You’re the reason of my spearmint breath
and having my face clear of hair
You’re why I try to seem intelligent
why my attempts are so cogent.

You are why I try to make myself look pretty
why my face is from that brand Acme.
Let’s not forget you’re the reason for my tears
of endless nights without being able to sleep.

I saw purple circles under my eyes,
I saw red freckles around them,
I saw my NC30 skin tone is now an NC20But the thing that caught my attention the most

was something I never saw before
my nose was finer
and I didn’t care about the rest.

I wonder if things will change one day. I wonder if I’ll be able to wake up without feeling tired. I wonder if I’ll be able to go to bed without being so cold.

I hope that the next time I look at myself in the mirror, the dark circles under my eyes will be gone. I hope that my skin goes back to its usual golden beige warmth.

I want to stop saying “I’m fine” when sometimes it’s not true. I wish someone would notice when things are turning grey.

I wish that sometimes I didn’t give much thought to things. I wish I just did what I felt without fear.

I want to paint with watercolors and pastels on a huge canvas. There would be figures with no shape, but it wouldn’t matter because they’d come from my heart.

I wish I could open my eyes and see everything is wrong. I’d love it if mom wasn’t hurting so much.

I stood there with a face that showed strength, but a mind that struggled with itself.

A fight inside my brain. A strong decision to make. Something that could make me or break me. Between life and death. Between being normal or typical.

And the memories of all those times I’ve cried at night; of all those times I’ve looked at the face of the loved one and felt unworthy to be standing by his side; of all those times I’ve walked down the halls without knowing what to do with myself; of all those times I’ve been too heavy for my feet.

Of all the times he’s showed me that nothing really matters, because all he cares about is a smile that lights up my face; a smile that’s born in my heart. And all those times I didn’t want to listen.

And I fell on my knees, being too weak to think; trying to keep the tears inside because I had to show that I was strong. I stared at the void. I wondered if black-holes in the outer-space looked like it: like they had no bottom; like I could find freedom in it. That maybe I could find myself in it.

And before I knew it, I drowned; and I was free.

I know this is hard.
I know I’m hurting.
I know I hurt others.
I know it’s not the way.

I only want you to love me.
To care just half of what I care.
I’m dying just for you to notice me
and the worst part is it’s working.

Remember kindergarden? When everybody laughed at us.
Remember elementary? When nobody wanted to come near us.
Remember high-school? Endless calls from teachers, begging our mom to help us.

But you didn’t have enough.

Remember all the makeup I made you wear??
Remember the nights you had me crying??
Remember how alone we were?
We just had each other. Not really wanting to see us.

But you didn’t have enough.

And now you stand there.
Begging me to stop.
Red eyes. Red cheeks. Red lips.
Fast tears.

I need to wash our face.

One of my best friends in the whole wide round catastrophic colourful world came over today with her daughter Ramona, a beautiful Canon EOS DIGITAL REBEL XTi (according to my daughter Maggie, a beautiful white MacBook).

We got inspired checking out our makeup collections, MAC face charts and just artistic and colourful makeup pics on the internet.

And then we started…

My wife (inspired on a pic we found on Google):

Me (inspired in the Color Craft promo picture from MAC):

Us:

I said it was okay. And I meant it.
Because being your friend is more than enough.
And I told you that it was okay
because I never thought our friendship could happen
and I discovered you were greater than what I thought.
And that was enough.

Then I opened my world to you.
And your face lost it.
And you started crying
and asked me why.
And I told you I couldn’t tell you.
Because your pain kills me
Faster and more painfully
than my own disease.

You hugged me.
You cried.
I cried along.

It was cold.

I woke up.

Because I love how you talk to me
and our laughs in the middle of the night,
and I hate you could make all of my days sunny,
or turn them all gray.

And I love that we can do all of these charades,
even though you’ll always see me as a friend.

Blurry memories…

Of that time when you first talked to him, or the first time you hugged?
Or when he was coming out of the cafeteria with a bowl of spaghetti in his hands?
Or when you first looked at him in the eye and realized his was not the traditional shade of brown?
Or the first time you noticed all the freckles on his face?

Or when he played basketball with his gigantic red sneakers?

Or from that last time you saw him and you just wanted to take in every detail, from his nose to the way his lashes curled, because you didn’t know if you would see him again or if you were gona find you writting this so you could remember?

The moment you understood you had to let go.

“I could feel it go down. You left the sweetest taste in my mouth.”
“The Hardest Part” – Coldplay