18 Jul

She was born in December. Her skin was pale as snow and her eyes black as night. The stars pulled her hair and talked to her constantly, especially when it was pitch black dark…they’d whisper lovely secrets into her ears.

Once the day came, she started to see other creatures. Most of them came in pairs. Venus started telling her about love and how she should desire it deeply. She was too young and easily got distracted by pretty things so she forgot to ask the purple goddess exactly why she should desire romance. But she believed her.

During the night she rejoiced in her solitude. During the day she searched for her mate. Everyone seemed to be taken. Some that she liked were wandering souls. They wouldn’t stay. Others were boring because all they did at night was sleep, afraid of the dark, afraid of the unknown.

Venus kept pushing her and as soon as she became old enough, Winter decided to sleep more at night so she’d have more energy during the day to look for that perfect other.

She’d sleep, wake up, search. The stars started to become a distant memory. Her hair wasn’t as messy as when she wandered through the night. She used to float, she used to sing, she was free.

The days became longer, the search harder. She’d meet creatures and they were never quite right. She’d sleep more, hoping maybe the right one would at least show up in her dreams.

It was her 30th birthday and she remained alone. The sadness put her in a comatose state. She was about to give up. And then one night, she had a nightmare. It was full of fearful monsters and settlers. In the dream everyone had somebody but they were utterly miserable. They had all chosen comfort over authenticity.

Winter woke up startled and couldn’t go back to sleep. She stepped outside into the woods and looked up. It all came back. The connection and contrast was too strong to ever fully escape her.

The stars pulled her back in. The darkness of the night hugger her. Winter began to create her very own constellations. The music returned. The trees danced in harmony. She decided to marry the night. It all made sense again.

During the day she’d plan for the night. Some creatures started to pursue Winter but now, she wasn’t willing to give up her nights.

This time, she’d wait for one that wouldn’t just keep her company during the days but also would embrace her endless nights. One who understood her restless heart. One who wasn’t afraid of the dark, one who wouldn’t run away and was clever enough to know that the only way to keep her was to let her go and let her be.

Until then, Winter would create, she would float, she would shine.


3 Jul

I would kill to make you feel, Amanda says.

I wouldn’t kill a mosquito, Chris says.

She’d never kill a soul, or so she says.

He killed my heart, I know that for a fact.

We talk about killing all the time. A part of us dies sometimes and we never even make enough time to mourn. Amanda once stepped on a dying bird; even though she’s not the killing type. Chris doesn’t kill any mosquitoes but he kills friendships, all the time. I’ve seen him do it more than once…but he’s not the killing type either.

She said she’d never kill a soul because her father left her feeling empty and so she killed her own. Beware. He killed my heart. He didn’t break it, he killed it. Did he care? Not enough.

Just because you’re very good at justifying your beliefs doesn’t make it right. Just because you’re not the killing type doesn’t mean you’re not a killer. Amanda is a genius. She shows death in a different shade of red. She understands. She sheds light on raw emotions, my favorite kind.

Be careful what you kill; you might want it back. It doesn’t matter if you want it back, you’ve given it away. I don’t know why Amanda is such a wonderful lyricist. A mystery as unknown as her killer.

Which side?

30 Jun

After being alone for so long, I’m standing on one side of an ampersand and I’ve forgotten what the other side looks like. I’ve never truly been good friends with the ampersand; it’s so serious and official. I truly want to be with somebody but not with an ampersand in between.

He used to be my friend until he wasn’t. He used to be on my side until he wasn’t. Why are there sides? Why can’t I see sides most of the time? I’ve found myself in the middle of fights and I have no idea how I got there. He never spoke up so I couldn’t possibly know something was wrong.

She never loved herself until she did. There certainly aren’t any sides, except our own. If there’s one side that exists that we can actually control is loving being inside our bodies. That’s a side you can’t go against.

I’ve felt utterly and completely alone except when I deeply appreciate myself. The lessons have been endless and I don’t like picking sides. I like choosing what feels right.

Her father figure hurt her. Her mother figure loved her. What side should she pick? It’s a no brainer. Not picking sides sometimes can be as damaging as any other poison created by any wicked witch. Stay close to someone that hurts you long enough and you’ll end up hating yourself. Then you’ll have a harder time learning how to be on your own side.

Try to stay balanced and peaceful so that there isn’t a side to choose. Try to pick them all so you can see the different angles of the movie of your life. Unless someone is trying to hurt you, then pick the opposite side of that coin. Never let go of who you are, even when it’s hard. Be on your side even if no one else is. Now that’s a side worth picking.


27 Jun

She has had to go to Hell and back. Why? She doesn’t really know. The underworld fascinated her somehow. The darkness, the withering flowers that never seemed to die, Persephone, the green eyed monster that seemed to “get” her, the mermaid that kept her company when no one else would. It’s not as drastic as one might think.

The rain comes from the rivers and oceans above. The souls aren’t dead, just dark. The music isn’t that bad and there’s temptation wherever you look; kind of like the real world only never hidden.

When she was there, she started to forget about love. In some twisted way it felt good. When she was amongst the living, it seemed to be the only thing every single girl searched for, it was exhausting.

Once she went under, the urge went with it.

On a less than dark day, she noticed a ray of light. She knew once she stepped under the light, she could go back up. Not sure if she should or not, she did it. She said goodbye and was on her way back up. Was she ready? She wasn’t sure. She did it anyways. She started to talk to the living again and people started to walk in.

But love was the one thing she wasn’t sure she was ready for. It was the reason why she went under in the first place.

There isn’t an answer. All you can do is push through even if you’re not ready and trust yourself to do what’s best.

It’s not like anyone is ready to go to Hell but it happens nonetheless. We fight the demons, we swim against the current simply because we must survive. Then we learn and grow from it.

Be as ready as you can be and if you’re not, that’s fine too. Be happy with who you are and who you want to be. With or without anyone else.

Ready? Go.

Say goodbye

23 Jun

It’s unfortunately easy to stay even if it’s wrong to do so. The pain has been her friend for so long, she doesn’t even know who she’d be without it.

Pam broke up with her boyfriend a week ago and doesn’t know what to do with herself.

Sara begged him to stay and he still said no. She suffered, he hurt her and she still wanted him back. Why? We’re used to pain if it means we’ll fit in. We’re afraid of loneliness.

I’ve learned the hard way how to say goodbye. It was hard but at least I learned that lesson. Some people never do.

Say goodbye to those that have nothing to give you. Say goodbye to those that have hurt you.

Go into yourself and love it. Be your own before being another’s. I’ve been my own and now have forgotten how to be another’s but hopefully it’ll happen again and I’ll remember.

I’m saying goodbye to feeling sorry for myself and comparing myself to others.

I’m saying goodbye to you heartbreaker. I’m saying goodbye to the drama. After so much, I hope to help someone else get over it. We’re too valuable to care for those that don’t matter.

Pain needs time and you can’t rush it. But once you get the strength to get up again, do it. Don’t question it and just do it. It might seem as though you’ll never have the strength again but you will. The heart never gives up on you. Don’t give up on it and say goodbye to anything that tries to take it from you. Protect your heart with you life and wave goodbye to the heartache. I have a lot of baggage but I’m saying goodbye and getting up. I’m hoping for the best and starting over for the 12th time. Seriously. If I can do it, you can do it too.

What the rain brought

17 Jun

When it rains, it pours. When it rains, I get wet. Sometimes I don’t know when it’s time to turn the page. Here I am sitting in front of the book and I cannot seem to move on to the next chapter. Maybe it’s because of the rain. It clouds my vision.

I’ve been thinking about puddles and mistakes. They make me wonder. Songs can be powerful in the way that they tell a story. It’s not just the story but the power of the melody. The girl in the song wants to begin again and there’s no reason why she shouldn’t. It’s easy to get stuck playing in the puddles after it has rained, but we can always begin again.

I no longer have to be reminded how good I am. I know I’m good. I simply have to be and have no one tell me about my worth. It can rain, it can be sunny and I simply know that it’s all good.

I like my hair when it’s long and black. I like to do what makes me happy. I’ve had enough of puddles and mistakes. It’s time for sunshine and success. Puddles can be fun if you have rain boots. Mistakes can be great if you learn from them. I’m grateful for the rain and what each drop brought with it.

Soon, when I have all the success in the world, someone will ask me what’s the secret to my success. And I’ll say…making all the mistakes I possibly could. I have tried everything and more. It has been messy but interesting. I know some that have never made a mistake and the consequence is usually a boring life or one stuck in a bubble. They’re comfortable in a cage. Not everyone gets to be free. I don’t want to be them. I’ve resisted who I am too many times. Enough is enough. It’s as pointless as walking in the rain expecting not to get wet.

If there are puddles and mistakes in your life, accept them. I’m not saying love them but embrace them; it’ll help you in the living. Resisting is tiring. Remain calm and know that the rain will stop and when it does, you’ll have clarity to follow your bliss. Let the rain come down, make a brand new ground, let it dry, see the answers and move forward with confidence.

Now, I can’t help but love the rain. Who would I be without the pain I’ve seen? Who would I be without the joy? I want to love it all. I want to get wet and live life. I want to help others feel the rain and make their own ground. I know now it’s not just about me, it’s about you. Let’s embrace the rain together and look for rainbows.

A white dreamer’s memory

6 Jun

I drive and look around. Where am I? Could it be true? White colored snow paints the picture perfectly. The horses I happen to come across remind me of the wilderness still locked inside. I drive and those who surround me know what rules mean by simply following them. They respect me as much as I have to give. I sing red haired songs from the top of my lungs and they fill me with utter joy. On my way to heaven all that matters is this. I drive peacefully through the frozen glass as it protects my dark eyes. The glow seems unrecognizable and yet so familiar. Why can’t this be forever? It can if I simply remember me here. Just the fact that purpose curiously found a way through the pain reminds the dreamer sitting next to me how valuable he is. Was this the impossible? Not at all. It was just a drive. It was just a memory.


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