a dark review

 trigger warning: mention of self-harm, depression, dark shit.

i took a break from a mid-afternoon cutting session to listen to Xenia Rubinos' album. 

When I cut, I slash my skin with a scissor so as to not die. It's hard to explain it to people. And they'll probably think I'm stuck in my rash emo teenage years. But all I am is una maldita loca with a darkness so deep, and yet it's all directed towards me. the sadness within me these days wants me gone, slashing myself keeps me feeling something else, it keeps me here.

as a black woman, and yes as a "mulata"—a tragic tale born out of slavery and violence who's descriptive is a cursed word— i carry the depth of the violence waged upon this land. i opt for afrotaina and feel like a fraud. even if it's me choosing love. is love choosing me?

una rosa is playing now, and i look at the tattoo i have of flowers on my wrist of an era that was supposed to have ended when i was 24 and "healed"

ay hombre i was so wrong. ay hombre comes on and all i can think about is how these drugs have me feeling absolutely no libido whatsoever. 

i cant be a cuero even if i wanted to now. but i stopped believing in love. love was what got me here. re-triggered. the last cis het male lover i was with penetrated me in my sleep. maldita sea el día en que te conocí.

he used to tell me i was bipolar. i will never tell him the doctors think he's right. 

 people like the cute little memes talking about undoing generational trauma. for me. for some of us. that looks like going into the depths of the hole within us, the ones that make us ache like none other, the ones that make us love like none other because we have so much damn space for it. space that's supposed to be for space. space that's supposed to have been filled by love love love from our parents. i been trying to fill it with others. 

these songs pierce through me. soft. 

i pause. and think. i love this album. ave maria morena. 

anyway. that hole. within us. i recently felt its depth when i went to the beach. and i almost felt proud at how deeply i could feel pain. how hollow i was. 

a therapist friend told me people who's experienced abandonment feel that. 

the song playing feels like a prayer. sacude. sacude. que me ayude. 

i only felt pride in that moment at the beach because i knew, despite all, i would be getting antidepressants and other meds the next day. so i knew i was getting help. 

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i had to stop writing to listen. this album is a whole journey into the inner depths of darkness during a time when we'd rather look away. and in doing that, it's an antidote. the entire thing sounds muffled but like it's coming through from the silences. for a while, i got to feel something. else. i got to get out of my head. 

thank you. thank you. thank you. for this gift.

i look at my scissors next to me on the bed. i'll try tomorrow.