I Love Me Like Kanye Loves Kanye

If I’m honest, I’m learning a lot about myself like I feel the people around me are as well. I’ve learned that you learn to see the archetypes of beings that are around you through the sociopolitical spaces you inhabit. I’m learning more about myself, the world, the way I interact with the world and also my positionality even as I write this right now.

Here are some things that i’ve compiled that I “know” about myself through this experiment I’ve been doing:

Performer, Dancer, Daddy, Trans, Drag, Lawyer, Man, Woman, Charming, Bitch, Loca

This experiment is one where I listen more, I listen to the adjectives that people use to describe me and I consolidate them into a word that will go into my identity board. This board is an ongoing process, it will definitely change through the methods I do it but right now it can best be done visually and in my face when I go through my closet.

I love me, like Kanye loves Kanye. This says a lot in today’s society, it inhibits a space that really delves into the meaning of who we are as beings. We speak of our primal innate ability to think, to know, to inhibit and to grow and we learn to see ourselves through the way people see you. The experiment is tied into my self-love because the being I see is a combination of these things but also all at the same time.

My constant question recently has been, “Who Am I?” when in reality it should be, “Who do I want to be?” I know who I am, but in order to get to where I want to go I need to break the prisons of my minds and release into this new being. I’m both, my life has always been both and will continue to be both for years to come.

Thank you Kanye for giving us a lesson on love.

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Loving You

Honestly, the feeling of loving you got me through a lot of the past. I was able to get lost in you; to feel this energy underneath the surface and delve into the cataclysmic event that our bodies made together. When I think about you I always have to draw away from the physicalness of it. It was you saying that it’s all I wanted out of it that made me want to delve further into you. We had to pass a threshold to last this long and we did. I think about the similarity to our current stage and think of the way that maybe this is where we are at but at opposite spectrums.

Beyond the sex I knew you were special to me. You held my heart, my soul, my essence in you. You knew how it formed, melted, heated up and even cooled down. I loved you more than I loved myself and that’s why I’m lost now. I love myself, I really do. I know what it should feel like to be happy with the body we have but why of all the things I get most sad about it is this drive. I get sad about you because for once we are close together. It is the same feeling of sadness I had the day that I took off from Mexico and didn’t leave with a salutations from you. I think asking you to call me “Ernie” also is changing this up for you; because you thought you knew is no longer in front of you.

I have to remind myself daily why I want to be called Ernie. Even today, when I was asked, “Ernie or Camila?” With my most instant response being Camila I have to question what it is I’m leading towards. What am I? Who am I? Why is my identity the one thing that shakes me to the ground and is riveting my life in many directions? Why are the uncontrollable factors the ones that cause the most anxiety when the ones we can control the least are not even bothering us? Why must a name be the driving force behind my energy when it is so fluid?

I am both of me, always. This is a hard thing to truly delve into at the moment but it is one I will acknowledge and bookmark. In my present state I think of how I must learn my core. I must delve further into my values. I write these small index cards because as I hear people say words about me, or as I say words that describe myself I cling onto what I see and what people see. For people to say that my measly, 3:15 performance was amazing even two weeks after the show really hits home for me because it shows the impact I am having as a performer. Even for me to use the word measly behind 3:15 – as other queens would say, “It’s not about the length, it is about the performance.” My delving into my life as a performance piece, I think of the way in which my intersecting parts are growing consecutively.

I’m delving further into my identity of being as a performer because it is what I am here for. It is an outlet I have learned to find myself in; first when I was young and learned Spanish must, to learning vogueing in Denver, to my present state. Dancing and being on stages is something I’m finally mixing together and allowing myself to build versions of myself in and around this identity as a performer.

To grow consecutively means side by side – in my case they are growing at their own pace in their respective lanes. For now I’ve begun my acknowledging my love for you is still in me. It is one of the biggest parts of me and that’s why I’m trying to fix the wrongs and give her the time she needed – it might be too late but I’m trying. I’m growing as a man because Ernie is the core of me, Ernie is the one who has been guiding us all. It is in the chaos and turmoil that her light dimmed, and as the undergraduate days were in my peripheral it is their energy I’m trying to revive.

I am Camila. I’m the passion, the fire, the breath and oxygen behind this body. I am it all, and I’m thriving. I’m growing into a version of myself that acknowledges the parts of me that carry emotion and the parts of me that are still broken. I’m the crazy one – La Loca as most call me. I am both a character and a being. I feel myself most when I’m sad, depressed, or want to be alone and on my own. I’m learning to forge this relationship with Ernie that really allows us to showcase the person we are at our very core.

We are lovers, we are fighters, and we are mothers. I am it all.

Honestly I’m a crazy ass bitch.

When the pieces are meant to fit, they just are meant to fit. I’m not the same person I was months ago, but I’m acting like as if it was yesterday. You didn’t text me because you’re already there, I see it in your eyes, your heart; and everything else.

I don’t need to give you an explanation, I don’t even need to say goodbye. You’ll see me on Thursday.

Fuck That

Leave your emotional ass at home please, we are trying to be our better selves.

There’s a reason why people like you have to change, there’s a reason why he left.

You need to do what will make you the best version of yourself. Cut the bullshit, get it done.

Change

Yo, anyone ever feel the energy in their body change? Currently at the gym – brains running around and there’s this overwhelming feeling of growth I’m feeling. It’s coming from a dark place – I’ve been sad recently – but I’m learning and growing from it.

Why I Cant Be Friends W/ You

I really had to get this out of my mind, these burning words out of my consciousness and get them into an archival method that will allow me to one day come back to and shout, “I was there. I’ve learned and am different!”

Growth is a part of heartbreak, knowing when someone isn’t good for you is another. I love him…

I loved him more than anybody I’ve ever loved before in my life. I drowned out the world for this one person, this humxn who was able to bring me out of my world and out of my body. I think on the time isn’t him as a moment in my life when I felt ethereal – and with every moment closer, it only felt stronger. Our growth is situated on that which is bettering the two of us. He’s grown into an unrecognizable person but if I’m honest, I was not fair to him.

Last summer I slumped into a dark depression in the mourning of the loss of Emanuel – my love. They went to Mexico City for a program in which they were able to delve further into the Mexican history, culture and language before being dispatched to their respective programs. Manny chose Oaxaca – a rural area in Mexico in which the small population allowed for the local CA bay baddie to feel at home. She made space for herself, she carved her existence from town to town, delving into their research- their healing method, and further into themselves.

Last summer I slumped into a dark depression in the mourning of the loss of myself – Camila. I love myself, I love my femme-ness, packed away into boxes and boxes of items, a Ford Explorer full of memories, taking me to the moment of my life in which I lived out of my car and hustled my way to make ends meet. Camila was gone – I felt it when I came home. I felt myself growing further away from this person I had crafted, this image. I felt myself growing away with the loss of the person I loved, I lost myself. I missed him.

Last summer I slumped into a dark depression – and I never really got out. I’m learning to get out.

On Nov. 7th things changed – the old Manny I knew, the one that I had hung out with in Santa Bárbara was no longer in my presence. She changed & me along with her. The saying goes “if you love something, let it go; if it comes back, it was meant to be.” I let her go just like she let me go. My life changed on November 7th, the last day I asked to “do things.”

I was tired of asking, I was tired of feeling like I couldn’t be myself. He only saw parts of me just like I only saw parts of them. We were right for each other. We were two stubborn kids trying to fit the last piece of the puzzle when it had already been completed months prior. I confused myself. I let myself to believe that this person really cared for me, wanted me, and dreams to be with me; I was wrong.

I’m not the same person I was months ago, and I won’t ever be again. I will keep my energy with those who interact with me, I will engulf myself in the teachings of my brethren – learning to carve my words in the ancestral ties that bond me to text.

To answer the question for myself – why can’t we be friends? I can’t be friends with someone who doesn’t leave the door open. I can’t be friends with the person who broke me more than anybody else in my life. I can’t be friends with the very being who made me feel like the whole world and also all of death at once. I died when we started hanging out, you saw me break into a million pieces and helped me fix as much as you were able to handle.

We can’t be friends, because I broke you too. I didn’t treat you right. There are days where I have to remind myself of the violent incident in Vegas between us; the day where we both knew it was not going to work out.

The Camaleón’s Quench

I think I just saw you.

Have you ever gotten the feeling that the energy you’re surrounded by seems too familiar? Have you ever looked around in a room and could swear in your heart that you’ve been in this situation before?

I do, I believe as I grow further into my process I’m beginning to see the pockets in which reality is created and augmented by the level of energy you interact with it. I state this from my perspective with wanting to see myself and be my free Camila-ness. I say this from the experience of knowing I just need to make time to do the things I want to put forth.

What tomorrow marks is not just another transformation but it is a time in which I’m putting my cards out on the table and seeing what can become of this. Company retention is key, but am I setting myself up for failure or am I psyching myself out of something that could potentially grow. If there’s one thing I learned more than anything is that I’m worth it; my perspective is valid and I need to be there for myself more than I would be there for my own family.

I’m growing, and I don’t think I will ever stop growing. Growing into the women I am today took a lot of grief, as I said with a colleague of mine earlier, “I felt like I lost a part of myself moving home,” in which we rooted it in a sense to forgot who we are. I perform for my comfort, I volunteer for my comfort, and I’m leaving for my comfort.

Why do I feel selfish for putting myself first? Why do I feel I’m going to lose people along the way? Why am I thinking that to grow I must really grow out of myself?

I believe I’m there; I’ve said that I’m ready but never acknowledged it through written language. Through this page, this platform I acknowledge where I’m at. My name is Camila – this is my story.

Salt on a Wound.

Everyone always talks about the term salt on a wound as if though it is something you would do or see occurring often nowadays. Overtime I hear the statement I think about the ability of someone to physically grab salt, a tiny particle, and rub / seep / smother / sprinkle like the meme salt on top of an open wound.

Talking to you is this feeling. It is the feeling of knowing there is a gash in  my heart that you opened like the other people before me. As odd as it sounds, I’m glad. I’m glad because we aren’t wasting each other’s time anymore. I think you deserve to be happy; in your own way and on your own. Just as much as I think you deserve, I will promise myself two-times better.

Starting today I will appreciate the positive. Si, estamos loca, pero no estupida. If you even want to consider the thought of staying friends we are going to have to change our ways.

  1. I’m going to have to teach myself to accept the standards and limits that you have on our friendship – I will do this by not being a crazy ass heaux that is constantly messaging you, asking how your friends are, and ask what you’re doing constantly. Basically, let’s keep it at the level he presents.
  2. I’m going to learn how to love myself – I will do this with lots of masturbation, selfies, mirrors, painting my face, and putting myself first and foremost.
  3. Nobody is perfect – simple as that.
  4. 2018 will be your year – We will do this.
  5. Always we – never me.

 

I feel her.

You are in me. 

You are near me, you are in me and you are around me.

You are me. 

You are me at three, you are me at five, you are me at six, you are me when I’m around a lot of dicks. 

My body is yours. From my curves, to my fingertips, to the very ends of every hair follicle on my body you are me. 

You are me from the past and an unknown future. You are the colliding of two dimensions crashing into a corporeal presence of being. 

I make you. I make you with our clammy hands, 10 brushes, 5 sponges, 3 wig caps, 15 Bobby pins and even the fucking fake eyelashes that glue together this notion of a “drag queen.” 

You are a queen. You’re a queen of a land inside of you unknown to the naked eye. You’re a queen from the white snowcap covered mountains to the deepest point in the ocean 20,000 leagues under the sea. 

I make you. I make you and I break you, I am you and you are me. Together there is a “we” that is not seen, not apparent yet so obvious. This “we” becomes a sort of dance in our body in which we are both leading and following, learning and unlearning, gasping for air at the thought of a day outside.

I make you like I make my perception of the earth around me grow. I grow as you grow, I weed the bad parts of my life as I quickly discover rot on other areas of my garden. I am a gardener, a tender and distributor of love, nutrients, sustenance and a hope at a life yet to be made. 

I feel you. I feel you inside my life the scratching of a cat wanting to be let inside, like the feeling of starting up your car in the morning when it’s really cold, like the feeling of being stuck in traffic and having to pee, and even like the feeling of accidentally prickling your thumb while putting buttons up. This is you. You are the feeling of a being inside of me, a feeling of a longing I’ve yet to master.

We are seekers. We are seekers of knowledge, love, lust and power. I think that you mindlessly scroll through dating apps hoping to find somebody that will change the perception of what this area is. You expect something different, better, bigger and almost better yet nothing is ahead. This uncertainty, this feeling of angst is shrouded by false interactions, false intentions, false profiles, false advertising and false abs. This feeling of uncertainty is the embodiment of hours of scrolling through an application in which you are interested in no one and yet still everyone. You are a kid in the candy store whining that there are no options when a single piece of Tootsie-Roll was handed to you in a silver plater. 

I say silver because you want gold. We want gold. I feel you like I see gold. I feel you in gold. Gold medals, gold earrings, gold plated 4 inch platform shoes with red trim, 24k gold flaked pizza, gold shimmer for a night out and even gold underwear. 

Here I am in the present tense only knowing what I’ve been taught and dissecting parts of me I’ve yet to realize. I call this present tense the self which is made from my last year,  my last week and my last night. I think of myself as a being coming to terms with this concept bigender. What is it, and, what am I? 

For now, I feel you.

Stuck.

I’m stuck in a muck.
I call this feeling stuck.
I find myself lost in its jaws.
I’m crumbling to be free from these paws.
A bite, a scratch, or another physical pain.
Nothing on the outside can harm my “main.”

My main is my being, my sense of self and my goal.
The self is lost alongside years, even with stoles.
I’m a mummy out of captivity dying to be free.
I’m a butterfly, a rabbit, and a squirrel climbing a tree.

I’m stuck, but am I really lost?
I know who I am, but at what cost?
What cost of life, what cost to live?
Must this queen truly feel free to give.

I’m a warrior fighting for a sense of self.
I’m a child, mother, saint, and I need help.

I’m stuck, but am I really lost? No.
I’m stuck at this odds in my head where navigating this sole identity has been harder than ever. My gender, sexual, spiritual, emotional, mental, and physical being are all being pivoted against each other. There is this clash between the conglomerate of my experiences that brings me to observe the way that I’m lost. I’m lost in that I have no motivation for academics, but are academics helpful? Academics are what makes me feel grounded, but when i’m not grounded whats keeping me in suspension?