I am crashing 

I’m stuck in a pattern. Has this ever happened to you? You realize the same thing happens once and again. What am I suppose to learn universe? Please tell me and I’ll read up. I’m lost. I must confess I’m lazy. I don’t believe in doing anything for money. I refuse to sell my soul. I thought energy was the most important currency; it is. But money’s power cripples in and leaves me speechless. 

I’m falling down without a sign of a parachute. It’s not that bad. I enjoy the wind and the words that pop into my head while I fall. There are things that keep me from crashing into the ground. 

I am crashing and falling down but I’m wishing and hoping to create the tools to make a hole in the ground that will take me to Wonderland through the rabbit hole. I don’t want to crawl up the building that leads to the boring office, I wanna find my way to Wonderland. Please show me the way universe; please shed the yellow light. I need it. 

I am crashing down but maybe it’s just what’s suppose to happen; at least that’s what I need to believe. Go on gravity, bring it. I won’t fight you, I’ll come crashing and it’ll be epic.

Beauty and the beast

She was lovely but secretly broken. He seemed lovely but was secretly a beast. 

We go around living and these brains of ours make choices for us. Choices based on our past and how it was all dealt with back then. What are we supposed to do with that? I guess we should tame the beast inside us as much as we can. 

His beast is easy to recognize; hers is a bit more hidden  because I she a flower growing up that taught her to take care of that inner wilderness. A flower that’d tell her how pretty she was even though others would say otherwise. The flower believed she’d bloom into something mesmerizing, something beautiful. 

He never had a flower. The beast was raised by wolves and didn’t know how to go about it. 

They grow up and meet. They both have beasts that fight. Their character coexists and now and then you can smell the flower’s scent trying to spread joy. There is passion and there is much love to be had.

Will the beasts be tamed or will they run wild? That is what everyone wants to know what there’s a beauty and a beast.

What we wish for

We’re a generation of control freaks. We think we know what we want. We work relentlessly until we get it and sometimes it’s not what we thought it would be. It’s great to have a goal but when that goal involves someone, all bets are off.

I was ready, you weren’t. You’re ready, I’m not. It’s off and there’s no way to truly control emotions. It’s up, it’s down. It comes, it goes.

I recently watched 13 Reasons Why and it shocked me to my very core. Not only the sad reality of what could be happening in schools, but how  hard it is to get along, to respect each other and love each other. Why? I don’t know. I was bullied and thought life would get much easier once I got out of high school. It did and it didn’t. I didn’t have a bully telling me my inadequacies, I became my own bully. I’m slowly and steadily trying to become kinder, not to do that. It’s hard to do after losing friends, feeling lonely and not truly finding a path.

After all, he has been the only romantic interest that has truly taken a chance on me. I’m here and you’re there and you want me there but in a way where I forget about myself more than I know how. Should I go? Should I stay? That is the question. I’m terrified of loneliness. I’m terrified of rejection. I’m in my 30’s and I have the same fears I had in high school. Maybe that’s why that show shocked me as much as it did.

I don’t know what to wish for anymore. I guess the best path is to take it day by day trying to choose self love and peace. And if things fall apart, they were supposed to. And if they don’t, they weren’t supposed to.

One thing I do know for sure: this life was given to us to be lived. Even if it’s painful and hard, we never give up. And if we feel like we utterly failed ourselves and others; we get up and try again until we get it right. And I’m gonna keep wishing and hoping even when I feel like I can’t. I refuse to believe there’s no happy ending. There has to be. There will be. I believe. I know.

Hurt

Just when things finally get good, it comes crashing down. Why? Why? Why?

It doesn’t matter why. The important thing is what we do with what was broken when everything fell apart. Why do we hurt each other? To protect ourselves. People who hurt the hardest are the ones that are hurting the most. But why do we have to endure their childhood pain? That’s not fair. 

But here I am; in love with an emotionally hurt human and I’m hurt and I don’t know what to do. How much should we forgive? How much is normal? There is a lot of good but when the pain comes out to rear its ugly head, it’s a monster. And I’ve always been terrified of monsters. I usually ran away from them as fast as I could when I was little. It’s not as easy as an adult. This adulting is hard. I’m way too old to be dealing with the issues I deal with. But hey! Here I am. Still figuring out what to do with my life, in my thirties and hanging out with the emotionally damaged. Who knows? Maybe I’m one too. But I really try not to be.

I’m hurt, in pain, in silence and know nothing except that I must move forward even though I don’t know where forward is. I guess you’re suppose to carry on even when you’re blindfolded, otherwise life goes on without you. It has before, believe me I know. The bleeding will eventually stop. It always does.

But for now, keep cool, wipe away the tears and carry on anyway you can.

Blurry 

It’s a day she can’t remember. She remembered taking a break but had no clue as to how long she’d been resting. 

She had to get up and fight the good fight. What was the fight again? What am I fighting for? She forgot. She had a short term memory problem and that didn’t allow her to plan much. 
Just get up! She heard a voice. It was blurry and confusing. She felt a bit older and more tired. Is it worth it? Can I do this? It’s still blurry. Her vision has been compromised. 

And still, she carries on slowly. She doesn’t know what else to do except survive. Is that enough? Is surviving good enough? She’s forgotten how but she will carry on.

And she hopes and prays that the vision becomes clear and precise because she’s been lost for a while and it’s time. It’s definitely time.

Inspiration

It doesn’t matter where it comes from or if it left. All that matters is that you create from wherever life seems to have put you, where you have put yourself. It all came flowing. The pain was unbearable and so it poured out of me. Now, inevitably, maturity finally came knocking on my door. I was wondering when I’d be willing to grow up a bit. Only a little bit though.

Now, I find myself having a hard time expressing myself because conflict was what moved me, what made the world go round. My dreams were still reachable and doable. I don’t know what they are now or what they’ve become. All I know is that here I am, writing. Here I am creating something out of thin air. Isn’t that what life is anyhow? Don’t we make it up as we go along? I know I have.

Rules seem to have escaped me. Life seems to have left me behind at times and I seem to be the young dramatic girl I once was. I am nothing and yet everything. I will always be a beautiful mess of contradictions. The only constant in life is change and I know that for sure. I see those around me plan and I am mesmerized by the idea. What is a plan? How does it work? How can one commit to one thing forever?

This confusion has led me to not get what I want. I didn’t know what I wanted so how was I to get it? It’s fine. Everything is fine and nothing is the end of the world. I do have one desire though. I hope to make a difference in this world and leave the Earth a bit better than I found it. Survival gets in the way, distractions present themselves all day long at many moments throughout the day. I’m trying as hard as I’ve been able to to ignore them and do more of this, more of love, more of life. I must cease to compare myself to others because I do not belong in this world and I should not desire to do so.

I’m in conflict in love. I’m trying to fight for my individuality whist sharing my space with another. He seems to want his things his own way and that’s fine. I’m just trying to find that perfect balance whilst achieving some sort of goal because my soul is tired of always wandering and have nothing concrete to show for myself.

The Wizard says I’m used to being uncomfortable and that all that matters is that I feel good for being me. He says that being me is enough success and that’s all that matters. What a lovely thought. Just writing it makes me feel better.

We shall see where this messy life ends up. I know I have to work harder, I also know I have to take it easy on myself and I know that I must be happy with what is because fighting is exhausting and I am very tired.

Here’s to writing again and never truly giving up. If we actually gave up, we wouldn’t get out of bed. And here we are, fighting the good fight for others that might have to face this thing called life.

The battle 

Me: I hear you heart and please stop. I feel you and you hurt. I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry I haven’t been brave enough to pursue my dreams. I’m sorry failure has left me paralyzed. I’m sorry I couldn’t make better choices. Please forgive me, please stop. 

Heart: I forgive you completely but why are you giving up? I’m still beating and you know what that means? It’s not over. You can still pursue your dreams. Even if it’s more difficult, even if you feel you can’t do it again. If I’m still beating, then you can. So I know I’m broken and that makes it harder for you to carry on. I’m working on that. But even if we hurt, I know you can push through the pain and do what we love. Keep pushing, keep trying. And when you can’t and you don’t; that’s ok. But just try to picture what it’ll feel like when you’re successful and making a difference, when you’re fulfilling your calling; when you’re helping others. I know you hear and feel me; there’s a reason for that. Don’t ignore me. If anything, acknowledge me and talk to me; just don’t be indifferent to my desires. They are real and they are beautiful and they are authentic and can give you what you want. Do not let fear get in the way. He is someone you definitely shouldn’t listen to. And the details in between such as jobs, money, what others think, do not matter; not even a little. What people who love you say matters, what I say matters, when you see your greatness, that matters. Focus on what matters and don’t care about unimportant endeavors. They’re just there on the wall, they’re not the main performance. You know what it is; stop forgetting. And don’t silence me. At least hear me And give me a voice! I’m here for you to listen; for you to feel alive. Thank you. xx

Broken dreams 

It decided to be born by accident. It wasn’t planned. It started with a desire and died as an idea. Once upon another time the voice lived. It still lives in a dream and doesn’t know how to become real. Its creator is struggling with the living. And so it patiently waits to be brought forth. 
The closest it got to becoming was in a small town full of broken souls. Everyone was lost enough so that the dream hostess did not care enough about the judgment and just sang.
Life got in the way, as it usually did, and the almost dream got lost once more. It’s been silent for yet another year. In the shelf it remains. 
It’s a broken dream, it’s many broken dreams. Where do they go? The desire to make them happen isn’t always enough and they become passive. They remain in a world created by wandering souls. 
It’s a day when the dream remains lost but not forgotten. It will be waiting to come forth until the desire dies or burns brighter. I wait for the day where the voice can scream and be heard. I’ve been silent all these years and silence is an interesting teacher. I’m trying to learn and hold the desire in my heart. 
And to those dreamers that feel like giving up, don’t. Even if you want to and think you should, don’t. I have nothing else to say except: don’t. 

Pain

My choices have made no sense. I look back and don’t understand a thing. It all made sense until I graduated high school. I was the perfect little girl. I didn’t question anything. I had no issues with any teachers or any authority figure. Some people around me did have some issues with me. Just my existence seemed to bother them. I had a cousin whose sole purpose was to make my life miserable. There was this other girl Regina, she wanted me to have no friends. So, even without me being aware of it…I was an outcast. It was all subconscious. I was different but nobody informed me. More than that, I was thrown into the most logical, structured, controlled environment you could think of. I was innocent, I was pure. I didn’t know much at the time. I graduated with good grades and then it all began. My subconscious mind started to act out. I got into a very prestigious University, as it was to be expected. I got in, the extended family was happy. Then, everything the professors were saying made no sense. They were telling us how to think. They were telling us nothing mattered more than money. I snapped.

I had always liked music but I had been shy. I didn’t want to be like everybody else. Odd since that had been what I had done for 18 years. How could I know anything else? Maybe it was my mom. My mom was typical but not quite. She also had this spark in her that told her there was more. She saw me before I saw me. She knew I was an artist. I didn’t even know the definition of such person. It’s OK to be odd? How could that be? All that had mattered was doing what I was told.

I said goodbye to the prestigious University that would have gotten me any job I’d like and decided to move to L.A and study music. There was one little problem I did not quite contemplate. I didn’t know how to commit to being a rebel. Yes, it was there…but so was the logical side that I had worked on for so long. I embarked on my journey as an artist and didn’t make it. That’s OK. Everyone needs a happy ending; I’ve learned that they are not what they seem. Life isn’t what it seems. And that’s fine.

So I’m always in between. The only little thing was that I never committed to the logical side or the artistic side. I’m both. I’m always in between. Because of this, I suffer. I don’t feel like I fit in here not there. This all started when I was 19. I realized I was half and half. It has caused much pain but hey…you can’t be something you’re not.

I love prestige and success. I love raw and real. I love being free but I think money is great. I like things to be easy but the struggle also inspires me to write. I have a logical boyfriend and he pushes me more towards the logical side and I think deep down inside I’m more an artist. Why? They’re cooler, they’re rarer. They are admired, they leave a mark.

And so, the last three years and a half was the longest I was able to commit to being outside the system and some sort of artist. I wrote a book, I had gigs around town for a year and I started two blogs. I guess that’s something. And then, suddenly, I ran out of money. It had happened before but and this is a big but; now I’m in love. As most know, love changes everything. Love doesn’t allow you to get away with a lot of crap you can get away with when you’re single. You can eat soup everyday and it doesn’t matter if you’re single. But, as I’ve mentioned before, he’s the logical type and he’s somebody. I don’t know what that means. That’s a lie; I do know what that means but I’m a bit surprised I ended up with someone so different than what I’ve become. I haven’t just ended up with him, I’m madly and deeply in love with him. Who am I then? I’m willing to move to a high paced city and get a more corporate job so that I can “make it”. Am I being a hypocrite or is that who I am? It doesn’t matter. I guess sometimes some things shouldn’t be associated with our identity.

Our plan is to work and save and travel. Yes, that’s right. I said our plan. Never had my plan included someone else and now it does. I’m grateful for this love. I’m simply going through this transition. I feel blindfolded. I feel neutral. I feel this is what has to happen. It has made me cry a couple of times. It has caused pain. But that’s fine. Who would I be without pain? My life never seems to be calm, it never seems to be figured out and I should embrace that. It has been anything but boring.

So yes; this is a bit painful. And you know what? That’s fine. Pain isn’t about avoidance. Pain demands to be felt so there you go pain. I feel you, I embrace you, I don’t resist you. We can be friends and write beautiful things together. You’re here and you are not ignored.

That’s the thing about pain; it demands to be felt. Yes, I feel pain. But I’m smart and pretty and I can keep calm and carry on.

Endings?

I’ve had a million beginnings.

Once upon a time there was a little girl. She only cared for purple and had a lovely lady watch over her. She’d tell her stories at night, so the little girl learned how to dream. They were mostly fairy tales. She started to dream. She wanted to dance, sing and get all the attention that these perfect princesses seem to naturally attract. Mandy was quiet but had dreams hidden inside. Boys never liked her, she was too strong and big for them. She’d hope there would be at least one that would come and play. He never showed.

Once upon this other time she was a teenage girl. She started to grow an interest for books, strange words, unique sounds and other weird creatures. Her loneliness made her creative. She completely forgot about the little boy that wouldn’t play with her. She was too young to remember. There were a couple of boys she fancied but they chose other girls and our dearest Mandy stood alone again. This one would be harder to forget.

Once upon any other time Mandy was in her mid twenties. She wasn’t just looking for love this time. Somewhere along the way she got distracted and lost her soul. She was looking for both now. She started with the soul first since she figured that’d be pretty useful for everything else. After trying really really hard, she found neither.

Once upon many other times our girl was tired and a few years older than before. She didn’t have a soul, she hadn’t found love but she did have a restless heart. It wouldn’t leave her alone. Here she was again, as usual, alone.

Once upon another time, she’s 30. She’s never known love. She’s the sun and recently found a moon. He doesn’t believe love exists. She likes him but isn’t sure if this is yet another perfect opportunity to be left stranded as usual in the middle of nowhere with barely enough water to survive. She running out of bandages to mend her broken heart. When will there be any sort of ending? A girl needs closure.

I guess sometimes we aren’t supposed to understand.

Once upon the perfect time…