Written in the stars

It was a wondrous day. She woke up and something happened.

It was a normal day. She woke up and nothing happened.

What fills our days with wonder? We do.

I have a wondrous mother. She wakes up and smiles. She’s been through thick and thin and still decides to look at the good. She’s a good witch.

I’m a combination between a good and bad witch. I have a bundle of emotions inside of me battling on a daily basis. My biggest enemy is inaction. I know I’m meant to be doing something great and I’m still a bit stuck. It’s OK. This is my magic. My magic is expressing myself; even if only one person reads, that’s my magic. I also sing. I also paint. I have colors and shapes trying to make their way out of my being. I apologize to those things for not having more time and discipline to let them out. I’m sorry I haven’t had more people listen. I swear I will keep trying if it kills me.

I am an artist. Saying that is hard. Who decided what you are? I guess it’s just what you want to do even if they don’t pay you. No one pays me to do this and here I am.

I have potions that make me be understanding and I am. I feel what the person next to me feels. I always have a sense that I’m in the wrong song but I sorta keep calm and carry on. There’s no room for everyone to be someone in this world but there is room for me because, once again, I am here. We are human beings; not human doings. When did we forget that? I always forget and if I’m not doing anything I feel guilty. Enjoying and living and pushing through is sometimes enough.

It’s either written in the stars or it’s not. You either do something or do nothing. You write your story on a daily basis and you decide what you do with it. I certainly want to do much more with it and all I truly want deep inside is to make my mom proud.

Follow your star and if you haven’t found it yet, write it.

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.

The little boy

He wakes up and has to take care of business. There are diapers to change, issues to solve and fights to be had to survive this life that was given to this little boy.

“Hey! Come here.” He hears a bully scream. “What?” He bravely responds. He starts to negotiate a beating. He loses the negotiation and the bully and the boy get into a huge fight. 

His mom arrives at the school overwhelmed by this problem and by the other 4 kids she has to take care of. The little boy feels no shame, he had a reason to do it. He gets kicked out of that institution and once again had to go searching for a new school. 

The little boy is screaming and no one can hear him. Help me! Help me! He screams. His mom can’t hear him over other babies crying. Help!!! I need somebody! Help!!! He wasn’t heard. 

The boy becomes a man and has made many dysfunctional friends along the way. He tries many drugs and becomes friends with alcohol. But he does still admire his dad and wants to make him proud. He starts to work and is an average joe. 

The man wakes up one day and cannot breathe. Help!!! He yells again. Help!!! No one can hear him, he’s alone. He searches for help and finds Yoda. This yoda is modern, he comes in the form of an old wise man with white hair. He decides to help the little boy. The man was relieved. 

The process begins and the little boy arises. So much to fix, so much to undo. Can it be done?

Changes are made drastically; some good, some extreme. The message is sent but is taken to the extreme. Something comes of it; more good than bad. The man can breathe again and that’s good enough for him. 

Many stories unfold simultaneously and many people are yelling help! And we can’t hear them and they can’t hear us. Let’s try to get it right the first time. Let’s try to help each other out and be connected enough to listen! 

There is no longer an excuse. Let’s save the little boys and girls that have done nothing wrong. Let’s give them love and attention. Let’s save them before it’s too late. 

And if it’s too late, let’s be compassionate and try to understand that sometimes we’re all just doing the best we can and that should be enough for now. 

The little boy is in the process of being saved. It’s a long process but an effective one. It’s slow but steady. Let’s embrace our processes and remember that we’re all a work in progress. 

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.

Meant to be

It’s a struggle until you unlearn what was taught to you by the passing voices in the halls of the school or the college you never went to. By the authority figures that think they’re doing you good by making you fit into the box. Boxes aren’t for everyone.
The leaves fall year after year and our expectations are left hanging on the wall as an art project because no one told you it’s never going to be the way you thought it would be.

 
We create beliefs and hope that most of them are positive instead of negative. You know what you don’t want, and so you venture out thinking that you’ll find what is perfect. But more than finding perfection you find life. You’re left between the cracks and you think that’s a bad thing but then you realize that that’s what makes you; that’s what makes art.

 
Those who can see beyond what is happening and have the understanding of a wallflower are the ones that are screaming on the inside. They’re the ones with opinions and all they want is to be heard.
Once in a blue moon you find one of the others and smile knowing you’re not alone. Sometimes one of the others turns away because the light is too bright for the darkness.

 
And then one day you’re woken up to a beautiful mess and all you know for sure is that it’s yours. The pieces, the colors, the memories, the moments aren’t there to be judged but observed and acknowledged. The books read will forever be stored in your hard drive. The opportunities missed will forever live in a parallel world.
The events waiting to happen and the stories untold are waiting for you to step in and bring them to life.
The love is felt by a beating heart and the pain has evaporated the tears but not without leaving a tiny scar on the left side of your brain.
It’s overwhelming and it’s all a part of it. It’s completely undone and touched poetically by the talkative sky. It’s here and it’s yours and it doesn’t have an ending; very much like this story.
It goes on and on until it’s easy to transition into what is meant to be.

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.

You, him, her

I want to be you. I like your hair and the way you move through the room. I want to be a mermaid. They swim around unworried about life. They’re always pretty and can go as deep as they please. I want to be you. You have beautiful, long blonde hair and everybody wants to touch it. I want your voice. You sing like an angel and can create melodies that make special souls stop and listen.

I want to be him. He always knows what he wants to do with his life and has more than enough extra cash in his pocket. I can’t seem to find those 25 bucks I keep losing somehow. I love the way he falls in love, uninterrupted. I like how his eyes stare when it’s inevitable to do so.

I want to be her. She’s one of those girls that always knew how to be fabulous and unapologetic. She’s poised and possesses a youthful wisdom that is as rare as a white butterfly flying through the sky and saying hello at random but perfect times. She keeps her skin sun kissed and soft. She smiles because she’s happy and I become her. She is inspiration.

I’m you, I’m him, I’m her. And most importantly I’m me. I don’t know when we got lost along the way and forgot that we get to be anybody. They cage us telling us that we’re only one person; that we can only do one thing. Nothing could be further from the truth. We’re too complex to simply be one single thing. If you can see more than one color, become the rainbow. Don’t allow anyone to cage you…not even those that love you. You get to be whoever you are; whatever your eyes get to see. You become what your endless imagination allows you to become. The people in your life are a part of that, but they are not it. You are it and only you. Society tries to cage us but we are the ones that say yes or no to that very limiting belief.

I’ve flown away from the cage and I can honestly say you can have the best of all worlds. You can enjoy earthly pleasures and still be a free bird. Your definition of freedom might change along the way and that’s a part of that liberty. Simply become whomever you want to be. And if you can’t own it, pretend. And if you can’t be it, fake it. Then, suddenly, almost out of nowhere you’ll wake up to find you are exactly who you want to be. It won’t be perfect but it’ll be the most glorious experience. And when that day comes, you’ll smile and all that will be left is sheer joy and an endless amount of gratitude. The only two emotions you want to feel when freedom has knocked on your door.

Be anyone, be anything, be.

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…

It’s me

He picks me up and I ride alongside. We talk sometimes and remain silent at others. I try not to overanalyze. His voice is a fascinating one and I want to hear what it has to say.

“Here, here, here.” I hear a voice whisper. I look around and cannot see where it’s coming from.

I meet K for coffee and she has a million things to say. They are lovely things. She has a lot of money and can buy anything her heart desires. She’s the girl everyone wants to be.

“Here, here, here.” I hear it louder.

Izzy loves me dearly and always wants what is best for me. She gives me the best advice I’ve ever heard.

“Here, here, here.” It does not seem to stop.

He drops me off after our fourth date and makes me wonder whether he likes me or not. He has absurd concepts about the heart and how it beats. As ridiculous as to even blurt out that there is no such thing as love. I remain silent not knowing what that means and look up to the sky. There’s one beautiful star and it reminds me that I was built to survive.

“Here, here, here.”

Where is it coming from? Where’s the voice? It’s here. I’m on my own and I have to love it. Sometimes by chance and sometimes by choice, I have been on my own more often than not. I used to think it was a curse, maybe it could be a blessing. I do not want to need anybody to be happy. I don’t want to forget what time it is or where my spark is.

I’ve unconsciously been waiting to be saved when I’ve been the hero of the story all along. I don’t know how or when the plot took a twist and made me this powerful creature. I guess it was there all along, I just didn’t want to see it.

Who can save you? Who can love you? Who can be the best thing that ever happened to you? It’s you. Never forget it.

Nothing is something

I don’t know well enough to know. I don’t know anything anymore. After a never ending succession of events happening one after the other and getting them all mixed up in in my head, it’s gotten confusing. You’d think that things get easier, but that’s not always the case. You become more peaceful, more mature, and if you’re lucky maybe even wiser. But I guess easy isn’t always our desire. After carefully evaluating all the collections I’ve acquired throughout the years, it’s a fact that easier hasn’t been my favorite color in the crayon box. Sometimes it was on purpose, other times it wasn’t. Now I’m here and there’s a situation that’s nothing that could easily turn into something.

There’s a he involved and he is as complex and intertwined into himself as I am. Chaos? We will see. Should it be a nothing left as a nothing? Of course not. Will he leave it as a nothing? Time will tell.

There’s not much to do but ignore the ignorant voice in my head saying dreadful things and simply listen to the trapped butterflies. He seems broken but kind. He seems interested but distant. His actions speak louder than words.

He was sent from a different galaxy. The fact that I understand his brain could either be taken as a wonderful casualty or a horrible disaster. All I know is that he makes me laugh and keeps it interesting. That’s enough to let the nothing twist and turn into whatever it’s supposed to. All I have to do is get out of the way, which is extremely difficult for me.

Nothing is something when what use to bother you doesn’t as much; when you look forward to tomorrow even if it’s just an average day. It doesn’t have to be perfect, it simply has to be real.

Let anything and everything become something. Just let it. It’s a risk you’ll regret not taking. I didn’t even want to write about it thinking it would be giving it too much attention. This heart of mine is always screaming for attention. That’s OK. I only get to experience this life through being me and I should embrace that. Let life be, let life happen, let life smile when you least expect it. Let life show you a star after weeks of the cloudiest skies. I never want to forget how it all works. I don’t have it all figured out but I do feel happier than I have in a very long time. It’s probably the yellowed winged angel looking out for me closely from the heavenly sky.

Don’t be afraid and let it be something. It’s not about what it means to anybody else but you. Enjoy it.