native new yorker with dominican roots. writer of all things love, life, family, sex, friends and everything in between. a not so secret obsession with stringing along words to form perfect sentences - reflecting what the mouth can't say. 

Ten Year Old on Drugs

When I was ten, I had the most nauseating crush on my babysitters son. He was ten years older than me, lived at home, and I felt so lucky I got to see him everyday. I remember this one day I wore my best stockings- navy blue with white polka dots with my navy blue and awful buttery yellow school uniform – because I knew he was picking up from school that day.

As I walked down to the corner, I spotted him right away – leaning back against the fence to the park across the street from my school. He said hi to everyone, friendly as hell, so cool and suave too – just a simple head nod would do. I only know what this means now because at that age I clearly didn’t know what any of that meant.

I impatiently waited for the light to turn green and for the sign to read walk so that I could run across the street just so he would hold my hand all the way home. And so the light did change and my heart exploded and I dashed across the street and I didn’t get to reach his hand because I tripped and landed flat on my face and not only did I bruise my knee but I ripped my favorite stockings in the world. I stayed down for a while and he rushed to help me up – I saw his white air force ones leap towards me and pick me up.

He asked me if I was okay and looked at my knee and I said I was fine. He looked at me nodded his head “uh huh so, why are you crying?” and I remember this so vividly, I said “I just have allergies.”

In college, I took adderall to study. The first time was history. I fucking hate history. I have terrible memory and I believe I have number dyslexia. Whatever. That night I wrote a very long paper on who knows what. But what I remember is when I laid down to fall asleep, I couldn’t. There were words in my mind, words I can see and touch and feel. I’d close my eyes and they were pasted to my eyelids. I opened my eyes and they were painted on the walls. The words moved faster and faster as I laid in bed. It was so loud, so clear, electrifying. My heart and my mind in sync for a while. I felt like I was drowning in history. I was suffocating in the past. I gripped onto my sheets and shook my head as hard as I could, I opened my eyes and the words, still painted on the walls, stood still.

This is what my love and anxieties feel like. One in the same – a ten year old on drugs.

Morning Coffee.

4:27 AM