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.


Saying goodbye

A lot is gone. Much has been taken. I feel nothing, there’s nothing to do. There’s nothing to feel. It has all been taken, piece by piece. I feel paralyzed. Being paralyzed isn’t as bad as you’d think. My heart has left me alone. It still tries to sneak in, but it has been mostly peaceful. I’m standing here in the middle of nowhere with an angel that whispers encouraging wisdom and a bit of a broken soul. I feel calm, I feel tired. I still have a lot to do and I just don’t know how or where to start. When so much vanishes and you still manage to survive, you realize you don’t need much to begin with.

I want to say goodbye. Goodbye not only to the friends I’ve lost but the pain I’ve allowed them to cause. Goodbye not only to the work but to the disappointment I allowed it to provide. I’m saying goodbye to the love I never got but thought I deserved. I want to say goodbye, not in a dramatic way but in the most honest way I can possibly say goodbye.

I must part ways with the feelings of inadequacy. I must say goodbye. I have had lovely moments, I have had a lot. I cannot continue being close with anything or anyone that makes me feel unhappy. I have a hard time honoring this beautiful mess but I must. Whenever you feel unpleasantness for being yourself or for moments from the past, try to honor them as if you’d choose them all over again.

I have to say goodbye to how I used to think. I have to say goodbye to frustration and emptiness. It has been quite loyal but we must part ways. I must embrace uncertainty and fearlessness.

I’m saying goodbye to a job and a city that I really liked. But I’m also saying goodbye to any form of attachment I ever had to it. If we get attached, we suffer. If I ask myself, why me? Then I’m saying that what is happening is bad and I have no right to do that. We have no right to do that, not anymore.

I’m saying goodbye to the pain, the attachment, the suffering, the expectations, my age, hopelessness, doubt, disbelief, comparison, emptiness, insecurities and much more.

I cannot continue asking myself what is right or wrong. I simply want to let things be and let go of whatever isn’t mine. Yes, it’s a tough goal but I can do it. I will work on whatever I can control and let go of what weighs me down. Saying goodbye shouldn’t be hard, it should simply be a part of life that we should embrace as much as we can.


Fight the fight

I have endured more than I thought I could. I can feel it all over my body…the rejection, the pain, the crossing of the lines, the not knowing why it happened. I can feel your hurt not once, but twice. You became a monster and I became a fighter. You finally left and I finally won. I wish I didn’t express myself as much as I do, but it pours out me as easily as the air I’m forced to exhale. The ones on the other side seem to repeat themselves. Their height shifts but their personality is exactly the same. Their age goes up and down but I remain the same and on the other side of the river. Their egos are throwing rocks at me when all I want is for them to join my madness. It’s not just them, it’s me. I fight because there’s a force. A force I cannot name and I cannot define but one I can feel. It has led me astray more than once and yet, I always trust it.

I fear what I write; I fear who will like this and who will hate it. I fear those who won’t read it and those who have made me write it. I fear your judgment and what the consequence of my words will be. I fear you’ll think I’m weak or that you’ll be intimidated by my strength. And in spite of the fear, I carry on. I admire those who can remain silent because they seem to get what they want and seem to avoid pain…two things I deeply desire. And yet, here I go again…holding my soul out to the world hoping it has what it takes to take it.

I’m peculiar. I cannot live with anyone and I do not want to. I am not understanding or tolerant except when it’s truly necessary. I have made crazy decisions and they have followed me around like a loyal homeless puppy that won’t go. I know I can make it on my own and am ready for the challenge.

I’m grateful. I get to live alone; I get to explore the darkness and the light. I get to write and I get to sing. I get to embrace the good and become better because of the bad. I truly try to be real. I know I’m misunderstood and taken for granted often. The scars run deep and it scares most people away. But here I am, stripping myself and showing you who I am. Here I am, finally independent and breathing. I must collect the thoughts that heal and let go of the pain. I must move on and know that the path ahead is one full of trees and beautiful creatures all hoping for me not only to make it through but to do it alive.

I have fought and will always fight for what I believe to be true. I might still get hurt and still fall, but I will keep going until the day I die. And if my fight makes this living situation even a tiny bit easier for someone else, I will consider it a victory. Being how I am might be scary and even lonely, but it’s a wonderful filter. Those who stay are worth keeping and those who leave are worth losing. It makes it easier to know. Because to fight the fight you need the right ones by your side. And sometimes you will be all you have and if that’s so, you’ll be all you need.

I’d like to say

I have been loved. I have been hated. I have felt successful and a complete failure. I want more and I truly want less. I feel as though I have this whole living thing pegged until I have a day that reminds me how little I can know. Regrets are something I do not believe in, and yet, they haunt me. I have heard sweet words and bitterness has also tried to tear me apart.

My best friend said he’d be there no matter what. Time passed and he doesn’t want to see me anymore. The man I loved couldn’t seem to say he loved me back. He made me feel endlessly loved but society programmed me to want to hear words that shouldn’t even exist. Sometimes I want what I know isn’t right. Sometimes I read and smile because of who I have become. I feel proud to have held my ground. And sometimes I feel lonely and I feel like crying. I make others laugh and it makes me realize how wonderful I am. I cry.

I want to sing but I still haven’t written my own songs. I have a melody that carries me through although I still sometimes feel utterly silent. I have come a long way and know how far I am capable of going. But what if you don’t make it? My oldest brother loves to remind me. I trip on a stone only to find that the road ahead seems as long as the one left behind. Someone holds my hand whilst another blindfolds me. I can feel you but I can’t see you.

I would like to say that I’d wish life were easier but I would probably be lying. I would like to say I know what I believe in but sometimes I forget. I’d like to say that I try to avoid drama but it brings my heart alive when it tries to die on me. I can be more than just one thing. I’d like to be more like my mother and I wouldn’t be lying whatsoever. I’d like to say I didn’t know my father but I did. I’d like to say I haven’t pushed love away but I couldn’t keep a straight face.

I know what I know and I am who I am. Some people seem to have figured it out early on, I’m not really one of them and I accept that fact. I hope dearly to become a story. Not only an interesting storyteller but an inspiring one as well.

I might be as imperfect as the day is long but I would like to say that I have become a combination of colors, shapes and shifting shadows of light that cannot seem to figure out completely how to be.

I’d like to say more than what words were ever able to create. But for now this shall suffice. And even what I have to say will pass and so shall the moments, as quickly as I am capable of changing my mind.

I’m not in love

We live to breathe. We live to strive. We live to seek. We live to find. Sometimes we even live to love. Today is the day of independence; the day where solitude is celebrated and questioned. No, I’m not in love. We try to survive. We know not what will come and yet we’re here. I’m not in love.

I don’t know much but I know that I am not in love. It makes me feel somewhat lost. It makes me feel somewhat inspired. At times it feels it’s by chance. At times it feels it’s by choice.

Should I be ashamed by such a statement? Should I be looking for someone to love? I don’t know.

As many other endeavors, I don’t know. But I do know that of all the things I currently do not know much about, this is the one I know the least of. This is that one thing that I have to stop myself from writing constantly about. I think it is a combination of nature and nurture.

I am well aware of its nature and how we are born with some sort of innate right to be loved. But I do feel influenced at times. I feel influenced by all this mass media that is trying to run me over. I feel as though I should either want it or die. I don’t want to die. I want to live. I want to live with or without you. I want to be happy with or without you.

On nights like tonight I want not to want you. I want not to wonder. I only crave that which is and could be but not that which isn’t.

We should question everything. We should want not only what we think we want but also what we should want. Control isn’t ideal but it is useful. I want to stay true to myself and yet know the difference between what is real and unreal. You are real but wanting to control your timing seems unreal and selfish.

I am here and I am not in love. Sometimes I can cope and sometimes I feel as though I am the lead character in the opera of my life and that my heart cannot seem to beat without you. Fascinating opposites seduce me as usual.

But tonight I am not in love and it pains me yet it frees me. What this all means still intrigues me and I will continue to search and witness its attraction for as long as I shall live. It will and can come but until it does, I will wonder and I will be intrigued by its mystery and absence; by its passion and constraint.

It is puzzled and it shall make sense somehow; even if it kills me, even if it rains.

But it is

He left and he keeps leaving. Yes, it’s a different guy but it feels the same. It hurt and it feels as though it shouldn’t have happened, but it did. They should all care more, but they don’t. I should get as much as I give, but I don’t. I got the gig and then I lost it, once and again. Today was one of those days. A day where one more thing is taken, gone. It isn’t as bad as it seems, I’m just allowing myself to suffer. Here I am crying and it doesn’t really make it better; it just makes me feel worse. It’s fine to feel whatever I feel but I am utterly tired of sadness. Sadness has the lowest vibration and it brings me down. But sometimes there it is, trying to pull me down. Its pull shouldn’t be so strong, but it is.

I want to scream. I want to rid myself of the negative emotions, the drama. It’s important to remember how it’s not as hard as it feels. I feel everything. I touch the walls when I walk; I feel the air I breathe in and out. I look into people’s eyes and I can feel them. I look up all the time, the clouds almost always smile at me, and the rain likes me too. Being able to feel the way I do is a privilege, one I do not take it for granted. The plants soothe my soul with their green kindness; not to mention when my heart’s desire touches my skin or my fragile heart, you could kill me then and there. The emotional overload takes a hold of reason. That’s why I have the hardest time letting go; I feel the song that I sing, the person walking beside me. I cannot succeed at being indifferent because it all matters to me. It feels this hard because the intensity the emotions hold is beyond almost anyone’s imagination. It shouldn’t be as much, but it is.

It shouldn’t be this hard, but it is. It shouldn’t be such a constant struggle, but it is. Or is it? As long as we go on with or without the emotion overload, we can make it, we can live. Yes, it is this hard sometimes and what matters most is whether we carry on or not. It does feel this hard sometimes but so what? Giving up seems absurd and unreasonable. The longer I take getting up, the harder it will get. It is what it is and what you decide to do in spite of any obstacle will make or break you. It’s your choice and no one else’s.

Pushed into me

Mr. V was the first I decided to let in. He became very good at making me feel inadequate. He had a heavy baggage of his own. Misunderstanding played a part in whatever relationship we almost had. Lack of experience was also very good at making it all wither.

Mr. C was the second one that wasn’t really available. I’m good at choosing the unavailable types. He was way nicer but still equally able to indirectly hurt. He was better looking and sweeter. Still never really there or willing to make it work.

Mr. B was the one that hurt the most. He was the one and only that seemed to want to be it. He let me be myself. He encouraged me to be better and seemed to want to stick around. It turns out a lot of what he said wasn’t true. I still have a hard time forgetting everything he never said.

The others are only pieces of men, mostly boys actually; there’s a huge difference. They also left a mark. Some of them were very straightforward. Others were very good at trying to play me.

The opposite sex altogether has been intense, crazy, misunderstood, annoying, passionate, indifferent and almost any adjective you could think of. I’m done trying to define them as good or bad. It has been what it has been and I have been officially pushed into me. The time has come for me to embrace myself. Trying to figure them out or make it work is possible but exhausting.

I still find myself not being me whenever I like him and I hate that. I want to stop that. I think enough has happened that I know better than that. At first, against my will, I had to embrace being on my own. I had to tell myself it didn’t matter. But it does matter and it always will.

Now I’ve been pushed into me. And because I love what I have found, I smile. It has to be an odd combination of having enough experiences, feeling comfortable enough with who you’ve become and a balance between caring but letting go. Believe me, I know how complicated it sounds but it isn’t that much. It just is. You have to enjoy your own company and if you genuinely do, anybody who has to be in your life, will be. Holding on is a dirty little habit, but if you can somehow break it, you’ll be free. Freedom is worth fighting for.

I have been pushed around enough to fall into myself and I’m OK with that. The imperfections are incredibly obvious but beautiful. Going out without expectations seems like the greatest success. And believe me, I care. I do still care but I just cannot hold on anymore. If he leaves, that’s fine…I can get through it. If he stays, that’s great. I just have to be content with where I am, with who I’ve become and with what is. The rest is just too much for me to handle, it’s not even my business.

That day

When you put yourself out there again and your heart gets horribly broken. When you finally found someone you wanted to watch stars with over and over again and it’s ripped away from you, completely unnatural. When that same person can’t say how they feel after you’ve gone through the surgery to be able to give them your heart. I gave my heart away yesterday and it has been put away, on hold. He didn’t throw it away or play with it but he wasn’t sure. It’s that day when it aches and you really hope that one of those illogical legends that the end of the world is near can actually be true. You want the end to be close because thinking of any sort of beginning without love isn’t really worth having.

When you thought you had figured it out and a piece of the puzzle fit your very odd picture that you’re trying to create. And then you realize you were wrong, again.

Today is that day. The day my heart is on hold and breaking slowly since it needs my body to function. I let him go because I cannot keep anyone who doesn’t want to stay. I hope still that he will come back, whilst forcing myself not to be optimistic about something that almost always ends in sorrow.

It’s that day you dreaded. The day after his actions didn’t match his words, his promises had to be stolen before he actually made them. It’s a day when a lot of beauty is unfolding but the blindness of the love lost, clouds the judgement and is making new memories foggy. Sleeping seems impossible, eating optional and living unbearable. Without him life will go on but the heart that is in storage beats slower by the minute. As soon as I get back home I have to take it out of the box you put it in and live with it.

I wish I could say this is the last day like this but that would be a lie. Being a queen of attention to detail makes it that much harder to forget and eventually move on. You can forget and probably will soon enough. And the shining light inside reminds me how grateful I should be and even enjoy the excruciating pain given to me on that day that is today.

Today is that day when breathing is harder and walking is slower. A day when love is expressed all around me and even the air I breathe reminds me of you. Not just what obviously should remind me of your presence but even the things you’ve never seen or touched are filled with your presence because you’re here, in my head. The looking glass of my mind filters everything through you and it has the color of your skin and everybody seems to have the color of your eyes.

Today is that day when I’m here again, heartbroken but not broken.