My Tale

July 22, 2017

You wouldn’t believe the number of plots and notes and songs and free-verse poems I’ve written about the same story. The exact same story.

Just by remembering fragments of it here and there, still seeing the vivid images in my mind from that day, I can always find a new way to tell it. I have dreams about it, I think about it so much.

I write about that day, almost exactly as it happened. I write about my thoughts going on that day, after that day, my thoughts that led up to that day. I write about what happened after that day, what could’ve happened after that day, what could happen after that day. All the different scenarios, layouts of the same plot. All the ways that could possibly explain that day. Everything that could and couldn’t happen for me to simply relive that day. Every quest I’d undertake to slow time, to tell the future, to go back in time. Every wish I made come true or not regarding that day.

I can’t say I’ve ever dedicated so much to anything in my life or in the lives of me in the stories and poems. I can’t attribute anything else to my success greater than that day. Nothing has made me so determined to pummel through all the pain and adversity along the way.

And honestly, I don’t know if it’s a good or bad thing to have in my life.

In a way that’s not possible

July 14, 2017

Every day closer to a year after it happened, the more worried, the more anxious I get. Make it stop, stop time, stop the clock, I just want to turn it around, go back to 2016, when I was still so naïve, when I was so brave, when I still had a fighting chance.

I’ve changed since last year. I’ve learned so much about people, how manipulative they can be, but also how wonderful. I’ve become too old for my body and I have too much of my life planned ahead of me. I’ve realized that some dreams are so out-of-reach that it would take a miracle for it to happen, or a sort of divine intervention, and there is nothing my mortal hand can do about it.

Every day further, every day closer to a year later, I’m more terrified. Of what? I don’t know.

Hey

July 11, 2017

I don’t know what to feel when someone says this word to me. It could either be a good or bad reason behind speaking it.

Hey, can I ask you a question about the test review?

Hey, will you be able to pick me up from the airport tomorrow at 4 in the morning before your class?

Hey, can I borrow five dollars?

Hey, can you email the answers from all the quizzes to me?

Hey, do you want to grab dinner?

Hey, will you be free tomorrow to hang?

Hey, you look tired today.

Hey, get your feet off the chair.

Hey, I got your email.

Over time, it lost its meaning but there’s only one that still melts my heart, said with any voice in any language from any person…

Hey…

You’re going to be alright.

Bora Bora

July 10, 2017

No, not like the island.

Like the scent of car freshener my brother and dad selected for me when I told them I’d like a “tropical” aroma for my car.

You know, honestly, I can’t even be upset about the grade I got on one of my check-offs in lab today (mostly because that grade will become diluted with the other awesome grades I’ve been getting all semester). But from the moment I left the building to the moment I opened the trunk of my car to the scent of island-y landscapes and beach-y flora, my smile only grew bigger, my heart only lighter.

I don’t know if it’s because of the absence of drama in my life that I very much appreciate or because I’ve become the type of person who says, “Ah, whatever. Better luck next time,” to most mishaps and pitfalls I’m confronted by. Or maybe it’s because of the people in my life?

No matter what the case, I’m very grateful and lately I’ve been more open and appreciative of the things I’d taken for granted every day.

Thank goodness I’ve got all my senses intact, I can walk, I can talk and sing and write. Thank the stars I’ve got enthusiasm and passion for something, and that it drives me through the toughest times I’ve ever gone through in this short time I’ve been on the planet. Thank the heavens I’ve got people who help me, financially, emotionally, academically, all with the willingness and ability to do so.

But really, thanks to whoever invented this reminder of a place on a long, long list of other places I intend to visit after all this, with its floral and faintly citrus-like fragrance that makes me forget all my problems and brings a toothy grin to my face every time.

Dependence of Self

July 7, 2017

This is something I would call my best friend for, something I could call my boyfriend to talk out, if I had one. This is something I’d vent to my brother about, or to a counselor or to confess to an unseen power watching over me, or to a friend thousands of miles away who has no other connection to otherwise make of it. This is something I’d personify in my alternate reality, a mind encapsulated within the pages of an unfinished, fictionalized autobiograhy.

But I’ve long grown past that.

I’ve become too independent about these things to the point where I’ve lost the profound relationships I ever had with anyone. No one knows anyone else in my life. No one knows what is going through my heart and my contorted mind. No one knows the true story of why I’m doing what I do, where my heading is, what my intentions are, whether self-empowering or self-destructive.

Some may consider it weakness, some would call it fear of judgment.

I simply do it because, well…

It’s simpler.

Introductions are Exhausting

July 6, 2017

Don’t get me wrong; I absolutely love meeting new people. It’s probably my favorite thing of all. I love finding out about places I’ve never been, places they’re from. I love learning about their personal stories and inspiration and anecdotes. My favorite part about it is meeting new people through those people, then I eventually end up with an entire cohort in another part of society that I was never comfortable in.

But after doing it for so long, is it wrong to feel overwhelmed and, dare I say… Exhausted?

Trying to keep a conversation with someone who initiated it is a bit ridiculous. Or maybe some people really don’t know how to conduct a decent conversation. I don’t know. There’s so much I want to know about a person but it’s a one out of three hundred chance I’ll get that far into it with the next person I meet, to be plainly honest.

There’s really only one conversation that I want to have and I don’t know when the next chance is that I’ll be given to have it…

Delicate, Timeless Copper

June 20, 2017

I want something to look forward to. Something to keep my eyes keen for, keep my chin up for. Something that will make me push forward through all the pain that lies ahead of me. Something that will make my heart hammer relentlessly in my throat.

I’m sure everyone, at one point or another in their lives, can relate to feeling like everything is falling over their head, like there’s nothing worth waging this war for and that the better solution would be to cave and watch the pillars you spent your life constructing simply tumble to the ground under pressure. I just wonder… How do they survive it?

I’m sitting in a room with walls and wallpapers covered in inspirational, motivational quotes, quotes that I’m sure many have taken for granted, myself included. But after having moments sadly to myself, I’ve since taken in my surroundings, learned to appreciate the quotes, the words of wisdom from times and people long forgotten. Maybe if I heed their command, wield their weapons of courage and fortitude, maybe, just maybe, I can make it through. Battered and broken, but stronger than I ever was.

“Don’t wait. The time will never be just right.”

-Napoleon Hill

Sweet like Rosewater

June 10, 2017

Props to you, man.

Just because, after all this time, and after I was sure I did something wrong, you’re still here. In another universe, I may as well have moved out already, moved somewhere no one but my closest of peers would think to search for me.

But now, there’s you.

You deal with my antics and stupid concerns. My insecurities and brutal honesty. You don’t exactly get me, or whatever type of madness I conjure up, but you empathize nevertheless.

It’s a rare thing for people to see me, hear my story, let me bend their ear about my internal, emotional warfare and uncertainty about my future and regrets of the past. And also, to simply listen while I reminisc on moments when I acted a fool with my other foolish, enabler friends in high school.

You try your best to relate to my problems because you know it makes me feel better, despite that we come from two completely different worlds and levels of humanity and flavors of life experience.

You laugh at my jokes—wholeheartedly, might I add—even though they’re awful and lack a real punchline. 

And even though I’m the type to gag at any sort of romantic gesture, you do it anyway (as I proceed to retch in response).

It’s almost overwhelming, your openness and transparency with me. I’m most assuredly not mentally and emotionally prepared for anything so pungent and palpable.

You’re pretty cool though. You get me, but not in a way that reflects me at all.

It’s great.

My Compass

June 9, 2017

I just want to know if I’m following the correct path. There’s nothing more unsettling than knowing, or not knowing rather, I’m going down a path that could or could not be the right one. There are so many reasons why or why not I’d be happy to change routes or continue on this unpaved, undiscovered path. I would live passively, but even passiveness necessitates a heading.

Hearing the criticism, the opinions, the insight from my peers and mentors alike, I’m torn between what should happen and what I’m hoping will happen.

Should I only follow where the compass points, to the north? Something else calls me by my name, but I still have no clear image or direction from where that birdsong originates.

My Life in Your Hands

June 6, 2017

I feel absolutely clueless around you, like I know nothing, nothing other than how to creatively represent my cluelessness with words, like I know nothing other than how to love and how to hide it or show it. I’m as intellectual as a blade of grass when it comes to the thought of you. I’m as sturdy and solid as water at room temperature when it comes to talking about you.

I’d trust you with my life, if it were up to me. I’d give you my heart at its beat, my soul on a silver platter, just to show you how much you mean to me. If I dropped to the floor right now, I’d trust you can catch me, coming from wherever, just to see to it that I don’t hurt myself.

I know you’d take care of me—I see it in your expression whether I unintentionally meet your eyes or simply feel your gaze on the back of my head, so confident in every other conversation but the one between you and me.