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Dear Body,

I’ve always let some imperfection or another stand in the way of me seeing what you truly are, that you are beautiful. You are a divine creation housing the most valuable thing known to the universe, my soul. I’m beginning to realize that a person’s soul has the capacity to radiate light that transcends all the characteristics that I have been conditioned to believe are flaws.

You naturally tell a story. Your blue-green veins are like a map to where your heart has been and where it is going. The curve of your waist and the shape of your cheekbones tell a tale of heritage and ethnicity. There are crayon markings on the wall somewhere that has measured your height throughout the years. Always returning to the same spot to see how you’ve changed.

Your eyes bare resemblance to nature. They are a deep forest green with golden yellow sunflower flecks. Your faded birthmark, once beet red, brought me shame because all I wanted was to conform. It now reminds me of how unique you are and all I want is to be different.

Your body begins as a story but continues with new chapters throughout your life. Some are chapters of sadness and pain, others of joy, and all of growth. Each chapter a blank canvas meant to be painted by our experiences. Photos are memories but so are our bodies in a way that’s more real, no posing and no fakeness.

I’m realizing these things now, but I’m so sorry that I didn’t realize them before. I’ve done everything I could to destroy the canvas and deface and burn the pages of different chapters.

I’ve waged war on you before; used razor blades to feel and drugs to numb. I’ve used caffeine to stay awake and alcohol to sleep. Abusing the side effects of my prescription drugs like loss of appetite, to deliberately starve myself into making you skinnier. I’ve spent far too much time on a scale that merely weighs your effect on gravity, not the depth of your beauty. I wanted you to look like one of those girls in the magazines.

But in the ruins there is still a canvas. There is still beauty in your brokenness. The faded scars show healing reminding me that even though I’ve been in dark places, I’ve survived and learned and become stronger.

Although the war is over, the world still takes its toll. You have calluses on your hands from me writing too much and concentrating too hard. Yet the words are beautiful and the studying is worth it. You have the ache when it rains from broken bones, and stretch marks from growing too fast. You have burns from jobs and scars from falls. But those experiences were worth it.

Dear body, as I grow older I worry about how you will age. Together we gain wisdom and wrinkles, after being young and beautiful and naïve. The wisdom tells us that the beauty doesn’t subside, it only changes, and more of it comes from within. So I won’t worry when my hair doesn’t look just right, or when I do something stupidly funny and emerge with another scar because you are telling a story. And what would I be without my story and my past?

Absolute

Maybe crumpled,
Ruined,
Stained,
Marred,
Burnt,
Ashed,
Destroyed,
Problematic,
Disgraced,
Ashamed,
Hated,
Judged,
Torn,
I still love you.
Neglected you may be
But you are subject
To my freedom
For that I praise
For that you are
Gazed in awe.
No matter how much
I turn my back
I snap this pen
Abuse you time
and time again,
Just know it's me
Who comes running back
Because I can and will
Make you everything
You deserve so much to be
You are everything I am
Everything I'm not
And everything I wish
To be.
And simply you are.
I miss you,
You define me,
And barries or
Time
Cannot defy what needs
To be said or written
You always leave me
Smitten.
Hello, and I love you,
This isn't goodbye,
I promise.

xoxo times a million.

how to spend a day

1. Defy the laws of gravity

2. Read a book

3. Eat cheesecake

4. Have brunch with someone you appreciate

5. Watch a movie

6. Stay in bed

7. If it's cold outside, bundle up and go to the park

- swing until you're nearly frozen

8. Cook someone a meal

9. Go for a long walk

10. Make a snowman, even if there is no snow

11. Smile and tell someone you love them

12. Don't put your life to waste;

spend every moment awake

what if

Maybe the way you want to see it is the way it will happen.
Maybe.

Absolutely petrified of the present, shaking for the future, reminiscing in the past. Not every memory lasts, but the ones you wish most to forget stick like glue, and those that make you amused leave you like they were nothing new. That's the funny thing about life and the way it works. You will always wish to seek happiness and a place with no fear, but once you reach it, it's nothing you expected. It kind of feels worthless, like once you get there, you need another change, something more, an alternate insanity. The infamous routines of humanity.
I used to be petrified of death and what it would bring. Would I linger onto the other side, with no rules I am forced to abide? Would I sing to birds in utter joy? Or would it all foil? I used to think death would surely be the end; death would surely be in question, death would be a sealed fate. I hated that of the unknown, and then I preached like I did know - like I had been shone inside a new light, a new life death would bring and surely I would be happy. It was a pleasent mask to wear, no flask I would call a necessity before my death, holding my heart in my hands steady, I would be ready for glory. But like always, there's two sides to the story, and I have reached the side where all else are blind and I must try to grasp the point, because you never know for sure what's next, what mess is to be cleaned or what this life does really mean.
Like happiness, you always remotely think of your wants, and if they are brought content is bought, for a price you paid with perfect ignorance. But there are always what-ifs, the doubts. Most of us can go our whole life without these, but that isn't the path for me. Questions always seep into my mind and no matter how hard I try, they never die. So when I am at the brink of happiness, I must stop and think. And so much as death, I questioned. What if, like happiness, we recieve but then all fails? When the grainy details set into place? Is there a face of death that shows? Or do we lay six feet under where the grass grows? Will you rot in it? Have you ever thought about it? That once you take that last breath, when death is met, do you think it could all end? And it's pure black, there's nothing more, no turning back? That we sit in a bore in our boxes, that we see nothing? No light, no higher might, no being contrite, no afterlife?
Have you ever thought about it? Do you resist the fear of it? That maybe the existence of soul is fake? That there is nothing to make but this vitality current? That we are doomed or forever endurant? Think about what you've wanted in the past. Once you believed it was all you need, then you recieve and still feel without. Did you feel that? That is doubt. Maybe doubt prepares for the 'later on', the phase where we all believe we'll be in a daze. Ignorance is a bitter bliss, if you're a cynic there's nothing you miss. Take a look at both sides of the book, you could if you tried; the 'after you died'. Then you decide.
Difficulty passes more in death than in birth,
Ask yourself if it's really the worth; the what-if.

I Can't Pull Dead Weight

I'm ready to let it go.
Attempts and tries have
distorted my mind into
Simple hate.
I don't want to be that way,
I cannot stay this way
There are other days
To run from your liberating
Imprisonment
I've said it time and time again
I've regretted with no mean to regret
I've asked you to just please forget
To move along
To move on to
A better beginning.
But what you convey
Is that this is the end
And what you portray
Is not my friend
Is questioned by truth
You make no excuses
You just ignore.
I won't try anymore
Because it takes two
To pull dead weight
And I won't wait
You wont try
And that's just dry.
And if this
Is what it takes
Surely we cannot make
Or build foundations
On your state of mind
So this is creamation
This is time.
Let's let it die ?
I'm ready for that funeral.

xoxo

By the Book

"Never let your sense of morals get in the way of doing what's right."
-Isaac Asimov

Keeping your nervous heart ever stable
Whisper and quietly we’ll turn the tables.
Secrecy burns the walls of my frames
But we attempt to keep you tame.
I'm sick with sick surroundings that show
A circle and in the middle you glow
Sometimes standing, sometimes to sit
Sometimes you smile, my teeth I grit-
Others. Because sweetheart, it appears you smile
But inside my mouth it’s full of bile.
This circle of strangers, this circle of love
With a spotlight shining from above
Most times it’s hell, sometime’s it’s bliss
Sometimes a detriment I cannot miss.
Empty souls I can sense without eyes
Without a doubt I detect their lies
I witness daily a whispering front
The spitting is endless, the comments blunt.
My muted voice has so much to say
But no one hears me scream to this day.
Who is to witness that is of trust?
Who wants love and who wants lust?
Thoughts I should say but I never do.
So much to see with a blinding view.
So much knowledge but you don’t know
So much to give but nothing shows.
So much to write but you have no pen
So many memories you can’t remember back then.
You have a say, you have a choice
But without a doubt you’re without a voice.
But would you repress?
Or could you address?
Do you say what you surely need?
Or are you concerned you’re full of greed?
Who gives to the hungry or to the mean?
What is ever what it really seems?
Who pushes you up or down?
Who appoints you the shiny crown?
Do you really need them, or do you need yourself?
Is it them you condemn, or do you need help?
Can you control what you just screamed?
Do you cry from the false reality of dreams?
Do you wish one morning you’ll never wake up?
Is it a half full or half empty cup?
Can you justify the questioning of your life?
Can you justify if you were ever right?
To scream or to cry or to say what’s not true?
You never can really know, can you?
Moral conscience is ever undoubted
But I confess I know nothing about it
It’s not that of ‘I need to know’,
Without mistakes how can I grow?
Who can trust voices within their heads?
How do I know if we’re alive or dead?
How do I know that we’re alone
In a universe so undoubtedly prone
To any sense of life? Do I fight for no reason?
Or for a cause? Do I obey or defy the laws?
Do I ignore or stare straight into eyes
That surround me in the circle of my demise?
Or is it your circle of bliss? Don’t you miss him?
You forget he’s everywhere and you abide
By what your mind says, 'you should’ve never cried'
And now you won’t. I say I don't have to.
But it’s building up. You know not what’s true.
The voice in your head won’t shut up. But it's you-
You forget what you need. Maybe they're pure greed.
But maybe some matter. I find only what takes the lead.
Shatter what needs to be shattered.
There are some things that you can’t fix,
There are some things that you will mix
Into your life, you’ll either smile or cry
From the aftermath of whatever move lies
On the board. You’ll either fly or fall
There are no branches to sit or stall
You can’t fit a circle into a square
There is nothing you can’t declare.
So why do you stare evil in the eyes and say not one thing?
Why does cruelty exist and whatever hell brings?
Why am I here and why do we believe,
And if we don’t we suddenly deceive?
Decieve what? No buts?
Doesn’t it ever seem dry?
I tell no lies.
Because by the book that’s what life says,
Life is a daze
Life is a maze
You’re the mouse.
You’ll just have to figure it out.

xoxo
x no x no