It’s coming. Like the largest wave waiting to run you over, it’s coming. You can’t stop what’s coming, can’t stop what is on its way. The bells are ringing and it’s time.

The Bell Collector doesn’t know any better but to call on those who are up. He comes ringing the bells and as much as you try to run, you can hear it from a distance. He’s 15 days away. This time it’s a round number and it’s one that they’ve taught us to fear. The Bell Collector always shows up in the middle of the street. He knows where I am and he expects me to meet him halfway. Maybe that’s why I’m always expected to meet life in the middle. Maybe that’s why, once I’ve done my part, I expect others to do the same.

I can hear the bells and they are ringing 30 times. Once I meet him, he’ll ring them 15 times and then hand me the bells for me to ring them 15 times. It’s 30 and there’s much to think about. He doesn’t ring the bells only because he can but to remind me of who I am and what I’ve done. He’s given me 30 chances to live and wants to know what I have to show for it. After the assessment, he’ll decide how much longer my heart will beat. He knows but he won’t tell me. He simply rings his bells and carries on calmly. I wish his face had more of an expression but it doesn’t, it’s not supposed to. When people ask him how much longer they’ll live, he pulls out a mirror and shows them a reflection of themselves. What does this mean? Well, I guess he wants us to know we hold the keys and all we can do is our best and hope it’ll be just enough.

It’s 15 days away and I can hear the bells for her, for me. She’s currently wearing yellow and purple and is going to dye her hair jet black. She’s never been fond of lukewarm. It’s either ice cold or scorching hot.

The bells might have a somewhat scary sound but the fact that we can hear them is a sign that we’re alive. The fact that they’re coming means we still have time. Time for what I wonder? Time for whatever we want this moment to be. Time to wake up and care only about the matters of the heart and soul.

Eventually the bells will stop ringing and hopefully then we’ll have done everything the Bell Collector expected us to do. He’ll finally smile knowing that he rang the bells not only many times but with all the power he held. And then we’ll know that the golden bells were always ringing just for us to remember.


Br Ba

He was the greatest guy. He lived a normal life. He was born in the south and loved formulas. Never could he imagine what he was in for. He might have become bad but at least he became interesting.

His partner is also bad but not nearly as intelligent. He makes mistakes over and over and never seems to learn. He lives in the underworld and hangs out with Persephone on a regular basis. The devil doesn’t even chase him anymore because he knows what an easy target he is.

Our hero likes to play the villain. Our villain is the hero. He saves his partner because he cannot seem to let go of his father figure complex. He is convinced he does it all because he’s a family man. Is he? I’m not so sure.

Once you’re in, you can’t get out. Once you’re bad, were you ever really that good?

Vince is my hero. He created fascinating story lines. He created someone who could be anyone but hopefully isn’t. He puts all his people in absurd situations and makes them seem real. Who does that? A genius. His writers follow creativity and catch it in the utmost poetic way. The design keeps it simple in its green complexity. The cinematography makes murder seem like a picture perfect family portrait.

No wonder everybody talks about it. No wonder no one can’t deny its genius; it’s timeless and unforgettable. It’s bloody and beautiful. Its pieces fit together as perfectly as the chemistry formulas themselves. I’d say the crystal is 99 percent perfect, maybe even a bit more.

It’s bad in all the right ways; it’s one for history.

Never had Elvis

We broke up last year. The love we had vanished. It was real, it was beautiful. You took her word for it and it was gone. You never said a word but believed hers more than mine.

Good thing we never had Elvis. Good thing we walked away before we bled out. Good thing we both had enough songs to carry us through. You might have gotten more in the settlement but I know how to interpret them on a more positive note.

The blind ones name their babies Elvis when they know they’ll never be royalty. They know what their life won’t look like. “They were just two jerks playing with matches.” As Regina beautifully put it.

We were just two jerks playing in the dark, not knowing our hearts were on the line. Good thing we never had Elvis. Good thing our ending was as poetic as all those stories we loved reading together.

I know you want me to wear your tattoo but I will not. Even if it hurts and even if this is about you, I will never wear your tattoo. Why would I ever carry a burden as dark?

Good thing we never had Elvis. Good thing there’s no proof of the love we had. Good thing we’re no longer holding each other’s mirror.

Elvis wouldn’t have been happy or sane. He would have been interrupted, as so many are. He would have been broken and a consequence of a love that was never meant to be. Good thing we never had Elvis.

Second opinion

Amy has pink hair because she always wanted to have a unique hair color. She never truly found her place in the world or maybe she did but no one ever told her. She was certainly an introverted extrovert and was born in a tiny country where she didn’t really belong. She didn’t even feel like her language was her own. She had big dreams and once she started living, she realized life wasn’t always what it seemed. She’s been outspoken; she’s followed her heart the best way she knew how but feels lost often. She’s given up but started over again and again.

Blake has black hair. He was born with it and wouldn’t have it any other way, there was no other color he could truly see, he was colorblind. He wanted to be a doctor and became one as soon as humanly possible. He found his place in this world because his place had been reserved in advance. He’s respectful and patient. He made reasonable decisions and has much to show for it.

I can see through both their eyes and they’re both powerful beyond belief. I understand Amy better but Blake is also understood.

He doesn’t care what she thinks of him. She cares a little bit what he thinks of her. She goes over it in her head, how it could have been. What if she would have found a better place sooner? What if she wouldn’t have spoken her mind as much as she did?

He has no regrets.

He is a world. She is a world. We can be opposites or similar and be fine with it. We can make mistakes or none at all and be happy. It does not matter where you’re from or what you believe in. There’s always a second opinion and another person that will have more or less than you do.

Amy and Blake grew up together and grew up to be quite different. It’s important to stay true to your individuality, no matter what that happens to be. If you fit the mold, there won’t be many second opinions. If you don’t, there will be many. Just know that he isn’t you and she isn’t you. You are you and you’ll slowly discover that it’s the only person that should matter. And until you accept yourself fully; then, and only then, can you let anyone else in.


I never knew what I wanted to be. For so long I didn’t know, it became a habit. I’ve been an event planner, a make up artist, a translator, an English teacher, a Spanish teacher, a fundraising assistant, a singer, a photographer, a writer, a blogger, and an entrepreneur. I’ve tried studying it all and I cannot seem to focus. I want to be everything.

I still haven’t found it. The balance I so desperately seek seems so close and yet so far. The perfect life seems to take a step back when it takes a look at my crazy decisions; it stays put. The perfect relationship puts me on probation when I show it what I have to show for myself; it doesn’t seem like much. I swear it’s completely my fault but I simply didn’t know any better. Can I fix it? Well, is there anything to fix? Having a logical, scientific and very successful older brother also doesn’t help my brain accept myself just the way I am. He has a lot to show for himself.

I do write well, I feel good when I write. But is that enough? I want success, I want joy; I want love. It’s always excluded. I thought having amazing friends made it worth it; they’re all gone. I have had awesome experiences, interesting friends and a beautiful connection with my mother. But where am I going when I don’t know where I want to go? I want to write, I want to sing and I want to move away from the tiny town I was born in. I need money to do all of that and I’m not really there. So, to do everything you apparently have to have a purpose. I swear sometimes I feel like I do have some sort of purpose. It leaves me stranded and I often feel lost again. I just don’t fully fit. Will this be my happily ever after? It doesn’t make me sad. I have hope and I know for a fact it’s never too late. I’m flakey but flakey has now made me feel stuck, again.

I will write because I need to. I will sing because I can. I will create. But I must find a more concrete path and find a way out. I want to do it all but I’m not sure if one life is enough. Especially not when I started when I did. That’s fine. I’m done resisting what is. But I do gradually want to move out of what it’s been. I want to keep all the good and change what’s been bad.

My mom thinks it’s being pessimistic but I simply think the future is too far away and sometimes changing little things in the present can make everything different. I don’t want to give up; I want to believe in miracles. I want to be a dreamer and a realist. Once again, be everything but in a smarter way. I honestly do not know if this makes any sense or if anything will truly change. But all I can do is try and if I fail again and again at least I’ll know I never gave up. I might not have found my place in this world but I’ll die trying and in doing so, I’ll be and feel everything I possibly can. So far, so good.

I am who I want to be

I’ve realized I have to be committed to who I am. Always and forever. Over and over I tell myself how much I’d like to be a writer, have my own business, make music, etc. And yet, it somehow feels like it’s never enough. Days are given to me with a beautiful subconscious mind to work with, books, movies and impressionable music. Even inspiration knocks my door often.

I like wearing lovely dresses, my hair down, leggings, scarves and boots. I am passionate about fashion and I like looking good. The life I want doesn’t seem to have been done by anyone else. It’s a combination of many things. And yet, sometimes I don’t bother to put in the work. I am getting better but I get restless. I don’t want to wait to be who I want to be. I don’t want to wait to be where I want to be. I want it all and I want it now

Why is it that we wait to fully become ourselves until we think we are in the perfect place and time? I am ready to be who I want to be; not what I think I should be. We have to act and be the way we want to be inside first, and then, hopefully, it’ll all fall into place on the outside.

Don’t wait until you get the promotion, act as if you already have it. Don’t wait to become your own boss, be a boss. Don’t wait until you’re at the perfect weight to feel beautiful, act as if you already are that person. Then you’ll be so sure of it, that it’ll happen.

Just the joy that comes from acting as the person you love to be is reason enough to do it. I walk in a room and I know I’ve arrived. I’ve had those moments. Sometimes I remember who I was born to be and I can feel sunshine.

Being insecure can be a disease. Insecurities lower your expectations of life and eventually make you miserable. Besides, if you truly know what you believe in and who you are, nothing should make you feel weak. Comparison is trying to kill my happiness but I won’t let it. I’ll defend it with my tiny gun. Yes, it’s tiny but it’s mine and it’ll do.

Don’t wait for your expectations to meet your reality. Create your reality so that the expectations can never be too great. And I must warn you, just because things sometimes don’t work out the way you expect them to, isn’t reason enough to feel sorry for yourself. Just because it takes time doesn’t mean you should give up. You have to know that sometimes it’s just not meant to be and there’s something you must learn from it. It’s very difficult to remember, but true and you must stay strong. If you act as if your reality belongs to you and no one else, then it’ll catch up to you. I know who I want to be. Here’s who I am:

I am happy, in love, peaceful, successful & free. I am beautiful, healthy, radiant & full of energy. I am enthusiastic. I am a great daughter, sister, friend, and human being. I am a writer, composer, entrepreneur, singer, and motivational speaker.

I am who I want to be.

Through these halls

I’m walking through these halls with mother and the place rejects me. The walls are beige and the spirit lost. We’re here to see the purple haired queen. She knows it all. After almost 84 years, she has been the strongest, the bravest. Today she fell. Today we’re here to see her, to talk to her. Her presence is enough to always want to stay, to always want to be around her.

She always smiles and used to have yellow hair, she was born to shine. Her body was born in the 30s but her soul in the 90s, maybe later. She used to be a model and a muse and mermaid to many.

She’s the one everyone loves; everybody’s here to see her. The pale spaces clash with her colorful life choices. She never cared what anyone thought. She wore hats and high couture. She married the wrong man and had 4 children. She loves all 4 of them to the moon and back.

She’s the one whose love multiplies by the minute. 13 souls belong to her here on Earth and no matter where they happen to be; they’re coming to see her. They’re almost here.

Waiting is the hardest part, especially when you walk through these halls. You don’t know what the news will tell. It could be nothing or it could be the heart thief trying to steal a beat from each and every one of us.

The pictures on the walls are empty. The pictures in my head are full of enchanting moments shared with her. She taught me to love the stars, to speak to them. “No matter where you are, if you want to talk to me, I’m one of those big, bright stars” she’d tell me as a child. She’s one of the wealthiest creatures I’ve encountered. She spent all her money on clothes and pretty things and on those she loved. She desired beauty and beauty agreed to be her best friend forever. She wore perfume and smelled like lilies. She’s just lovely.

We’re stuck here, through these halls and they’ve asked us to wait. We want to see her, talk to her, be with her. But we have to wait.

When such a beautiful life is on the line, the waiting seems unbearable. We wait to see her and steal more of her valuable minutes, lessons. We wait to have more time and when we do, be grateful no matter how much it is and know that true love shines and never ends.

If it means getting to see the purple haired queen again, through these halls we’ll wait because there’s nothing we wouldn’t do. That’s what her love created, that’s what true love can do.


She woke up in the woods and couldn’t remember a thing. She vaguely remembered who she was but didn’t remember what she believed in. She woke up to a world where she had made many mistakes, she couldn’t remember but she could feel it. What she didn’t get was how those mistakes were designed for her to understand life a little bit better, in a different way. She had to let go of the concepts ‘the others’ had brainwashed into her mind. She was young but not terribly so. She was strong, but sometimes not strong enough. She knew better but forgot that she did.

After finding her way out of the woods, she was in a place full of people. She was no longer alone but felt terribly lonely. She wanted to float away and be back in the woods where it was only her and nature.

The people around her had lives, full ones it seemed. The people around her knew what they were doing, or so it seemed. Everyone pretended, or so it seemed. But what she didn’t yet know is that the only ones who really have it together are the ones that don’t care if they do or not. They are the ones that knew better than to show off.

She woke up and started to remember. She woke up and knew that not knowing was OK. That her mistakes weren’t life threatening. All she could do was remind herself over and over again what it’s all about. All she could do sometimes was eat the fresh fruit, nourish herself with kind words and walk freely through wherever she seemed to be. Yes, sometimes it was too small but it was also lovely.

Everyday she forgot. Everyday she had to remember. Some days the joy took over and other days the struggle was uphill. Some days she woke up after a nightmare and others after a beautiful dream. Some days it took her minutes to find her way, others almost the entire day. Reading helped, writing saved her. Singing made her float and capturing images opened her eyes.

It’s fine to feel as though it’s too much, so long as you keep going even when you really don’t want to. So long as you don’t give up, that’s fine. Others might not seem to swim against the current as much but that’s not you. You are you and you’re supposed to make the most of it. You’re not suppose to question as much as you do, just enough. You’re supposed to remember because some never even wake up. Some remain, never to be truly seen. Others wake up only to get lost and never be found. Be grateful. Stay strong and know that even when you feel alone, you’re not. There has to be someone else in this very big world that feels the same way. And if you’re lucky, you’ll find those restless souls and keep each other company for a while. Just try to remember, close your eyes and remember.

One I can call my own

I’ve seen many trees. Apple trees, pineapple trees, avocado trees, paper trees, green trees, created trees, shape shifting trees. They all have a special kind of energy. They all welcome me in for a second, sometimes a minute. Except the dark tree; the dark tree is withering and used to be an old friend, it no longer likes me in its shadows. Why? Because I like the light.

After leaving the darkness, I had to start over. Many trees have been cut down. When I think I finally found stability in a tree and its branches, I find it wasn’t so and I must move on and start all over again. Will it ever end? It doesn’t matter. Wondering about these things makes me sad and there is no point to that. All you can do is move forward and keep walking the path, whatever that may be.

Just because others have found trees, doesn’t mean I should too. Just because others are different, doesn’t mean it’ll last. Just because the darkness used to be home doesn’t mean it’ll be that way forever. It gets confusing. I’m just looking for a tree that will shape me, love me. I’m just looking for a tree that colors me and fills me with all the good things its leaves and height has to offer.

I don’t want to wander under the sun for much longer. I don’t want to feel lost. I want to choose the path that leads me to the perfect tree that also happens to be next to an enchanting lake. That way, I can have my cake and eat it too. I want a strong tree that doesn’t make me question a thing, one where all the pretty flowers bloom around it and I can be wild and free.

Is that too much to ask?

The more I think I see a tree in the distance, the less it’s an actual tree. It’s just a man made structure that seems interesting but isn’t real. It no longer hurts, it just gets tiring at times. Being under the sun won’t kill you but it’ll certainly dehydrate you and eventually make you hallucinate. It is what it is. There’s no point in going against it. Fight the fight.

I do have an angel, 20 bucks and a mind of my own and some old cookies in my pocket. I hope it’s enough to get me there. I hope it carries me through. Also, the fairies are with me. I can feel words and almost wake up anywhere my soul longs to be. Sometimes I can’t find a comfortable place to rest. Nothing feels better than a tree but that’s OK. The longer it takes, the more I’ll appreciate it.

Give me beauty. Give me love. Give me peace and give me trust. I never want to lose myself. Give me passion and give me just a little bit more. A place I can call my own, a tree to rest my soul in. A tree that will grow faster than I can. One that understands and one that will never lead me astray. One I can call my own.