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Rubi.21. Capricorn, Rubenesque, Rude, Sarcastic. Adventures, being young and reckless, insomnia, feeling the vibrations of the universe around me. Trying new things, living, breathing and being.

I almost lost you today,
I had tried my hardest to push you far away
And I failed.
I got a slap in the face with your anger today,
I pushed you too far and you snapped,
And I cried.
I tried to trick you with my poker face,
You saw right through my mask, called my bluff and got mad.
It was never my intention to make you sad. I just wanted to have sex and have fun,
You’ve twisted my heart into a knot full of songs unsung.
Please my sweet, gentle Chicano, please let me make it better. Please let me right my wrongs.

Rubi McLaughlin

Even Demigods have childish moments. Mine did on Saturday night. Our heads were dazed with alcohol since noon and as 1am rolled around his maturity level plummeted also. He threw a fit and called me a bitch and ended up stealing my car and taking some skank home with him to his brothers apartment. The mini demigod has be gentlemanly all day, rubbing my shoulders with his slim hands while we dried our bodies in the sun. He took the time to convince me to swim in the creek, my Demigod didn’t care. He discarded me and then later had the audacity to call me a bitch when all I wanted was for him to leave me alone. I drank too much, ate too much fungi and spun too hard. I threw up in his front yard and then slumped into the comfy guest bed.
The next day I was livid when I discovered he’d taken my car. But I still can not decide if I’m more mad that he betrayed my trust or once again chose some subpar slut over my affections. So his mother and stepdad love me, so what if they showered me with love and floral head pieces. It doesn’t matter that they like me so much, that has no sway on his blatant reluctance to admit he loves me. He won’t let me sleep with his best friend or brother; but why bother when you don’t want to be the one to love me.
He came to my house to return my car and I’d just gotten out if the shower. In my black 2009 San Japan t-shirt and pink leopard pajama pants and hair still messy and damp my eyes gave my anger away. He handed me my keys and started apologizing and I tried to keep my poker face. I tried to be stone. I cracked. Water leaked from the cracks in my facade and my stone burst. I told him how disrespected I felt, how betrayed it all felt. The waterworks came and came and as he slowly ascended the stairs to stand before me I tried my hardest to remain strong as he wrapped me in his arms tighter than he ever has and even when I tried to push him away he didn’t let me. I sobbed into his shoulder that I didn’t like feeling this way, that I didn’t like feeling used. I tried to run and hide from him, disgusted by my own weakness before him. He followed me and consumed me in his arms again. His eyes leaked as he looked down at me at arms length and apologized again and again. He asked how long I would be mad at him and I said I didn’t know. I gave him no reassurance that I would get over it, even though we both knew I would. He hugged me hard a couple more times before I told him he should go. I told him I needed time and to be alone. His skin on mine was too much, it made it so much harder. I wanted to tell him I was upset he didn’t pick me. I wanted to say that my heart hurt just as much as my pride but I couldn’t. When I looked at him I choked, knowing he wouldn’t accept me. Oh God, how much I wanted him to realize all he needed to do was kiss away the tears. He won’t though, he never will. He’ll always just think of me as that friend that supports his every dream and cooks him those homemade meals.

Rubi McLaughlin

"Cement Insides"
By Rubsta

"Cement Insides"
By Rubsta

My mind does this thing where it hurts, and when my mind hurts my soul hurts and the only cure for a soul like that is nothingness. I sit in solitude and clear my head of all of these meaningless details and try to calm myself off the ledge of insanity I find myself dangerous perched upon. In doing so I discover a few things: like the fact that your eyes often turn more green when you’re wearing blue, that the feeling of quilts instantly makes me feel less like leaping off into the bleak nothingness of completely silencing my body forever and that all I really want is for my blood to run blue and to be able to not feel like this anymore. quick fix? marijuana.

I am always so confused by what others must think of me. I think I’m a nice enough person but apparently my face is always sinister and crooked and I never say the right things. I wish that when he gave me the cold shoulder and chooses not to even look at me that I could just grab his face and scream “I act this way, I hide and lie and deceive you this way because I love you and you wouldn’t give a single fuck if I drown, burned, slit my wrists or got hit by a train…but I care when I accidentally play-punch you too hard because behind it really isn’t anger…just love and lust.”
This is what I’d say if I had the minerals to finally confess what a mess I am inside over someone who treats me like I’m nothing.

Ever had one of those nights where you wish you could rewind and do it over and change a lot of things? Last night I got too drunk, got too sensitive and got too crazy. I have no right to be upset he tells me…little does he know how much I wish I were a girl he wanted; but I’m not. I’m just the chubby friend who does everything for these people and I can’t help but feel used. Are these people my friends or am I just a convenient asset?

I often wonder why it is I long for you. You aren’t anything that special. You’re an asshole and you lie and you keep dark hidden secrets that I cannot see. You stick by my side but what are your alterior motives? Do you even have any? You think I’m crazy, and I am. But when I’m not with you I don’t feel secure, I don’t feel exactly myself; I go through life in a haze of suppressed emotion and I keep my inner thoughts to myself. It is only when we are together than I am honest with myself but even then I’m not. I keep these feelings hidden deep inside, like a tequila worm sittin’ pretty at the bottom of a bottle, just waiting to be ingested and fuck up my world sending it into a blurred cyclone of colors and sensations until it all goes black. I want that blackness. I want that unconsciousness. Maybe somewhere in the blackness I will find that missing puzzle piece of myself and I’ll suddenly be able to be honest. I’ll be able to handle the looming fact of that matter, which is that you don’t love me, that you never will. I’ll finally grasp in my cranium the blatant truth that I am nothing to be valued or prized by any means, that I’m just a girl who fucked herself over by listening to the demons in my heart telling me to keep hoping when I should have never even started this sick twisted race. Maybe I’ll finally yell to your face that I’ll never look like a Barbie and I never want to. Or maybe in this blackness I will finally get to fuck you. Maybe I’ll finally be liberated from the great weight bestowed on my vagina that somehow makes me horny and easily turned on by the slightest touch or glance. In this blackness I could be liberated. But I’m scared. I don’t want to fall into this blackness and loose my composure, loose the side of myself which keeps all of these things from you. If they were to get out…things would never be the same and I would hate myself for it.