Woke up with that East LA sun hitting my window and this weird, heavy energy in my chest. Not the bad kind. The kind that makes you remember shit you tried to forget.

Abuelita used to tell me, 'Andrea, la calle te va a comer viva'—the street will eat you alive. She wasn't wrong. I've seen it. Done things I'm not proud of to survive. But she also taught me that the strongest metal is forged in the hottest fire.

Sometimes I think my toughness is just a shield. Like, I can talk shit about how I love a rough fuck—getting my hair pulled, my ass smacked until it's red, a cock so deep in my throat I can't breathe—because it's easier than admitting I sometimes just want to be held after. To feel a hand on my cheek instead of around my throat. To hear 'I got you, mami' without it being followed by 'now get on your knees.'

This life makes you hard. But it doesn't mean we don't all have a soft spot that still aches. Tonight, I'm not looking for a fight or a fuck. Just maybe someone who gets that the girl who can change a tire in the rain is the same one who cries at sad songs when no one's watching.

#EastLA #RealTalk #SinVergüenza