Lost

I lost you. He lost me. Not because he didn’t care, or so I like to think. I didn’t lose him because I tried too hard, or so I like to think. I lost the spark that was once on fire. The fire didn’t know how to hide from the wind.

The black dress she swore she would never stop wearing got lost. Where did it go? Nobody knows. He cannot seem to find the tie he left on the bed but was stolen by someone who thought knew better than him.

Why do we lose things? I know it’s not about dwelling on the past but what if it what was found was meant to be? How do you get over something so real? I don’t have the answer for this one.

I cannot get over the talent that I’ve witnessed. How can something marvelous end? She thought that if she kept singing, he’d keep playing the guitar. But the voice has been paused and the guitar is hidden away in a dark closet somewhere. They played games together and created magic one last time before it was all lost; maybe for a while, maybe forever, nobody truly knows.

I lose it, the voice I had. It will find its way back but for now, it’s lost. And I can’t seem to find true love as if it’s hiding from me forever but hopefully just for a while. The loneliness has been found, then lost and terribly fleeting.

But some things are bigger than you and me. Some things are made to change the world and nothing should matter more than that. The message shouldn’t be lost, the purpose. If you’re lucky enough to know why you’re here, don’t lose it. I don’t know why or how we lose but so long as we don’t lose what matters most and find a way to leave this world better than it was before we came, not all is lost.

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Wrinkles

I can see where you’ve been happy. I can see where you have been serious and anxious. I can see where you’ve lived and where you’ve died. I can see where you have loved and where you’ve cried. I can see the map of you in your face and in your skin. Your beautiful face holds the frame of the perfect picture. We encourage the living but punish the tracks that are left. They’re trying to abolish our freedom of expression.

The years accumulated have been programmed to make you feel expired, done.

But what about the mistakes that have led you to greatness? What if there would be no recollection of who we’ve become. I wonder where these rules came from? I wonder if they were created so that we can get creative enough to break them.

I look at myself in the mirror and shame tries to take over. I should have found someone by now someone who understands. I take another look and a new line has drawn itself into my forehead. Should the first gray hair show itself before true love? I don’t know right from wrong.

All the secrets you’ve been trying to hide, unfold through your eyes into my soul. I don’t know why you’d want to erase the memories of you; the memories of me.

I hope someday I get to touch your face, imperfect at its best. I hope you appreciate the lines that have been left and know that I have smiled, I have cried, and have gone through Heaven and Hell to get here. I cried 1000 oceans only to find a single smile. And that one expression makes the hurt worth the fight.

I can see that you’ve lived and I can see all the no’s you went through to finally get that anticipated yes.

Never rid yourself of who you were, who you are and who you could become. It’s all a part of the learning and the growing; even if it takes a lifetime of marks to really understand.

20%

I’ll give it 20. I focus 20% of my attention on the opposite sex. It doesn’t haunt me as much as it used to and I was wondering why. Well, when my heart’s desires weren’t being met, the attraction towards the unknown sex was bigger. Before I moved here, I’d say it was 80%. And when the desire was not met, 80% of my life felt lonely and empty.

It is still an important factor but I do not care as much as I did before. Why? I’m doing more of what I love. I’m singing, I’m writing and I’m capturing images that feed my soul. In return and in gratitude, my soul has decided to give me peace. I get to do a little of what I love and that which wasn’t meant to be controlled holds a smaller place in my world. And don’t get me wrong, it might be a smaller percent but it’s still a powerful one. I know how precious the 20% has become and it’s my job to trust who I should let in and not.

Yesterday I experienced some sort of rejection. Before it would have killed me, but yesterday it made me. Instead of feeling sorry for myself, I took the life around me and built from it. What happened? I got to meet the owner of a magazine that I might write for, I ran into an inspiring director from New York and an unexpected acceptance from male creatures transpired. It mesmerized me. It made me realize how much time and energy we waste on that which doesn’t matter. If I would have let it matter, it would have and I would have missed out on all the living, all the breathing space to bloom.

Not only am I grateful that the attention that I am paying to romance has decreased, but also I’m immensely grateful that it has cleared my vision to know who is worth occupying the precious limited space for that. And until I see it and recognize it, all I can do is focus my attention on the other beautiful 80% that has led my life into a forest where flowers bloom and men and women sing into my subconscious. This is the place I long to be and will wait for as long as I must until it’s time to move through whatever path feels right.

Balance is as tricky as living. Balance runs away from me as soon as I hold on to it too tightly. I let go of it a little and it runs back into my days. I enjoy the balance and the imbalance. I enjoy opposites and corners so that I get to see every scene from any known angle.

This is the time to address what percentage of our energy is put into what. I hadn’t found what I was brought here to do. But now, little by little, I’m discovering it. And I’m realizing what I should and shouldn’t do, who should and shouldn’t be a part of this puzzle. And, interestingly enough, without having to think about it too much, the more connected I am, the easier the right people come in and the wrong people fly out. Just let it happen and it will.

Untouchable

I’m standing alone in an open field and close my eyes. I picture everything that could have been and for less than a second it doesn’t matter. But then, as usual, it comes rushing in. All the things I still cannot seem to touch. They’re there in my mind but remain unseen. I feel unfair to crave more than what I have. I feel inadequate when I feel as though I’ve failed to choose. It should be as easy as breathing and yet, it isn’t. I feel uneasy when I feel the responsibility of the words I could say to touch somebody else’s world. I might not have taken the crowded street, but I did take one single road and I have walked through it against all odds. I only have $20 to show for myself and I’m not quite sure if that’s enough to make it through.

Am I using my mind incorrectly that I have not yet attracted it all? Or am I just inhumanly impatient? I don’t know. But I do know I must carry on. I must pretend to touch whatever my heart desires.

What has she done? How did she get to have it all? Does she even know what she has found? Is my eagerness what’s pushing it away? I don’t know. I’m almost as afraid to do what I love as I am of not getting to do it.

Should I learn more or should I unlearn that which has been taught but misleading nonetheless?

Some things have shown themselves to me and I am grateful that they have. I have seen true beauty. I have tried to be as beautiful as I possibly can, too hard maybe. Today I wore no make up and didn’t do my hair. It was a bit liberating and I want to do it more often. I want to be a soul. I want to be beautiful and I want to have it all, especially love. I don’t know how I’ll get there, but I’ll never give up. I cannot let old patters dictate what I can and cannot touch. I will hold in my hands all the invisible gold dust. I just have to know that I can and will touch, feel and do everything and more. And someday, somehow, somebody will feel happier and less lonely because I was here. Maybe they won’t be able to touch me but I will touch them with my words, with a melody or an image that’ll comfort them just enough to carry on.

I desire terribly to be one of the fortunate I desperately admire. To walk in the shoes of the singers, the writers, the creators, the image capturers, the artists that have found a way to communicate beauty through expression. I’m sitting here by myself and wondering how to get it done. I try to grab the pen and it spills ink all over the page. All I can do is start over and keep trying until it works again. Keep singing until the voice is strong enough to be heard. Try impossibly until I get to touch and breathe this newfound dream that eludes and haunts my dark and bright moments.

Happiness found

She wasn’t like anybody else. She did not give up on finding love in life and then she found it. Right then and there, she talked to him and knew. His honey colored glance sweetened her moments from then on. For once she didn’t feel uneasy and found a piece of happiness hidden in his soul. It wasn’t what she thought it would be, it was closer to what she never knew she always wanted.

His dream was to open a place where people could come and be themselves. He wanted to create a space for everybody to escape reality and enjoy whatever world their minds would take them to. He wanted something small but grand. He never knew that creating such a place would be as rewarding as it turned out to be.

She wanted a baby. Not because she was told she should have one but because deep from within she knew she was born to be a mother. As soon as her one and only baby was put in her arms, she was made. She trusted the voice from within that told her how caring and loving she could be to take care of another.

We’re told it’s supposed to be a specific career or pattern that’ll take us there. We’re told to find another person to guide us through the path for eventual bliss. I do crave love but then I refocus my vision from what’s lacking to other lovely events that bring joy and smiles. What if that’s it? What if it has nothing to do with what is bringing us happiness but just the fact that it’s shining and spilling into our lives? I get exhausted when I think about him. I start to sink when I cannot seem to have that which I crave but cannot touch.

And then, without a warning, there’s the flower that blooms, the little girl with the red balloon walking down the street that cannot control her excitement. There’s the kind stranger helping me get through the very narrow path. There are many colorful happenings that make life rich. I find happiness hidden in the most uncommon places and I know that the more I acknowledge its existence, the more it’ll reproduce itself throughout my waking time.

What if happiness changes? What if today it’s a place for me but a person for you? All he wanted was a simple smile from the girl that gets coffee from his corky Café. Today she smiled at him and he could have made a short film out of that story. What if we stop and stare at the details that flavor our days?

I have finally found you and because I’ve made this discovery, I will continue to appreciate that which can only be admired. We must unlearn the behavioral patters that try to distract us from the most precious finding which is one of the most simple but complex concepts; happiness.

The dresser

I see dresses everywhere. I dream of dresses; they bloom with flowers from within; they fold themselves into unique shapes that I cannot understand but love. The hands, which create them, have a talent of their own. They have bled to create what covers the silhouettes. They have kept going even when the design took a unique direction.

We feel precious when wearing what was created by the couture. We can touch the details in the fabric and feel like a gift. The black never gets old and wraps me up in the darkness that lets me know I couldn’t have done anything wrong.

In a culture that has to officially like something in order to create its worth, appreciating the beauty without having to say how beautiful it is or officially click on its likings, I wanted to create an ode to the clothes and the beauty from within that can shine through because of it.

You are it. You are as good as it gets. The imperfections became a part of the creation that is you. The creation was never meant to be whole unless many mistakes and tries happened first. I’m bitten at the moment but I know it’ll only make me appreciate healed skin that much more. Yes, the scars will remind me of what was, but the consequence will make me smile.

My eyes are sore from being able to appreciate all that is beautiful in spite of the ugliness trying to interrupt bright-like moments. I can only focus in the happenings that make my eyes shine. I take pictures in my mind of what has been created and the possibility of what will be. You can be created into whatever dress you want to be. It doesn’t even have to be boxed into a dress, it can be anything; it can be something that does not yet exist. You get to choose the fabric, the color and the way it’s perceived. And sometimes it might not be as ideal as you thought it would come out, but it’ll be yours and no one can take that from you. The venture, the risk and the willingness to step outside the box to create a shelter for yourself will have been more than enough.

It’s ridiculous because we cannot see it at first. But once you get those looking glasses on and can appreciate all the gorgeousness, it’s official. You have a responsibility to not just appreciate the beauty but also create more of it. We need the circle of true beauty to continue so that those that come after know that they will never be alone and are free to create and be anything they were born to be.

Magical duo

This is a tribute to him and her. The ones that keep fighting The Civil Wars that seem timeless but sadly will come to an end. They have put a spell on me with their melodic voices. The tension between their souls is almost as palpable as their chemistry. Why do we fight? How can we let go of something magical just because we can’t coexist? Must we let go of the love of our lives just because it’s complicated? I do not know what is happening in between their lives but I am a witness to their bittersweet musical interpretation.

They’re on the tip of my tongue and I feel no one can replace their braided souls. Yes, it makes sense that it would be complex for them to be able to compose such beauty in paper.

They decided to name themselves in honor of the wars we fight constantly. What I didn’t expect was for the war to become bigger than the magic. If I’m ever as lucky as to find that piece of the puzzle, I won’t be able to let go of it; it simply fits too perfectly. The Civil Wars were built on the tension and the passion. They could draw from the source of all the opposites we feel when in love and out of love. Falling for them was as inevitable as a dreamer following a dream. The flowers bloom and so does the girl with the red balloon.

The secret little stories uttered into the wind in the form of notes have had an impact on my life. They might love and hate each other but all I feel for them is admiration and gratitude for the inspiration they have brought out in me. The little black dress and the bow tie complement each other so well that it probably clouded their vision of what mattered most. I do not know them but know of what they have done and that’s enough to crave them long time.

Maybe from where they’re standing there’s only poison and not enough wine. From where they are, they have caught amnesia and have forgotten how much they can’t do without each other. But so long as the magic keeps flowing through, I’ll keep listening and hoping. The volcano has erupted but what has come of it is an endless supply of unforgettable whispers sung deep into my veins.

This is a tribute not just to the artists but also to the source that they were able to so clearly tap. Whatever happens; beauty, chaos and art happened because of something bigger than the people themselves. So long as the instruments of inspiration keep flowing through, this world will make sense; it always will.

Awe

I guess I’m at awe at this newfound respect for life. I am aware of what a great golden gift I hold in my hands. It is a tragedy to see many wait so long to start living their lives. All I can do is encourage and support them in the search. I can’t stop growing and learning and seeing the now. Once you cross over to the other side of the bridge, there’s no going back. It’s having a different perspective, it’s seeing through people easier and clearer every single time. Of course it can be tricky to find someone who truly gets it, but it doesn’t matter because once you do, they become worth a million souls. A single pair of eyes can fill you with hope. It makes you see how important it is to be unique souls and search for your meaning rather than settling for someone else’s definition.

It’s not about surviving; it’s about embracing. And it doesn’t mean that it’s going to be flawless but you will love it and you will be proud of yourself. The flawed human in you may try to take over, but you will know better and in a second you’ll remember and be good to go again. The very human emotions are a part of living, but it is not a part of it to let them take over or even believe they are true. Who gets to choose what’s true or false? You have to question everything and then realize what makes sense and what doesn’t. At the end of the day you’ll realize that everything is upside down and the perspective will help you see straight; it’s a wonderful point of view and you can taste heaven perfectly.

Today I am at awe in my gratitude. I’m endlessly grateful to have grown these wings that could have only formed themselves by adversity’s strength. I am swimming in the opportunity of what is rather than what could have been. Fairies glitter my world with color and laughter surrounds me; an angel supports me; and I am guided by instincts rather than an incessant wind trying to blow me away trying to make me feel inadequate.

The voice has begun to be heard. The words have been uttered from my world into yours. All that was undone is coming together. Everything broken feels whole again. The hearts that bled are healing nicely. The songs are being sung and the flowers in the garden are blooming beautifully. I’m at awe by all the beauty created, all the second chances that appear from whispers in the dark.

Thank you life for surprising me with sunshine and rainbows. Thank you for making me smile and making the waking up an endeavor I cannot wait to walk through. Today I am at awe and it’s thanks to you, thanks to me, it’s thanks to life and all its light and darkness; all its beauty and ugliness; all its beautiful opposites that constantly feed the urge to spill and express; to live and let live.