Barbie’s wedding

On December, I went to a plastic perfect wedding. Remember the brunette Barbie doll little sweet girls used to play with? Well, I went to her wedding. She looked perfect. Her strapless wedding dress was a size zero, her hair didn’t move, everything was stiff; even the flowers. They might as well be, otherwise real flowers would wither and Barbie wouldn’t have it. Barbie has to have her wedding be flawless. The waltz was a wee bit tricky since Barbie and Ken are made of plastic and even if they tried, they aren’t flexible enough for the dance to look natural. It was actually endearing to see how Barbies never grow up. They look plastic and perfect; anything but real. I wonder what would happen to a Barbie if it aged? I cannot seem to picture a Barbie with a wrinkle or a problem; a real one at least.

And so Barbie and Ken had their plastic perfect wedding. I had fun because it wasn’t my own. It was just interesting to attend Barbie’s wedding. And it reminded me why I didn’t like barbies in the first place. Funny how when you grow up, everyone tries to brainwash you into wanting to be a Barbie doll. Then you have to discover on your own how a Barbie’s life doesn’t exist because it isn’t real. Only very few get to crawl back into the vivid real world. It’s harder in some way but worth it. What’s the point in living a lie? And once you wake up and see what is real, you can never go back to plastic. Real flowers and plastic ones have nothing in common. The scent, the touch, the loveliness. I want my wedding to be a different story than Barbie’s.

Because nothing in the world is better than real; nothing.


Beautiful blue

Out of the blue, peace reared its head out. An angel had a lot to do with it. You can feel as if you’re in Hell, but if you’re with an angel when you’re there…your Hell can rapidly become Heaven. How could I ever feel unlucky when someone loves me and sees my true nature? We decorated our tree in blue and it made me smile. Sometimes when you’re feeling blue, it’s best to rejoice in it instead of asking yourself why it’s not red. Sometimes blue isn’t meant to be red. It carries in its color beauty and lessons of its own.

When you’re loved, life is easier. When you’re loved, blue can become red without anything changing on the outside. Purple and blue are purple and there could never be anything wrong with purple. When you’re loved…the most perfect weekend can present itself unannounced. And that’s when you witness a miracle unfold itself. Thank you for a beautiful blue parenthesis.

The presents and the food were a beautiful decoration for the branches of our tree. The beautiful roots of our tree were authentic love and peace that accompanied us throughout our night and morning. Not even the blue from my own falling sky could outdo the blue of our beautiful blue tree. I hadn’t seen beauty like the one I shared with mother in a long time. I felt as though my heart had been left lost in the west but in the last days, it paid me a visit. It reminded me how it can still be mine no matter where I am. The red in my heart found a different shade inside my soul.

And as I insist on preferring: it was beautifully real, not perfect. Fears and regrets were shared as a burning fire and put off by the water that showed itself with words of wisdom. Blue never felt so right. A beautiful blue I was blessed to see, share and feel. Such a beautiful blue.

Amongst the dead

I wake up, grab a coffee and I observe the life around me. The trees smile at me always, the sky shines through with light. I wear clothes that fit my mood. I combine the black and white with the color of the day. An angel speaks words of wisdom and I’m ready to start. I walk through the gate and the guards unchain the locks. The closer I get to the top of the building on the 3rd floor, the more the colors start to fade. The trees and flowers start to wither the closer I get to the cage on the 3rd floor. Birds that fly around the cage try to come in but die when they try to do so. No animals could ever survive the cage found on the third level because the air is too thick for any living creature to survive for long.

I desperately try to hold on to the life from within and remember what the green is supposed to look like. It is not the green from the fake trees surrounding the cage where I currently am. Eight others seem to be here. Some still remember what life was like. Others have completely decided to die in order to survive and make it easier on themselves. The shortest one is dead from within. She is so far gone that her skin is dry and dead. Her inner death seems to be catching up with her exterior. She used to live in a different cage where she had already died, so this cage is simply a different stage for her to continue being eternally soulless. The others used to be alive. But unfortunately most of them have forgotten.

When amongst the dead, I am tempted to forget what life truly is. But then a spark from within reminds me to hold on. The plastic trees will never give me air; the cage will never be a home and the dead will never inspire anything worth remembering. When former living souls choose to die, they are lost. Their souls can never function the way they’re supposed to.

Against all odds, I’m still alive. But the dead are trying to kill me and my ways; the short one tries to kill me with her lack of expression; the tall one with her emotional imbalance and the rest of them with their deep misery and frustration. Yes, they try but they will fail. Soon enough I’ll join the living once again and smile knowing I never gave up on life and that life can survive even in the presence of death.

Trying to try

There’s so much to say, yet no way to start. That’s pretty much my life. I keep trying without finding a way to stay where it feels right. Now, a new opportunity sits beside me and I cloud myself with fear. It’s ok. I’m hoping it won’t get in the way of life. This is a new day, a new year. I don’t want to decide anything anymore. I don’t want to overanalyze thoughts anymore. I truly want to let things happen. I want to try and know that it might work and it may not and that life goes on and so do I. I want to be faithful. I want to be peaceful. When so much happens to you, good or bad, and your mind overwhelms you with thoughts…all you crave is inner peace and clarity. I know that’s why I must learn to simply believe. Believe in the beautiful and know that I can actually try and succeed. I just cannot believe how predictable I’m being. I’m surprised to be holding my mistakes against my own self. Shouldn’t I know better by now? I guess that’s fine. My life has been out of the ordinary and we are creatures of habit after all. I’ve made the decision to live on my own. I think of leaving my safe cage of a job and a hole in my stomach starts to form itself. That’s when it hits me…if I’m not willing to take any chances anymore, I’ve failed. If I no longer feel the urge to take risks, then I have a problem because that is not happiness, that’s not life; not the one I want at least.

What I easily forget is the craziness of my past, the clouds I’ve been on and the never ending falls. I have been brave and will continue to be. I have tried. It simply takes time to recover from a fall. But I do always end up getting up without gravity’s help. The ground’s pull is strong and overwhelming, and yet here I stand tall again. Also, there are angels on earth that have our backs. The loveliness of the clouds is one that will never cease to amaze me. Some have seen the clouds for a second, others for a while. A few get to live inside them. But those who never know about the clouds are the ones that won’t ever bother to try. They truly are the only ones that absolutely and definitely never get to be inside the clouds; they do not even know their existence.

The ones that try and fail find a way to survive on earth knowing angels exist and that they did their best. The ones that try and succeed get to be in bliss and shine in the midst of angels. Who makes it? The ones that didn’t give up; they didn’t listen to the ones that never bothered to try. They believed in something they couldn’t see but could feel. They knew that no matter what they did, a big part of the formula to reach the cotton sky was to keep trying.

I cannot know the future but I can know the present. Today I write and learn more about myself, life and dreams. Transitions are hard; a fact I somehow seem to forget over and over again. This one is pretty huge but beautiful. I’m going to reach for the clouds once more and know that my job isn’t to worry about the outcome but to simply rejoice in knowing my wings can still soar. Try to reach for the clouds and you might not just get there but inspire others to join you.

Isabella knows

Isabella gave me yellow flowers one day. Why? Because she said I was a writer and wanted to celebrate that fact. This is when I had written something for myself and shared it with her. Before that, she said I was a singer and that my voice was beautiful. She simply states her facts and knows it to be true without a hint of doubt. I did not know what she was talking about…sometimes I still don’t. Isabella tells me how I was born to do great things and what amazes me is not only what she tells me but how her eyes have a glare of truth. Still, the unbeliever tries to pull me down. I wonder if Isabella has been sent from the future. Does she know something I’m missing? Maybe; I ask her how she could possibly know these things and she says “I just know.” If only everyone had an Isabella telling them what they don’t know but should. Imagine if every dreamer had an encourager, a believer. Imagine if Isabella whispered to us all what we were born to be. Life would be light.

Sometimes someone comes into our lives to tell us exactly what we needed to hear. Sometimes we encounter angels. How could we not listen when what they say makes perfect sense? She said I could sing, she said I could write. I let insecurities get in the way at times, but I still believe. Isabella’s words have stuck. Her words are pink and sweet. She tells me about the potential inside my soul and I’m reminded of gold dust. She also reminds me constantly of the importance of letting things go. Because of how Isabella chooses to live her days, she is happiness. She isn’t just happy anymore; she is happiness because others can see right through her. She smiles because she can; she’s careless because she easily forgets to worry. She knows deep inside the truth and I get to listen to her live. I get to see her taste the rainbow of bliss.

Isabella knows more than I know but there is one thing I do know: I want to believe every single thing she tells me. I want to know not just who I am but who I can be. I don’t know much but I do know who Isabella is. She’s made a difference in my life and others. I am blessed to know her and I strive to know someday what she so clearly knows. So that one day I get to be somebody else’s Isabella and know what Isabella knows.

Who I want to be

I want to be the kind of person that is happy no matter what is happening. And if something tragic happens, I want to have peace beyond happiness. But with the day to day events of life…I want to be happy. I want to be the kind of person that learns from mistakes and easily gets over them. I don’t want to regret a thing and enjoy this moment. I want to be fit and not hurt myself with emotional eating. I want to explore opportunities but also let them go if they don’t feel right. I want to be the kind of person that cries only when it’s absolutely necessary. A person that is so carefree that things just come to instead of waiting for them. I want to be the girl that just knows that she can have the guy and will; the right guy. I want to be nature’s friend and visit wonderland whenever I’d like.

I don’t want to bite my nails because of anxiety; never be judgmental. I don’t want to hurt myself with my mind. I want to be happy with my nationality and never question why I was born here. I want to stop trying to make sense out of why loved ones hurt each other. I don’t want to be afraid. I want to be free.

I want to be loved, especially by myself. I want to always have friends that make me smile and believe in dreams. I want to be more like my mother and always make her proud. I want to not just believe, but know. I want to get up after I’ve fallen and feel stronger as soon as I get up. I want to be confident but humble. I want to be heard, not left silent. I always want to feel inspired and inspire others. I want to live and breathe my passion. I want to change against all odds. I want to be able to start over even when I feel defeated. I never want to lose my childish innocence.

I do not want to be right or wrong, I just want to be. I want to play the piano and sing. I want to write to make the world a little better and let others know they’re never alone. I want to see the world. I want true success. I want to give as much as I can. I want to love and be loved. I want to be my own fashion. I want to admire those who are worth admiring. And always know how amazing it is to be alive. I want to be the best version of myself.

My blood boils

I swear I feel like my skin is going to fall because of how my blood boils. Feeling strongly is overwhelming. Living through characters’ lives makes me feel alive. I want my life to be a story. I want there to be love and opportunities. I’m tired of waiting for love and knowing how much my soul needs it. How can I stop my skin from getting burned? I feel as though every second that passes without being in love is a second lost that I will never be able to find again.

I try to let it go and then someone else’s perfect story presents itself right before my eyes and it is true, real, passionate love; a chemistry that I admire and have wanted for the longest time. My blood starts to burn, my heart starts to desire. I want something I don’t have but truly feel I deserve. How can I get over that? How do I silence a voice that is screaming inside my head? How can something unnatural become bearable? I don’t know. I know that our nature makes us crave love and I haven’t experienced what is primal. Day by day I see people fall in love and wonder when it’ll be my turn. Every other day I wonder if I’m doing something wrong. Every other day I tell myself I have done nothing wrong. Today I feel sorrow; sorrow for knowing love’s existence and its unwillingness to reach me. And all I can feel my whole being scream from within is “I’m right here.”

Yes, movies and shows seem unreal but the love is real. It might be heightened when seen through a screen, but the essence is true. I want that essence. I want to lose my mind over someone I know feels the same way about me. I do not want to wonder when and if it’ll come. I have never known anyone else who has had to wait as long as I have. But I do know of an endless amount of souls that feel unloved and alone. Maybe that’s why this love has escaped me. Maybe I can give others hope when their skin falls from getting burned. I truly long to make a difference and I know that this could be a way. Help the loveless feel loved simply by feeling their pain. Amazing how experience is the only way to understand. It’s easy to judge when it hasn’t happened to us. But then it does and we suddenly become friends with empathy.

I’ve known motherly love, love from my friends…but never passionate love. The kind I know I’d be good at; the kind that makes you feel like you can do anything, be anything. The kind that feels like you can fly. Yes, I believe in that kind of love and I want to touch it and breathe it. And when I do actually find it, I’ll know never to take it for granted. My blood boils indeed and my skin falls on the floor; skin that will never return. The skin does die but new skin always appears…we just forget. I get the urge to give up and lose hope sometimes. But, deep inside, I could never truly give up because love; love is something natural. Love is a necessity and we can never give up on what we were born to have.

Happy endings

I always saw myself singing. Now I see myself writing and editing. What I am meant to do has always been a bit unknown. But I know it has color and passion. I know that it has dreams and realities. I feel like I’m more than one thing, therefore I see my horizon with more than just one happy ending. I truly believe in the best unfolding itself if your belief and conviction is strong. Happy endings have different faces to different people. And yet, they try to sell us all the same old happy ending.

Yes, we hope for the best but do we even know what that truly is? It’s ok to think about the future but not so much so that it disables us to accept what happens. I see my ending being wonderful but I mostly want to feel proud that I could be happy no matter what was thrown at me. In my happy ending, I see my mom and brother in it. I also see the love of my life, kids and wonderful friends. I don’t know exactly where I’ll be or what I’ll be doing in detail. I know conventional will never be my style. But what I do know about whichever happy ending I end up with is that I want to feel alive. I want to sense my surrounding. I want to feel fulfilled, loved, understood and free. I might not know exactly who I’ll end up with or what the location of my happy ending will be. But I do know exactly what my happy ending feels like…I can almost taste heaven thinking about it.

Another aspect that will lack from any of my happy endings is perfection. I’ve always had issues with that concept. Why are we created flawed if our destiny is supposedly perfect? Besides, what’s perfect for me is imperfect for you. My dreams could be your nightmares. I think happy endings should be real but fantastic. They should be allowed to change with time. We change, why can’t our endings change?

Created chaos

So, I’m at this place in my life where things are starting to go right. After a tremulous transition…I’m in a place I quite like. It is a new change though. But the point is…I like it here. A promise of a better and bigger life feels closer and what do I do? I create chaos. I try to pick a fight with almost anyone. I try to ruin a beautiful moment. I try to create chaos! This happened yesterday. I started to lose my peace and then I stopped to see what was happening. I realized I am afraid of being happy. How terrible is that? Just as the book I’m reading says. “If you’re a true artist, you become an expert at being miserable.” There’s only one problem with that; I hate being miserable. I love being inspired and feel whatever I’m supposed to feel…but I am not willing to be unhappy. I think happiness is the ultimate goal and peace is the ultimate way to be.

The one good thing about this tiny breakdown I had yesterday was that I could see it for what it was: fear. And when you stare at fear in the face, it vanishes. It doesn’t want you to know who he is. Fear knows that if you face him, he ceases to exist. If you don’t let him take over, you love yourself and love destroys fear. Only one or the other can win. And sometimes we have a harder time loving ourselves. And so yesterday I loved God and asked him to protect me from the fear. He did. I hadn’t been able to sleep with Fear’s distractions. And last night, in an instant, I fell asleep and woke up ten hours later. It blew my mind. I woke up a new person and once more I was reminded how God is love. I’m not talking about anything other than true love.

When I’m afraid, I’m not being loving. When I create chaos, I destroy peace. When I run away, the problem doesn’t cease to exist; it grows. So why create problems where they do not even exist? There’s no reason whatsoever.

Comfortable cage

It’s almost a month ago and I’m a bird. I chirp because I’m in a cage. I can see other birds fly and soar outside my cage and I envy them. I see them fight for their food, live to sing their song and simply do what they do best and I crave to be outside. I dream about it so much, I can feel the air in my wings. But the door is locked…I’m in my cage. What do I do? I eat the food they give me and I sit comfortably on the floor of my cage.

And now I’m still a bird and someone opened the door of my comfortable cage. What do I do? I ask myself whether I should or not. I start loving not having to fight for my food. I start to feel the floor be more comfortable than what it actually is. What kind of bird am I? Birds weren’t born to be in cages, they were born to fly. This comfortable cage will never give me what I truly need; what is right. It will never make me free. How can I fly if I’m not even free? How can I be a bird if I can’t use my wings to fly? The cage is easy but it’s not right. The cage is comfortable but it’s not life. The cage is safe but it’s not brave. I’ll take a life that’s right over easy anytime of the year.

So why am I afraid? Why haven’t I left the cage? I will. I refuse to be someone I’m not. I refuse not to use my wings. Besides, this is simply flying out of the cage. Just because I don’t know what might happen doesn’t mean it won’t work out. The tragedy wouldn’t be to go without food for a day or two. The real tragedy would be to never try to fly just because I might fail. I’ve done it before, I can do it again. And let’s say that I stay and try to make this work; it will never be home, it’ll never feel right.

I do not care how beautiful the cage is decorated, I do not care how much they feed me, I do not care how incredibly comfortable it is. A cage is and never will be a home for a bird. A bird was meant to fly. A bird was meant to sing. Don’t just fly out of the comfortable cage but learn from it. Know how it feels to play it safe and how much you took for granted when you had liberty. Sometimes the hardest circumstances can make living all the better. This comfortable cage I’m in has given me pain but it has made me better. I know now how fearlessness is the only path for me. Even if the fear itself tries to paralyze me; I know deep inside how valuable freedom is and how there’s nowhere else to be but outside this comfortable cage. Outside in the unknown is the only place where life lives, where souls shine and where peace and joy are not only possible but constant.