Hugo and I

"16 year old Hugo is raising himself in a vacuum and already carrying a lot loss and sadness within him. Hugo is just one of the casualties of a fatherless society."

Hugo wears the mask of masculinity outside home. At home he takes care of his young nieces, his grandmother and himself.
Hugo, sixteen, is the man of the house.

Hugo is a young man growing up, bringing himself up, in Boston.
His childhood, very different from mine in one way but very similar in another.

Hugo is fatherless.
I was motherless.
What we share is the loss and sadness.
The fear.
The stress.
The vacuum.

Doing the best we can.
Making the best we can from scanty ingredients.

"You turned out well. Considering."
That's what people used to tell me.
And yes, I guess I did a pretty good job.
Sufficient.
But just like Hugo misses his father, I miss my mother every day.
A part of me is missing, forever unwhole.

Is it me, or is it them?

Is it me, or is it them?
Is it something I smell in them, or something they smell in me?
Is it something I see in them, or something they see in me?
Do they resonate with a need in me, or do I resonate with a need in them?
Am I forever doomed to find myself in the same ol' situation?
And from where do I start the change if don't know where the beginning is?

Never allow someone to be your priority while allowing yourself to be their option

Never allow someone to be your priority while allowing yourself to be their option.

But what if the mistake has already been made?

Short-lived madness

I found myself from a situation where there was a lump in my throat.
Tears of irritation and anger burnt behind my eyes.
My breathing rapid and shallow.

Childish thoughts of revenge.
Hurt feelings taking me back to the years as a bully-victim.
The class outcast.

Anger.
Secondary emotion.

Deep breaths.

Self-analysis.
Self-observation.
Self-awareness.

Honesty.

I'll get to the bottom of this...
.. maturely
...like an adult.
(...and remove him from my friends' list on Facebook)

For her own breakfast she'll project a scheme, Nor take her tea without a stratagem.

There.
Now.
You shall have it.
My scheming ways.
Ploys and stratagems.

You won't know what hit you.
You won't have a clue.

I'll spin you around.
I'll baffle you.
Bedazzle you.
Make you long for the day it was just me you got.

It'll teach you.
I will teach you.
You'll see.

Letting go

Letting go of something you did not have in the first place isn't easy, but who has ever made such promises?

Being different

Every girl since me has had thick, dark and long hair (as opposed to my fine blond bob).