dear mom,

i won't say SORRY for now, because you're already aware of that. i wont say i HATE you because you know that sometimes i really do. Since the day you said that I was assuming to be Princess Diana in front of the icy mirrors of our walls, i knew what hate was, and how it felt burning like soup boiling in my fists.


love is something blatant to say to these kinds of writing pieces specially when if it is for our "relatives" (what does that mean anyway?) 


as i saw the sun rises for me this morning, that once had shone for me and some broken fragments of memory, i remember the dewy morning walks we had.wishing we had something that could quench the thirst under the 9 A.M. fiery feast of the sun.
laugh again and show those monstrous fangs, sing again like the SO-FA syllables didn't exists, shop again like there's no debt on the dictionary, dance again like you did with Elvis..

Presley, of course

a woman whose half of her life planted on loyalty, perseverance, dirt and detergent soap. there's nothing i can offer but a life of comfort and ease. 

i'm not an hypocrite to say that i didn't lie. i do. all the time. but i did it because of you and your heart and your dreams and all of your everlasting anticipation for us and because of those pretty trinkets i saw in the mall everyday.i want you to have them all, and i will do my best for you to flaunt it, smile brightly at it, make the neighbors envy and ashamed of you..of us..mother, i am your ebony black sheep, i am your evil daughter, but i am the one who plans everything for you, because i don't want to fail your frail soul.i love you as you are.as wicked as you are...enter the doors to my heart and come as you are, because i love you and will love you 

as you are.