Brushstroke, Complimentary

If I were to take a step back to see the bigger picture, I’d see a canvas painted in all the shades of affection. Where our words exuded interest, and actions showed the care and consideration of two children realizing they’ve found a best friend.

If I were to take a step back from our painting, I’d see the equal amount of pain and suffering it causes us, to create something so beautiful, yet have it be almost debilitating to maintain.

The leaves began to grow once more on the days we first met, yet the season’s warmth never changed to begin with. And what only changed was our perspective: to see lines drawn in unison. Lines that intersected so unapologetically with such vivid beams of color… Lines that began to fall flat as they slowly stopped crossing paths, afraid of being hurt.

If I were to take a step back, this painting of ours reminds me that this, in all of its beauty, is a testament not to one another, but to ourselves. Because despite how we now attempt to run in parallel, at the start of spring we were deep in bloom, and now, as the air turns frigid, the sun’s steady rays finds its way to hold you.

You hinted at him not to, as you’d spend more time lurking in the night— but even then, it is the sun’s light that reflects off the moon. And that is what the sun is made to do. He is made to love fiercely. He is made to live with intensity. And you know it’s asking for the impossible, so in the middle of winter, when you do walk to catch your morning Uber, and you are caught off guard by the sun’s warmth brushing your bare skin, you can’t help but appreciate it.

So once more, our paint brushes cross before we catch ourselves bleeding into each others space. Yet we still appreciate that this mural we share, in all of its suffering, is a work of art nonetheless.

Reminiscent

Nostalgia is such an intense emotion. Despite all the time that passes, feelings still linger. 

Looking through old photos reminds me of when there wasn't a care in the world. Imprinted in my mind is the compassionate practice of holding space for those we appreciate.

It was simple. Meet anywhere, meet at so-and-so’s house. Even hearing it from the grapevine, we intuitively knew it was an invite for us. Those moments weren't conducive to my long-term goals, and to be fair, I didn’t have any back then. 

I enjoyed the life I was living. It’d be unjust to say being there for others at the expense of myself made more sense than the alternative. I was constantly showing up for myself, and arbitrarily, that meant I was often there for others. There were no thoughts of where I’d end up if I continued in such a direction. 

Leaving most of it behind came at the cost of burning bridges which once meant the world. And the weight of the world felt so heavy back then. As years pass, I’ve understood that these relationships, as with any, are salvageable. The sentiment of those moments serve as a glass half full reminder. 

I recall full days spent together falling short— and it seemed to creep in abundance. A signal of unsustainability. And perhaps, in those cracks, I already knew this wasn’t meant to last. We wrung each other dry. 

For what it’s worth, we did what we needed to fulfill our desires. We worked jobs that made just enough to sustain our lifestyle. I miss the simplicity of those days. It was easy. We moved in earnest. 

Knowing that I’d be seeing my people the next day, for days on end, brought a comforting routine. That period, filled with great memories, couldn’t give birth to the goals I have now. Ones which have long surpassed simplicity and ease; I’d be lying if I said I didn’t miss those times. 

Life has changed a lot, and yet not much at all. Because it was then that I had a strong love for myself.  A love serving as a reminder of how where I was in life was okay. A love that provided comfort and security in moving however I wanted. To an extent, I still have this.

Despite years passing, I continue to have a love for myself which helps me recognize and appreciate the supportive people who surround me. 

Echoes of you

In the midst of Bethlehem, 

you sought a mirage of Eden 

Execrated between your words of reprieve 

And soft spoken whispers of grace

Holding on to our believed bond

Mistaken as impartial.

Contemplation 

between locking thyself 

in perpetual ambivalence

Found only after damnation and discord.

Pity escapes one soul 

While pervading the other.

Shackles of enslavement

Not meant for me though upon my ankles.

You hold the forbidden fruit

just within reach.

Words of atonement stark 

Against your actions' sin.

“Do what’s right for yourself,” you often said.

As I knelt, 

groveled, and prayed 

Wandering in the desert

Given over to my own judgment,

You withdrew from the commonplace.

And as was done, the veil was torn.

Because despite deception, 

I nurtured hope upon infertile grounds.

A futile effort in a land where nothing could grow.

How painful was it for you– 

Knowing all along that barren fields await?

To conceal that 

From yourself? 

From others? 

For so long.

Yet a fallacy I had consumed for equal duration:

Maybe you were just, and searching for amnesty.

In the same place I had been left,

You appear a stranger, 

though contemptuous and weary.

Mendacious loving kindness filled the air

As if you truly believed 

you were the salvation 

I had been longing for.

But it was not me 

that had been needing 

such deliverance.

For this day, and each day, 

I receive my daily bread.

In every breath, 

I live knowing my debts are forgiven.

Thus as so, I had imparted upon you grace,

That I once received.

Respect that you had spit upon

And of course, I were to be mistaken for a fool, 

As I let you live in beguilement.

Coming back to offer deliverance with fruit in hand,

hesitant as you pass it my way, “Take it,” you spoke.

Premeditated, certainly, because your words:

They lack weight.

And they always had.

Yet I still clung onto hopes 

of your own naivety.

Our demise had never been more imminent.

Because despite having the power

You advocate not to release me from these chains.

And as I well with compassion,

I had let myself be at your whim.

Because woeful would it be for my decision

To choose myself, be mistaken as abhorrent.

Never was it that, nor would it ever be so,

Because despite how we ended here,

What a beauteous joy it was,

To let myself love you, though

At my own sanity.

And in our confinement,

To get to know one another,

As intimate as we’d let,

Bare and unadorned.

Though what was accurate?

After all your half-truths.

Ownership and Accountability

Growing up I often found myself reprimanded with the directive, “Go there,” accompanied by a pointed finger signaling a corner, and the phrase, “Think about what you’ve done wrong.”

I often wondered what possible reasoning a child could muster, amid the inherent antics of childhood.

All the thoughts I could think of to get me out of time out quick enough fill my mind. I was told to hush, but my voice persisted. I was instructed to calm down, yet my energy refused to wane. How am I supposed to clean a van spotless in the dark?

Unraveling the motives behind these admonitions finished quickly and I found myself less concerned with the initial command and more preoccupied with the steps that lead up to this point.

Am I being yelled at because of asking questions? Did I talk back? Is it because I found the reason too fast?

When my grandfather would finally ask for me to be brought out of the corner, I felt unworthy— believing that I should still be atoning for my conduct.

The pursuit of understanding 'why' became the basis of my tendency to overthink. Failing to understand why my actions were considered wrong might have contributed to anxiety given that I had been scolded for laughing a little louder, playing a bit rougher, or speaking up for myself.

Ingrained in my upbringing was the inclination to believe I was perpetually at fault, that the world (my family) could deem me unworthy, and that all justifications for punishment pointed to my own faults.

If my grandfather were here today, he would remind me that the temperament of others was the root cause. He’d advise against dwelling on their actions and encourage me to love my family.

I think he meant to love life a little more because to him, family = life.

Even though I was placed in that corner, it is possible that my mistake was not cherishing my life (family) enough. That is to say following their instructions while taming my childlike reactions.

Though due to that warped sense of belief, I should have realized sooner that I am loved and deserving of it.

Instead of living in that truth, I burden myself with endless possibilities of how sequences of events could have played out better. If only I had done things differently, I wouldn’t have brought disappointment into my life.

These habits so meticulously ingrained into my every thought and action, to this day, becomes easier to manage. I wonder how different life would be if I fell into mindless obedience, yet I remain grateful for the independence I have inherited despite that.

If ever I fall short of grace, which is quite often, I remind myself to tread a little lighter, breathe a little softer, love a bit more, and appreciate the life given to me because losing sight of what we have is easy; gratitude requires work.

Excuses, avoidance

I woke up and decided today would be different. Today, I will choose myself because for the past few months I couldn't—

Moving away from familiarity is never easy.

I had let you in unapologetically. For months now I have gone through hard-learned lessons in attempting to be your source of love and respect. You remind me ever-so gently, “Put yourself first,” and to do what makes me happy, regardless of how you feel.

And despite that, I continue to choose you, not in a romantic way, but in a way that makes sense to us. While it seems that I continue to make myself smaller, nobody can understand the ties that bind us.

The true intent of our continued friendship is because of who you are at your core.

I’ve met somebody who continues to see the good in me, despite my incessant chatter. Someone who is patient in helping me process these feelings I had forgotten I was capable of. And in all the laughs and mornings we share,

I’m told I’m being strung along. Because while it feels right in our time together, I am left in disarray, accepting your white lies.

But openness is built upon trust and safety, and I want to be there for when you’re ready. And since I have the capacity to do so, I will continue to, as you’d say to me, “don’t worry about me.”

In baring my soul, I was given a second-hand wake-up call not yet ready to be received. Since opening myself up to others, their judgement echoing louder than my understanding of you, than your niceties toward me.

I should be less thoughtful, check on you a bit less, and give us the space I so desperately need. In the brief time we’ve spent together, I am painstakingly reminded of how one-sided we appear, and it’s neither of our fault.

There’s only goodness in the moments we share; grateful to grow alongside you, though our paths are only meant to diverge.

cancerous

after a long and exhausting relationship, i have finally severed ties from what has held me back for so long. it’s laughable to look back and see the rosy retrospection of it all. in the shared moments with you i still persevered. i found happiness even though your constant mental abuse lingered around. i pushed through my darkest hours with you because even though you had control over me, i wouldn’t let it get to my head.

the break up was difficult. i kept thinking why i would have done this. nauseated, sickly, and no will to press on, i remembered how easy it was to deal with you than to remove you from my life. i thought about you and me together again. i can’t believe that i did. this went on for over a year. how easy it was to live with you than without. i thought how wrong it was to let someone else in. someone that wanted to stick with me. to fix the broken pieces of my soul when we split. i wish i could go back.

and then i was glad my childish wish didn’t come true. because today was the day i was liberated from our toxic relationship. Today i was given the strength to confidently, no longer let you back in my life. today felt like a brief moment of serenity amidst a long period of chaos. and after having a breath of fresh air after all that pollution, i can get back to living the life i had wanted to live years ago