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Monthly Archives: March 2013

What are you afraid of?

Many things.

Give me an example. Or a couple.

I’m afraid of hurting others, of never finding a career I truly enjoy. I’m scared my parents will never fully love me if I don’t become the person they want me to be. I’m afraid of becoming sick. I’m afraid of loved ones becoming sick.

That’s a shame.

Why do you say it in that tone?

You sound like you’re afraid you’ll never be good enough, that you’ll let the laws of reality govern you, in which case, when you live in fear, you surround yourself in what you manage to try so desperately to avoid.

But that’s what life is all about, living up to reality.

Elaborate on this thought. It sounds more to me like you’re trying to find a way to survive it.

Completing the Bachelor’s forks the path. One of which I can find a job or the other is which I go to graduate school.

Both of those paths converge to the same path.

I guess that’s the point.

Both don’t sound happy.

You can’t ask for that sort of luxury.

Why is that?

There’s bills to pay, food to place on the table, people to impress, structure to maintain, relationships to sustain.

And who has instilled this thought on you?

Society.

Who’s society?

The people.

Who’s the people?

Everybody around me.

Does society not include you?

It does.

So can you displace the thought onto society when you are in actuality part of this very thought?

Because they are the vast majority. I am just one person.

Peer pressure only works if you fall for it.

So you’re saying this is my own fault?

I wouldn’t say it with those words, with such a dismal accusation. It’s much lighter than that, much more hopeful than that. But for simplicity’s sake, yes. So now we are back to the beginning of the fork of the path again.

What are you implying?

We’ve made a full circle back to you – the idea of you, and the reality of you. Everything comes back to you. You created an image of the fork, yet you psyche yourself out with either option. Neither contributes to your well-being, the options just cancel out the anxiety that clouds your judgment. Instead of studying the path of the fork, why don’t you look at the broader picture? Why is there a fork to begin with, why and how do you view it this way?

Life is all about decisions.

Why are there only two that converge into one?

Isn’t that the way it’s supposed to be?

Nothing is supposed to drown you. Everything is supposed to free you.

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i love you as much as the bursting rays of the sun chase the calming moonlight. i do love you, i will love you, even if you don’t want it, even if the love i have for you is sometimes broken, sometimes lonely.

i live in a house, but this is not home. home is where you are. on days like these, i feel like a homeless person searching for you, searching for you and only you.

what do you do when the person you miss the most is out of reach? what do you do with a love like this when nothing seems to be the antidote except resting next to you?

what would you do if fantasy met reality? would you erase your fantasy in order to erase love? or will you remain in being helplessly romantic?

i would never unlove you. loving you is easy, but your presence is the only thing that protects me. i start that sentence with the conjunction “but” because my love for you protects me from my anger. my love for you keeps me alive. but what if i don’t want to be alive anymore? what if, on rare occasions like this, i wish i could live a life in which i had never met you? just so i know that the best doesn’t exist? just so i know that reality never matches expectations?

what if i want to unlove you because i’ve decided i don’t deserve to feel at ease?

what if my streak of independence and loneliness are more powerful than the love i have for you? would this be a mistake? would it? to let go of something wonderful for something awful?

what if i don’t want to take care of myself anymore? what if i want to be selfish?

to unlove you is to destroy me. would i take that risk? impulsivity tickles on my fingertips.

damaged people are dangerous because they can outlive death. damaged people are invincible. that’s the tragedy behind it all.

I cannot draw
the curve of your almond-shaped
eyes when you laugh,
and I cannot draw
the outline of your lonely hands,

but I can write you.

I can describe the way
your body snuggles next to mine,
just enough so that
you can feel the friction.

I can describe the way
your voice sways to the sound
of chirping birds on the
first day of spring.

I can describe the way
your eyes reflect the
soft pink sunset.

I can even describe
the way you loved me.

i believe in: laughter and affection

writing poetry is how i breathe

to unravel the mind and the heart from the outside in is to see the world with a new pair of eyes. seek experience, welcome change

i don’t really understand this concept of the real world. i live in a series of imaginations

feeling the pressure to grow up is a fallacy that society has placed onto you. you can do anything without having to grow up

to fear anything is to fear everything

i like to skip and hold hands

every time somebody touches me without warning, it feels like

i’m in the middle of a firepit, every time somebody touches me,

a thousand school bells ring in both ears, i walk in intervals of 7,

and my footsteps must alternate between stepping on a crack and

the middle-point between the two cracks, i’ve always

avoided stepping stones for this reason, the front of my

chapstick on my desk needs to be facing me, or i

firmly believe it’s livid, and never speaking

to me again. most times when i say, “i love you too”

i feel like i’m forging my parent’s signature,

even though i love all people a lot. a little too much,

maybe. it’s just that it never sounds the way i want it to.

when people ask me why i haven’t dated

anyone in years, the saliva i swallow during that pause tastes

like expired milk. biting my nails is a way

of carving away at my soul. i like double-digit even

numbers, they tell me that safety

exists. when i cry, my eyes burn with the

taste of too much lime. when i feel dead

on the outside, both my palms are black holes. i must

eat sandwiches in a circular motion to the center,

so that the world is balanced,

so that no hearts are broken today. that’s why i don’t

like to eat sandwiches from deli’s, they fall apart.

i must keep the layer of ice cream in the tub smooth,

so that nobody faces a bumpy ride.

on days like these, i picture being stood up at the altar

by a secret admirer that doesn’t exist.