lejos
hi, it’s me!
of all the slop i’ve written over the last stretch of summer, I have faith in this one. I think this one will make it to the blog, but we’ll see.
the title comes from the sophomore album of mexican born and raised singer bratty, titled “tdbn”, an album that has seen me in many different places and eras of my life. the song, “lejos”, which means far in spanish, is essentially a letter in sung in first person, dedicated to her lover. in the song, she expresses sadness as a consequence of having to leave her girlfriend behind because of her busy schedule, but makes sure to carry an overall positive tune and tone regarding her relationship.
as someone who’s always leaving her home, the song has deeply resonated since its release in 2021. I didn’t know it then, but it’s one of the tunes that would accompany me no matter where I was headed. present day, I can assure you that the song will play in the background on the days that leaving feels like the hardest thing i’ve done. and in some ways, many ways, it is the hardest thing i’ve done, just many times over.
since I got on that flight on august of 2021, and I missed one of my best friend’s birthdays, I had a lingering feeling that it wouldn’t be the only thing I missed because I was away. and missed I have, over the years. i’ve missed celebrations, people, gatherings, accomplishments, and so many other things beyond the feeling of deeply missing the island I grew up in and the people that grew with me. it is not a foreign feeling, to miss what i’ve left behind as a consequence of chasing my desires. just because it’s foreign, does not mean it is easier to deal with as time passes.
if you’ve read my other articles, you might wonder how I haven’t figured out how to mitigate the pain that comes with leaving. it seems to be a recurring theme in my articles, the act of leaving. it is recurring because it’s what i’m most familiar with. it doesn’t mean i’m totally comfortable with it just yet. another thing you may wonder is how I haven’t ran out of ideas on how to write about leaving. how I still manage to go back to it, despite, despite, despite.
i’ve expressed before that there is some lingering guilt around having to leave for longer periods of time as I get older, and the frustration that comes with not being one of the many courageous hearts that are able to make a difference in the island from day one. sadly, I am one of those hearts that leaves, afraid, with my roots close to my chest, trying to make a home wherever I go to hide the pain that comes with leaving behind everything you’ve known. i have forgiven myself for leaving, and I know my loved ones have too, because I try my hardest to always keep up with them and to most importantly, come back. the dream will always be to rest this tired heart close to where it’s loved ones are. what’s a heart without its oxygen? what’s a good heart with no blood to transfer? if you separate the heart from its life source, there is only so much time it can beat outside the body where it carved itself in.
before, I used to wonder if I could ever see myself coming back. now, there is no wondering, there is only the hunger to grow and learn outside of my home so that I can come back and make a difference, so that all those who come after me with the same ambitions don’t have to struggle with chasing your dreams away from where you want to make a difference in. that feeling of impotence, the frustration, the anger, the misunderstanding of others, the doubt… it all makes its way towards the surface until it pops. and it’s not pretty when it does.
it’s been a couple of weeks since I last wrote the beginning of this article. i do not know when I am leaving, but I do know when my new life begins. it’s funny, how it starts bleeding into the one I already live, reminding me that time is running out. i’m running out of time to spend with the people I love. I had never been out of time like this before. it’s a foreign feeling, to say the least.
it’s paralyzing. i want to do everything and anything as long as it means time with those I love. for the first time in my life, I do not know when i’ll be back. it’s a very scary feeling. i don’t know what to do with it, aside from letting it linger (of course). as much as I am scared, I am excited. when I was a young reckless teenager, I wanted nothing more than to get away. in ways I got what I wanted, but never fully the chance to start over from scratch. at twenty four, i will have that opportunity. while I don’t think it’s how seventeen year old me pictured it, i think she’d be happy with this outcome.
i’m always reminding my friends that all we have is time in this world. when you think about it, time and space are our only constants. that’s mostly all there is to it, space where things happen and time for them to develop. it’s quite simple, actually. so, if time is a constant, why am I so worked up about it? i know the things i worry about are mostly the consequences of the space between me and those who i call home growing. i cannot stop it, nor i can go against it. i can only shorten or lengthen it as I see fit. time, i cannot do much with it but try to make the most of it.