How The Person Behind My Eyes Is like..

Ok, just relax. I can do this. I can do this.

Easy-peasy.

I look down at the oven trying to figure out how I can start it. Women do this all the time. hmm.. I wonder what this button does?

When I press the thing that I have no idea what it is, it starts to make a whirring noise. I lift my head at attention and look around me. What the hell is that? I think it’s coming from the beast that they’ve named ‘oven’.

Oh why, oh why did I say I’d do it? I don’t know how to cook! I burn water for crying out loud! Maybe I could just go back and sit down and just not do anything, and if they asked me I’d say “oh yeah, about that… yeah that’s not gonna happen.. hehe”

Ok obviously that not going to help. I sit in front of the “oven” and cross my legs at the ankles as I stare at the dials and gizmos on the thing from hell. I will not be defeated by Satan’s spawn!

What if I turn the dial.. It does have degrees written on it..

So what now? Where’s the fire? Where’s the warmth? Mom did say something about waiting for it… augh! If only I pay attention to my mother! But in my defense, it was all Johnny Depps fault. He wasn’t supposed to be in my head in the first place. And that damn ‘Pirate’s Of The Caribbean’ song! Did it have to be stuck in my head?

Where the hell is that whirring coming from? Did I do that? Why the hell am I here anyway? What am I supposed to do again?

What’s that smell?

Did I give it enough time to heat up or something? I open the spawn of Satan’s door and slowly put my hand in it. Hmmm.. Not even a little warm.

Ok the smell is starting to grow stronger, and the whirring is still going on full gear. And I’m starting to get anxious.

Oh, who am I kidding? I can’t do this.

Feeling desperate finally hit the limit. I scoot over to all the dials and turn them clock-wise until I can’t turn them anymore. I look at the buttons at the end and hit one at a time.

HEY! The whirring stopped! I feel a little pride bubbling up inside me. I can do this! I just had to have the right motivation.

I press the next button and a light starts. Hmmm.. Preetty. I wait a little while and admire the pretty light. Although I wonder what its’ purpose is?

I’m full of optimism and confidence when I look at the last button in front of my eyes. I trace the button with my fingers and think of what other thing these buttons might do. My curiosity has gotten the best of me and I press the button.

Nothing happens.

What the? Oh come on! I press the button repeatedly and at last I leave my finger pressed on it for three seconds. Next thing I know I hear a “Fwoo!” sound and feel some heat over my head. I stand up and give a loud shriek!

Oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuckety fuck!

The whole top of the thing is filled with blue fire. And that’s not even the part that I want! I wanted the fucking thing at the bottom to start!

“Stop!” “Cease!”

I try to remember other words that have the same meaning. What’s ’stop’ in Japanese and German? Or where ever the hell this thing’s made from?

Feeling desperate, I blow at the fire; thinking maybe it’ll work.

Nothing.

I turn and stare at the sink.. Would it work? To be honest I don’t care anymore. I’m starting to have difficulty breathing and I stare at hell’s fire and will it to stop.

Oh fuck it.

I turn and jog to call my mother.

Why did I volunteer to do this? I was just happy watching television..

Getting Through The Day

It’s a beautiful day today, to the point where it’s perfect for a picnic or a day to spend outside. Everybody seems to glow with joy and contentment. And all I want is for today to end.

The world passes by in a blur, and I keep trying to make it all make sense. Everything is in constant motion, always moving, never stopping to take it all in, and breathe.

People keep moving to fulfill this urgent need that, in the future will only become a distant memory not even sweet enough to remember, and still they work hard to achieve it. I can only hope that today is one of those memories.

Katherine Anne Porter once said; ‘There seems to be a kind of order in the universe…in the movement of the stars and the turning of the Earth and the changing of the seasons. But human life is almost pure chaos. Everyone takes his stance, asserts his own right and feelings, mistaking the motives of others, and his own.’

Never did it ever make sense, as it does today. Just sitting here, and looking at everything around me. It seems so surreal to have lived in it, and have been a part of it all my life and never noticed it.

My god, the amount of things that these souls do just to get through the day is amazing to my eyes. All these people with different ambitions and needs is just… wow.

The bus stops, and when I look at my surroundings, I realize that this is my stop. Oh god, I don’t want to go. I close my eyes and take a deep breath and hope to find some courage somewhere in me that I never knew I had.

I open my eyes and stand and leave the bus. All I want is to get through the day.

Keep Breathing..

“You know, I don’t think anybody deserves this-“

“Yes they do. Some people deserve it. Deserve to live in this misery, this hollowness that they feel in themselves, because they deserve it. They- they…mistreated it, or took it too far, or- or…they took it for granted. So this happens to them, so that they grow and learn and never do it again, So that later they know better. And the only thing you did wrong, was give them too much freedom to do it to you over and over again, you chose to not do anything. You could’ve stopped it, put an end to it. Said no. But you chose not to do anything. You chose to be miserable. And now you have to live through that.”

At that moment, I fell in love with her. I fell in love with her uncontrollable spirit, her subtle beauty and her gentle grace. It wasn’t the I-want-to-spend-the-rest-of-my-life-with-you love. It was the kind of love that I wanted her to be happy more than anything, and wanting to save her from whatever battle she was in.

Breathing hard, she turned away and looked at anything and everything but me. I continued to look at her, people might consider it staring, but I couldn’t help it. She did something to me. She woke me up. She actually changed my perspective on my life.

And after that speech what am I supposed to say? I’m not even going to bother responding to that. I came out for a walk to clear my head in this cold, and I got a lecture on how I chose to be miserable.

How did it all come to this? I sat on the bench after walking for about an hour. And then I’m pouring all my life’s problems out in the open like I’m talking to a therapist.

“So, what do you suggest I do?” I ask as she stands to leave.

Lifting her head up to the sky. She looks at it with such intensity as if the answer was written in the clouds passing us by. I lift my head and try to see what she sees, hoping to find the answer too.

“Keep breathing?” she answers as she walks away, out of my life.

The Reason Why John Steinbeck Is My Favorite Author…

• “The writer must believe that what he is doing is the most important thing in the world. And he must hold to this illusion even when he knows it is not true.”

• “Change comes like a little wind that ruffles the curtains at dawn, and it comes like the stealthy perfume of wildflowers hidden in the grass.”

• “Where does discontent start? You are warm enough, but you shiver. You are fed, yet hunger gnaws you. You have been loved, but your yearning wanders in new fields. And to prod all these there’s time, the Bastard Time.”

• “This I believe: That the free, exploring mind of the individual human is the most valuable thing in the world. And this I would fight for: the freedom of the mind to take any direction it wishes, undirected. And this I must fight against: any idea, religion, or government which limits or destroys the individual.”

• “We are lonesome animals. We spend all our life trying to be less lonesome. One of our ancient methods is to tell a story begging the listener to say — and to feel — ”Yes, that’s the way it is, or at least that’s the way I feel it. You’re not as alone as you thought.””

• “As happens sometimes, a moment settled and hovered and remained for much more than a moment. And sound stopped and movement stopped for much, much more than a moment. Then gradually time awakened again and moved sluggishly on.” –of Mice and Men

• “I have named the destroyers of nations: comfort, plenty, and security – out of which grow a bored and slothful cynicism, in which rebellion against the world as it is, and myself as I am, are submerged in listless self-satisfaction”

• “I hold that a writer who does not passionately believe in the perfectibility of man has no dedication nor any membership in literature.”

• “In human affairs of danger and delicacy successful conclusion is sharply limited by hurry. So often men trip by being in a rush. If one were properly to perform a difficult and subtle act, he should first inspect the end to be achieved and then, once he had accepted the end as desirable, he should forget it completely and concentrate solely on the means. By this method he would not be moved to false action by anxiety or hurry or fear. Very few people learn this.” –East of Eden

• “In the hearts and minds of the people, the grapes of wrath were growing heavy for the vintage.” –The Grapes of Wrath

• “After the bare requisites of living and reproducing, man wants most to leave some record of himself, a proof, perhaps, that he has really existed. He leaves his proof on wood, on stone, or on the lives of other people. This deep desire exists in everyone, from the boy who scribbles on a wall to the Buddha who etches his image in the race mind. Life is so unreal. I think that we seriously doubt that we exist and go about trying to prove that we do.” –The Pastures of Heaven

• “For the world was changing, and sweetness was gone, and virtue too. Worry had crept on a corroding world, and what was lost–good manners, ease and beauty? Ladies were not ladies anymore, and you couldn’t trust a gentleman’s word… Oh, strawberries don’t taste as they used to and the thighs of women have lost their clutch!” –East of Eden

Rainy day

I can’t hear anything. Not even my own thoughts, as the headphones keep on blaring lyrics and beats to my ears, deafening everything that surrounds me. Numbing me from everything. And I don’t know if that’s a thing that I appreciate.

Something catches my attention in the corner of my eye. I turn my head towards the window as I catch the ending of a flash of lightning. I fold the corner of the page from the book I’m reading. I take off the headphones and hear rain. I hadn’t realized it was raining. I walk to the window and my eyes widen at the strength of it. Was I really that engrossed into my reading that I didn’t notice the rain? Or was the music that loud that I couldn’t hear it? I turn my head towards my iPod and I can hear the music. It’s loud to the point where I can hear the music clearly. I guess the reason is that the music was too loud.

I turn and head to the door. Not bothering to stop the music and the book is long forgotten.

I get to the living room and I see my mother at the front door. Praying, with raindrops falling at her feet. The sight of it is spectacular. My mom whispering prayers with rain falling at her feet so heavily and so loud that the sound of the rains’ echoes over rides her whispers.

A small smile is on my face as I leave her alone and open the back door, just as I thought. My little brother is outside and jumping around laughing his head off and telling my older brother to pick him up and twirl him around.

I close the door quietly and… What the?? Oh my god. Seriously??

I open the door again and see my brother holding my younger brother and singing “rain drops keep falling on my head” and trust me. It’s not good. He should definitely *not* be a singer. I laugh as he continues singing off key and the little squirt laughs at him.

I close the door again and head for the roof. My little hide away when it’s raining. As I’m positive no one would be there and it would have the best view ever.

I open the door and just as I expected. I’m alone. At least for the time being, I walk to the farthest wall and slide against the wet wall until I’m on the ground with my legs crossed.

I’m completely wet now. And I’m pretty sure I’d get sick for this. But it’s totally worth it.

I can still hear the little brat screaming and laughing in the rain. Now I hear my mom telling him to get inside before his little butt catches pneumonia. I rest my head against the wall and let the rain wash over me. Cleansing me with its purity.

Looking around me, everything seems so different. But it’s not different at all. It all seems different. It feels different. What the hell does that mean?

It’s like I’m seeing things from a new point of view. Like the person living behind my eyes isn’t me. This isn’t making any sense… I sigh and realize how fucked up I am.

It’s getting stronger and the drops are getting heavier. But that doesn’t change a thing to me. The door opens and my older brother steps onto the roof already wet. I smile mischievously at him.

“Rain drops keep falling on your head, huh?”

“Don’t. I already got it from mom. I don’t need it from you.”

“What the hell were you thinking? Were you trying to make him go deaf or something?” I ask him as he sits next to me.

“I don’t know. It just felt like a good idea…” he says as he rest his head against the wall and takes a deep breath.

“Well don’t ever feel that way again, ok?” He gives me the finger at that without looking at me. I chuckle and tell him how mature that is.

At that moment my older sister arrives and starts telling him how she heard mom tell her about his singing debut and asked him for his autograph while laughing her ass off. I lower my head and laugh silently at that when his patience ran out.

He stood up and went for her and they started running with her screaming and laughing at him when he almost slipped. And I’m just sitting here at the wall laughing at them and wondering how this just happened.

At this poin- OH! hahahaha she just fell on her ass! hahahaha ok I shouldn’t be laughing at that. She could’ve been hurt. hehe…

He told her he wouldn’t do anything anymore. Since she fell and would have a bruise on her ass for what she did. And told her how we had to love karma… hehe

God, I love rainy days…

Todays Thorns Are Tomorrow’s Roses

The day was grim, silent and chaotic at the same time, a subtle wind ruffling peoples’ hair. And blowing away scarves and paper plates and napkins that are too many to count. Yep it was grim all right.

I walk aimlessly through the park not having a destination in mind and not bothering to care where I’m going. Looking around me, I see things that I’ve seen all my life. And I try to see what no one has been able to see. I try to find the beauty in the ugliness that surrounds me. I need more time to find it than the time that I care to give.

I keep walking until I reach an old bench that overlooks the lake. Thinking nothing of it I sit down and stare ahead at the lake. The wind has slowed down and people are starting to leave for some reason that’s unknown to me. I shrug my shoulders and look at the little ducks and swans in the lake swimming and doing god knows what. I see a little baby duck go under with a couple others. They all come out but that one didn’t. I wait. It’s still under. How long can ducks hold their breaths? I start to panic as the baby duck has been under for about 3 minutes. I start to wonder if I should tell someone about this. But I completely erase that thought. What would they do? Give it CPR? More yet what would they say to me? They’d think I’m completely crazy.

At last the duck comes up and let out a sigh. It seems oblivious to the amount of time it had been under water, and about my worrying about it. I laugh at myself. I was actually worried about a baby duck!

Something flashes at me and I turn and see a man with a camera in his hand. He just smiles and sits next to me. I scoot a little to give him some space, as he was a little too close for comfort.

“I’m sorry. It looked too good and I had to take a picture.” while smiling softly.

“Sure,” I reply silently

We stay silent for a little while. He keeps fidgeting and I keep thinking of my life and everything that surrounds it. I can feel him looking over my shoulder now and lift his camera. A flash comes and he sighs happily.

“It’s beautiful, isn’t it?” he asks me.

I look at him and he points to my right. I turn my head and I see twin trees that are bare from its’ leaves, all the leaves surrounding them at the ground with the beautiful colors of brown, orange and yellow. With their reflections in the lake make them look breathtaking. This little description doesn’t even come close to giving it any justice.

“Definitely”

And it was.

The Black Grand Piano

A piano. A black grand piano. Sitting in the corner of the darkened room. So pitch black that you won’t find anything if you’re not looking for it.

I never knew I could play the piano. I always thought I didn’t know how. But somehow I’m tickling the piano keys and creating this beautiful melody that I hadn’t thought I had the ability to create.

I keep on playing for a while; so naturally. You’d think that I’ve been doing this my whole life. I start to mouth words from a song that doesn’t exist. My vision starts to blur all of sudden. I can’t see the keys and it doesn’t stop me from playing. I keep playing without a flaw. With more passion and energy that I never knew I possessed.

It starts to hurt now. It’s beginning to hurt a lot. I can feel my heart start to stop beating. It’s beating so fast. And I can still feel it breaking. It hurts so much. But that doesn’t stop me from playing the piano. If anything it makes me play harder.

My tears are falling with much more freedom now. At it’s own volition. And I keep singing silently to myself. I’ve started to play so hard my fingers have started to bleed. And I can’t stop. I refuse to stop for some reason that’s unknown to me.

It hurts. It hurts so much. I want it to stop. But I don’t know how to make it stop hurting. I can’t make it stop.

I keep playing with all the passion that I have, and I keep crying for all the things that I will never have, and keep hurting for all the things that I once had.

Tears start to stop falling. And my heart keeps on hurting more than ever. I start to slow down my playing until it’s the original melody that I’ve started with, and I keep on playing for the rest of the day in the darkness. And I keep on playing.

P.O.W

I’m a prisoner of words unsaid,
Just lonely feelings,
Locked away in my head.

I trap myself further every time I stay……quite,
I shoot, start to speak,
But I stop and stay silent,
And now I’ve made my own hard bed,
Inside this prison,
Of words unsaid.

P.O.W,
That’s what I am,
Not a prisoner of war,
A prisoner of words.

Mostly I say what you wanna hear,
Could you take it,
If I came clear,
Or would you rather see me stoned,
On a drug of complacency and compromise.

M.I.A,
Guess that’s what I am,
Scraping this cold hard earth for a piece of myself,
For peace in myself.

It’d be easy if you just put me in jail,
If you lock me away,
I’d have someone to blame,
But these bars of steal are of my making,
They surround my mind and have me shaking,
My hands are cuffed behind my back,
I’m a prisoner of the worst kind in fact.

I’m a prisoner of compromise,
A prisoner of compassion,
A prisoner of kindness,
A prisoner of expectation,
A prisoner of my youth,
Runs too fast to be old,
I’ve forgotten what I was told,
Ain’t I sight to behold.

A prisoner of age dying to be young,
To my head is my hand with a gun,
And it’s cold and it’s hard,
Cause there’s nowhere to run,
Where you’ve caged yourself,
By holding your tongue.

I’m a prisoner of words unsaid,
Just lonely feelings,
Locked away in my head.

It’s like solitary confinement,
Every time I stay quite,
I shoot, start to speak but I stop,
And stay silent,
And now I’ve made my own hard bed,
Inside this prison of words unsaid.

 Written By:
Alicia Keys in her book “Tears Of Water”

Waiting…

It’s a beautiful day outside. And I’m sitting here out of your sight looking at you, trying to mesmerize you. I’m paying attention to every little detail on your face; your eyes, your mouth, your cheekbones and the little mole above your mouth. It’s all ingrained into my memory.Tears come to my eyes when I realize that this would be the closest I would ever be. I’ve already said goodbye to you, and I’ve already cried. I’ve already done everything that I would be expected to do in my situation. I’ve cried so much, but I still can’t stop the tears from falling. I’m not that girl who cries all the time, but for the death of me I can’t stop.

I see you smiling and laughing with them. They all came to say goodbye and wish you luck. And all I’m doing is sitting at the corner table staring at you and trying not to cry, and even that is becoming a losing battle.

You seem to be happy, you’re full of smiles and laughter, but there’s sadness in your eyes. And I can’t help but wonder if it’s because you wish I were there with you; saying goodbye with everybody else, providing you with a hug every time you wanted one, just like your mother is doing now.

I fix me gaze into anything other than you, overwhelmed by emotion. I look at everybody else in the terminal. They’re all the same. Doing the same damn thing. I can easily see you in everybody; see your circumstances, sadness and excitement in all their faces. I wonder if I can find myself here. Whether it’s a girl or a boy, somebody going through the same thing as I am. I try to find someone, but all I see is you. It’s just as well; maybe it’s because I only see what I want to see. And right now all I want to see is you.

I turn to look at you again, and you’re looking at me. You seem surprised that I’m here, and to tell you the truth I don’t know why I’m even here. I just needed to see you one last time and commit you to my memory. They’re talking to you, telling you something, probably advising you about something. But you don’t seem to hear them. You don’t seem to notice anything. She takes your face in her hands and makes you see her, but you still don’t see nor hear her, she’s not there, is she? Nobody’s there. You only see me, don’t you?

You try to mouth something, and I give you a big watery smile. We get back to earth as they announce your flight. And oh god this is it. The moment is finally here. Your family gives you more hugs and kisses and well wishes, and all this time you’re staring at me. Trying to tell me something with your eyes, and they tell me everything I need to know.

I give you an encouraging nod and muster up my best smile while inside I’m crumbling into pieces of a puzzle, that only you can put back together. And all I can do is hope that you buy what I’m trying to do.

Your mother turns her head and sees me. She looks at me, and then she looks at you, and looks at me again. While all this time your looking at me for guidance and you have no clue that your mother knows that I’m there; That I exist, That you’ve fallen.

She gives me a soft smile with a nod; we have something in common now. We both know what it feels like to see our loved one leave.

Again we hear them saying that the plane is boarding, you bend to pick up your carry on bag that I know has your iPod, laptop, a book and a picture along with everything you need at the airport. I know that because you asked me what I would put in my carry on and you did the same. I bend to pick up my purse at the same time as you turn to go.

I promised you I’d wait for you, and I would wait forever if I had to. And I can only hope that when you come back to me, you’d still want the same things you want now.

A Letter To You…

Every time I think about our times together, I get bittersweet memories. It puts a smile on my face but still saddens me that I have to wait to come and see you again.

I’ve passed by you so many times. And I get teary eyed at every time.

Everybody has flaws, but your flaws is what makes you so special. What makes you stand out. It’s the reason why I love you. The reason why I come to you every time.

I love you.
I miss you.
And I can’t wait to see you again.

The bumpy road p