carry me

feeling the sand beneath me
and looking out at the vastness that is the ocean,
i take deep breaths
and simply exist.

floating and moving in the water
and feeling the subtle changes in its current,
i am here
and this is what makes me feel alive.

moments like these
are comforting and humbling.
i am reminded of how little i am
beside the ocean that goes on and on.

just carry me with you,
and i will go wherever your currents take me.

there will come a time when i get to wake up to the sound of the sea
everyday.

i will write,
i will surf,
i will live,
and i will be happy.

but until then,
i will be holding on to my last memory of it all.

the countryside

it was a quarter past 6,
and dinner just ended.
the boys and i slipped out the building
to breathe in some fresh air.
all around us
were trees and fields that stretched out
until our eyes could see.
we walked along an uphill path
with no particular destination in mind.
i looked back,
and i could see the gothic facades
getting smaller and smaller.
at the top of the hill,
we could see everything
and nothing.
we sat on the grass,
passed some cigarettes,
and looked at the horizon.
as moments passed,
the colors of the sky got closer
to a warm tone resembling a persimmon’s skin.
we sat there quietly
watching the sun set into the line of trees.
i remember this memory vividly.
in that moment,
i took a deep breath
and wished that our time there could last forever.

— a weight was lifted from my shoulders

to live

to do more,
to live with less;
these are all but arbitrary.

how does one measure
or begin to fully grasp
the idea of mediocrity?

what is significant to me —
things i want to do, places i want to see
may not carry the same weight for you.

while this may be true,
i simply feel the need to put this into writing:
i refuse to live a life short of

passion,
poetry,
tears,
breathless moments,
a sense of adventure,
love — my god, love.

because what is life if not to embrace it and live in all that it is?

perfect

i’m a perfectionist.
i control things because it’s the only thing i have real power over —

i fluff the pillows before and after i sit on the couch
i refold my blanket at least ten times a day
i sweep the entire floor every time i see a single piece of dirt
i move the perfume bottle one inch forward because there is only one acceptable position
i fold my used clothes before putting them in the laundry
i align my papers and folders before working

and when i sense a slight deviation to this order,
i feel uneasy
i feel bothered
and i won’t stop feeling this way until i fix it — i have to fix it.

i create my own little world, wherever i go.
this little world is perfect, safe, and simple.
but once the outside sneaks its way in, it is lost.

even while i’m writing this, i want to throw my laptop across the room for the way these words sound. they don’t flow. they don’t sound right. i’m a perfectionist, and this has to be right. this has to be right.

in-betweens & gray areas

in-betweens sound a lot better than gray areas.
when we talk of in-betweens, you get this idea of the little things, the quiet.
the things that go unnoticed and we tend to look beyond.
i like this kind.

but when it comes to gray areas,
it’s the kind of in-between, where you don’t know where you’re going.
you’re in this place of uncertainty, and you can’t seem to find clarity.

i’m here to talk about this kind.

gray areas are difficult.
once you fall into it, it’s as if there’s no way out.
you start questioning every decision you’ve ever made, and think to yourself,
how the hell did i get here?

your heart starts to race, your palms start sweating,
your eyes get bigger, and your breathing gets faster.
and then,
you’re just lost.

you don’t know who you are anymore or at least you feel as if you’ve been thrown so far away from yourself.

it’s the worst feeling — not knowing yourself,
or not even being able to recognize who you are anymore.

how do you pull yourself out of something like this, when you can’t even tell whom to pull out?

so many things are happening all at the same time,
and you’re just lost in this gray area.

my mind has never been this clouded, and
my heart has never been through this kind of pain before.
nothing hurts more than losing your sense of self.

how can i undo this?

how can i bring myself back to same feeling and state as i was,
when i could feel all the fire and life inside me?

back to when i knew who i was and wanted to be.

i want to say i need someone or something to save me, 
but it’s n0t about being saved anymore.
it’s about carrying myself through this and whatever i may be put through again.
i need to be able to do this.

but then again,
it’s not that simple.
you can’t make your heart feel as light as when you wash away all the dirt from your body at the end of the day.

it stays in your chest. over and over and over the last pain and heart break.

i’m broken. and i’ve never felt this kind of broken as much as i do now.
let’s start there.

for you

to the baby,
who was born out of the strength of her mother
who was held and wrapped with love
who saw the sky for the first time

to the child,
who felt and fell on the ground before ever rising from it
who looked at the world with big eyes
who spoke of things she read from books

to the girl,
who dreamed
who asked questions
who hated her body
who cried and laughed
who grew up

to the young woman,
who saw the world for what it truly is
who heard things that built and broke her
who gave her heart
who sacrificed her passion
who lost herself
who struggled to find the light again

to the woman,
who tries
who gives everything
who smiles with tears in her eyes
who is finding her way back
who continues to get up with every sunrise after all that she has been through

this is for you.

on the road

early mornings and hot coffee
hours on the road with the perfect playlist
gas stations and a sunrise in the middle of nowhere

all to get to a place
where simplicity and living with less
are more than enough

every time i’m reminded of the sea
or of what it’s like to be human
i’m reminded of what it’s like to truly live

if miles and miles are what it takes to feel this way
then there are no bounds to what i’d do to be in the right place

glass figures

i was in the car with my family,
driving up and down the hill-like streets of downtown San Francisco.
i looked out the window as would every other person riding a car,
searching for something to admire or simply relieving boredom

and there they were,
the warm lit squares and rectangles on the surfaces of every building.
windows of every size,
some open and bright from the light inside and some shut closed.

windows tell a lot of stories.
they give the shortest glimpse into the life of a stranger,
or provide a brief opening into a story.
and the beauty there is that you can make anything of it.

i saw one with a floor to ceiling book shelf and thought,
maybe the person who lives here is the type to carry a book with her wherever she goes
maybe the person who lives here sits right beside that window for her morning coffee and read
just as i would

another had a christmas tree and a bunch of frames and i thought,
this is the home of a family
by the window is where the family sit cozily in front of their tree and talk to each other
just as my family would

and then i saw a few more
but instead of noticing the things behind them,
i thought of what my own window would look like from the outside.

my window would have soft and warm light illuminating from it.
it would show my wall shelf with my collections of books and trinkets from the cities i’ve been to
it would show my dog sleeping
it would show me typing away on my laptop as i sit on the couch and have a cup of hot green tea in one hand
it would show me curling up on one side of the couch reading a book with a candle lit
it would show laughter in many faces for when my friends are over and we’re all reminiscing
it would show me softly and passionately looking at him and giving him a kiss good night

my window would show many fragments of my life,
but that is all they’ll ever be—
a glimpse, a brief opening, a fragment.
it’s never going to be the full story.

people will only continue to see parts of your life,
no matter what those may be.

through a window, there is hope.
there is light, there is beauty, and more importantly, there is life.

windows of a building or an entire street co-exist much like humans co-exist wherever they may be;
life continues to happen for each of us, and so it does through these windows.