Tag Archives: thoughts

I Want To Be Happy

​I want to be happy….

Sounds simple. Pretty basic. I mean, we all want to be happy. It is a universal thing. We all agree on it.  So was is it so hard? Why aren’t I? 

I have asked myself that question so many times and I am still nowhere close to a possible answer. My life isn’t bad. I am grateful for what I have. I am thankful for every person in my family even when they at their worst. I have no real struggle or issue. My parents don’t leave in distress and they never abandon me. I have friends that were pretty much made for me. I have a job that while it doesn’t pay well, it leaves me with a lot of free time and flexibility.

So what is it? 

Why aren’t I happy?

I decided to stop asking myself that question and try to find out what would make me happy.

Maybe I am shooting down people’s suggestion and ideas too early!  Maybe they have the answer!

Will being in a relationship being me happiness or will it just bring hassle and drama?

Will having more money make me relaxed or will my expenses increase as well, leaving me in this endless cycle of having barley enough?

Will developing my hobbies and talents give me a purpose or will it become a task that I have to do?

Will anything I do ever make me happy or will my mind and life find a way to sabotage any chances I get?

The Struggle Within

The pain that followed the punch was unbelievable, it coursed through the child’s body as every part of him screamed for attention. The boy was hunched over gasping for breath. He shook but not in fear nor in anger but in misery. The being that hovered above him was just a shadow, a huge dark unclear silhouette, which just ignored the boy’s existence.

Determination set in the boy’s shoulders as he straightened and looked into the shadow’s unclear face, managing to fuel its anger again. It jerked and took a step back in confusion before it attacked again with a forceful slap across the boy’s face. Stoic, the boy said nothing as he fell to the ground. Silence descended within the abyss they are in, only the heavy angry breaths of the silhouette was audible.

It didn’t take long before the child became determined again, refusing to be ignored. The child stood but instead of a boy, it was a girl. She sniffled and wiped her tears off her black and blue face, her eyes filled with willpower as she stared into the silhouette’s face. It didn’t take long before it kicked the girl, and her body flew far away before it hit the ground. Her body fell lifeless and the shadow grew restless. It walked around mumbling, unable to fathom what was going on as she began to move and gain her strength again. As she stood her body changed and grew into that of a man.

The man stood and limped his way towards the shadow. When he was close enough he lifted his eyes and stared at its face. The silhouette was already prepared, and the moment the man looked at him, it punched him. The sound of a breaking rib echoed through the abyss, and so did the sound of a screaming man. Groaning, the man’s body began shifting into a more slender form.

A woman instead was holding her side, groaning in pain as she began to roll over to get on her feet. Barely able to stand up straight, the woman looked straight ahead at the shadow. She was prepared for what was to come. It didn’t take long before the silhouette slapped her and punched her till she fell to the ground. Motionless, the woman’s body curled and shifted into a shadow.

The silhouette in anger and confusion screamed, as it slowly dropped to its knees on the ground next to the unmoving shadow. It didn’t want to see them nor acknowledge them. It didn’t want to do this over and over again. They wouldn’t leave it alone in ignorance, because they wanted to be seen and accepted and that is the constant inner struggle that we have within our own abyss.

Week 22 – Yearning

There are things I know I’m missing, which can haunt me to no end. I don’t always know what they are nor can I see them clearly at times. I’m thirsty for something, yearning for it – but what? No clue.

What can desire bring me? Will satisfying that itch, that yearning, will it make it all better? Would I be happy then? Will happiness cling to my chest and will peace take board?

I often doubt it. Sometimes when I know what it is I yearn, I know the harm and consequences that may occur. Many have tried to convince me to silence the voices that tell me not to give in to temptation. “What’s the worst that could happen?”

I pride myself on saying “no”, but it’s frustrating and can be insulting when someone belittles my intelligence or beliefs. “Sure, I’ve been waiting for you to give me permission all me life.” When will it be okay to say yes?

There are times I yearn for something not so harmful (you know unless some freak accident kills me, or I contract some unknown disease that will later be named after me). Live by the ocean or the sea, camp out under the stars in the middle of nowhere. Trust a stranger and sleep on their couch. Open my heart, even if for a short while and let myself feel… try things that scare me. I yearn to live. I guess that’s the clearest image most times.

However, it’s the smaller things that can get to me at times. The day to days. The things I miss or wish for; the company, the care, the peace, the noise…the love. I find myself thinking about my mother often lately. I would think of those moments I disappointed her, or the moments I did something that hurt her in some way and I would beat myself up for not being a better a daughter. I wasn’t bad, but I still have those bad memories I thought I had forgotten or let go. It’s the love that I miss the most. I guess I beat myself up because I never showed her how much I loved her – that I appreciated her more than I’d showed.

There are moments I feel I’ve lived too long and times when I feel I haven’t lived at all; that the end will find me all too soon. I hope the end doesn’t find me too soon.

Week 18 – Becoming Self-Aware

I know who I am -kinda, and I know what made me this way, or so I thought.
But now, I am becoming self aware; breaking my very own 4th wall.
I always thought that yes, I am a product of my environment,  but in a different way. I thought that I saw what society was telling people who to be, and I reacted differently,  acted out I guess. I thought I was right, strong, fought and triumphed. 
But now, I have my doubts!
Society has told women that their beauty is what makes them strong,  desirable, and unique. I see girls and women taking complete care of themselves;  hair , makeup and style done to perfection. But on the other hand, I own a total of 3 makeup thingies that my friend made me buy and that I use twice a year when I am forced to. As for my clothes am completely fine with wearing the same outfit for a week, buying the same colors and style. I just don’t care.
I don’t care how awesome I look. I don’t dress to impress.  As long as I am presentable and don’t look like a hobo, I am good to go.
I don’t know why I am like that… I just am.
But who is right?

I see people taking countless selfies of themselves, no one else in the picture. But I find it impossible to do the same. I could be on the top of the highest mountain with a spectacular view, open the front camera, but be unable to take the picture. It just feels like I am doing something wrong, shameful.
While people love having their picture taken, I have always prefer to be out of the frame.
Are they conceited or am I insecure?!

Most people cannot wait to fall in love.  They keep getting involved and having relationships. But for me, it is something that I am dreading. So now I wonder if it is a self esteem thing; I was never loved so I don’t feel lovable.  So as a self protection mechanism,  did I condemn love? But no! I am sure it is a result of my observations! People lie, deceive, live in illusions, break hearts, then move on to the next one. I have long had my doubts about it! I don’t think I have conditioned myself!

But what if all that I thought I was; my strong personality, resilience, quirkiness,  are all not who I really am? What if I have been brainwashed and conditioned? It was just done stealthy by my subconscious!
I have always thought I had fought the current, gone my own way, shaped my own personality. But could it be that at the end, I did go with the flow, it was just a different river?!

Week 13 – Blank is the mind…

Blank is the mind that doesn’t expand

Blank is the mind that doesn’t see

Blank is the mind that doesn’t tick

Blank is the mind that doesn’t think.

Cold is the heart that doesn’t cry

Cold is the heart that doesn’t love

Cold the heart that doesn’t mourn

Cold the heart that doesn’t feel.

Poor is the man who doesn’t live

Dead is the man who doesn’t experience

Sad is the man who’s ignorant

Useless is the man who doesn’t have hope.

Week 5 – I’m Not the Kind of Girl

I’m not the kind of girl who sits by the phone waiting,
but I do.
I’m not the kind of girl who hurts easily,
but I do.
I’m not the kind of girl who gets lonely,
but I do.
I’m not the kind of girl who takes things personally,
but I do.
I’m not the kind of girl who cares about what others think,
but I do.
I’m not the kind of girl who sits alone crying,
but I do.
I’m not the kind of girl who breaks down,
but I do.
I’m not the kind of girl who loves,
but I do.
I’m not the kind of girl who cares,
but I do.
I’m not the kind of girl who needs to be heard,
but I do.
I’m not the kind of girl who needs love,
but I do.
I’m not the kind of girl who needs attention,
but I do.
I’m not the kind of girl who is vulnerable,
but I am.
I’m not the kind of girl who is silly,
but I am.
I’m not the kind of girl who is breakable,
but I am.
I’m not the kind of girl who is sensitive,
but I am.
I’m not the kind of girl who is insecure,
but I am.
I’m not the kind of girl who is lost,
but I am.
I’m nothing like other girls…
but I am.


I’m not the kind of girl who asks for help,
but I want to.
I’m not the kind girl who expresses how she feels,
but I want to.
I’m not the kind of girl who demands attention,
but I want to.
I’m not the kind of girl who burdens others with her pain,
but I want to.
I’m not the kind of girl who shows vulnerability,
but I want to.
I’m not the kind of girl who lets down her guard,
but I want to.
I’m not the kind of girl who lets someone in,
but I want to.
I’m not the kind of girl who relies on others,
but I want to.
I’m not the kind of girl who acts all cute and feminine,
but I want to.
I don’t feel like other girls,
but I want to.

Week 3 – Untitled

I trek the earth in less than a blink.
Speak all languages and none.
All fear me, carrying me on their back, trying to outrun the day I visit.
My list isn’t physical, but endless, names increasing all the time.
I follow tears and the scent of blood.
Most loathe me, while others desire me.
No one truly knows me, for I am the loneliest of them all.
Although I bring peace, I’m seen as violent.
I’ve seen it all. I was not born but just was.
I am. I exist.

I do not choose, I am unbiased.
That second when you meet me is destined, unquestionable.
I may take, but I give;
I give life a chance to breathe, to grow.
I give you peace and rest from the running, the fighting,
from the struggle.

Do not run, but live.
Do not fear, but welcome.
Do not count, allow;
Allow yourself to enjoy what I cannot.
I envy the freedoms you enjoy. So enjoy them for me,
So when I come, you can tell me;
Tell me your adventures and all that you’ve done.
Tell me you’re ready and it’s time.

I am not your enemy but your friend.
I will not take you before your time.
So let me motivate you, not to run, but to live.
Take each stride as it comes, don’t think about me.
It’s okay. I won’t be sad.

Don’t let it slip you by, that which I cannot enjoy,
For Darkness will come anyway.

what I want

What I want,

I want silent looks across the room,

I want a conversation summarized in a nod,

I want companionship not company,

I want muffled laughs in the pillow so we won’t wake up the kids,

I want lazy patterns drawn on naked skin,

I want united fronts in the face of anyone who tries to question us,

I want shoulder kisses,

I want kuddles,

I want 11:00pm baking, and 6:00am coffee mugs in bed,

I want long lingering hugs,

I want a life measured in laughs,

I want cheek kisses,

I want banter,

I want fights that end with making out,

I want loud words but not hurtful,

I want back hugs while doing the dishes,

I want tender words whispered after a long day,

I want waking up to eager eyes,

I want matching wrinkles,

I want grey hair counting competitions,

I want movie night pop corn,

I want cold toes mixed with warm under blankets,

I want singing in the car,

I want a bond that can’t be broken by death,

I want a love that surpasses the grave,

I want what is unique, heartwarming, intense, consuming, tender and farfetched…

But I want it all the same.

The Life of a Shadow

The music drummed through everyone in the room, making them sway to the tunes. It wasn’t like in the movies were everyone knew how to dance, or how they moved perfectly with the beats. It was the total opposite; it was a chaos of moves. Drunk or high on the music flowing through them or simply because of alcoholic substance, it made no difference either way.  They had no care of the outside world; it was a moment of release.

I, though, was stuck in my own world; I was content to observe everything around me, to watch random people interact with each other and see their beauty and uniqueness. Epiphanies have a tendency to hit you in the strangest moments, and as I was standing there in the midst of the screams, laughs and shouts of joy, I was struck by one. It was the most fearful one I have experienced so far. It was the realization that your path of life is like going through the longest tunnel of doom, yet it is neither scary nor dark. There is light with every step you take, but you still shake and the worst part is that it is not with tiredness, it is with fear. It is the outcome that makes you tremble with every stride.

You know the truth, and when you figure it all out, you decide to bury it behind the so many well-built walls. No one can know, and I should forget it too. I can’t know who I am because I’m not ready to deal with the consequences. I’m not ready to face myself; I’m not ready to accept the truth. A hypocrite on the move, and I despise it. Breathing heavily as I walk through that tunnel, I search for the wall to, perhaps, find support, but I find none. I tell myself that if I can’t find that wall then there is no point in continuing on this path, so I fall to the ground and burst into tears and I do the inevitable and pray. I whisper feverishly as I beg Him to hear my prayers, to love and accept me, it’s all I want.

So here I am stuck between worlds, my crumbled figure crouched low on the ground waiting for that wall to appear or that god to show me a sign. So I raise my head and look down my condemned path and I realize that I had no desire to return to my old ways nor do I desire to continue. I can’t acknowledge who I truly am because I don’t like it. I hate who I’m supposed to become and even worse I’m afraid. I’m terrified I’ll finally find happiness in that person, I’m afraid I’ll lose everything and I’m afraid of being a disappointment to those I care deeply for.

The search of acceptance is by far worse. The need to know that your loved ones are your wall through that tunnel, but you know they are not. People tell you it is of no importance, but it is. We spend our lives searching for that acceptance and acknowledgment of existence. We are raised to fit in and so we work hard on doing just that. As we do that we forget who we truly are, and we conform to those around us. So I see the shadow of my true self on the other side of the tunnel lifting its hand and gesturing in encouragement and I pity what it sees. Another broken shadow chained from its limbs to invisible walls and being pulled back as it fought to continue its path and leave conformity behind.