I’m laying here with the intention to write my best piece, trying to find the words to hit home. I want to talk about this little girl I know. I think it hurts to delve deep into her pockets. She felt pain for a while, and her first heart break was from her dad. Ah it fucking hurts to know this. She didn’t realize what was going on because the only way she could face it was by slipping it further into her pockets. You know those people who try to be strong for everyone else? Yeah, that was her from the age of 12. She became a protector; a controller. She took the role of her father and her mother, and it became her character. Her tempo was all over the place. She was scared, and the pace of her heart beats were quicker than the steps she took to escape the pain. I watched her everyday. I admired her strength, her silence, questioning why she never spoke up. Until one day, she exploded. When you’re anchored to the sun, eventually you fucking burn. Nothing could put out her fire until she was ready to release it all. She was loaded; with words, ink, and a beautiful mind. She was both glacier and lava; it balanced her. She was lost and found; wild and free. She taught me pain and how to let go, and how beautiful and terrifying it was to fall in love with everything at once when you’ve been caged for so long. I write about her because even when I’m scared like she was, I don’t fucking care; I do not want to hide my love. She can and she will pull it out of me.
– Artwork by Celeste Hayek