resolved in self-determination
Will I find relief in Cris's hug for my Gustavo pains?
I'm on my way to Miami, high up among clouds, y se me aguan los ojos every time I think I won't be sleeping nested in his chest tonight ... or for many nights to come. It's been a long time since I've been so in love. It's been a long time since the alst time I couldn't stop the tears in public, since I felt this coarse block in my throath, this tangible pain in my chest.
It's been a long time since I've kept a diary.
The napkin that came with the complimentary drink that came con los consabidos manies, reads: Thank you for flying United. We're glad you're here. I don't know if I'm glad I'm here.
I'm delighted to be moving to a bigger city, further south, right by the ocean. I am thakful for the opportunities que se despliegan in front of me. Pero I am not hilariously happy de otra vez salirme con la mia, de hacer lo que quiero hacer. Porque la verdad es que no quiero estar lejos de el. Y me siento culpable por abandonarlo tras mis propias mariposas, pero tambien me siento dissapointed de mi misma. Es el emotional-dependeny guilt-trip we learn to play on ourselves.
I like to be, to think of myself as, an independent woman, with a cultural heritage to form my identity and an experience baggage to help me learn, grow, mature, become, evolve; yet unsettled, unrooted, flying, detached, always ready to pack up what I learned, move on, and pursue further dreams farther away. But why does the glow of stability tantilize me so then? And what is so wrong with being emotionally dependant on a man that can emotionally support me?
I shed another tear and think: Que voy a hacer sin el? Which sounds too close to: Que voy a ser sin el? And I slap myself with the answer: yourself. As I was before him, and as I am with him, too; for I love a man that is not only happy with me being myself, but who loves it too.
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