There is a disconnect between how things were meant to turn out and the way that they did. Of course, who knew she’d make it this far? She certainly didn’t. She is black to the core, in the most uninteresting way.

She doesn’t know what to make of the life that she didn’t ask for. She doesn’t know how to treat the people who only use her for decoration in their absurd itineraries. Not now, anyway.

The universe was taunting her, and she had given up trying to fight him. “Let him bend me until I break, let him laugh as he may” she resolved.

Everyone. Everything. All of it. None of it made sense. Everything is skewed, it seems. And she is lost. She is at a loss for inspiration, for love, for satisfaction, although there is nothing left to attain (realistically).

But what is reality, anyway? What is it made of? Who does it affect? Could she count herself in?

Because time was swiftly slipping away, and she was wasting it counting stars on the canvas of her own fantasies. She only wanted what she couldn’t have, a specific star. The one that was twisted, bent out of shape, all wrong for her–the one that was furthest away.

She wanted it badly, more than she had ever wanted anything, she wanted it before it went supernova and ceased to be what she fell in love with–although, she might still adore it in the form of stardust, out of sheer respect for what it was.



In my darkest hour you console, 

You hold me, you mold sadness into hope 

Like magic 

You are the light, the warmth, the gaiety 

Amidst these black holes I fashion for myself.

You make me see the good when it’s hardly there,

Teach me about the intricacies of optimism 

About the depths of loyalty and unconditional love

About perseverance and determination 

About how to be strong and soft and stay afloat with unbounded grace.

And I can never be half the woman you are,

Half of that even, 

Or of that even

But I strive to, as you’ve taught me

To make the most of what I have, what I can,

Of who I am 

And I am your daughter 

Your legacy, your blood, your kin.


You are what I picture when I close my eyes 

And imagine joy in the purest form I’ve known it 

You are the strength I know I have when I am faced with adversity and my will is tested 

But Ma,

You are my weakness too 

You are the other half of whatever I am 

So when you ask me to imagine a world without you, 

I can’t.

Because I need you Ma 

Here with me, by my side 

Because when everything gets too scary,

Too difficult to handle,

Only your smile suffices,

Only your embrace calms me,

Only the sound of your voice.

I’d like to thank to you with all of my heart (half of which you carry with you), 

For all that you do, for what you represent, 

For who you are

Because you are absolute love Ma, if I have ever known it. 


Everything hurts.

Shattered bones further disintegrate, until they form a powdered ash of pain

boiling in the cauldron, I lean over and allow my tears to fall in,

Further add a lock of hair from the Mistress of Folly

Now I sigh in it

It bubbles over, ghastly green

I pour it into a glass, which shatters from the heat

I consume it all, the mixture, the shards of glass

I deserve this pain, I’ll make it last

I transform, finally, as I was always destined to

Into the thing I once adamantly proclaimed to hate the most

Unkind, selfish, stubborn, alone,

I regurgitate my heart and see it writhing on the floor

until it stops moving once and for all

I compose myself and gaze into the looking glass,

What once was innocent, shall never be again.

Stranger in the Mirror Bids Farewell 

Somehow feels like the end is near, it’s strange– this absence of fear. I suppose there is little to conquer after the fear of death. But where fear would reside, there is nothing, a rigid emptiness. 
No one sways my soul, loved ones and enemies alike, even the people that tread the line that distinguishes the two. I am simply tired, to the very core. 

I am exhausted. Hating myself or loving myself, respecting the universe and having goals, it’s all as aimless as counting raindrops now. 

I want to evaporate, I want to rise, like steam– calmly. Nothing was for anything, and I think my coming to terms with that is some kind of cue to move on to the afterlife. 

I think I’ll fit right in at Hell. I think I’ll finally make some friends there. 

I can’t sleep. I keep thinking of weird things that probably aren’t going to happen. Not all of them are good, in fact, most of them are really scary. I have to get up really early tomorrow morning so this is really really bad. It’s weird how we can’t turn our brains off on command. Sigh. I don’t think I’m ever going to be happy again. It’s pretty strange to me that I think of the past as a time in which I was happy because at the time it didn’t feel that way at all, but I guess that’s what happens when you romanticize every bit of it as you linger in the present with no clue of how to make sense of anything. I wonder if that’s what people mean when they tell you to live in the present, are they insisting that you appreciate the present for what it embodies to you despite all of its shortcomings? 

I’m quite numb. Nothing matters the way it used to. Time spent sleeping is more valuable to me than time spent awake. Time in a daze is more comfortable than time fully conscious. I would more like to give myself up to the confusion than any sense of sureness. I am rising into the clouds, turning into nothingness, this is just the way I would like it to be. To dissolve until I am nothing at all, while no one has the good sense to notice my absence. 


What’s yours shall return. So do not lose sleep or good will over trivialities that were never yours to mourn the loss of. Everything falls in place the way it’s supposed to. Those who are meant to leave can’t stay, those who were meant to  stay are held here by the gravity of their own destiny, not yours. Do not burden yourself with that sort of sense of responsibility, you are small. Have patience, have courage, have compassion, for yourself as well as others. These are vital affirmations. Keep moving, keep learning, maintain your natural momentum. Chin up, breathe.

Our Youth Dissolves 

Yes, at some point we must lull away our anxieties, put them to bed for good. We must rise up out of our own ashes, ready to face the world. We must feel the sun on our face, take her blessing, and be on our way,

Because the youth is dead and we’ve many miles still to go. And we cannot hold onto what doesn’t exist anymore. 

For though those memories, sweet and hopeful as we may recall them, represent a truth that once lived and breathed, 

The present stands before us and bows his head, 

And who are we to allow ourselves to indulge in greed?

So bid fareful and don’t look back, you are stronger than this anticipation

Go live and be and breathe and see

And claim the future when comes your time

Like butter the world is yours to churn 

For without any reason, nor any rhyme,

You’ve been dealt this moment, which, in all of its seeming familiarity, is inconstant and fleeting, and shan’t return