proof that nothing ‘productive’ happens after 2 AM

*nervous laughter*

photo from parisapartment.wordpress.com –

To the MAN of my dreams (literally),

Often I wonder why I can see you better with my eyes closed, when sandman’s dust has me under its spell. Does it mean I’m incapable of welcoming you- any semblance of you- into my days as much as my nights? Maybe I have- once- but you never came or worse, you did but decided to break my heart.

Truly I was never romantic. Just the mere suggestion of the word makes me cringe but some part of me, most likely the part I suppressed so purposefully that it can only haunt me in my slumber, still believes you too are somewhere wondering where I am.

When (or if) our paths finally cross, know that I’m not expecting a walking checklist or somebody’s reinterpretation of perfect. I’m a rebel that way.

I don’t have many delusions of love or relationships or forever because some time ago my dad sat me down and told me how loving someone is messy and consuming and scary and … real. There won’t be a fairy godmother to ward off  vile creatures (you know what I mean- the slutty kind) or a magic wand to make the other eternally agreeable to my every whim. It will take work. Trust me, I get that.

If I may, I ask that you be patient with me. I’ve been hurt a lot you see- mostly by people I trusted blindly. I may ignore you, only take a second to look at you or push you away completely but if you see a future with me, hang in there. I assure you I ALWAYS notice. Soon enough  you’ll win me over if you haven’t already.

When I close my eyes, I imagine waking up to a faint burnt smell from the kitchen where you tried to cook us breakfast. Teasing you about your little mishap and you feigning hurt will be our morning’s humor. I’ll laugh at ALL your jokes and be your biggest cheerleader on every game even if you don’t ever leave the bench. You’ll indulge my reading habits and my obsessive need to collect comic books. You even find my inability to ride a bike or serve a volleyball charming.

We’d spend lazy afternoons in our sweats watching a movie or playing Call of Duty. Together we’d pursue our passions and be happy for each other’s every accomplishment. We’ll never forget to say sorry or leave a fight unresolved. I’ll learn to give you space when you ask for it but never be too far for when you need a hug or a kiss or just someone to assure you it’s all gonna be okay. Other people’s opinions about us won’t matter because I care more about you than them anyway. We’ll be each other’s best friend and we’ll grow up, be silly, see the world and be happy together.

I don’t expect our relationship to be perfect like the fairy tales I used to read or like the romcoms my sister quotes all the time. I’d rather have one that’s real and yes, messy and imperfect and at times, difficult but it will be ours and that’s so much better. I don’t know how much longer I’ll be waiting. I just know you’re worth it. For now, I’ll see you in my dreams.

Still metaphorically sleeping,

Yours

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struggles of a would be writer

Okay okay okay. I haven’t been able to update you with my crazy rants and musings about life the past week, well the past WEEKS. Sorry. I’ve been busy writing. What’s new about that? I do write. YES,  articles and blog entries for other people everyday but this is different- it’s something way out of my comfort zone.

I’m writing a literary fiction. *cringe*

photo from anavar-immela, via thewritershelpers

It’s not my forte I know. Much like poetry, I read more than write them but I thought tis the year to challenge myself. I’ve had this idea and have been scribbling drafts for awhile. By ‘awhile’ I mean 16 years but I never found the courage to organize them and actually write the chapters because I was really terrified- mostly of sucking but also of the possible transference in the characters. That fear got the better of me so all I have of all those years of daydreaming and imagining characters are doodles on the sides of some scenes I thought would be too cool not to at least write down.

Then I just decided I wanna do it. I WANT TO WRITE A BOOK.

It doesn’t have to get picked up by some major publishing house (that would be great though) but I just really wanna put it out there. I want to put my daydreaming to rest and actually make something out of it.

So here I am struggling… enjoying every moment but still struggling.

If you have any tips, words of encouragement, moral support whatsoever, I’d be so happy to hear them.

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#RESPECT

aaaa

What you say about other people reveal more about you than it does about them so the next time you decide to pick on people with words you know are deliberately hurtful, think twice, thrice, a million times. Ask yourself, ‘Who am really calling out, that poor kid or me?’

 

CUT NO MORE

Someone in the world commits suicide every 40 seconds.

That is a terrifying number, as if encountering one suicide attempt in your lifetime isn’t traumatic enough. I was in a senior in high school when it happened. Before the commotion, all I could remember was being sleepy in Math class, seated beside my best friend and trying my hardest to look the least bit interested. Then we heard screams and feet running. Because we had quiet hallways, you immediately knew something was up.

I tugged at my friend and motioned towards the door to check it out. Half the class, including my teacher was headed to the same direction. Most of us thought it was a drill or a school emergency. Very few, if not none, would have guessed what we were to see next.

In the middle of a four storey building was a student holding on to the ledge already about to jump. At that moment, I thought I was seeing everything in slow motion. She was struggling to maintain her balance as there was very little foothold on the other side of the ledge while her hands were slowly slipping from gripping the safety bars too tight. Students from our side of the building were running towards her in a desperate attempt to help her because it won’t take long for her to fall off. If she does, it doesn’t look good. There are a bunch of decorative rocks and statues in the middle of the garden where she’ll fall. We already know she might do it as she has always been depressed and we often see her with cut marks on her arms so we were all hoping for a miracle.

Miracle there was.  James and Ken, guys from our batch, came swooping in and carefully lifted her away from the ledge and into safety. She was still crying and inconsolable though- according to my friends who were right there with her as I did not get to see her up close. After our math teacher ushered us back in, I remember thinking to myself what if she did jump?

photo from theeonlyeexceeption.blogspot.com

I’ve had my personal battles with depression and what it reduces you to but this isn’t the time for me to talk about that. I’m still trying to muster the courage to narrate difficult times in my life, times when I was too vulnerable for my own liking and too devoid of understanding to be better. I wanted to share this story not just to show you that there are people who feel as hopeless or as depressed but to persuade you to think twice or thrice or a million times before you hurt yourself.

I know it seems that nobody cares, that nobody understands. The latter may be true, the pain may be unique to your experience but I don’t have to understand the premise for you pain to care about you, to be here for you, to just hug you and tell you I love you. At that moment when she was about to jump, I wanted her to know someone cares. Someone always cares- often more than you think they do.

The next time you feel like hurting yourself or ending it altogether, give me call or send me message. I’ll tell you how big a loss you will be, not just to stop you but because it’s the truth.

You’re worth a life.

DELETE (tweets, posts, entries)

I tweeted out something this morning that I thought was pretty well constructed. Boy was I wrong. Turns out I missed an article which for a girl with grammar OCD is pretty glaring. Well, I thought I could just delete that tweet like I always do when I spy something wrong or unappealing about anything I send out to the virtual world. Just one click and buh-bye!

photo from lynndae.tumblr.com

But is erasing an error that easy? Could you really wipe away a blunder with a swift stroke? No, it doesn’t work that way. If it did, we’d be a world of righteous do-gooders. More than the consciousness of righting a wrong, I find the culture of getting off the hook so quickly for something you do mindlessly is perpetuating society. It’s great that you’re keen enough to notice a mistake and correct it but why were you able to make a mistake in the first place? Have you ever considered that the ease of correcting a mistake is directly proportionate to the tendency to commit it?

Take baking for example, we measure ingredients down to the last teaspoon because we know even the smallest inaccuracy in measurement can cause the cake not to rise or taste bitter or burn. The knowledge that we are doing something so intricate encourages us to think more clearly and act more carefully.

I’m not suggesting never doing anything crazy or spontaneous for fear of making mistakes or things not working out but instead to stop half thinking when doing menial jobs like tweeting or cleaning the house or texting. If you have a preconceived notion that you can easily right whatever stupid thing you do, you’ll condition yourself to do that even in the more important things you engage in. After all, habits are only repeated actions.

So here’s what I’ll do, I promise to double/ triple check my posts before I publish them and {this particular clause I might violate now and then but I promise to try really hard} if there are any mistakes I won’t correct them anymore. I have to learn 2 lessons here and I wanna share them with you. First if I care enough, I should check enough and not always fall back on ‘I can come back and correct it anyway’. Second, that some mistakes are meant to made. If you did your best not to make them but you still did, maybe the best to do is accept you made them and just learn from it rather than pretend it never happened.

 

***

Don’t worry. This isn’t a correction, only an addition.

I’m not implying that you never try to correct your mistakes. You should, if you can that is. I merely want to train myself not to err because I have safeguards i.e. deleting a tweet after considering how stupid it sounds. Removing that safeguard forces me to be more careful. This are but training wheels. When I don’t feel the urge to keep correcting mistakes I should not have made in the first place, I’ll let up on myself a bit.