There she goes.

Death. It’s so quiet. When one departs from the world, you don’t even notice it unless it’s a person close to you. And when it does happen to you, the silence of it is so loud. So jarring. So blaring. A loud echo that resonates inside your heart; a piece of it blackening and shriveling away into dust. Yet, the world goes on and you plant one foot in front of the other while the rest of the world is oblivious.


Sometimes I wonder if I imagined it all. Were you simply a figment of my imagination? Something I manifested before me to keep the lonely nights at bay?

I keep telling myself that it happened, but as the days keep passing I'm not so sure anymore. I try to recall your velvety voice, and your laugh that could always ignite my smiles, but each time I do the sound changes, becoming distorted with each play like a broken record.

I've begun to question my sanity. How could I not when the imagination is more tempting than reality? That in the end, my imagination becomes my reality. And if so, where have you gone?

*From the perspective of Times from my short story, Times Knew Roman

The Disappointment of the Superficial

In a sea of intoxicated people, I stand with a clear mind envisioning a place I would rather be: somewhere up high, between the earth and sky, where I am unreachable and untouchable, yet I'm able to see it all.

But at that point in time, I didn't need a bird's eye view; I saw it all before me on the ground.

And what I found is that I didn't want to be in that sea filled with all things superficial.
 I'm different. I'm me. That's who I want to be.

So I'm gonna jump off this pedestal that you've placed me on so that you can sit there instead; the place you've always coveted. May it feed your ego, your only happiness.

Trying to breathe.

It happened last night when I tried to fall asleep. The wave of stress fell upon me and sat on my chest, making it so hard to breathe. I tried tossing and turning, only to find that their is no escape, no matter which direction I turn.

Itching to tear this skin as it crushes me under the weight of all this pressure. Soon I will be a miniscule particle in the world that no one will ever miss.

What will my life amount to? How should it be measured? By these endless to-do lists? The breaths I take despite my emotional scars that deface me? By my incomplete thoughts, stories, and poems?

Ashamed by my behavior, yet unable to control it. A damaged complex.

I walk into a cafe, a place I have never been. French roast coffee for comfort as I sit with myself and tell her, "Breathe."

When it ends...

You finish reading a book and put it to the side, only to pick up another on your bedside table. Different names, but the same characters. Different titles, but the same stories. You run a mile, to simply run another. And another, until you've finished a half-marathon; but only to drive home to shower then sleep. When you wake up, you linger awhile longer in bed, wondering if this is the day.

The day everything changes. The day your career begins. The day you meet someone who understands what you're going through. The day you fall in love. The day where it all ends.

You throw your blankets to the side, get up, get dressed, and push away the thoughts in your mind that hang like a spider's forgotten web. The thoughts about your stagnant life, because that's all you've known. So why think of the day where it changes?

Stasis is better right?

Better than the nights you've spent hearing the screams down the hallway. Better than the days that were all lies. Better than the moments spent believing in broken promises.

You pick up another book, but you don't finish it. You place it in an empty box. The books unread accumulate. You tape the box, and grab another. And another, until you're in a room filled with boxes. You run without measuring the distance. You run until it's too hard to breathe. Then you walk home, gasping for air. You collapse into bed, too tired to shower, but eager to fall into another reality. When you wake up, you linger awhile in bed, and decide that this is the day.

The day everything changes. The day you start living again. The day where stasis ends.

You make your bed and fold your blankets, noticing what a difference it makes to the appearance of your room. You get dressed, make your favorite breakfast, and push away all of the yesterdays like they were all a distant memory. You're tired of the stagnant life, because that's all you've ever known. Might as well do something new.

Living is better right?

Better than the nights spent alone reading. Better than the days running to pass the time. Better than the moments spent thinking of the past.

You get into your car and drive. Drive towards your career. Drive towards someone. Drive towards love. Drive towards this changing day.

Reason #4: Drunken Nights With Good Company

Those nights when your inhibitions are gone and you feel completely free; granted you are a bit tipsy. I must say I still am, but I wanted to write this while I was under the influence. There's some type of magical appeal to it. Your floating. No, you're flying. Maybe things will go your way for once. Maybe you'll meet someone you can connect with. The world seems so peaceful that you just want to dance and celebrate. Surrounded by friends, good energy, and a good time...

A wonderful night. Simple as that. Just go with it.

Reason #3: Flowers

We see them so often we take them for granted, but flowers are used at all types of occasions. I am lucky enough to have amazing people that have gifted me with flowers the past two nights for my performance. I went to bed yesterday feeling a bit sad, beating myself up at all the mistakes I made during the dance. I woke up this morning and the first thing I saw were the flowers. They cheered me up instantly and I couldn't help but feel loved from the these flowers as I remembered the friends I received them from.

Tonight is my last performance. I'm happy that it is almost over. I get to go back to my normal routine. At the same time, knowing that something beautiful and amazing is ending, makes me quite sad.

But I won't think of sadness right now, as I lay in bed, enjoying this Saturday morning, looking at all of the flowers on top of my bookshelf.