Keep In Touch

November 30, 2017

I wonder if you meant that.

I needed this, I hope you know that. I needed something like this for a very, very long time after sinking helplessly farther into the nadir. I once felt like escape was not a realistic possibility, only a tantalizing glimmer of light in the distance. But now, I no longer feel so unconsolably trapped. I have you to thank for that. I’ll be forever grateful.

For once, my inhibitions didn’t prevent me from moving where my eyes led me, doing what my whimsical heart wished—and it was lovely. I didn’t have qualms over menial concerns or even the paralyzing fear instilled in my soul.

I felt calm.

Calm shouting over intermittent train horns. Calm from chasing shadows and catching sun flares. Calm when discovering all what I didn’t know about myself, and more so what I didn’t know about you.

I appreciate that.

If you’re wondering if this is about you, well… your guess is right.

I hope that on your journey showcasing the beauty of others, you realize the beauty within your entire being, your whole existence. Whether others, or even you, yourself, bear witness to your gift, know that it is there, intangibly but undoubtedly there.

All in summary, my heart is filled with an incomparably profound gratitude, misunderstood gratitude.

Or rather, not misunderstood, but simply unspoken.


It wasn’t the Funyuns

November 24, 2017

I’m such a bumbling idiot.

I was fine a second ago, I swear. I was able to hold a normal conversation without forgetting how to speak, without losing my fine motor control. I could joke about my brother’s antics with one of his classmates sitting at the same table as us. I could tap away on my keyboard, lip syncing shamelessly to my music in my earbuds like it’s nobody’s business.

But the moment a guy with curly, strawberry blond hair stepped into my peripheral vision, chowing down on Funyuns, all my senses sharpened. He offered Funyuns to my brother and his classmate, pulling out a chair next to the both of them. I lifted my eyes from my laptop screen—bad idea, girl.

My jaw immediately dropped, a stuttering, “uh,” escaping my lips as he gestured to his Funyuns, offering some to me, too. I tried to lift my hand from the computer mouse while simultaneously reaching to pull the earbud out of my ear. But instead of gracefully completing the task in one smooth motion, I threw the mouse at myself, yanked the cord out of my ear, and croaked out a hoarse, “No, I’m fine, thanks,” probably topped off with an alluring nervous eye twitch.

Picking the mouse up from my lap, I placed it back on the table, blinking hard, hoping it wasn’t as horrifyingly embarrassing as I felt like it was. I replaced the dangling earbud into my ear and resumed my photo editing as though I totally didn’t make a fool of myself.


I hope he didn’t catch that.

Why in the world was I so nervous? Good grief, I’m so lame.

Sunny Day

November 15, 2017

The one time I ever visited southern California, I remember feeling inexplicably happy and being okay with not knowing quite why that was so.

My grandma sat in the passenger seat with me in the back and a song came on the radio that I remember being too emotional to listen to before it became popular because it reminded me of painful times and nonexistent realities.

I quietly sang along in the back, gazing absently out the window, never missing a word, bobbing my head to the simple, clean beat. It painted the picture in my mind of a bare apartment in a big city, where I lay on a stiff, leather couch, hearing icy winter breezes tap the window screen, feeling my heart liquefy in my chest because I was wrapped in the arms of my partner who still slept peacefully.

After blinking back into reality, my gaze averted to the ships at the bay, the ferries pulling in to transport people to the island. Still singing along, I heard my grandma turn to the driver and ask what song it was, probably because I was singing it and I obviously liked it.

He confessed to not knowing because he didn’t listen to the radio often. I wanted to intervene but instead decided to just enjoy the quiet moment.

To this day, I still get emotional, unable to listen to the entire song, just this time… for different reasons.

iPod Touch

November 13, 2017

I remember in junior high school, my best friend was my sister according to everyone. Apparently we looked alike which I couldn’t deny due to our semblant ethnic backgrounds.

The first thing I noticed about her when we met was her earrings. They were purple coiled wire with pink spike balls on the ends of the short coil.

Eventually, I grew closer to her than the girl leading my section in band. She and I collectively wrote stories and created characters, handsome, fearless, dragon-riding, sword-wielding, prince-warriors. We fabricated worlds where we were actually sisters and we grew up together, learning magic and discovering fantastical kingdoms.

When I was fifteen or sixteen years old, I had one of the few sleepovers I’ve ever been to in my life at her house. She and I were crowded onto the guest room couch with the window open, allowing cool September breezes filter through the first-story room.

The power was out at her house because her mom forgot to pay the electric bill, but since I was out all day with her family, they didn’t realize it was out til nighttime came. The electric company wouldn’t open til 8 am the next morning, so we lived by moonlight until then. That meant a night of no air conditioning, no phone chargers, and no light. With her bedroom on the second floor, she and I would bake throughout the night if we stayed up there.

But what resonated with me that night was when she confessed that I actually made her feel better as opposed to her parents or her long-time friends in her grade. Crying in frustration and fury at her mother’s forgetfulness, all I could remember was holding her in my arms and knowing she wept without seeing because I felt warm tears occasionally trickle onto my arm while she mumbled almost incoherently.

I recall venting to her about my parents and she would always take care of me and make me feel protected in the big sister role she naturally assumed, the big sister I’d never had.

I suppose it was the least I could do for her.

By the end of the night she had recollected herself and around one in the morning, I began falling asleep while we played hangman on her iPod touch and it was then I finally confessed to her who my crush was, much to her surprise (which is a whole other story in itself; that guy was and still is a total waste of time, a real doozie).

I often wonder if I’m the only one who reminisces on such memories.

Being in love at 20-something

November 5, 2017

See, the thing about being a 20-something-year old, at least for me, is that you become a cranky, old lady who gets annoyed of adolescents in a heartbeat and you get back pain from sitting for too long or from working too hard—either or.

Jokes aside, it might just be me and the cohort I’m in and the mentality I have. It’s more difficult for me to be easygoing when hanging out with friends, even if we’re not close, because now I feel like I’m wasting time. I’m always complaining about not having a clean bathroom and a clean kitchen and I get irritated when the high schoolers stand on my lawn. I sleep relatively early for my age and wake up early to be productive in the morning.

But what really made me notice my crippling mental age difference was how difficult it is for me to fall in love again.

Wow, that sounds even lamer than when I thought it.

I just have trusts issues, okay? And commitment issues. I’ve dealt with some stupid people. I’ve been hurt so often that I have become a cynic to the idea of youthful relationships and fresh love. And it’s a task for someone to convince me otherwise, to have me fall for them. I haven’t put anyone else before myself in a very long time, and despite it’s effectiveness in progressing my higher education, I get lonely on rare occasions. Even still, I seem to lack the emotional capability of falling head over heels for someone (unless he’s Alex Bregman, of course).

But when I think of how lovely it would be to hold someone, I quickly remember what it took to be able to hold them, the effort, the time, the commitment, the energy, then I feel remotely grateful that I don’t have that sort of thing to worry about because, heaven knows, I’m awful with punctuality and prioritizing for other people’s time.

I suppose when I meet someone who genuinely wants to convince me and eventually does, should that idea even see the light of day from me, then maybe my grumpy, old self will learn to enjoy something so lovely.

Red Plaid

October 26, 2017

His button down—it was red plaid. I swear I could never forget it. When I thought I’d never see him again, after I thought I’d lost him to the tangles of fate and time.

What bittersweet and vicarious relief floods my heavy heart.

Just another day, right?

Just another day in the life.

But days like these are meant to give you a chance to breathe, a chance to step back and not worry, even if just for a second. They’re meant to put a smile on your face if you hadn’t worn one for a long time, caught up in the hustle and bustle, the stresses of mundane cycles and repetitive and useless conversations.

I love that feeling I get sometimes, that feeling of what the future might hold, that skippy, heart-racing feeling I get when I think of what happiness lay on the path ahead, what company I’ll be graced with.

It puts a smile on my face after having not worn one for a long time.

Table Tennis

October 19, 2017

It’s true that you can bounce back from an all-time low, even if you’re not getting the full effect.

It’s true that your poor face can break out from stress, your hairline can bead with sweat, but you can still feel as confident as you didn’t believe you were.

It’s true that despite what you might believe about yourself, you are more intelligent than you give yourself credit for.

And it’s not a matter of convincing others of those realizations—it’s convincing yourself.

Thrillseeker Chronicles

September 30, 2017

These four I would jump through hoops for, that’s for sure, this lovely company I’ve had the fortune of spending my entire life knowing, growing through every stage with.

They probably don’t know it. I know I haven’t outright told them. I daresay…

I love them.

They certainly don’t know that, but I do, I care about them. I can only remember getting along with them, formulating devious, diabolical and delinquent plans with them, building epic pillow forts, sharing expensive hobbies, making short, indie action films with what we could find in the old toy bins.

We started school together, phased through the angsty metalhead days together, graduated high school together. We’ve seen each other at our absolute worst and our fighting best, and continue to be present in each others’ lives whether by twist or manipulation of fate.

Even though we see each other but once every blue moon for a short amount of time, it’s like no time has passed at all. Just a simple “how’s life?” and we’re already caught up on each other’s lives.

We wander around quiet, sleeping neighborhoods at night, loitering under bridges by the bayou with graffiti covering the posts and sloping ground. We take short errands trips to buy batteries to power the flashlights we need to explore the area. We come together over a mediocre rated R movie and great wings for lunch, or rated R horror movies and halo-halo. We share each other’s bad experiences that taught life lessons as we grow out of adolescence and into the real world where our mistakes could cost us. We complain about our lives and the stupid people in them, we used to have sleepovers just so we can stay up all night playing console games until our eyes stung with exhaustion. We share hysterically funny stories of our shameful mistakes, insane classmates or roommates, our parents’ embarrassing tendencies.

I think, somewhere in the undercurrent, we love each other, whether profound or not. I hope my heart is not wrong about it, but I don’t feel the same way with any other people the way I do with them. I feel safe with them. I feel at home with them. I think, I know, that if the world came down to an apocalypse, I’d survive with them, we’d bend over backwards for each other.

I don’t know what I would be without them.

Forget About It

Re-reading a letter I sent to one of my many penpals just six months ago, I realize how much I’ve changed, how much I’m growing into the adult I never hoped to become, in a mere six months. The things I rambled about may well have been from an entirely different person with different concerns, different ideations, a still hopeful but ignorant, different perspective.

I no longer take things lightly and I don’t know if it’s a blessing or a curse. Everything means so much more than it should, but something that shouldn’t weighs more on my shoulders than it ever needed to.

I guess that’s just what real life does to you.

Now They Know Me

September 25, 2017

If they didn’t before, then they damn well should.

If they didn’t know my name, now it’s branded into their minds.

If they didn’t know my face, now they do.

It’s not wrong to love myself and to appreciate every aspect of me that I was born with—my awkward tendencies, my overexcited chatter, tripping over my own feet.

I thought for a second it bothered me, but quickly realized loving myself is too damn important to worry about why I shouldn’t wear my favorite five inch heels, why I shouldn’t spend time doing what I love, why I shouldn’t act like the youthful spirit I am and step out of my comfort zone sometimes.

And if they had nothing else to remember me by but the one time I didn’t hide in the shadows, then so be it.

While they stand by watching, I’ll bask in the limelight.