He looked at her with more than lust, he loved the curve of her spine, the length of her hair, the size of her nose, her honesty, the way she looked at him. He wanted to be the only guy she ever loved.
As they laid on the hood of the car, he looked at her and muttered, ‘I love you.’
—  #3 || Excerpt from the Book I’ll Never Write || r.d.
Dear little Giovanni Farin Espinueva,

You love art, don’t suppress it. Everyday you come back from elementary school, Uncle Fred is going to tell you to write a poem and draw an intricate image before you go to bed. Don’t suppress your love from art. You are going to love all kinds of music, rock from your Uncle Daryl and Uncle Fred, Hip hop from your Aunty Lorna and Uncle Fred, Oldies from your Grandparents, and all the between from your friends. Don’t suppress your love of art.

You, little Gio, are something else….You…You may not know it, but you have an m16 as a tongue using the bullets as ammunition stored in the deepest inventories of your heart, you, Gio, are something else. A wordsmith in the making, using your vocal cords turn into jumper cables, to be the very voice of an empire. You are a strong little man. Live your life, live your life as a little kid, don’t worry about anything that happens, you’ll regret growing up too fast, there will be a time when you have to, now is not the time.  

Your mom passes away at the age of 10. Do NOT suppress your love of art. You are strong, yet you lose yourself, why? You become insecure, you become stronger to hold in emotions, but down to the core, your no weaker then a rotten pencil from the tears gathered upon the page of your next poem. You are a giant in child’s clothes, no one knows  your capabilities. You’re heart tends to be a boomerang, being flung from your body still mourning on the loss of your mother, stay strong little man, it gets easier. You’re the lantern from your mother’s smile, her love engraved on your DNA still shine’s brighter then anyone else in your life. Remember what she sounds like, remember what her warm hugs felt like, remember her smile especially, they will kill you once you forget. 

You get to middle school, your behavior is still a problem. You have never heard from your dad since you were 8. You start to rebel more. You care too much about your image. Stop it. You won’t stop until you’re around freshman to sophmore year. 8th grade, you are doing so well in school, making everyone proud in your family. Too bad you’ll suck at it later on. You still feel out of place, you feel like you have no friends, this is the time where you get hardcore into gaming, your a nerd, trust me it’s okay, you can still get girlfriends….hahaha. Don’t even worry about girls, yet you get your first real girlfriend in 8th grade. You learn a lot from it, you learn how it feels like and you actually last for a year and a half. Her name is Laverne, she’s really nice, remember to stay friends after, you make mistakes, a lot of them, and even after you deny that your pride is what messed up the relationship a lot. Your pride will ruin your second love. 

Gio, you’re going into high school, the journey to finding yourself, to find out who you are, what you want to do with your life, and what your purpose is. You will stray away from God, but your bond will grow back twice as strong. You still feel out of place, you feel as if you are wearing a costume wherever you go just to fit in, you don’t even know what the costume is or who you are. Before the start of freshman year, you will encounter something great. They will impact your life like no other, you will find yourself through them, and you will find your friends. This is when you join Studio 429. You make it into one of their team called Tru-Definition. This is the beginning on how you really grow up. This is the same time where you also be exposed to drinking and smoking a lot more. Don’t be afraid, you learn your mistakes from those, but also better to experience them now. It helps you become wiser. Later you make it ALL THE WAY to breakthrough.

Sadly, you fall in love again…hahaha. I mean it’s not a bad thing, well it’s good and bad. But, you will meet a girl who will grab you by the lungs, and she will be the very first girl to REALLY take your breath away. You will learn as much or even more from this relationship then the last. Your pride is still held up high, you should take it down. You don’t. This will ruin your entire relationship. You should have supported her through the things she did for you and constantly help her achieve her goals, she is passionate about photography, you should have helped push her. You will love this girl with all your heart, she was probably one of the best friends you have ever had. You fucked up hahaha. It’s okay though, shit happens. She will eventually become the postcard of love to you, you’ll send it away with your heart to the lands of not giving a fuck. You will a grow another heart, one that has stronger walls, higher standards, and a new outlook on how to treat a woman right. Now don’t get me wrong, you still fuck up after the break up, you become insecure more, you still love her. But after all that, you truly start to realize who you are. You find out who is always there for you, and you find out how strong you can become. You guys eventually become friends again hahaha. You thank her for helping you learn. She shattered your pride and self esteem making you fall on them, cutting reminders into the hands that assisted in building the relationship in the first place. Those scars will be reminders. Her name was Chantal, she’s VERY kind.

BTW, one year dancing, your team gets 2nd in the U.S. and 11th in the world, the year after that you get 3rd in the U.S. and 6th in the world. your mom and dad would be proud. 

You are now near present day. You find your closest friends, you find out more about God, you knew of God, but you never really KNEW God. He, our Lord, will guide you to your dreams, he will feed your ambitions from the very light of heaven. He will give you what your purpose on this world is. You finally know who you are and you are proud of it.

There are a lot of things in your family happening. It’s time to become a man. You’re uncle got married last year, your other uncle might move out later, your grandparents are getting old, and you need to launch your empire. Your dad goes to jail again, sending a letter of motivation. You’re always learning how to become a better gentleman and to just become a man in general. You have to stop dancing for Studio 429. It’s to expensive, you must use your money and time to invest it into a bigger passion, into your empire. Dont’ stop dancing, just train, once you make your thousands of dollars in just one month, you can go back. You’re scared of losing your friends, it;s okay, we’ll see what happens. Also, you are constantly told that you are a fuck up from parents that were fuck ups. Prove everyone wrong. Fuck everyone that doubts you.

Hi me, It’s present, you are the billboard of awkward yet confident. Go chase your dreams.



P.S. continue to stay true to yourself, never become cocky. stay humble. right now you fucking love Odd Future. hahaha. Remember to love your Uncle Fred and Aunty Lorna a lot, they love you so much, they are your parental figures, they helped you become who you are now. It’s hard for you to find a decent girl in your life, don’t get distracted by them. chase your goals.

I’ve come to hate silence.

I didn’t use to, but in the past year, silence has come to mean being alone with my thoughts, my thoughts that I can’t turn off, my thoughts that depress me, so recently, I’ve turned to talking, and I hate myself more for that.

The only place I talk is here, never in person, never to her. Never.

So I watch myself, give me a few beers or some silence, and all of a sudden I have everything to say, but you know what I’m talking about? Nothing. Absolutely fucking nothing. At all. Just because I’m drunk and I can’t take the silence. Even sober I can’t take the silence, so I spit out words that don’t do a single person any good, and I hate myself for it.

Why can’t I say something positive about the world, about people, talk about real issues, but instead I tell the same story, I describe the pants in my wardrobe, because I’m so uncomfortable with what thoughts the silence might bring like, “Yeah, she likes you now. But give it another month, and she’ll come to hate you, she’ll figure out who you truly are, what you’ve done, and she’ll come to hate you, like everyone before. You’re a piece of shit, and she’s way too good for your miserable life. Spare her while you can. You come from nothing, so you are worth nothing.”

And that voice is the voice of my past and all the things anyone has ever said to me. And I believe it. How can I not? When I still have regrets, my own mother still can’t love me, and I’ve never had a semi-successful relationship?

Who was the fuck up? Did they cheat because I fucked up? Or is that their flaw? Does three out of four mean they were right? Does that make me unloveable? Does it make me undesirable? Can a woman really exist and love other women without nature punching her in the face? Is lesbianism really a thing or does everyone want a dick in their vagina but me?

Why do I always feel so alone in this?

I hate it. It’s so rare that I get in these drunk states, but when I do, it’s horrendous and it pushes me back so far in all my progress, all because one stupid insecure thought leads to another, and in my head that’s all the convincing I need to shut myself off and not believe a single word from anyone.

It’s so fucking easy to just not believe.

But God damn it I asked her to be my girlfriend. She is my girlfriend. This girl, Sydney, Sydney is my girlfriend. And I am horrified at my own boldness and jumping in excitement at the same time, because my heart can’t contain how she makes me feel, and my head can’t handle the terror of my vulnerability and acceptance of how she makes me feel. It’s like a constant war every day in my heart and head, a battle that leaves me sick most nights, but during the day, when she talks to me, when I see her, my heart wins so easily, constantly, strongly.

But at night, my head is a sneaky mother fucker, and it tries to mess with my plans and my comfortability, my security, this sweet and genuine girl that really fucking likes me, although only God knows why.

But she does, and she’s staying, and I have to convince myself in these states that that is what matters, that is the most important thing, that I asked a girl to stay, and she said yes, and the best part is, I did it with my true self and honesty. And I’m happy, and she seems happy, so fuck my head and all my insecurities, she stayed up tonight just to do her dishes so that I could come over drunk and babble to my hearts content about nothing but pants and how great my friends are. What a great girl. Honestly.

If you can put up with me, you must be pretty fucking amazing. Honestly.

the fever I burn
in my belly
is agony and comfort.
and I worry my fingernails
quick to the wick
as their lives burn hot
like dripping candles;

they say you choose
the devil you know
over the one unknown,
the one who shares
your bed at night
because it keeps you
warm, you swear
it keeps you safe.

I’ve learned,
from over and over
picking my wounds open,
that I know I am more afraid
of healing
than I am afraid
of death.

—  melissa elbee, “redburn”

Honesty is a barren trait of the innocent, unaware, precious gems that we need to protect with our lives because they don’t deserve to understand the anchored weights of lies, laying us flat on a torture table, stretching our arms and feet;

But still we keep lying.

Are you okay?

I’m fine.

But how many people have actually asked you if okay is a word in your vocabulary and the mask you wear so well isn’t real.

Will we ever grow old of dress up?

Will we actually notice the broken smiles of people who’ve been walking for a hundred miles,

The unperceivable reality of how our society is dragging us down.

Watchful eyes of ten thousand beasts

Attacking our confidence,

Leaving us to believe the lies,

I’m fine. 

I am never going to forget
Or stop loving you
The pieces I saw
The parts I knew
But that doesn’t mean
I won’t leave
I’ve learned to love myself too
Don’t be surprised
If you call me up
10 years from now
If I answer you by name
And remember how
Long it’s been since we last spoke
New happiness
Will never soak
Away memories together made
New friendships
Old ones fade
You might pity sentimentality
But when I’m so high up
I doubt you’ll look down on me
For being someone
Who cares

Why do things get complicated
Everything’s become syncopated
I don’t want any expectations
Biased by perceptions

Hindered by double meanings
Not wondering about feelings
I want to leave them in my wake
No longer feel a fake

I’m not going to run away
I’m going to let them stray
Right here, this day.

If I’m annoying it’s up to you
Tell me and I’ll see what I can do
But really I wont change my point of view
But at least I’ll know we’re through

Angels that keep Demons

The reason why our demons
Get along each time
Is because they’ve chased rotten daydreams
To try to learn how to fly;

A desperate reach, enticing;
An uttered prayer, a song–
And yet we’re all just children
Wondering where we went wrong.

But each touch becomes a burn,
Each try, another broken thing;
Until you realize, there’s so much more
To angels than their wings.

I’m sitting here alone in my bed
While the demons run wild inside of my head
Clawing away at the remaining ten percent of my humanity
They want to be who I am, want to take my individuality,
Mental tug of war, but the end of my rope is breaking
Having survived endless burns has now lead to it’s forsaking
But the light is blinding, & the darkness brings a comforting silence
Cause I was just a child, my young eyes should’ve never seen such violence

June 30th, 2015

The sun crosses through buildings
standing grey at perfect intervals,
light traveling in diagonals,
illuminated the painting that is sky.
I’m walking with these friends of mine
and laughing about life.
I’m feeling something deep inside
that sounds like soft wind chimes.
There’s city smells and ocean too,
some gentle suicide,
of the evil girl inside of me,
to make room for my highs.
I’m drying under cool moonlight,
my hair splayed out all night;
to wake up with arms crossed tight,
surrounding my soft light.

Honesty Hour

He slips into my mind
And I wish I could rewind
To when I knew what we were,
Every song’s about him
And the chances are very slim
Of me telling him this,
I don’t know if these feelings are real
And I’m really hoping that he’ll
Be the one to show me.