First Is The Worst

It’s a bit ironic that, more than a year ago, the first person who ever told me my writing was good and that I should keep writing and share my writing with other people, maybe even start a blog about it, happened to be the worst person ever. We don’t talk anymore.

He was so inspiring to me for some reason. He led me to believe my writing was good enough to share and even publish. And he led me to believe that no matter what I write about, as long as I love it and what I’m doing, it’s my best work.

Despite the fact that we ended our friendship on many bad notes, I’d say it was a blessing to meet him.

If I’m gonna be honest, had I not met him and become so inspired to start writing, I would never have ended up where I am now, writing tutor, blogger, and even potential published author. And I never would have been able to proof the work of my peers and make them into 48/50 papers. And I never would have even dreamt of creating a story, many stories, that people would enjoy.

“Just send it to somebody,” he said once after reading one of my personal notes and reminding me how good my writing was, “Send it to a publisher. You never know–they might like it.”

And now here I am, hopefully inspiring people to write more and that writing isn’t evil, papers and essays aren’t evil, so long as you pour your heart, your entire soul, into it.


Middle Ground

I’d only ever heard of those dangers–naïve ol’ me only thought rumors of them. I’ve always been ignorant to the reality of it, the commonplace volatile nature of it. But with your first-hand experience and the intimacy you shared with the danger, I finally understood.

How did you live through it for so long? Twenty years almost.

You’re a real trooper.

And for some reason, I found myself secretly… Glad that you’re okay, that you feel safe here, to see you smiling and ambitious, eyes glowing with enthusiasm and aspiration. You look keenly and eagerly to the future and your dreams are just about as overwhelmingly awesome as mine.

You are the epitome of a second chance and I know that standing here, between where you were and where you will be, your future extends far beyond the boundaries of the horizon.

And boy, oh boy, I cannot wait to see where it takes you.

It’s Our Time

It’s around that time of year when trees bare, days are fractionally shorter, and weather finally cools down to a moderate 70 (Fahrenheit) winter in southern Texas. And as the end of 2016 nears, I can’t help but be my stupidly sentimental and nostalgic self.

I can’t say everything I hoped for in 2016 played out in my favor, but I also can’t say I haven’t made some of the best memories I never thought possible or learned more than I ever thought I could in a year.

I discovered that my passion is writing and art. I made lifelong friends who genuinely love and care about me. I reunited with the people I grew up with a decade ago. I found something that inspires and drives me. I learned many new skills that will forever prove useful. I traveled to the one country in the entire world that I’d dreamt about nonstop since I was fourteen. I truly understood the meaning of taking life by the reins.

And most of all, since I touched down in August, I realized how short my time, our time, is here and that we should cherish every morsel of it because in one moment you could have something incredible within your grasp and the next that refreshing breeze slips right between your fingers as though you never knew it to begin with.

Take nothing for granted–treasure it.

All I Want For Christmas

When you live in a place like coastal Southern Texas, you can’t really enjoy a Christmas as white as others may be able to. It’s only snowed in my part of Texas about twice in my lifetime, but I can safely say I’ll survive without it every year and the only cold we get here during Christmas is from the random cold fronts and cold spells that roll around come late November. And the Gulf never fails to impose it’s presence over my city–the air is thick and humid and at night, you can’t enjoy a cup of hot chocolate without having to take your sweater and fuzzy house shoes off.

The gift giving is my favorite part because seeing the smiles on family and friends’ faces lights up my day just like how yard lights light up the silent Christmas night.

Every year, my family and I would take a family photo when we all got dressed up for Christmas dinner and I somehow always managed to wear a cranky half smile because I was either too cool or too stubborn to take family photos. Or I was too eager to stuff my face at dinner.

I was never one to be excited about Santa giving me presents because I never believed in him from the start and just about every year, none of my gifts were surprises because I was always there when my mom wrapped them or they were badly wrapped by my gifters. And I never made wishlists because either I wanted everything or nothing at all so they were pointless.

But the one thing I hope for every year, for myself and for everyone I know and don’t know, is that there is nothing but love and joy filling everyone’s hearts. Not a single worry, burden, or stress. And not only today but every other day in the year before and after Christmas. I hope and wish that at least once in everyone’s lifetime (although hopefully more) everyone experiences a happiness that comes from selfless and humble hearts–the best kind.


It takes a true friend to tell you you’re an idiot.

And true friends piss each other off–but an undefeatable sense of respect will always remain.

They’ll take the earful you’re giving them about your trivial problems then proceed to tell you you’re still an idiot.

When you cry, they’ll assure you it’s totally okay to do so, if they’re not already tearing up with you. But when you do cry, it angers them more so than the patriarchal society would consider human.

They know you’re human and you’re never perfect so you fill in each other’s gaps, complement each other’s strengths and weaknesses.

They make you feel loved, truly cared for and safe. And they never fail to remind you they love you.

They promise to always be there, to take your call at four in the morning, especially if you’re feeling down.

They continually tell you you are multi-talented and that your dreams and aspirations will take you very far, farther than your life now could ever dream of taking you.

They know when you’re happy–they see you haven’t been this happy in a long time and it, in turn, makes them ecstatic and they feel the warmth and love and happiness, too.

And they love you so much that they will respectfully annihilate anyone who even remotely thinks about hurting you.

Your Company

​I wish I had the courage enough to tell you just how much you mean to me.

I know I’ve brushed you off more than anyone could possibly imagine…

But believe me when I say, I know you deserve so much more, so much better. I so wish I knew how to tell you, show you.

I love you so unbelievably much and I’ve never told you before because I never felt the need to because well… I never wanted to admit I did. But I love you impossibly, inhumanly so.

But leaving you, hearing your goodbye and offhand ‘I love you’ silently breaks my heart because oh, how I wish I could keep your company just a moment longer.

I’m always in a hurry out, always busy doing my own thing, or lost in my own little world. But in all honesty, I hate myself for it. I’ve missed out on countless opportunities to show you how much I appreciate you and your company, your time you spent on me, time you may well have spent doing something else.

But I promise you, I swear, I will make it right by you. I will never let my pride control me ever again. I will be strong for you because you are the sole reason I am the girl, the young woman, I am today. You have my word.

For the Brave and Mad

I hope your heart isn’t empty or battered and broken–don’t come to me in a million pieces because I don’t believe I’d be able to get you back to where you want to be exactly.

Just tell me I’m terrible and be on your way. I’ve steeled myself for far too long. And believe me when I say I’ve been through much, much worse, so unfortunately, this would not even be my first encounter with such an experience.

Whether or not you depend on me to make your life seem whole, make your days brighter, I can’t guarantee I’ll even make it to the brim. I’m not everything you’ve ever dreamt of, no matter what you may have faith in. I won’t promise that I’ll fulfill your fantasies nor will I take your compliments to heart just yet because you may have been blinded by your own lovesick mind.

I’ve become impervious to the blindness, so no longer do I struggle to see through fog, but I see the clear, rocky future far beyond today, tonight, or tomorrow.

I simply await the day you see what I see, my true self, my complicated, confusing, indecisive, unforgiving self. When you promise me you see me and love me for everything I am in unconditional abundance, then you and your brave and mad soul will fill both my heavy heart and your light one past the brim, overflowing into the world around us.

Body of Water and Mind

Being happy is like feeling light as a feather, so carefree and weightless you float atop the ocean’s mirrored surface, nothing above or below you but endless, undiscovered depths and reaches.

But when the ocean becomes as troubled as your heart, currents pick up, rolling tsunami-like waves bring the depths to the surface, raising hell to the heavens, submerging everything what was once above. Swirling, violent maelstroms engulf all that is serene and blissful, overpowering any and every sort of happiness that may or may not have existed.

The water may roll and boil, the world beneath may crumble and fall further into the black abyss, rattling all else around it. The sizzling surface singes those who take no caution and care, dragging the innocent into the darkest depths.

When the ocean freezes, the cold halts all breathing, beating. An unmoving, abandoned wasteland remains, absolute zero and nothingness, uninhabitable by anything. Doubt and fear fill your heart to the brim, untouchable coldness and bittersweet pains stake your quieting organ.

What does it mean to be drowning in your emotion? The water feels thick, viscous, and unforgiving around you. It’s lost all humanity and you’re suspended somewhere at an unmeasurable depth, unsure of which direction is up or down.

Suffocated by your own ocean.

Northern Lights

Something inside me has stopped cold. I don’t know where my fully-functioning, pounding, hammering heart went.

I’m starting to wonder what is a blessing or a curse.

Someone chisel away the stone around my heart. Or maybe it’s all stone and there’s nothing left to salvage so any attempt to save it just furthers the damage.

I look up to the sky in hopes of finding something to help me understand what is ailing me, but, to my dismay, I find nothing.

I’m a fool in my own game, losing with every play.

Someone tell me what I am doing wrong so that I can feel my heart beat again.


It’s when you tumble down a path you never imagined you’d take.

When it feels like solitude is your companion in the impending danger.

When, against every odd, you’re still alive, more than alive, even.

When you’re absolutely terrified to find the outcome.

When all you can think about is your inability to think.

When your priorities are the only distraction.

When you realize how you’ve always embraced and flourished in the darkness and now it makes you happy.

When you know there’s nothing that could possibly top this because everything pales in comparison.

When you’re so happy it’s literally unfathomable.

That’s perfect.