had your fun, now leave us alone.”
“Brother, you dissapoint me.” Rebuked Naeem after whispering something to his friends. “You do think I’m going to let you into this disgusting sin without proper punishment? After all, I’m a man of my words, and it would dishonor me to break my promise.”
Samir knew what he meant, and he realized this was just the start. The brutes rooted his lover off Samir’s protective arms, which caused him to jump for his help. His reaction was met by his brother’s boot, which pushed him down unto the earth. He was forced to watch his beloved get humiliated by the bunch of guys. They beat him with their rifles, blows coming from sides. When he collapsed, the bullies sexually assaulted him with a stick. Samir felt devastated as he saw his strong man being defamed in such manner. What really broke him, what really tore his heart apart was when their eyes met. Hani’s eyes screamed pain, but deep beneath they whispered reassuring loves of word to him. He even managed to draw a faint smile from within all this affliction. Samir wept like a baby. His brother crouched down and sat on Samir’s back, he yanked his hair back.
“Do you see sweet brother?” Whispered Naeem. “This is what happens to faggots like you.” When he realized his brother was still weeping, he yanked back even more and smashed his face unto the ground. “Man up!” He grunted “Watch this, goddamn it!”
Samir’s face met the ground with a strong force that broke his nose. He felt dizzy as he choked on his own blood. He felt arms carry him and throw him unto Hani. And there they laid, all bloody and half conscious. Samir was broken, he felt the last 6 months flashing before his eyes. He looked at Hani; even when he was all bloody he looked so beautiful and strong to him. Samir went to reach out his hand and hold it one last time. Was it really that fate didn’t want them to last any longer? Why was it that when Samir felt that he had found the perfect guy, when his life was just starting to get together, faith had to ruin it all. For this one time only he had felt a flick of hope sparking inside of him. He coughed up some blood and crawled towards Hani to lay in his arms. He was really perfect for him, they were really perfect for each other. Samir became aware of how much he had loved the way he looked at him. Whether it was when he was driving, or cooking, or walking, or when they held hands while making love, he had felt two angelical eyes looking at him, right through him. He had always seen a sun in him when all Samir could find was darkness. Samjr felt Hani could read his mind, because they managed to laugh, for no apparent reason, over all the blood and pain.
“They’re crazy.” One of them exclaimed.
“Are they mocking us?” The other asked.
“We cannot leave them like this here. What if someone finds them?” A third one he had not nitice added.
“Guys, guys, guys. Let’s not get overwhelmed.” Said Naeem, calming the guys down. Let’s end this, I’m tired from all this work; and I reassure you, they both won’t be missed.
Samir kissed his man as he felt the sun rise from the east when he realized his brother was right. No one but Hala would miss them both. He knew his parents would agree that he was better off dead than gay. He remembered a talk his dad once had, when he said that if he was ever to find them doing drugs or taking other men the way they should take women, he would put a bullet between their eyes. He decided to push back those thoughts as he saw Hani gather all his strength to hold Samir’s hand unto his sweet lips and kiss them until there was no tomorrow, for they both knew there wasn’t. Their act of love seemed to drown out the brute’s commands and noise. They huddled closely together and embraced one last time. They whispered their “I love you” and kissed each other as the others got their guns ready for action. They closed their eyes, finally at peace.
And the last thing that was heard was two gunshots echoed throught the forest.