If you want to know how screwed up Alvaro was, here he was, pulling all this shit over on me, and doing favors for someone else, and then it was either through HIM or someone else, that I was getting set up with the other immigration sting and that WAS a U.S. guy who was trying to put me in PRISON (yeah, like I said, I have absolutely NO need for asylum in this country).
Well, he began praying with me for my SON.
Once, I thought it was actually special, and he said the Lord's Prayer in Spanish and then to go along, I said it from memory in English. Then he went on to say some Maria (Mary) prayer and told me to repeat after him. I said no thanks. He said one more prayer that was rote after that, and then moved on to his own prayer for my son, in English.
I thought it was sweet. Then, he wanted to make the sign of the cross over me. I let him make the sign of the cross and was fine with it.
But all of that, and yet he's dirty.
The thing is, not many people are wholly bad or good. Which is where you get Stockholm Syndrome and undercover people falling for the guys they're doing work against. And I personally believe there are very good, really heart solid people who may be in the "mob" so-to-speak, and some who are in U.S. gov jobs who are just rotten to the core. Only God knows. Truly.
I still love him in my own way. I still miss sleeping with him, if you can believe it, but I'm not an idiot either.
Alvaro tried to help in some ways, but it was only the basic needs and on his terms or his group's terms and beliefs. I was okay if I forgave all and didn't try to prove I'd been done wrong, and if I didn't get ahead or get my son as I wanted. I could have been useful. I could have even been loved. If only I would "change" and become what other people wanted me to become, on their terms, fitting into their plans, and ideas of what is right, but mostly, what would beneift others.
In that photo from the Colombian party, you would never guess how I was feeling that night. I danced all night, despite very severe pain from herniated discs and miscarriage pain (had liquor and painkillers but still in pain). I also finally wnet to the bathroom and sobbed, after someone handed me a shot of whiskey, because I was thinking about someone else. But then I began to care for him sincerely, this other guy. Not in the same way but still.
Next time I write I'll write about MS 13.
I like this song "Bye Bye Blackbird" by Rickie Lee Jones.