Sometimes I feel really bad for feeling so down.
I shouldn’t feel the need to complain so much,
But somehow, I always find something wrong.

I make myself feel I have no one to turn to,
When my own mother is a phone call away;
My significant other sleeps by my side every night;
My best friend is only a text message and 13 seconds away.

But no matter what, I’m sad.
And there is no one else to blame but me.
I’m angry at myself for feeling like this.
I hate myself for doing this to myself.

But what else can I do but inflict this disappointment on the one person who should be helping me but instead neglects my cries for help and attention and self-love: me.


City Nature.

The sound of the roaring, rushing water echoes through the parking lot that leads me to the pathway toward the water reservoir. There’s a slight breeze, preparing me for the lookout I am about to approach. Walking up the red brick path to the water opening, I smell a mixture of dish soap and chlorine. It’s about an hour past golden hour, and the crisp air reveals autumn’s arrival. As I continue down this brick path covered by a few early fallen leaves, I feel a heavy cloud of moisture hit my face. I’m getting close. The occasional sound of a horn announces the arrival of the hourly Metra train passing next to the park from the city. Upon reaching the cold, black metal railing that separates the water from the walkway, I can see the entire u-shaped concrete sidewalk that surrounds the flowing water. Within the metal railing, shiny spider webs drape along the vertical bars, reflecting the light-posts’ shine.
I feel a sudden overflow of emotion, just like every time I walk up this path. I watch my feet take me closer to the water. Turning away from the water, I can see the sidewalk surrounded by a taller concrete border that serves as a perfect-height sitting bench. It’s not the most comfortable place to sit, but its touch has consoled me many times. Past the concrete, there is a stretch of grass with pine trees strewn across the field with occasional purple and yellow brightly-colored wild flowers. The trees which survived the hot summer sun look a bit parched, but still stand strong and tall. I look back forward into the canal that this water flows into, taking in the scenery. This under-appreciated scenic point is enough to help me escape the bustling street noises that never end in the outskirts of the big city. It’s almost like a neglected sister to Central Park in the very middle New York City, where nature is taken for granted. This reservoir has left a distinct sound that will never leave my ears.
There is a family of three standing in the center curve of this u-shaped sidewalk path along the edge of the waterfall. The mom and dad have their young daughter beside them, just a toddler, ready and eager to play. The child climbs onto the raised cement border, and then jumps off, her laughs and squeals blurred with distance, over and over again. It’s getting dark out, and the mother rounds up her daughter for the drive home, motioning towards the exit path. The small girl lets out a groan, but after a few more leaps from the concrete border, she gives in and joins her parents as they approach the brick path that will lead them back to the parking lot.
Once the family leaves, the figure of a teenage girl remains far in the distance behind where the family stood. The girl sits on the ledge of the concrete border, with her legs crossed, facing the falls. She has a book right next to her, but she does take much interest in it. She has her face in her hands; she’s crying. She must be seeking comfort here. After some time, she looks up, looks around, wipes her tears, and grabs her book. She focuses on her reading, keeping her head down the whole time.
Opposite to me on this horseshoe-shaped waterfall is a couple, they’re both probably in their early 20s. Well, their posture and the way they carry themselves influence my assumption. Elbows resting on the cold metal bar, they lean against the railing that separates the sidewalk from the water. They’re both staring into each other’s eyes, so unperturbed and at peace. I agree with them, this hidden secret of the town can bring so much serenity. The couple walks back over to the concrete bench, hand in hand. They sit in silence while looking at the water, with an occasional hand squeeze. The water seems to be doing the talking for them. A while passes, and they stand up, turn to the entrance and walk back to the brick path. I watch their figures fade into the darkness of the night until it is just me and thoughts alone in this park.
This mini waterfall has heard many secrets: the angry curses, the guilty confessions, the melancholy questions. Its welcoming sound of water falling begs you to release your emotions into its fountain of peace. This reservoir has left a distinct sound that will never leave my ears. And when I think of home, I can hear it clearly, reliving every waking moment I spent there with my parents as a small child, alone in my moments of sadness and despair, and with my lover sharing my covert getaway. My understated bliss.


I’ve been told many times that I shouldn’t have to control every aspect of my life. That I shouldn’t have to protect myself from the unknown. That I need to let things change my life.
But I’m in love with my life. And I don’t want it to change.
And I guess that is where I go wrong. Because without change, there is no love. No growth. No expansion of feelings. Nothing.
And the worst part for me is that I have no idea what I would do without the constant fear of strange things in this world.

The hardest part for me is being alone.
No, it’s not loneliness, it’s being alone.
The feeling of being helplessly alone in a room without my cries for help being heard.
That’s the difference.

Alone time is often feared for the risk of mental and emotional destruction caused by overthinking. Those aren’t my demons.
I am not afraid to overuse my emotional overthinking. This is only a tiny speck in my fears.

My fear of alone time is my physical safety. Where I cannot feel safe even in the four corners that keep me isolated from the whole world.
I am haunted. And it’s not by the ghosts that hide under white sheets.
I am constantly reminded of the harm that can be possibly inflicted upon me.

I’m not scared of the dark, true.
I’m scared of the person I fear the most that might be in the dark, true.

I fear for my safety rather than my emotional health.
And that’s when I can’t comprehend how someone can leave such a scar.
When will be the first time that I will ever feel safe?

February 25, 2017.

That night,
You held me in your arms.
You wiped the tears as they spilled from my eyes.
Without judgement,
You told me to not let my past define me.
Nestled in your safety,
I had never felt such comfort before this.

That night,
You reminded me I was a good person.
You knew the words I longed to hear for years.

That night,
I realized I loved you.
My world didn’t know sunlight until I met you.
I love you with a love I never knew existed.


I am a strong believer in the power of new beginnings.

January 1st is usually that time of year where we all make impossible promises to ourselves and just hope that we can forgive ourselves enough to try again next year. It’s all fine. At least you’re planning.

New Year and birthdays are good opportunities to both reflect on past achievements (and failures) and look ahead. They can serve as an opportunity to focus on what you want to achieve and who you want to become.

This past year has been one crazy roller coaster ride for me. I don’t feel myself being the same person I was even a few months ago, and I am completely fine with it. That being said, I hope to change my focus and live a little this next year. I want a more adventurous, balanced, and fulfilling life. Here’s a list based on my dreams, maybe someone will feel inspired by some points.



🌌 marvel at the night sky

✨ say yes more often

🌊 discover a few secret beach paradises

🏞 appreciate nature more


🍽 try a new food every month (or every week if I’m feeling’ a little bold)

📸 document my life with photos

⚖ find my inner zen

💇🏻 get the hair I want

🕯 minimalism

🔮 pay attention to the hidden magic in life

🍃 practice mindfulness

📖 read at least two books per month

🖊 write a lot

💌 write more letters


⏰ develop a healthy sleeping pattern

🚴🏻 do some kind of physical activity at least 3x a week

🍌 drink more smoothies (and water!)

🍎 feed my body with more fruits and veggies

🛀🏻 get enough rest


💞 strive for real connections beyond superficialities. talk about meaningful things.

❤️ always let people know how much they’re appreciated

💛 take the little extra step to make people happy

💚 more hugs and less fear of being touchy-feely

💙 be a better girlfriend and work on my short temper

💜 take good care of my relationships – both friends and family

💖 connect with fellow creatives and bloggers

Personal & Professional Goals.

🖋 improve my writing skills

📚 invest more time in my studies

🌸 learn more about the world. Random fun facts never hurt anyone.

💻 work on my blog


Of course this isn’t all going to be done all at once. But I know I am capable of completing all of these. I am so determined. I’ll tackle a few every month and keep track of the regular ones with lists. I’m so excited!

Soul food.

Reading has always been a form of coping for me when I need a break, an escape, a stress-reliever, a decision influence (this works sometimes, I swear), etc.
Reading a book twice might be seen as a criminal act to some people. But we, as humans, are constantly changing. Our decoding and interpretation of words is endlessly evolving.
My favorite way of exploring my emotional (and intellectual) growth is by highlighting as I read. I highlight the most emotionally moving parts in a book so when I open this book a second (or third) time around, I am able to reminisce and ponder on my old thoughts. I always end up reflecting on how much things have changed and question why I was so emotional during some parts.
Books are powerful. They can make us instantly switch emotions, moods, minds, locations, and even time periods. They bring us to places we want to go, and let us be the people we want to be. The decision of whether we choose to enforce these changes into reality is up to ourselves.
Words can sometimes be the one thing we need to leap head first into our fears.
Let them change your life a little.
We have nothing to lose.


There are so many instances where I can’t understand why I did what I did.

Failed dreams, life-altering choices, unhealthy relationships, toxic events.

There are so many unexplained decisions that have changed me in ways that I still can’t understand. And to tell you the truth, I really don’t know who I am. But I know that one day I will. So I’m still here. And here is good.

Writing right.

I used to think that bad things had to happen in order for raw passion to be exerted into things, especially writing. I’ve been in love, fallen out of it, even swore against it at some point. But recently, I don’t think I’ve ever been this passionate about something. New ideas, goals, and dreams are just spilling out of me. Sometimes, but not often, my imagination gets the best of me and makes me question my ability to accomplish what I want. The future is scary. I guess that’s why we have to jump head first into things quickly before we begin to question or regret them.

I’ve started guiding my life into a direction that I’m finally excited about. I’m preparing myself for what my future can become one day. I’m pretty eager.
Change is amazing.

No end.

I’d like to think that my life is all put together.
Don’t get me wrong, sometimes it really does feel that way.
Other times, I feel that I am barely capable of washing my own hair.
[And sometimes, under really intoxicated instances, I can’t even do that.]

There are moments where I feel confident in my ability to tackle everything that is thrown at me, however there are other moments where I am blinded by the difficulty of growing older. I’m not ready for the future! I’m not prepared enough. What am I supposed to do with myself? Can’t time just wait a second for me to catch my breath?

I’ve learned there’s no finish line. There’s only now. And ‘now’ continues for just about forever. I’m completely terrified by the thought of that, but I guess we all are. Let’s go.

The truth.

It wasn’t me who ended it.
I would have never given up on him.
I would have kept trying.
I would have tried until I completely self-destructed.
And in time I guess I did.

Answers needed.

Do I leave before this turns to a stormy nightmare?
Is it right for me to stay? To fantasize the comfort that your words will never bring me?

The idea of you is mesmerizing, but the reality of you is unfortunate.
I’m not sure why I can’t walk away from your broken promises and antagonizing methods of torture.

One day, I will finally feel that I made the right choice.
Today just isn’t that day.