it's complicated.

when my ex boyfriend broke up with me he took the time to write a heart felt e-mail as some sort of neo-closure tactic on 5 years. at the time i read his words with an intention to respond maliciously yet felt best to remain silent. now, almost 2 years later, i finally understand what he was trying to say:

"steph,

don't forget to smile for you. laugh for you. dance, cry, and look pretty... for you.

love always."

i get it now. take me to the tops of the mountains 'cause all i wanna do is shout, "i get it now!" up my lungs, through my throat, and out to feel vibrate against the world. (but will she practice what she preaches?)

my parents' relationship always interested me. my mom was real coy in her own way, a woman of modesty and brains. if i'm anything like my family says i am, then she had little time for games and even less for bullshit. she didn't come from a picture-perfect family (in fact it was quite broken) yet they maintained a level of secrecy and an even higher one of pride. what i do know about my dad is that he came from the other side of the tracks. he grew up young; rumor has it that as young as 8 he was riding his bike at the freeway underpass, miles from his house. his parents owned their own business so there was always money and thus an incentive to ditch school. he always did what he wanted and he carried this machisimo attitude into adulthood. as fate would have it, they had biology together but my dad only lasted a few weeks before dropping out of school permanently. the rest of the story gets real blurry after that (if you ask her, she'll be the first to say he was the one who wanted her... from what daddy always said, this was never true.) i personally believe my mother was attracted to my dad because he was real cool- he made friends with everyone, carried himself well, and had an undeniable charm. my dad was attracted to my mom because she embodied everything he did not. thus, they yielded a perfect circle.

there is one fact in this potentially idealized account: my mother has boldly stated she knew he would save her.

and here comes the story of the helpless girl, the one who rides the back of men scared to stand on her own. here comes the story of the girl who can never be alone, the one who always settles. here comes the story of our demise, the apple and the tree.

so, i get it now.

i vow to make an earnest and humble attempt:

to smile for me.

to laugh for me.

to dance.

to cry.

and to make pretty...

for me.

(but will she practice what she preaches?)