1-25 NORTH – 08/25/2010 – 3,4-methylenedioxymethamphetamine –
2010 - 2025
My life in Santa Fe, and my life before in El Paso—I've been thinking about it all quite a bit. 2024, I think, was the year I returned to El Paso the most since leaving in 2010.
That leads me to think about when I actually moved here, and how feral I was for freedom and a change of reality. Eighteen and on my own—the decisions I made, how unhealthy they were. I weigh the potential consequences of those decisions, had I stayed in Texas, had I moved anywhere else so young. And I think to myself...trouble would have found me wherever I ended up.
2025 (in August) will mark 15 years since I moved to Santa Fe. Born in El Paso, I vividly remember the drive up in August of 2010. High on ecstasy, I had to pull over in Bernalillo. My sister Christina ended up driving my 2007 Chevy Aveo, filled with all my books, up La Bajada Hill. "What the fuck is wrong with you?" she asked, seeing I was clearly high as shit.
I needed a distraction. "I'm gay," I said. That's why I was acting like a maniac. She started crying, but then told me it wasn't out of sadness or because she was upset about the news. Her high school boyfriend, she said, always told her I was gay—not in a derogatory way, but in an "it's obvious" way. She was crying because she knew it wouldn't be easy for me, but she was happy I told her. I was happy I told her too. I've always loved ecstasy because of this. I haven't done it since.
She was the first family member I came out to. It felt good to share that secret, even though it wasn't really a secret. I was gay as hell. Always have been. Always will be. Was going to college going to ruin my life or save it? I'm not sure. But it forced me to confront things I wouldn't have if I'd stayed in El Paso: my sexuality, my mental health struggles, my creative process, my purpose in life, and even my love for working in retail and finding the connection between clothing and the person it is supposed to be a part of.
Santa Fe, where I explored drugs and alcohol. Just kidding. El Paso teenage me was already doing plenty. It's a miracle my brain still functions—feels like God kissed me on the mouth. But Santa Fe was where I could indulge with other people who also wanted to indulge. It was hedonism at its finest. And I discovered that I really enjoy hedonism. I really enjoy doing what I shouldn't do.
Being a bad boy instead of being a good boy was very appealing to me. As a child, I was a good kid, but I had guilt and was always viewed as being on the cusp of good and bad. I continually wanted to prove that I was good, particularly to my Catholic mother...until I gave up.
The College of Santa Fe/Santa Fe University of Art & Design, aka the now-defunct art school I went to that also seemed to have an identity problem, was such a wonderful garbage fire for a person like me to walk into and walk out of and then walk back into and finally finish. I got suspended for a year and took two years off instead, which was when I started working at the Co-Op – and then went back to school and started working at Santa Fe Dry Goods at the same time. I think I was 22? It was September 2014.
It's January 2025 right now; I am 33 years old, and I cannot stop thinking about the Zia Car Wash and the banners across it.
Something about the selection of words used in the series of banners on the Zia Car Wash resonates with me. The first banner, stating "We Are Getting Better, Reopening Soon," followed by "DESTROYED," seems familiar.
Could this be a self-portrait? Maybe. But that seems too easy, too obviously clever. And being obviously clever is my greatest fear. Right now, I'm wrestling with what I call 'the hierarchy of authenticity.' I can't seem to accept most people as authentic. This bothers me; it creates an ego I don't like. I am having a hard time seeing the truth in people because I seem to create an invisible wall, or I create a situation inside my head where I am about to get held at gunpoint and everything I have worked for is about to be stolen from right under me, and very easily. It's a bit frightening because I crave community more than I crave most things; however, I seem to be the one in my own way. It's silly when written down, but it's the honest truth.
I think that's why I have been thinking about drugs and alcohol quite a bit these days. I don't crave alcohol like I crave drugs. I actually don't miss the person I was when I was drinking. Drugs, however. I love drugs. Always have. I miss how easy it is to get confidence with ease. I miss how easy it is to connect with people. Drugs were my way to break down a lot of those invisible walls that I create for myself. However, now that drugs are dangerous, I don't miss them and am glad that I do not seek them out like I did in the past. I enjoy my psychologist and I am grateful for the pharmaceuticals that allow me to function to the point that I can. But god damn, I think about the freedom of ecstasy quite a bit.