let's get personal :
ft. Beauty Mercado
( insert smiley face here as she begins )
" Who the fuck is Beauty Mercado? "
A question that doesn't phase me, but those around me. A question that brings out a small cackle from my lips, but a deep sigh out of everyone else's. A question that makes me feel superior, like a predator, and not a prey like everyone else. A question that should hurt me deeply, and not those around me!
Sometimes, sometimes I like to believe that the reason for all of this...awfulness is because, well, my name says it all. Beauty. I'm too beautiful, and they all can't stand it. So, in turn, they bully me to make their self-esteem better. But you don't want to hear about that, right? This is a much more deeper conversation, so let's continue. Now, where was it? Oh, right?!
They are all whispering, and it's obvious, because nowadays no one dares try to be discreet - secretive. A game to them, but only when I'm close, very close, is when they all decide to pipe down, cease the conversations and the awful whisperings. Until I am nowhere near hearing distance. Aren't they cowards? I think so too.
And they say.
" Her mother murdered her father, did you know that? "
No, my mother did not murdered mi papito - it was papi who murdered my mother, and with every right.
You see, mother was a mean soul, especially to daddy, who is a very kind, loving man. A fire chief in my lovely city, the Bronx. A hometown hero, is what the town calls him. A gentle soul. The kind of guy that you would definitely want on your side, forever and beyond.
Mother, on the other hand, she was a merciless lady who only cared about herself. Oh, and money. A retired Broadway star - turned drama teacher at an university. She treated her students with much more love and respect than she ever did my daddy, and me. She paid no attention to me. And mind you, I am her only child - perfect child. But mother did not love me. But I, her, and a lot, and I don't know why. She never deserved my love and admiration.
Or my father's.
But he finally put an end to his, our suffering. I was fourteen, and I saw everything. They were fighting - wrong, mother was fighting, whining over the usual things: fast food burgers that daddy would always get me, because mother refused to give me anything delicious to eat. Always had me on strict diets. Always!
She detested it - would always yell at him, and me and call me all these horrible names that a mother should never in a million years call their child. Claimed that she didn't love me because I was fat, and an embarrassment to her. Always found ways to make me cry. And always succeeded. She was really mean.
But that was the last time. Daddy saw her hit me - a really big, fat smack in my face. My cheek looked liked a pepperoni and daddy got really, really, really furious with her. He started yelling, and screaming - crying too, and next thing I saw.. He plunged a knife into her chest. Not once, not twice, but five times, spewing profanities in between. She died, right then and there. Blood on his hands and face and clothes - and on my delicious burgers that I couldn't eat. A waste of food, to be honest.
He didn't mean to though, it happened so fast, he said. The voices told him to do it. To shut mother up, once and for all for hitting us. For not loving us, wanting to be a family with us. She hurt us very much.
Daddy don't remember doing that. Still don't. He suffers from a mental illness. Bipolar Disorder, I think it's called? I did hear them say something with the word, manic, in it. It's very scary. He still gets blackouts, in prison. But they're working on him. My daddy's a strong man, and some people are still behind him for what he did. And a lot hates him for it- he ruined his career and life. And mines, as well.
Mother was a cruel bitch, to everyone - the whole town knew that. So most didn't feel all that bad for her. Except maybe her students and her black book list of lovers. Such a tramp.
Daddy went to jail, leaving me all alone. Saddest day of my life - until I moved upstate to be with my madrina - my godmother. The happiest day of my life. That's when I met my soulmate. And one who loved me for me, despite how different I looked. My one true love, and only love.
" She killed her best friend, that's why she went to jail, did you know that? "
I DID NOT KILL ALLURA! I hate when they say that! I would never do such a horrible and traumatizing thing. Ever. I loved her, so very much, as she loved me and hurting her never, ever, ever crossed my mind. What happened to her was an accident. A scary accident.
Our friendship was so beautiful, so sweet and so like the Disney movies that I love to watch every night. She treated me so nice. Gave me tips on how to be beautiful and not care how others saw me. She was my best friend. The love of my life.
But she changed, she changed so much. She treated me differently, mean. Said that our relationship wasn't real and that I made it all up. That it's all in my head, and that made me sad. Very sad, and mad. So, I pushed her. She pushed me back, I pushed her harder because she started calling me all these mean names, made me cry. She laughed, pushed her even harder and she...she tripped over herself and hit the back of her head on a rock behind her. A big one.
She died on the way to the hospital. And everybody blamed me, and it wasn't my fault and now, I've lost my best friend. Forever. The greatest love of my life.
They called it a terrible accident, and it was. I was so numb, so angry that she's been taken from me - couldn't move, speak, anything so they, the court, suggested that I go to Stanfield, Stanfield Springs. A recovering center in carajo-land - NOT JAIL! - to get me evaluated and nurse me back to health and stability. Welcomed me with open arms and so much love.
And as you can see today, I am healthier and happier than ever, thanks to them!
Stanfield became my new home, my safe haven, until it was time for me to be free and leave. Four years later, I found a new home, a new claridad - a new clarity; Ashwick Valley, California. Thanks to a very good and old friend of mines who is no longer around, tears.
The moment I'd stepped foot into this small, beautiful place - my happiness definitely began.
" She has a room filled with voodoo dolls, named after real people, did you know that? "
People are such jerks! I don't have voodoo dolls. I've only had one, and that was a long time ago. I have dolls Not baby dolls, but plenty of barbie dolls, because who the hell does not like barbie dolls! My Muñecas. As daddy's little girl and only princess, he has people that knows how to make them and so, I tell them to make me dollies of the people that I love and care about. I would normally sneak a picture or several of them and send them to the workers to do their magic.
I only know how to make plush dollies - thanks to YouTube and all my lonely nights locked in my room - not the real plastic ones with the tetas and peepees, you know - they do that for me! And I have to say: they do amazing work! Exact replica of my favorite real life friends.
I have plenty of dolls in my room, all around, on shelves. Dollies that I have made, that's been made for me, and a lot from my childhood. I love all my dolls, because I love all my friends. My real life Muñecas, is what I like to call them - my friends. I sleep with all of them, and take most with me, wherever I go. Big basket on my bike. I'm trying to get a car, but why would I need one, right? It's Ashwick, small town, no need. But, the weather will get cold, and I don't want my babies to get sick, so who knows.
Anyways, so yeah. No voodoo dolls, just dolls of the friends and people that I love and admire. They all make me happy, keeps me sane, it's rather therapeutic, my shrink says so. I believe her, duh!
" Who the fuck is Beauty Mercado? "
I am Beauty Mercado. I. AM. BEAUTY. MERCADO.
A question that does phase me, but not those around me. A question that does bring a deep sigh to my lips, but not a cackle. A question that does make me feel like a prey, and not a predator to those surrendering me. A question that does hurt me deeply, but not those around me.
Don't you get it?
Just because I had a rough, complicated life growing up....doesn't mean that I'm awful. I have feelings, and massive. And I wear my heart on my sleeves. I cry, and a lot, and I yell at the top of my lungs and act out when I'm hurt. I'm not derange or crazy, as they all say. I'm just very overly emotional and sometimes my mean streak comes out, but that's - that's normal. I am only human, as you all.
And if you ever ask me this again, I will kill you the exact same way as I did Allura..
Hehe, I am so kidding! Gosh, where's the humor folks!
So yeah, that's all for now; my name is Beauty Mercado and I believe in happily ever afters and world peace and singing in my undies 'cause I'm every woman, it's all in me - anything you want done, baby, I'll do it naturally!
Thank you all for listening to me. And please, don't forget to check out my Etsy page, new dollies on sale, yay! Or if you want a custom made doll, or dollies, hit me up so we can meet up and discuss some business!
" Beauty Mercado is a damn parasite, and she knows it. "
( insert toothy grin here as she closes the laptop )