She hoped to never see you again. To never breath the same air as you again. To never ever have you invade her space again.

She has lived with the memories you implanted in her soul for too long.

“Can I erase my memory.” She says as she sees your face on social media.

She likes that you don’t have the balls to even send her a friend request.

Maybe it’s because you know to what extent you have ruined her. To what extent you have marked her world.

Maybe you feel guilty, or shame. That’s what she hopes you feel at least.

It gives her comfort knowing she hasn’t seen you again.

Maybe you know this time will be different if she sees your face.

She might scream and tell the world who you really are.

Maybe you sense that she is no longer going to fall victim to your games.

She may never ever speak to you again. But she hopes you realize you are nothing but a fly she has squished over and over again.

She has burned your memories and replaced them with strength.

She has tied up any fear and shame and thrown them into a pit of fire.

She no longer is a victim but she is a survivor at best.

She is free.

No more knots in her throat.

She has grown so much that if she were to ever see you again, she won’t feel weak.

All she’ll feel is power.

Power to overthrow you. To show the world who you really are.

She is and will always be what you created, your biggest nightmare in the body of someone you once hurt.

Beautiful in our own way


I used to think the only way I could be beautiful was by being the “ideal” woman. I thought having a small waist, and a goddess like body was ideal.

I thought I’d be less lonely, less insecure and less empty with that ideal body. Got tired of the crash diets, and crying when I looked in the mirror. These few women that society glorifies have this image that the majority of women just don’t pertain to.

Us women come in different shapes and sizes. We are all made of different genes, different features, different beautiful skin tones.

What we see glorified on t.v and what society tells us we should look like is something we need to fight against.

We all come in different sizes and in different varieties. Us women make the world go round and if someone can’t accept your beauty in its unique form, then show them what they are messing with.

Be strong, be unapologetic.

This is a reminder to the world and myself that being a woman is much more than our bodies. It’s our brains, our smiles, our goals, our personalities, the list is infinite.

The “ideal” woman is every woman.

We are all ideal in our own beautiful way.

The best thing you ever had


Sometimes we feel alone in the company of those we love most.

We’re alone not physically but spiritually.

We crave their attention in ways they can just not give to us.

Some days I sit in front of my window and wonder what have I done to constantly be a world wonder to people.

They come to to visit me, admire my beauty and then leave after admiring me.

Just like these world wonders, tourists take all the pictures they can, but at the end of the day, they are still outside in the rain.

That’s why I’m cautious about who comes in and who I decide to not ignore.

Some may call me heartless.

I call it I’ve been hurt.

When a woman gets rained on day after day. She grows tired.

But for a reason, people entered my life and for a reason, they didn’t stay long.

Although they may not believe it. I have changed. No longer will I be a toy.

I am not a doll you can call pretty and play with for a day.

I am more than just a beautiful face.

I am and will always be a strong independent woman.

I don’t need you to pay anything for me.

I don’t need you to remind me of who I am.

Because when you have been hurt so many times, you have no choice but to be a strong woman.

I am and will always be the best thing any of you have ever had.

Las Mujeres Somos Fuerte


Las mujeres somos fuerte

This is something my mother has said to me since I was a child. Since I was a little girl unaware of what women hood would bring, she would lift my little head up and say this phrase. To those who do not speak Spanish, it means “Us women are strong.”

I was unaware of what strength meant. To me when I pictured the word strong I pictured a person lifting a couch with their pinky’s. Lifting a building was also something I associated with the word strength.

When I thought of strength at the age of 7, I imagined it had to do with men. Men can lift things, they are bigger, they have “strength.”

My mother’s idea of strength was different and it shaped my childhood immensely. She said, “when a person deals with immense pain carrying a child and giving birth, that is a strength a man will never know.” She said, “strength can be emotional. Strength is in your heart.”

I have always been petite, so I liked this idea that I was strong within. I started living life this way. I envisioned my ability to cry and embrace my emotions as if it could punch a wall.

At times I’d be discouraged with life and feel weak, but my mom’s voice resigns in my head. “Las mujeres somos fuerte.” That phrase right there gave me the strength to get up and wipe my tears.

I’ve dated men who made me feel small but god how good it felt when I was strong enough to leave them or put myself first.

Strength is not just a ability in men. Strength is not always physical. Strength is tolerating the ups and downs of life and still loving living.

Strength is being able to embrace emotions. To stand up for yourself and show the world you are not less because of your sex.

I guess I wrote this because some days I forget what my mom said years ago before I could understand it, “Las mujeres somos fuerte.”

The daughter they won’t speak about (From the mind of Viviana)


She twirls around.

Dancing and humming to a song her older sister used to sing.

A sister her mother does not want to speak about because she is “wild.”

A woman must be poised, quiet, and serve her husband her mother always says.

Viv jokes in her head, ”Yeah right, that’s if I even desire to ever have a husband.”

She throws confetti in the air and says “I can’t go to a party, so I’ll bring the party to me.”

She FaceTimes her friends who are dancing together.

She laughs with joy because being home alone means no one can judge her at this moment.

No one to tell her, a woman can’t dance provocatively or hang out with guy friends.

She can be whatever she wants to be right now.

She hangs up the call.

She pretends she is a singer next. She jumps on the couch and sings to her favorite song.

She dreams about being in front of a stage performing.

Either dance or music.

“It’s my calling,” she says.

But when she hears her mother turn the doorknob, she sits on the couch.

Prepares a lie for why there’s confetti on the floor.

She looks in the mirror after saying hi to her mom.

She notices her smile has vacated her face once more.

She picks up the confetti, and in her mind, she says, “This is what she wants me to be, an everlasting maid. The girl who sings and dances and throw confetti on the ground is me. What’s so wrong with being fun. My brother can do whatever he wants. Never cleans, cooks or takes care of anyone.”

The list of unfair chores she’s had all her life arise before her eyes.

“I am wild, excited, a kindred spirit. Why must I be poised and quiet? Why must I be what she wants me to be.”

Why must I, why must I, why must I be a person I am not meant to be.

Women are taught generations after generations what to act like, what is expected of them.

“I am more than just a being created to take care of a man and be a mother.”

I am more than, I am more than, I am more than.

She goes into her room.

Writes in her journal.

“Dear diary,

Is it possible to ever be free without becoming, the daughter they won’t speak about?”