la letra

i can't remember when i began writing. it might have been when i was eight, it may have been when i was 10, but definitely by 13, i was rolling with poets, and fiction writers. i have an idea of why i don't remember when exactly i began writing. i have a bad memory when it comes to my childhood. i remember some really good things, and some really bad things, but have buried most things. slowly, i am re-claiming, re-examining, and re-discovering these stories. 25 years soon to become, i have been living with this self, and the many selves within us. i am finding a sense of connectedness to my story. i'm insistent, my silent voice imposing, rebelling to that which my ancestors want to keep a secret. so i'm still seeking. asking questions, desiring the narratives of kin. though silence be the norm. i am aching to know. to make sense of my darkness. i was a chiyona for many years, why did i cry so much? why now do i laugh? when did the deterioration dissipate and the transformation begin? why me? today, last week, on tuesday when i was fired? was that the beginning of the end? hardly. and to the future, who knows. Solo Dios sabe, only God knows. but the monster has awaken, and it will get easier, and easier.