Stories keep you surviving — in society, in relationships, and in the craziness around us. Sometimes survival itself is easier than surviving them.
Never, ever get into a relationship without chemistry and love. It will not work. No matter how hard you try, it won’t work.
Doesn’t matter what plans you made in your mind, what your parents told you, or how much you once fell in love with that piece of shit.
It won’t matter.
A relationship that works needs chemistry, love, commitment, communication, and openness — for better or worse.
Otherwise, it’s not a relationship and never will be.
You have options: friends with benefits or a vibrator, lol. 🤷♀️
But this is not the story about that.
This story is from yesterday, written today, just to take my mind off a crazy family relationship.
He never loved me. Never respected me. Not him, not his family — only himself.
Today he chose to cough in my face, keep the windows closed, and spread his virus to me. And he succeeded.
Filthy and crazy. And I live like this because… I have no other options yet.
More hell than home.
But now — let’s dream a little.
(In a house full of crazy people and a partner even crazier.)
The story from yesterday… DMV hall.
They refused to change my driving license because I didn’t pay my auto insurances.
Socialism broke me. Broke as hell.
My car Maritza is old and broken too.
There are no jobs here for an “alien” American nurse like me — especially not a wild, outspoken one.
On social assistance, you can’t pay auto insurance.
But without a car, you can’t find a job either.
(Unless you want to become part of organized crime or a CIA/police asset — no thanks!
And then… the story.
She’s maybe 17 or 18. Blonde, curly hair, blue eyes.
A bud of a young girl, blooming this spring like a magnolia flower. 🌸
Boho T-shirt, jeans, boots, curls bouncing everywhere.
She talks fast, every “s” and “r” twisted by a heavy British accent.
She’s a doll. A happy, wild little doll.
Waiting for her boyfriend’s DMV documents.
And about him? Lol.
He’s somewhere between Middle Eastern and Indian.
Skinny, chocolate au lait skin, trying so hard to walk like Salman Khan.
(And doing a good job, judging by her starry eyes.)
He knows how to lead her crazy hippie heart.
Let’s call him Krishna.
Let’s call her Lorelai.
(Why not? It fits, lol.)
And me?
The old, pissed-off “granny” fighting DMV battles without a valid ID.
Already halfway to becoming illegal in the U.S. 😂
This country hates me, but whatever. I survive.
Looking around… 75% of people at DMV were batshit crazy, poor, abused, hopeless.
Hell, baby. No hope here.
Until… I saw them.
A sunshine ray in my tired, old eyes! ☀️
She, sweet and wild.
Her crazy mom calling her non-stop.
“WHERE ARE YOU? GIVE ME THE ADDRESS OF THE DMV!!” (screaming through the phone)
I laughed inside.
Poor mom. How many times did I lie to mine? 😂
We were young and wild too… so in love.
We just married the wrong ones. That’s all.
Will Lorelai follow her heart?
Granny decided to “spy” a little more… 👀 lol.
Mom keeps yelling.
Lorelai sweetly lies: “I don’t have the address!”
I loved her instantly — trying so hard to protect her little young freedom.
And I saw myself in her eyes.
Young. Wild. In love.
Him — young too — buying detergent for his mom. LOL
Me — sitting in a train, pretending to study the “Sleep and Dreams,” the single class I hated.
(That stupid class kept me away from becoming a doctor. One stupid class changed everything.)
You don’t know what you’ve lost until it’s gone forever.
Between the yelling and emotional blackmail… Krishna steps in.
Takes the phone, calms crazy mom down, assuring her Lorelai is safe.
(And I laughed watching it.)
Back in our day, no cell phones. No GPS. No tracking.
Love was free.
You could hold hands on a train between two cities — no one knew where you were, or what you were doing.
We lied better too, lol. 😂
Finally, crazy mom stopped.
And then… therapist mode activated.
I walked over.
Mother. Daughter. Granny.
All parts of me, speaking at once.
“Listen… all mothers are crazy,” I said, laughing.
Because it’s true.
We love our kids too much.
We are scared. Anxious.
We want to protect them from our mistakes and theirs.
We want them to live, to dream, to be safe.
To know the difference between good and bad before it’s too late.
Because if you don’t, you end up like us — trapped in miserable relationships, living miserable lives.
Lorelai laughed.
Because she knew I was right.
But she was so in love.
And her mom didn’t understand.
So I told her:
“You must start building BOUNDARIES.
Explain clearly what you want.
And if they don’t listen?
Learn to COMMUNICATE better, not lie.
Live FREE.
Find EMOTIONAL SUPPORT from those who truly care.
Not everyone gets that.
Some of us never had it.”
And I went back home.
Where a 25-year nightmare relationship coughed in my face.
Refused to clean his own piss off the floor and f/u with the doctor.
Refused to do laundry.
Refused to even open the window.
No willingness to communicate. No love. No chemistry. No family.
Some mistakes cannot be repaired.
So Lorelai and Krishna…
LIVE.
Be happy.
Protect each other.
And if one day you want a real family, know what it really means.
Otherwise — let it be a beautiful adventure, no harm!
Because at 18…
There’s no harm in just falling in love with life. ❤️