How I Met Jane

January 18th, 2017

“You’re going to regret this,” she said. That’s all she cared about saying. Nothing mattered to her but my wrong doing. Nothing mattered to her but the tone I was crying in.

“You’re going to regret this.”

Through the tears and raised voices I couldn’t understand this. How can she tell me this? I’m asking for an ear. I’m asking for her to listen to me.

That’s all I wanted.

“You’re going to regret this.”

These were my comforting words. These were my thoughts to keep me going through this hell.

I knew I shouldn’t have asked yet I still did. I just wanted to talk. I wanted to talk so bad. By far the worst thing is being alone with your own thoughts. The sound of your own quiet.

She continued to yell at me in a voice that I haven’t heard since we lived with my dad – I bring out the best in people.

“One day you will know the why. You will know why you are so angry. You will know!” She didn’t want to hear anything anymore. She went on how she wasn’t going to feel sorry for me, that I didn’t have a right to be tired at 26, not even at 27 that crept in closer this year.

I had no right? That was all I had left. Once you hit rock bottom, there are so few things that a man holds on to, rights being one of them. I would be damned if these were to be taken from me as well. This was all I had left.

I began to mock and sarcastically bring up my sister’s needs and brother’s, and how wonderfully they are treated. How we can’t bring this up to my sister because it would hurt her, and not my brother…oh no. The sarcasm continued. I began to shake because I can’t believe I was saying this. I held it in so long. It had nowhere else to go.

“Because this is your fight! This is mine. And this is yours!

“You don’t think I’m tired? I’m tired. I have a right to be tired,” she continued.

Emphasizing that the right was hers, not mine.  Again, I had no right. I was just tired. I didn’t want harm. I didn’t want to fight. Why couldn’t I be tired? Her bringing up her own issues just reissued how much of a loser I was compared to the rest. I never felt so small and big at the same time. The bigger they are, the harder they fall.

She looked at me in disgust. She looked at me the way she used to.

When all I wanted more than ever was the comfort of my mom.

I didn’t want to be strong anymore. I didn’t want to cry anymore. I just wanted to be tired in my mom’s embrace.

“You’re going to regret this.”

That’s what I got.

Almond Vision



When the sun hits my face on days like these,

I feel you more

Recollection of how I got here, turns to a held flame

Only to be burned

I know what I’ve found on days like these

The envy of all the light, with you


Meet me in my head

Where our daydreams never fade and your smile does the same

Time neither starts, nor begins

Self-delusional fool will echo on the grains


It’s getting harder to leave you be

Insanity will be a swift relief, yet

Nothing else matters

And I run towards sleep


Could it be, that you need me

As much as I need you?

Should it be, that you want me

As much as I want you?


Meet me in my head

Where our daydreams never fade and your smile does the same

Time neither starts, nor begins

Self-delusional fool will echo on the grains

Dig into my hand

With a beat that traces our skin to skin away from,

Logic and past ticking clocks

Self-brave human, lower your walls, and release the sand


No accident for this path, I finally admit who I am

Can’t you see where you walk, listen to who you are

And you finally hear me,

There’s no echo?

There’s no echo

I see where you stand, and the shadow your light casts

I finally see you

I see you



I wrote a couple of lines and it wasn’t what was inside. I figured maybe I should explain what happened this time. Maybe I need a disclaimer before I undoubtedly spill my heart and my mind on these keys. I figured I’ll do that tomorrow. 

With so much love in this world, why did I love you? With so little time that you had, why did you agree on loving me? I don’t need a philosophical good-bye. I don’t want your speech. Spare me how I will appreciate this later, and do away with how good of a person you are. Don’t remind me that this was for us…this was for you.

It will pass. Everything always does. The echo of my mom in my head.

I can be bitter and throw back how selfish and insensitive it was to throw me away at my hour of need. I can curse your name. I can cry all night…again.

And I will, because I am human. I’m not afraid of my feelings, and contradictory to your belief, this is how I handle them, and I do it well.

There’s nothing wrong with me. I am not damaged. I do not need to be needed. I do not need to be validated for my growth. I am a wonderful being, and you will never take that away.

I will be wanted.

One day by you, then I won’t want you.

And one day by another, who never see me in a dim light.

As much as I try to understand, some words can never be forgotten.

I will handle my illness on my own. I’m sorry I reached out to you for comfort. Actions really do speak louder than words, ironically you would always tell me.

And as I cried, fear of what the doctors would say…you walked away.

I will not wish harm. I will not wish this on you either, because I am stronger than you…I can take this.

It will pass, everything always does.

So have my expectations of you.

But never of I.

How I Met Jane

This is to.This is for.

This is to every person that told me that I had a split personality.
This is to every person who told me that I was a mess.
This is for those people who told me I needed help.
This is for those people who didn’t help.
This is to the guy who said I was playing the victim.
This is to the girl who said “She doesn’t know what she wants.”
This is to the guy who used me for a bit.
This is to the girl who decided what I wanted.
This is for the people I hurt along the way with my anger.
These are for your memories, I apologize…I was young.
This is for the past for taking a bite out of my soul.
This is for my soul, not letting me rest, we wanted more.
This is to the hotel for never letting me sleep comfortable again.
This is to that boy who let me sleep comfortable again.
This is to the innocence that was stolen again and again.
This is for my lover who will make me feel again and again.
This is to the doctor who said “it’s all in your head.”
This is for the nurse who said “I believe what you said.”
This is for the school counselor who said “you can’t do it all.”
This is to my mom, who said “you can do it all.”
This is to doubt, fear, and sorrow.
This is for doubt, fear, and sorrow.
This is for every lost soul.
This is for every person who wants more.
This is for your courage, this is for your struggle.
This is for your determination, believe me, it’ll show tomorrow.
This is to every mile I ran, every tear I tasted, every thought I had, to every thought I lost.
This is for every ill remark thrown my way, every assumption that was made, and stab that was saved.
This is to me.
This is for me.

about a boy...

Twenty-five. Twenty-six.

I am going to be twenty-six years old and once again got dumped. I’m not sure what’s the point of telling someone that you love them. Not entirely sure what’s the point of telling a person all of your secrets. We seem to invest so much of ourselves into a person at the risk that any moment this individual may leave, and not only with your pieces, but with a far greater trophy; one’s heart.

It seems to be as time goes by humans want someone to spend the rest of their life with into old age. The future scares me, as it does for many people. What is the guarantee that you will be with a person forever? What is the guarantee of anything? There isn’t.

What’s so hard of enjoying someone in the present? More. Enough. What is enough?

Life is a choice. Everyday you choose something. You choose to have a good day. You choose to press the snooze button. You choose to go back on your phone and look at old photos, cough. Life is what you make it.

As I was being dumped, which by the way was a mess due to my OCD of needing ‘closure,’ which also wasn’t granted,  I saw a change in his tone. During the midst of my tears he told me “This is life. You don’t get what you want.” How could someone say that? That’s not life. That’s survival. I was brought up with the notion if you want something you go out and get it; you give it your all. I was under the simple thought that if you want someone, be with them, why was it so hard? Contradictory statements were all that I got. “I love you, and I want to be with you, but I don’t want to work it out anymore.” This is what I got. This is what I was left with. Confusion. Obviously, he didn’t want it hard enough.

This was a person who loved me more than I ever knew. I knew he loved me, I absolutely knew he loved me. Yet, in that moment, I couldn’t convince myself that he did. The glass was shattered. He no longer felt and thought with his heart, his actions and words were sharp, cold, and analytical. Being in love blinds us from logic, while simply loving a person is enough to see what the world sees; for the person to back away and think with logic. This is how I knew it was done.

I am going to be twenty-six and had an interesting twenty-five. I got to spend it with a person that I truly loved. I wasn’t settling, I wasn’t looking. This guy just came to me. Sparks flew and I fell in love. It didn’t happen over night, but once I let the past go I was ready to take this person’s hand. Maybe I dropped the past too late? Maybe fear was the beast to blame? I won’t know. I didn’t want to be another lesson, or learn anything. I don’t even want to figure out what went wrong. Twenty-five pushed myself in this world than most years. Twenty-five gave me someone who I’ll always remember. Someone who actually got me. Didn’t turn me away while I went crazy, and who I found more than comfort in his arms. We were the same height. He had a tortoise. And we were two years and one day apart. Within that year I felt love a second time around, felt a person crawl under my skin, had him in my mind, and he stepped inside my heart. People stay as long as they need to be, if that’s what you believe. People stay as long as they want to be, what I believe.

As long as you fight for anything with your heart, you will not hold regrets.

I fought.

I lost the battle.

Yet not the war.

Twenty-six, I await you with welcoming arms.



Happy Holidays

I am sick and tired of doing this.

Losing my creativity at the cost of what? The gain for who?


The others.

It’s always the others.

I’m sick of this  shit.

Sick of it.

Believe it or not I would write lovely things.


Short Stories.

Wrote for publications.

The extent of being burned out.

We are not robots.

This life we live is mechanical.

To go faster, to produce faster.

At what cost?


Your art.

I wish not to be a robot.

Wish not for money.

My identity is worth more than anything you can throw my way.