Mind over matter

 Where did all the fun go

not bleeding in a book

or mapped to hook

It is out there

surfacing through fog

visible by Sun

Nowhere to go

Everywhere to start

Que sera, sera

(whatever will be, will be)

When I broke up with you

I didn't know what you were wearing. I didn't get to see your reaction, see your eyes part from mine, or even hear the change of tone in your voice. You denied all my calls for a few days and in the back of my mind I knew you were pushing me out, just like you had when you first broke my heart - when I  reluctantly pulled the truth out of you. It took months to get over that one night, but I was no longer that girl. I became bold and courageous to never be a doormat to anyone's feet, including yours, even when it was hard to not sway into self-pity. This must be my fault. Nevertheless, a few years later you moved back to California and we decided to no longer be so distant. At least I thought. Only a few days had already built up all the nerve I never let go and being misled that it would be different this time.

I decided to attend my friend’s party. She was selling a collaborative of items she made from scratch. Cela joined me and I let you know through a text of my whereabouts, even though I didn’t know yours. It had been months since I'd seen Emily’s face. As far as I knew, we lived completely different lives, but it always reminisced back to Jr. High (where we first met) that kept our kindred spirits aligned. It was nice to see her wide smile while I could barely manage a smirk. Not to be distracted by your ghostly presence, I kept my phone in my purse and mulled into all the conversations that haven’t happened in months between her and I. It was going rather well until she asked, “So how’s Sylvia?” It hadn’t occurred to me this would be asked. I had forgot Emily knew me long enough to have known Sylvia. It took my heart by surprise when the water in my eyes answered her question. When Sylvia passed away I didn’t cry. I came home from working at a pizza restaurant with new scars on my arms from the oven. My mom had phoned me during my last hour at work to tell me to come straight home. I knew then it was bad news. Once I arrived home the person who was most scarred was my father. He drunkenly murmured to me that Sylvia took her life and how he hated God for doing such a thing. By then I wasn’t sure of God, nor still unsure, but I knew to not blame a God for people’s actions. It was simply, yet roughly, her choice. I looked at Emily and while I didn’t expect to cry, or be overwhelmed by the thought, I explained what had happened. Frozen by my words, guests arrived to put the right energy back in place. This was a party, after all. It hadn’t eased my mind and I thought of the one person I wanted to call (my boyfriend) but realized I wasn’t part of his life the way I grieved for. After many missed calls from me, and ignored texts, I sent the last one I could possibly manage. How can we share happiness if we can’t share pain? “I don’t think we should be together.” Something along those lines, I had sent. Sad that it had to be delivered in a  hostile way, dishonoring our years of a fickle relationship. But I knew I was right when you instantly replied saying, “ok.”

The apology

The apology
fought me in the night
and treated my day
cracking the armor i succumb to make
the hopeless desire
to take back what you gave
days will add
to choices that’ve come in place

It is within a smile
these lines will share
this voice will never dim
to echoes left to spare

Undertow

My favorite thing to do has involuntarily become the hardest.

Write

So I’ll let my camera do the talking.

For blue skies

You can't be prepared for change, but you can accept it as it comes. For what it's worth, time makes you wiser but not without the consequences from mistakes. The chance that you may regret what cannot be undone would ultimately be missing the point all along. 

Why regret a choice you made? That's why the old folk say to think before you speak, to make decisions you're proud of, but I've never been a good listener. It's the impulsive, impatient blood that's rushed me from heartache to heartache. I wish for understanding and I wish to be humbled by all the madness I've built. I am so far from those days and still my memory brings me pain. 

You can't be prepared from hurting someone, and you can't be prepared for not getting hurt. It's inevitable. But respect, courtesy, honor - these should all be solid aspects for humanity. Without our word, what do we truly stand for? 

The root of this vague message I'm trying to spread is simply this: who are you at the end of the day, and if it's not someone you're certain of then I suggest when you wake up, try again. This life is all we're truly confirmed with, so take it all in, because we're all striving to make sense of something bigger than us, yet what we're so intently part of.

The Point Sometimes

"And you know that nothing lasts forever

and depending on the weather

I'm a changer "

Get Well Now

Sleeping away toxics
in a room without a view
Thinking backwards
like we’re told to never do
Shake me till you wake up
we could make the night rise
Give hope a better chance
to let our past compromise
Maybe I’m just too selfish
wanting your heart on top of mine
When darts continue aiming
for an eye hard to find

311

A heavy memory that weighs on my eyelids is of you telling me not to pry. It’s nights like these that make me wish I hadn’t respected you enough to listen. Should have pushed a nerve so you gave into talking and shared what you felt. Regret keeps lingering on every question I didn’t ask, and how every time I saw you I felt your sadness and didn’t mention it. You told me not to pry.

311

Protecting our heart
enough to destroy itself
swallowing words that
seep like poison
the mind tricks the fool
to set worlds apart
from ever knowing
why we do
the things we do


....RIP Jake Jure

Park days

"I don't think that there are any limits to how excellent we could make life seem."

― Jonathan Safran Foer, Everything is Illuminated

Something good

"I wish I could believe in something bigger
More than these trees, these winds, these oceans
I wish I could believe what they tell me"

Till then

I've been thinking about time, life, our existence as human beings, living on the only sustainable planet that is constantly rotating and changing by the second. It amazes me that something so important and necessary (like the spinning Earth) is not even felt. Or how fast the Sun goes down and rises across the world, we don't always see the last moment of light. I've been considering how I've lived the past couple months. This fast-paced lifestyle can truly wear down one's identity. I think about my interests now, compared to my teenage years. This year has already stamped too many disappointments and it hits you that a lot of people truly don't give a fuck, a man eat man kind of world and I'm simply the food at the table. I keep trusting people with my thoughts and placing my hope in their hands, only to be dropped. There's so much to explain but the bottom line is that I'm lost and estranged. Love broke my confidence, but I'm wondering if I ever had any to begin with. At this point, I'm just trying to collect all the pieces of my being I have given away, but when everything feels urgent it seems out of reach. I miss the peace. I miss the feeling of sitting, doing nothing, thinking nothing, but feeling every ounce of beauty, hope, and the goodness to be alive. I can't remember the last time I felt that way. To be certain, is all that one could hope for. I once wrote: What's it like, to be certain of someone who is certain of you? I apply this to everything nowadays.

When I flew to Texas about a year ago, to bring (my ex of 4 years) back to California, it was the second time I've ever been on a plane. I hardly remember the first time because I was so young, and anyway. I was listening to Radiohead on my iPod, sitting on my own. I had the window view. I watched the wing soar through the cumulus clouds that soon sunk and dissipated. I've always been a sky watcher but I've never felt so connected to nature as I did then. It's interesting how nature is so important for our wellbeing. In fact, there's a disorder for those who aren't around it enough. And I mean, easily as sitting in your backyard (a lot of people don't do that. Hell, most people these days don’t even have a backyard). It's called NDD (Nature Deficit Disorder). Which explains why people put sunsets, mountains, beaches, or whatever, as their computer backgrounds, or screensavers. Just looking at it sets something at ease.

My judgment may be hazy now but somewhere in the back of my mind I know that I will be ok, I know good people still exist. I know that I am loved and am grateful for the people who have stuck by my side. There are many people who will influence us but we must never forget our roots - it’s the only thing to keep us from falling.

I wrote this letter awhile ago, it seems. To a dear friend of mine who never got it. I write on my computer, so that it explains why I have it. Anyway. I'm feeling nostalgic and reading my old writing reminds me how far I've come. Some parts of me are still overcoming my ex-relationship. Some memories still haunt me. I feel that I will always carry him in thought, but eventually... it will no longer hurt, but make me smile.

What to expect once you're an adult

Remember being 5 and thinking adults were the smartest people and had everything figured out? I also consider this thought while I'm sitting in class and I turn to my right and there sitting next to me is a possible (in the near) future nurse. I turn to my left and there's a possible police man. I notice the student who could be a teacher and I realize (maybe) someone from my school could be president (but probably not). My point? That once you're an adult you realize we don't have everything figured out and in fact, we all (somewhat) started out the same.

Once you realize this, everything changes. Personally, it makes me want to work harder. It makes me want to be better. It makes me open my mind and heart to things I never cared for. As vague as I'm making this, the conclusion is that I can not share the same expectations I account for myself on others. This has been (and is) a rough transition. It's easier to disagree, be mad, etc... rather than take the time to understand. As my father says, "It takes time to care."

I am only 23 (in other words, I don't know enough) but my beliefs and knowledge thus far has recently been digging in my skin. It has caused breakouts in few of my family relationships (because I simply want to be in control of things), but it ultimately weighs on my mind from time to time.

However, it’s hit me now. I am being extremely egotistic to think, or even want, my expectations to hold the same standards as others. I must remember, if we were all the same there wouldn't be change. And change is good.

Pilot

The start of this new blog brings satisfaction to my dog-loving, wind-chasing, can'tbuymelove heart.

As I've titled, it is my (best) form of communication.

Writing has always curved my shape by healthfully bringing fourth my weathered thoughts. People rarely consider the effort it takes to form into words what you're feeling.. so I decided I'd never take it lightly.

(which is probably why I prefer cards as gifts.)

Nevertheless, 

my hope for this blog is to bring light to transitions in my life, the never-ending change, the awareness and  perspectives I acknowledge but question. I want this blog to be the voice I always hindered and felt insecure about, the stories I start but never finish, the magic and the dreams I will continue to chase till my death bed.

Here, I will find my voice. 

Not my parents, or the church, or my friends, or my school, or a boyfriend. When I better understand myself, I'll better understand what I have to offer this world and what I want in return.