Log in

No account? Create an account
Alex Nuñez
30 July 2030 @ 02:53 am

- comment to be added.
- r-rated entries will be locked
Current Location: Toronto
Current Mood: tired
Current Music: none
Alex Nuñez
15 April 2008 @ 11:35 am

Honestly, after a while, you get used to it.

That's not to say that I enjoyed getting beaten up by whichever guy was seeing my mom at the moment. It's just that after a while, I just began to expect the punches, got used to waking up an hour and a half early for school to make sure I had enough time to cover up the bruises with makeup. I wasn't ashamed or anything. I just didn't want people to think that I could be weak. And I certainly didn't want people to feel sorry for me.

Jay and I never talked about these sort of things.

He knew how to charm mom, how to get on the good side of her various boyfriends. I was lacking in that department; I was rough where he was smooth, I was bitter where his words were sweet. Needless to say, it's easy to see why I kept him around, why I feel in love with him. At least when I was with him, I was safe. I'm not going to say that that's the only reason I loved him, but I'm pretty sure that was one of the big ones.

On the days he couldn't come over, I'd stay in my room and pray that my mom and her boyfriend would pass out, drunk. At least then they wouldn't be able to start fighting -- I hated those times the most. I didn't mind getting beaten up; I could take it.

It just hurt more to see it happen to mom.

I'd be there with an icepack when it was all over, pressing it getting against her black eye, biting my lip and trying not to cry. My mom could cry; I had to be the strong one. I'd wipe her tears away and promise that it'd get better soon. I didn't believe my own words, but I hoped that she would.

So when I heard about Rick, I wanted to kick his ass. Everyone, especially Emma, thought I was a raging bitch because of it. He's changed, they
d say, but I knew that was a lie. People like him never change; they just keep on going until they destroy everything around them. It doesn't bother them that they're hurting the few people who love them; love's not something they can comprehend.

I'm glad I left Toronto.
Alex Nuñez
She can feel a hand sliding along her thigh, and her breath catches in her throat.

Alex doesn't even know her name; the girl kissing her neck is faceless, nameless, just another girl in the increasingly long line of one night stands since Alex has come to live in Ajax. Alex runs her fingers through the girl's hair -- blond, brown, whatever -- and gasps as the girl's fingers expertly undo the button and zipper on her jeans, tugging them down just far enough for her to slide her hand in. Her fingers are cool against Alex's hot flesh, and she arches into the touch, hands splayed desperately against the bathroom walls to try and keep herself up.

The girl moves her mouth from Alex's neck to her ear, catching it delicately with her teeth, tugging it. Alex groans and murmurs the words they both need to hear: faster, harder, more. She closes her eyes and she can hear the steady throb of the music playing outside the door to the club's bathroom -- hell, she doesn't even know the name of the club, and it's just one more name to not remember to add to a list she's not writing down. The girl kisses her, tongue forcing its way into Alex's mouth, and Alex can taste the apple and liquor from the martini she'd bought her just minutes before; a sort of invitation, a show of interest, the lowest forms of flirtation.

And then Alex puts her mouth next to the girl's ear and whispers, almost. She grits her teeth and steadies herself against the wall and manages to moan out a small oh before climaxing, bucking up into the girls hand with a shudder.

Of course they spend the night at her house.

Alex leaves before the girl wakes; she's getting used to waking up in a bed that isn't hers beside a girl who she remembers fucking but can't seem to remember her name. She doesn't leave a note, her phone number. This was just another club, another girl, another fuck, another way to ignore the dull ache inside her that she can't seem to ever be rid of.

Sometimes on the bus she breathes against the window and draws a heart. She writes her name in it too, in careful, blocky letters, and she tries to think of what else to include, but it's a times like this that she just can't seem to think.

So she leaves it blank, though she knows it shouldn't be.
Current Location: Ajax
Current Mood: disappointed
Current Music: "Afraid" - Yellowcard
Alex Nuñez
26 February 2008 @ 05:07 pm
New layout.

I feel good about this.
Current Location: Ajax
Current Mood: accomplished
Current Music: "Birthday, Bitch!" - Bare
Alex Nuñez
12 February 2008 @ 12:01 pm
It'll be Valentine's Day soon.

You can always tell when V-Day is coming, because people start putting up red and pink and white decorations everywhere and start passing around all those goddamn candy hearts. You know the things, stupid little hearts with sayings on them like, 'I LUV U' or some shit like that. Not like anyone ever takes them to heart (no pun intended). They're not even that great as candy, anyway. I only ever eat the orange and pink ones.

Valentine's Day has never really meant a lot to me. It's just some big commercial holiday in order to get people to buy lots of candy and other worthless shit to people who will probably forget the gift three days later.

Actually, I'm probably just this bitter about it because I'm jealous, but. I remember Jay would just laugh at the thought of getting me something for Valentine's Day. But Lexi, he'd say, don't I give you stuff all the time? He had a point there, so I couldn't really argue with him. And Paige and I never lasted long enough to have a Valentine's Day together. Same with Carla (not that I mind that that much).

Really, I don't care. I want someone to send me roses or chocolate or confess their undying love to me. I mean, sure, if they want to, they can. But the thing is, I wouldn't take it seriously. Why should people only do those things on Valentine's Day? It would actually mean something if it was just done on some idle Tuesday afternoon or something like that. Because then it would be special. Unique. Something unplanned, something not influenced by some stupid commercial holiday.

But maybe I'm just jealous.
Current Location: Ajax
Current Mood: bitchy
Current Music: "Paper Walls" - Yellowcard
Alex Nuñez
07 January 2008 @ 12:50 pm
1. Get a better job.
2. Start saving up to buy my own apartment.
3. Return Mel's calls.
4. Move out of my aunt's apartment.
5. Find a girlfriend.
6. Get all A's in my college courses.
7. Save up enough money to get a new car.
8. Lose five pounds.
9. Visit Mel.
10. Write to Paige.
Current Location: None
Current Mood: accomplished
Current Music: Ajax
Alex Nuñez
07 January 2008 @ 11:38 am
Sometimes when I wake up in the morning, early, before the alarm has gone off, I lie awake in bed and pretend that if I roll over, she'll be right there beside me. Of course, this is only when I'm feeling overtly sentimental and nostalgic. And then I'll spend the rest of the day in a bad mood, having had my fantasy ruined.

I'm not sure if I miss her anymore. Not like that, I mean. Not in a romantic sort of way. At times I think I just miss her as a person, a friend, a companion, someone who I spent nights working with on Saturdays in the mall, dishing out popcorn and dropping ice cubes down the backs one another's shirts as practical jokes. I miss that Paige. I can't really remember that Paige, though. The one who didn't freak out at the drop of a hat, the one who didn't mind daydreaming about settling down with Mr. Right and having the white picket fence, the perfect little house, and 2.5 children. I feel sorry for her almost, now, because she doesn't even realize that she lost herself so long ago.

I'm not being insincere when I say that I hope that she really is happy doing whatever she's doing now, being a fashion model assistant or whatever. I really do want her to be happy.

There's that old saying: "If you love someone, let it go." The rest of it goes on to say that if they come back to you, they really did love you. If they don't, well, then, they didn't. Paige came back, I tell myself. So she must have loved me. But she let me go, and I don't know if I'll ever come back. Is it because I don't love her? I'm not sure. I think maybe I'm just afraid that when I come back, there won't be any of the Paige I used to love left. I have all these memories of her, this image of what she's really like in my head; it'd be foolish of me to just expect that she'd stay the same person.

Still. When I go to work, go to classes at Ajax's community college, I can brush these feelings aside and pretend that I'm fine. But when I'm lying awake in bed in the morning, the sun just starting to rise, I can't help but miss her. And I can't help but wonder if she misses me too.

Someday I'll go back to her.
Current Location: Ajax
Current Mood: melancholy
Current Music: "The Quiet Things That No One Ever Knows" - Brand New
Alex Nuñez
They meet in the bathroom during class, when they hope no one's around.

Alex pushes Paige up against the tiled wall and Paige wraps a leg around her waist, pulling her closer. Neither speaks at times like these; the words would just be a waste, anyway. The only sound in the bathroom is muffled sighs and moans, each taking care to not be too loud, lest they be discovered.

Sometimes they spend their lunch period making out in the backseat of Alex's car, parked in the far back section of the lot. But it's not the same as this. The thrill isn't there -- the thrill of being caught, the thrill of doing something they know they shouldn't be doing.

It's one of the few times when they don't have to take it slow, when Alex feels the need to stop and ask Paige if she's all right every five minutes, for fear that Paige is going to burst into tears at the wrong move. But here, Paige is rough and forceful. Demanding. And Alex is there to match her for every move, for every sigh.

Only a few minutes; that's all they're allowed. But they make sure to savor every second of it, though Alex hates to part once their time is up. She can taste Paige's lipgloss smeared on her lips, can still feel Paige's hands on her.

She's sure everyone knows what she's been up to, when she waltzes back into class three minutes later, hair disheveled (she never bothers to fix it), grinning broadly. She can feel everyone's eyes on her as she slides back into her seat in the back of the class and pretends to be interested.

And she loves every minute of it.
Current Mood: bored
Alex Nuñez
09 November 2007 @ 10:30 am
I walk a lonely road.

- - - - -

In the park down the street, there's a bench on one of the walking trails.

Sometimes she sits there, the sky an indecisive mix of dreary gray and optimistic blue, the leaves golden and burnt looking, scattered on the ground in patterns she can't describe. She can almost smell autumn, can almost taste it on her tongue, sharp, like cinnamon.

And she can't believe it's been five months.

The loneliness is unbearable sometimes. She tries to let people in, she tries to get close to people, but she can't. Jay is there, but not really. He's busy with work, and then he hangs out with Sean (and sometimes Emma, too), and even though he calls Alex and tells her to come, she can't bring herself to. Instead, she buries herself in her text books, and pretends she can't hear her cellphone when it rings a second, third, time.

Sometimes, instead of sitting, she walks down the trail, the trees bare and framing the sky, the pavement cool and worn-down.

She remembers a warm hand in her own, remembers warm breath on her skin as a kiss is placed against her cheek when no one's looking. She remembers bumping noses and grinning, and notes passed in the hallways.

Once in a while she licks her lips, and she doesn't taste autumn, but spring; the hint of strawberries, just barely ripe. But the strawberries are gone now, and the cinnamon taste now just leaves her mouth feeling dry and empty.

When Carla kisses her, tasting of the hot chocolate they'd shared, it's almost good enough. She can't taste strawberries and she can't taste cinnamon, and she thinks that she's finally getting good at forgetting.

Pretending, more like, but she doesn't let herself think like that.

She takes Carla to the park, and they sit on that same bench, and they walk down that same lone, winding path. But it's colder now than it was in spring, and so she can only feel a gloved hand in her own bare one, and when Carla kisses her on the cheek, her scarf is scratchy and imposing.

Her phone vibrates in her pocket. She ignores it. Later, she checks the caller ID, and she licks her lips, because they're cracked and dry from her walk with Carla in the park.

She tastes strawberries.
Current Location: Toronto
Current Mood: cold
Current Music: "Photographs" - Lake
Alex Nuñez
09 November 2007 @ 09:46 am
I feel like I'm always writing about this.

People always ask me how I knew, as if I was completely oblivious and then one day a little light-bulb popped up over my forehead and I shouted, 'Eureka!' But no, it wasn't anything like that. The truth is, I always knew. I know, it's become so cliche to say that sort of thing, but things usually don't become cliches unless they're true. And it is. True, I mean.

I can remember all the way back in fifth grade and absolutely fawning over my teacher, who, I think, was only about 20 at the time. For the life of me, I can't remember what she looked like, but I still remember that feeling; I wanted her to like me better than the rest, I cared more about what she thought than anyone else, I actually tried in her class. I mean, really, crush much?

Of course, I didn't know what it meant then, because even though kids here the words 'gay' and 'lesbian' (or, in my case, 'faggot' and 'dyke'), they don't really know what the word means. Okay, I suppose they know what it means, but they don't know what it entails. To them, it's just something funny to say to tease someone, or a way of calling something shitty without having to swear. They don't really get it.

Not that I was ever called gay. Or a lez or dyke or whatever. When you run with the 'bad' kids in school and you've pretty much formed your own gang by seventh grade, well, people tend to not say bad stuff about you. And then when you're dating Jay Hogart, well, even if you do dress sort of butchy, there's no way in hell that anyone's going to say something, for two reasons. One, everyone knows that you and Jay have gone all the way and back, and two, because if you did say something, it was a straight-up guarantee that you were going to get your ass kicked.

But I still knew, deep down, what I was. I tried to cover it up with Jay, tried to act boy-crazy like Amy. But it didn't make me straight again. I was really just denying it to myself, that's really all there was to it. Alex Nunez, the toughest girl in school (dating the toughest guy in school, no less!), the girl who cut class and stole from the teachers, the girl who got away with the campaign slogan of 'Authority Sux,' the girl who dumped paint on Rick and got away with it -- that was who I was. Alex Nunez, the school lesbian; that wasn't who I was.

It didn't stop me from developing a gigantic crush on Paige (to this day, I can't believe she didn't see it!), and that was when I finally started to just accept things. It wasn't easy, of course, although I'm sure some people assume it is, like I just woke up one morning and decided to declare my sexuality to the rest of the world. No, it took time, just like everything else does.

But then I kissed Paige, and suddenly, I felt alright.
Current Location: Toronto
Current Mood: exhausted
Current Music: "The Last Kiss" - AFI