dear past self,

Someday, you’re going to realize that not everything is linear. You can plan everything out in your head but life will always surprise you. I wish I can make you stop wishing for things you can’t control because time is fickle. At one point or another, you are going to be too late for that ride to somewhere brighter than here. You’re going to be lost somewhere in the overwhelming hours and days of the past, and you’re going to regret not doing enough for yourself. If today you are wide awake, don’t yearn for me. Don’t lose yourself trying to find me, circling around and around the silhouettes of faces you’ve discarded and faces you’ve hoped for. What I mean to say, my hands are not your hands, and I’m quite certain your lilac heart has a better chance blossoming into a bigger flowerbed for all the dreams and hopes we both have. That is to say, you have more rooms to grow and more spaces to fill with love and laughter and more days to arrive in places that matter. Someday, you’re going to open up and many things will pour in and maybe that scares you. And honestly, it should. But there will always be light. There will always be light.

Life update :)

It’s half quarter before midnight and the moon is half-asleep. Its quiet light tenderly splayed out in the darkest spots. Behind the tallest lamp and two inches above the headboard and on my chest and in between my fingers. The careful moonlight feels like a warm hug. A goodbye that oddly sounds like a hello too. I’ve forgotten how a spine can stretch comfortably when the night eases all the tension away. 28 feels a lot like sprawling out and unbending until pressure points are loosened and you’re completely exposed. I don’t hold onto a lot of people anymore. I still listen to the same old songs and watch the same shows, but I stopped waiting on things and people to catch up to me. I say “I love you” once but show it twice and more. I’m learning to just sit with the painful memories instead of recycling them into lessons. Same with people too. My heart is still soft, but I’m a far cry from 16 years old. My hands are still always searching for warm places to touch, but I’m remembering cold places are touch-starved too. I often miss summer when it’s cold and damp. And miss the chilly air when I’m baked under the Michigan heat. I think about how I used to miss parts of myself in the same way. Perpetually unsatisfied and mystified of what could be.

I spent the last year stretching out all my limbs and unfolding skin that remained hidden for so long. Light-starved and unseen. I want to remember not just the grandest experiences but also the quietest moments. I want to be felt and seen. My 20s have been a lot of drowning out all the noise to hear myself. My voice spreading farther and louder like the glistening sun rays of July. All my light reaching into places and people I’ve met and yet to meet. I want to grow warm, grow full. I want to tuck light and love in all the darkest spots. Inside a dresser and underneath the bed and on my nape and in all my bones.

Dear September,

I want the gray skies of your sad morning. Let’s sit together with our lipstick stained mugs and the growing pains on our shoulders from trying to appear broader and bigger. I do want something quiet and unhurried, but I find myself running after apparations of an idyllic future. I can’t stop tripping over my tired heart. Can’t stop rocking back and forth and back and forth on this wooden chair. Waiting and waiting. Waiting for something to click into place. Find something to diffuse into all my negative space. My heart a gas leak spilling out to your gloomy clouds.

Sometimes the gray looks and feels like a sunburn. Sometimes it’s just the blue light of your late night and I’m letting it sit still with me at the table. It stretches across and holds my hand like an old friend. I play pretend then. Pull my lips wide into a semblance of a grin. Sometimes it works.

Actually, I don’t want the sad skies of your gray morning. Let me grow an appetite for golden light.

Dear August,

I think I know what it means to be wide awake. Sit on a swing set and see a mirror reflection in the endless ocean sky. Feel a quiet melody in the waves. The light is touching me in places I’ve long forgotten. Removed and haphazardly stitched back together. I didn’t think I glow anymore. A bad sketch of a poet. A candle used once during a blackout.

The air feels candid this afternoon. Reminiscent of soft-tangerine moments when I laughed with a heart and sit still like a bruised peach. We were so young back then. Cotton candy-eyed and smiling with peanut butter fingers and flower bandaid knees. The air hums and sighs like a ballad of daydreams I’m revisiting and welcoming back. It simmers like happiness hidden in my back pocket.

The last time the earth caged me like ill-fitting jeans and held my light hostage feels forever ago now. Swinging under the indigo sky is careening into blank roads with hope propelling me forward. No longer just bones in an open casket. Love made my skin transparent. I’m a flesh wound scarring but healing.

Positive extra noise.

This phrase came out of nowhere in my brain today during a session. And I started to think about all the things I’ve been told to in my life - “you’re still young, you have plenty of time” “you have so much support so you’ll be just fine” “you’re smart you barely have to study for that” and all these supportive statements with no ill intentions. These comments that are meant to motivate you or inspire you to keep going. These comments people are saying to put a positive spin in whatever situation you’re in. To compliment you. To uplift you. These…added pressures. Unintentionally. And over time they are just tacked on to the growing weight on your shoulders. Subconsciously. All these extra noise when all you want is validation maybe? A quiet acknowledgment that your situation is valid and real. That yeah you can feel like life is passing by and you haven’t done much. That you can be not okay despite ALL the support you have. That you can be smart AND over worry about a test. And so much more.

Positive. Extra. Noise.

Hi, hello. It’s been a little while since I’ve posted and not just re-blogged something. I’ve missed this little space that used to be some sort of journal for me. I certainly don’t write poetry as much as I used to, but I hope to pick up the pen again. I did pick up my art supplies again and have gone crazy with the amount of art pieces I’ve made within the last two months. Peek the two pictures!

Also life update: I graduated at the end of June and got my MSW license a few days ago! I can officially add LLMSW after my name. Prior to graduating, I landed a job (for post-graduation) to be a psychotherapist. It had been quite a journey and I’m so looking forward to the beginning of August when I can start taking in clients for counseling. I can’t believe I get to do what I love and what I have found to be my passion.

I hope to jump back in this corner of tumblr more often. If you’ve been following me since my early poetry days, hi I’m glad to reconnect. If you’re new, hello and welcome :) Take care always xx