This is the end 

Hold your breath and count to 10…

What happens at 11? Why didn’t they tell us about 11. You give up and it’s over but then it’s not. You’re in a hole under the ocean, it’s the end except it was just not. 

When will I get tired of my own bullshit? When will enough be enough? How long will I wait to live the life I’ve always wanted?! 

I don’t know. I don’t know how much I can take of this mediocrity. Wake up! Wake up! Wake up! Do something! 

I don’t know what to do. My terrible habits are trying to kill me. My disregard for the future has finally appeared itself in the future and I don’t see much of what I wanted. I didn’t work hard, I didn’t stick to anything. Now I’m lost and with a feeling of doom. 

I’m really hoping this will have a happy ending but I’m sensing it’d be too far fetched. 

This is the end. Hold your breath and count to 10. Then count to 11 and picture yourself doing yoga. If you don’t have a happy place in reality, go to a happy place in whatever world you can create. I’m struggling with it. 

My imagination is shut because I’m feeling hopeless. My dreams seem to have vanished and my talent mostly goes unnoticed. I dream but I don’t do. I dream but I don’t do! As I don’t do, I age.

It’s here, the end. I feel like I have enough reasons to give up and yet! Life finds a way to keep me going. My mom, my nephew, Martin, love sometimes but not me. I’m gaining weight and having the hardest time loving me; but I’m working on it. 

I hope to return on a happier day when it’s not the end.

The fighting

Fighting has become something people are good at. One wins the other loses. Or so they think. But who wins really? We fight, we get exhausted and then we feel horrible. The true winner is the one that does not engage; not even when there’s enough reason to, not even when we think we should. 
Don’t get me wrong, you’ll never let anyone disrespect you. But the best moment for that is after the anger, after anything has or hasn’t happened. Just after, later. 
Don’t engage. Let it be. Let it go. 
You’d think I’m only talking about fighting with your couple, with a friend or even an enemy. I’m also talking about yourself. Stop fighting with yourself. You’re the one you attack the hardest. “You’re not good enough.” “You’ve made too many mistakes.” “You can’t do it.” These are just a few of the many horrible things you tell yourself. Stop. The lower self will attack you and you must learn not to engage and be kinder. Be more loving. I know you think you’ve fallen behind in life but even if you have, that’s not good enough reason to be tough. As I’ve said before, there’s never a good reason to fight, to attack, to hurt. 
Feel the emotions, let them move you towards something positive and then LET THEM GO.
It’s a hard task to embark on. It’s hard because we’ve grown used to fighting and winning. Win and enjoy your glory but don’t drag your emotions through the gutter. The less you fight, the more enlightened you’ll feel. The more enlightened, the better the life. 
A woman hates you and wants to fight. What do you do? You don’t do anything. You don’t ask for any favors, you pretend she doesn’t even exist. Why? Because this will protect your peace. And your peace is a treasure that you should protect at all costs. 
Don’t engage. Let it be. Let it go.

The Forces 

 In a storm sometimes we find clarity. When all has been taken is when you have to remain. I love the dramatic moments in your life. I love that you keep surviving against all odds. I even like that you’re stubborn and take yourself to limits you never thought you’d go. Why? Because you’re a writer. You get to experience the best and the worst. You get to see different colors and you get to feel trapped! How many people could identify with that? A lot. 
Write your pain. Write your stubbornness. Write what only you can. Look into becoming who you want to be. Stop getting in the way of yourself. Failure has been your loyal friend and you’ve grown accustomed to pain. That’s fine. Just don’t let it become you. Know that it’s outside of you. Talk to your failure. Talk to your pain. It shows up and people think it shouldn’t be there. But it is there! So don’t ignore it and don’t become it. Talk to it. Tell it it’s wrong and that you can do what you want. Tell it that it’s sometimes right but that just because you’ve failed so many times, doesn’t mean it has to be that way forever. 

Love yourself more than you love anyone else. Stay or go. It doesn’t make a difference. But try not to let it become you. You are not your relationship or lack of relationship. You are you and it’s magnificent. Keep walking the journey with yourself. Keep trying. 

In the end, all that matters is that you do something that makes you happy, that you keep going, that you inspire others, that you don’t compare your journey to anyone else’s and that the people around you support that path in a positive way. 

And if you’re not there and you’ve lost your path…go find it. It’s never too late to be who you want to be. And if you don’t make it, do your best to get as close as possible. 

I know you lack energy to do this. That’s OK. Don’t beat yourself up about it. Just do as much as you can and keep trying until you die. And if something or someone brings you down; let it or them go. 

You’re going to have to be brave. Be brave. You have better tools and a couple more skills. You always have a constant angel and now you have me, your goddess. And also, this time, you have a wizard that assists you. The forces are with you. Keep strong and carry on my lovely. 
  

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.

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.

Maybe the happy ending

It’s a little bit messy and imperfect. It’s a little bit beautiful and confusing. We all want the happy ending, but where is it? It is here and I just missed it? Or is it not here and it’s what motivates us to get out of bed in the morning? I’m not sure and that’s O.K.

Martin says it should all be pretty and fun. Him saying that helps. Me actually believing that is a whole other story. I love characters and I love stories; maybe that’s why I always expect that haunting happy ending. I like the part of the story where there’s struggle because it makes it interesting and intense. It’s been a bit more boring than usual and the fight feels long. Being real can feel like a full time job. Being real has never been hard but it is hard when someone refuses to see authenticity. Some do. Some don’t. That’s that.

Trees are always beside me and they speak to me. Their strength and their roots remind me that some things do last even throughout windy and dark times. We must keep calm and carry on. Will I keep getting older and have my dreams waiting for me anxiously to make them a reality?  I hope not for long; I hope not forever. I hope I can get a head start and finish soon enough to get some sort of prize. I hope the audience won’t be gone by the time the curtain goes up. I know talking about this isn’t as transcendent as actually doing something about it. But hey, I’m used to being a tortured artist; I can’t help myself.

Maybe the happy ending is now. Maybe we create it and accepting its imperfections is what matters most. Maybe.

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. 

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.

Who I’m supposed to be

I know who I’m supposed to be: confident, happy, strong, independent. I feel like I can have anyone. I feel powerful and in control of who I am. I walk in and everyone looks at me. Girls want to be me, men want me. I have a strong foundation and a small but very special group of friends.

I get to have it all. I work in art but with a fabulous successful life. I perfect my skills on a daily basis and never procrastinate. I have the ideal weight and don’t really have to worry about being healthy because I simply am.

I know exactly how to dress and what my look is. My past inspires me to inspire others. I have long hair and can travel as frequently as my heart desires to do so.

But then the evil forces take over.  I don’t know her name. Let’s call her Malia. She’s insecure, stupid, procrastinates and cannot seem to have her shit together. She goes on and on about her insecurities and is looking for approval from anyone and everyone.

I’m a Gemini, maybe that explains something to those who believe in that stuff. If it is true, I am in this constant battle between who I should be and how I sometimes feel I am not. Will it ever feel right? I do know that in those moments when I am who I know I’m supposed to be, life shines. The light is so bright, I can’t even stand it.

Maybe we’ll never be completely who we’re supposed to be, but better. The trials and tribulations make us more human and help us help others. I do know some people that seem to be perfect, I’m not one of them…and that’s OK.

I’m an artist and artists have the responsibility of feeling absolutely everything.

Knowing who I’m supposed to be is better than not having a clue. A few years ago I didn’t have a clue. I do not know why it has taken me so long but that’s fine too. As many books point out: you cannot go against what is. Try to become a better version of yourself little by little and try not to be too hard on yourself. I know that’s all I’m trying to do. And I know now I’ll get there somehow. I don’t know exactly how or when…but I’ll get there if it kills me. Good night and good luck.