pull away when the dream dies

the pain sets in and i don't cry

Dec 29, 2023

“god speaks in popstars and i can’t be deaf to it anymore.” i write in a non-dramatic text to the guy i’ve been dating for a year and a half. i felt it coming1 and not in the way i like. seven whole days2 of edging have gone by and it was time to act on this unbearable feeling i’ve been fighting since the beginning of our end.

it started with a very familiar need of running while having dinner with him. run away. somewhere, anywhere, just not here. not in me. by day 3, i was in my darkest darkness3, at war with my own feelings. by day 5 the kiss of death had been given and today, today was the day to look my best if we’re gonna breakup. gotta look my best if we’re gonna breakup4 i repeat to myself. fighting every urge to wreck havoc; resigned to the inevitable, proclaiming to not let love destroy me like it has done my family5.

i never would’ve guessed it was the beginning of our end. to the contrary. i hadn’t seen his face in a week and i missed him a lot. i told him i did. it took him aback when i verbalized a feeling. not because of the feeling, but because i had admitted to it. i wish i could tell him, right before i say “i miss you” i become overwhelmed with panic and fear so intense it’s not worth the peace i feel being next to him.

“i missed you too, kid” followed by a sexy smirk and a wide smile, beaming brown eyes reflecting mine, putting on his seatbelt, grabbing my thigh. i drive us to dinner. we sit at the bar. we order drinks and empanadas and catch up about our week. it’s as easy as ever until he casually mentions he’d been to the movies. pure ancestral, puerto rican jealousy takes over me.

“oh, you’re single?”

as are you, he says and laughs.

it stops me cold how easy it is for jealousy to take over. to act on it. i go to the bathroom for a breather. i enact all the exercises a lifetime of therapy have provided me but it ain’t working. thankfully i remember a hack:

i’m seven years old and i come home after crying painful tears in the school bathroom, again. they had taunted me, again. my aunt tries to make me feel better by putting on a robin williams movie, jack.

robin plays a 10 year old in the body of a grown man. he’s bullied by the kids and feels out of place, like i’ve always felt. i was a seven year old without a mom. she left when i was a baby.

in robin’s movie, jack, he has a teacher, miss marquez. she’s so sweet, so beautiful. i feel warm when she’s on the tv. i get lost in it, lost in her. her warmth. her kindness. my mind starts to race into the darkness i've been accustomed to but her smile… is she? could she be my mom?

my seven year old self did make believe she was my mom. i still do. miss marquez was played by jennifer lopez.

as life would have it, she would go on to become more than just the northern star in my life. she’s the world's biggest superstar.

since i was seven years old, every single year, there’s been a jennifer movie, an album, a perfume, something. her image became a constant reminder to be better, to want more. her lyrics, my bible. her movies, an escape from the ever present abandonment. thinking of her puts me at ease.

so i get a j.lo movie in my head, el cantante, a great movie my mother did in 2006. i find the scene. get ha outta here, says j.lo as puchi, an assertive, confident, puerto rican bad ass to her husband’s other woman.

get ha outta here, i see it, i hear it, but it’s jlo saying it to my other self, the one that’s jealous. i catch it and compartmentalize it until tomorrow, i assure myself. dinner with him remained as easy as it's ever been.

so we make it back to his apartment before midnight. we’re casually watching non-important television, enjoying the high, ready for the crash, but together, synchronized, connected. his body warming up my skin without having to touch it as he falls asleep. just the presence of it. the scent of it.

jlo hack: say you’re mine. be with me all the time6.

but it’s 2:11 and i’m stressing7, nervous and scared; jealousy lurking in the corner of my brain and taking over my tortured heart. i try to wake him so we can go to bed.

i rub his hands, his face, i give him kisses on his cheeks but he’s not waking up.

i finally sit on top of him and blow on his face.

he opens his eyes and i feel really cold.

like, his eyes opened and the temperature of the room suddenly matched the snow falling outside.

i walk behind him to his room and see him take off his clothes. i go to the kitchen for water and when i return to the room, he’s taken over the bed. laid right in the middle, both arms extended out. total silence, freezing cold, a familiar feeling from the 2nd grade rushed over me and stayed as i try to fit in the bed without waking him.

i feel terrified of waking him up so i barely breathe.

all the uncharacteristic ways he can respond tornadoed my brain.

here i am, like a scared little kid8. time had stopped, flipped, and reversed my life. i feel disconnected and i can’t-. i’m broken, damaged i did something bad.

i start feeling smaller and smaller in his bed; triggered.

i leave the occupied bed and get dressed. with each layer i put on, a i can hear myself saying to go home. louder… but then shakier like maybe there’s another way..?

but i go with what’s familiar so i bear the snow and drive to my apartment feeling all out of my element, crying trying to figure it out where the hell i went wrong9.

i wake up to missed facetime calls from him and the tears resume. i now feel worse cuz i’ve made him worry. spiral forms. i find the courage to call him.

“hey kid,” he says.

i start and can’t stop crying.

“i’m sorry i was scared i didn’t know what to do i was scared and felt afraid to wake you and i know it’s silly but i couldn’t help it and i don’t know what happened i didn’t know what to do and and and-”

“i’m glad you’re okay,” he says. “why were you scared? are you afraid of me?”

“no, never that. and…”

dead silence for an eternity.

“i shoulda told you kid, when i’m really stressed, i tend to sleep walk. sorry.”

i feel relief but i can’t stop the intensity of my crying. he’s so patient.

he says he understands i had a reaction, he knows enough of my past, and to talk later. i feel calm and serene and then… so exposed. not in the i’m not afraid of my beauty you can see what i’ve got way10, but in the oh my god…my achilles heel. he knows.

the fact we don’t speak for two days only intensifies the devastation consuming my being.

i become carrie bradshaw. i reverted back to the pathetic needy insecure victim miranda said i was11. i draft many texts that are never sent. i go to his contact to press facetime every other 15 minutes. i spend the whole day and the next, every second i’m not occupied with adult responsibilities mentally going through our date at the basquiat exhibit and how i never offered to take pics of him or how i close the door to pee and maybe that annoys him or maybe me keeping my car dirty made him realize it could never work or maybe it’s the way i only drink lactaid like a weak bitch until i hear tyra banks say be quiet tiffany!

pero really, it’s a text from him. the kiss of death.

a photo. the window display of a fur and leather store in midtown. there was a poster of jlo as ramona in hustlers, which, if you haven’t seen it already? why haven’t you? not only is it great, it’s literally produced, written, directed, and stars only women, all the leads are women of color like, do yourself a favor and watch it tonight omg! i’m stanning. sorry.

okay, it’s a picture of jlo as ramona in a fur coat. the text reads: i can’t see jlo without thinking of you.

listen, i truly am my mother’s son and this. has. happened. before.

like, yes my life is a testament to her existence pero like. do these dudes see her image somewhere and think of me and go, “oh shit i’m in love with the kid, gotta run?” ugh!

i write this in a text to a friend and read it back to myself. oh my god i’m fucking mentally insane. i embraced it as funny and laughed it off. quickly i realize, i’ve spent 2 days spiraling. i don’t want to be like this again.

jlo hack: lyric: leaving you is what i need to do to be okay12.

the melody comes with impetus golden light, taming every monster i’ve been struggling with for the past 5 days. i decide it’s time to end the war against my feelings. i have to accept it. maybe even say it out loud.

today, i wake up with britney in my head saying i gotta look my best if we’re gonna break up and try to avoid all the feelings that can deter me from following my wise mind.

i draft a dramatic text message but instead i just ask him to dinner. we plan to meet at my favorite wine bar tonight. i listen to my mother, jlo, on repeat. i need her to remind me that the voice inside says i’m gonna be alright.

i see him walk in the rain towards me. my heart skips and i get flashbacks to the day we were introduced. the way i somehow felt him staring on the low13. the intensity in his eyes when i finally gave in to his stare14, so confident, demanding an interaction. how when we first kissed i swear i could feel the stars align15.

“i got you, papa,” i say to myself.

the past is not real. he is. we are. all i can do is try16.

i’m hugged and kissed softly at the entrance of the wine bar like i deserve. i’m surprised at how calm i feel. it’s easy. smooth, the way we talk, the way we are doing this, having wine, sharing appetizers on the same haze but the dread returns. i feel it coming and i tense up. his touch releases me.

the waiter checking in on us gave me a moment. i want find the words to say it. instead, i’m consumed by feeling stupid for wondering what if by running away, i had been so far ahead no one could catch up? he couldn’t catch up. it’s my fault.

but i’m not stupid so those feelings are invalid, tiffany! i try to think of a jlo lyric, a scene, a quote, but there’s nothing this time.

i look at him and the words emanate from most sacred part of my heart:

“i’m in love with you. i have loved you for a long time. i understand it can’t be.”

i stare at my fidgeting hands and release the breath. i look at his face and really see him as he is: handsome, smart, sexy, kind, caring, loving, all the qualities i didn’t know until now i am worthy of receiving.

i know he’s honest and his intentions are good. i hear him say he wishes timing was different, that he had time and space in his life for me. our eyes meet to confirm it is time.

as easy as it’s ever been, we continue until midnight presses for the goodbye. he walks behind me towards the exit.

i hug him without looking at his face, raindrops disguising mine. i softly push away but he grabs my left hand and pulls me in for a kiss, a real kiss, just like he had done the first night. we let go.

i don’t feel the need to escape into the rain so instead i walk, self assured that love won’t destroy me like it had done my family.

undamaged essence

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