The Most Beautiful Moment in Life

The most beautiful moment in life, I don’t know where to begin; I don’t know how to describe you. You moved quietly, yet overwhelmingly, into my consciousness–here and then gone again. I had barely enough time to realize that this was it, this was the most beautiful moment in my life up to this point, before you left. Before I had to go. Every breath with you, my most beautiful moment in life, felt precious and important, and I haven’t stopped searching for that high you gave me ever since. You reintroduced to me the magic of being alive in such a diverse, enchanting, and vast world, a sense that one often loses along with their childhood innocence and wonder. But you gave it back to me. You, my most beautiful moment in life, you gave me back what I had given up myself.

 

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the Spaces between your Words

It’s the ups and downs, the dawn and the twilight, the good and the bad, that make this life worth living. It’s the words I write down, and the ones I leave unsaid, that either make it or break it for me. It was what you said in the spaces between your words that made me fall for you.

until the words come back… I must continue

I have forgotten how to write. The words have stopped for me. They have no longer come to me, asking me to help them escape. I have been dismissed from the position I previously held as a conduit of thoughts and feelings and beautiful things. Have I lost the magic I once prided myself in having? Have I, perhaps, abandoned the version of myself that made me different from others, that gave me the magic I thought I was made of, and settled for something else–something less? Did I truly spend so many years kindling inner wonder and hopefulness, characters that took so long for me to convince to grow and blossom within myself, just for me to neglect it all and watch it die and fade? But how am I supposed to know… the words have stopped. I didn’t know that, in order to fit into some sort of social circle society has brainwashed me into thinking I need, I would have to sacrifice and repress all of the beauty I had managed to scrape up within me. I suffocated and smothered everything pure and lovely I had gathered and collected and created over the past seventeen years for something I am extremely unhappy with. Something I am left terribly unsatisfied with. The funny thing is, right when I had found a place I loved, and an experience I loved even more, that was when I decided it might be better if I would just ignore everything I loved about myself for a few lousy people who didn’t really care at all about me. I decided to suffer for a higher position on a social ladder that doesn’t even exist. The words may have stopped, I may have metaphorically killed myself, but I refuse to die. I will continue to live. I will continue to change. I will continue… I will continue. Until the words come back, I will continue.

infatuation

Whenever I think of you, my heart becomes overwhelmingly happy. Everytime my mind skims across thoughts of you, my heart leaps in my chest and latches onto those memories and replays them over and over in my mind. I love you so completely, even my body can’t help but react to the very idea of you. My heart begins to race and this strange, fuzzy feeling fills my chest and my mind rapid-fires images from when we were together. I remember so much about you in such clarity and vividness that it surprises me. I knew beforehand that I would enjoy your company, but I never thought that months later I would still be so infatuated with you. You were the love I never expected, but always needed, always wanted. I have been searching far and wide for a love like the one I have for you. And now you’re here. And I just can’t wait to be with you again.

you were my first

You were my first.

You were the one that never happened, but should have.

We were too young then, but even so, you were still the subject of so many poems, of so many fluttering heartbeats, of so many sleepless nights, of so many wandering eyes.

You were my first.

You were the one that never happened, but should have.

You were the one that left, but should have stayed.

You belonged here, and not many people do.

This place loved you and it truly seemed like you loved it, too.

But I loved you.

Perhaps I loved you too much and, being too young myself, I was left with no palpable way of expressing this to you.

I was left without you, hollow with longing as I waited for you, realizing you would never come back.

That you would likely soon forget me.

You were my first.

You were the one that never happened, but should have.

You were the one who lived perpetually in my mind, until you didn’t.

You were the first one I loved.

I used to listen to songs and think of you, I used to write poems with you laced throughout, I used to construct alternate realities centered around you, perfect stories where you were the hero who never failed to save me.

You were the loveliest I had ever experienced, but I was just too young.

I was far too naive to realize the vastness of the earth and all the people in it.

I was far too naive to realize that you yourself were just a boy, not the god I had made you out to be.

But you were my first.

You were the one that never happened, but should have.

You were the one who never left my mind, until you did.

At the time, I thought that there was no way I would ever forget you, that there was no way I would be able to move on, that there was no way I would ever love anybody ever again.

But I was just far too young, far too naive, far too stupid to realize that you never loved me and that there were far bigger things for me out in the world than one simple, self-destructive boy who smelled like cinnamon, who had the prettiest brown eyes and skin, who radiated laughter, who was terribly selfish, who took advantage of those who cared about him, who would never see me the way I saw him.

You were my first.

You were the one that never happened, but should have.

You were the boy I thought I was made for, until you weren’t.

Until I realized I was the person I was made for.

Until I wrote poetry far better than the poems I wrote for you.

Until I grew up enough to realize I did not need you.

Until I hardly even thought of you anymore.

not supposed to be beautiful.

Hello. I know that you may not know me yet, but I know you well, and I know you’ve seen me. I am everywhere. From the solid ground you stand on (and take for granted) to the air you breathe (and take for granted), I am everywhere. I’m the way your heart tightens and skips a beat when you think about something you love. I am the late sunrises and early sunsets. I am in the all-nighters and that buzzed, sleepy feeling you get the whole day after. I am rainy day after rainy day. I am in your cloudy breath when it’s freezing outside. I am the cold rush you get when you’re driving fast with the windows down, singing along to whatever is on the radio. I am all the words you never said and all the thoughts you never shared. I am all the things that are not supposed to be beautiful, but are.

radiant and benevolent

i want to be that kind of girl that belongs everywhere. a girl you could paint into any situation. i want to be known for being radiant and benevolent. i want to belong in the Sahara just as much as i would in the busy streets of Dubai. i want to see and taste and experience everything. i want to learn languages and break barriers and meet beautiful people from everywhere. i want to be painted in the skies over the Great Plains and in the crowds pushing through the streets of Manila and in the rushing waters of the ancient Nile river. i am everywhere and nowhere. i was then, i am now, and i will be in the future.

good enough//you are

I am so tired of living my life in fear of how others will perceive me. I go through every day, petrified that I am not enough. That I am not smart enough. That I am not pretty enough. That I am not skinny enough. That I am not funny enough. I am deathly afraid that I am not enough. Every day is an exhausting battle I always lose. I never win. I compare myself to people I deem better than me for whatever reason. I put me against myself so that, no matter the outcome, my kingdom is never left standing. I destroy myself while my mind is telling me that this is what I deserve for being such a failure. Enough, will I ever be?

internal thoughts- you vs. me

You don’t understand. I am worthless. You don’t know how I feel about myself every day, even without all of your horrible words, piercing my heart so effortlessly. I am worthless. I feel so awful all the time. Every day I wake up, and I hate myself. I have become so accustomed to this burden, that I hardly notice it anymore. I feel absolutely nothing. I am worthless. You seem to have no idea that when you say these things, it is like you are digging your fingers into my open, bleeding wounds, and pushing deeper, hurting me more, and forcing all the pain I’ve been hiding right back up to the surface. I am worthless.

cardboard cutouts

You can’t pretend to be something that you’re not. But the problem for you is that you are not her, will never be her. In his eyes you will never measure up the way she does. But you are not her. You are ever so much more than she is. She is more in all the wrong ways, in all the wrong places. But he can’t see that. You could stand right in front of him, eye to eye and nose to nose, and shout and scream and yell and he still wouldn’t see you the same way he sees her. The problem isn’t you. The problem isn’t her. The problem isn’t really even him. He is just looking for what he needs in the wrong places. You, you can’t pretend, you are always you, in every circumstance. She, she changes all the time. She is never the same person twice. She changes herself into whatever he wants to see. You are so, so real. And you have fallen for a boy who only seems to have a taste for cardboard cutouts of real people. But you can wait, and you will. It is something you are used to doing, waiting for the people you love to love you back.