In the silence, in the rain, on a rough day.
All I can see is your smile. All i can hear is your laugh.
I smile, as tears run down my face.
Just like you smiled, when you held my face with your calloused hands, as you kissed my cheeks.
As I talked on and made promises I could never keep, you just nodded.
You nodded, hugged, cried, laughed.
You may be Resting in Peace, but your Love Fights my Wars.
It always wins.
I’m constantly surrounded by people, and this tends to inhibit my ability to think clearly about things I want to think about. So, today, I had dinner with myself.
I sat in the balcony with my favorite Italian pasta dish from a small restaurant down the street.
I faced San Francisco and the setting sun.
The beauty of it all overwhelmed me.
It was chilly and bright and quiet –
The cool wind kept me company and drew me back to reality every time my mind drifted too far.
And I liked it.
I realized that lately I have become so critical of myself.
I have let failures fracture my self-esteem and confidence.
I have let stressful situations and insecurities break my convictions in the beauties of life.
My little date with myself and my thoughts made me love myself more.
It made me sure of who I am and what I want to do.
It made me forgive myself and others –
It gave me the opportunity to fall in love with my life again.
Life is not easy. I think we all learn that very quickly in the process of growing up.
But oh my God, it is so beautiful –
And I’ve spent too long doubting, criticizing, over-analyzing everything.
I’m at peace – with the world, with my struggles, with the hurdles I must jump to get to where I need to be.
I’m giving everything I care for one hundred percent of my effort,
But I’m setting higher standards for the way I treat myself.
03072012
Spring 2011.
I have so much to say, but no ears want to listen.
I think about things that will break your heart.
I scribble in my notebook, but I feel no peace.
I have felt better, I have loved and been loved better.
I have been worth more.
Missing conversations with my best friends.
“Before you embark on a journey of revenge, dig two graves.” – Confucius
I came across this quote on Tumblr – a website I love, but one that has never encouraged me to write. I sat alone in my cold, dark room thinking about forgiveness and revenge. I have always been a proponent of forgiving, learning, and moving on. But this idea of “revenge” has always sparked some curiosity in my being. Growing up, I was always told to not seek revenge, because it leads to a cycle of injury and retaliation. Nonetheless, a little voice in my head still occasionally screams “Get him back! You can do this and this and this….They’ll know exactly how you feel. Ohh, you can teach them!” Does this make me a bad person? I don’t think so. We’re only human. But there’s a reason that society and most religions teach forgiveness – because it is what we need to live with ourselves and others in a world that is constantly pushing us to our limits.
Revenge is not a solution. It doesn’t make anybody feel good in the long run. It fractures friendships, breaks hearts, and paves the way to feelings of guilt, depression, and pain. Revenge is a symbol of the lack of self-control, and it arises out of our inability to accept the fact that everybody makes mistakes.
“To err is human, to forgive – divine.” – Alexander Pope
So I encourage you, dear reader, to forgive. Not to pretend that nothing is wrong, not to hug the person that has hurt you, not to forget. I encourage you to forgive – because that’s the only way to save yourself from being hurt by the same betrayal more than once. Forgiveness is the only way to move on – with peace, serenity, and self-confidence. Forgiveness is the only way out of painful thoughts and situations – it frees your mind and stitches up the tears within your heart. Forgiveness provides us with the ability to think clearly – to make rational choices about what comes next.
“Forgiving and being forgiven are two names for the same thing. The important thing is that a discord has been resolved.” ~ C.S. Lewis
That makes my life a little better,
That makes studying a little easier.
That makes the day a little brighter,
That makes me a lot happier and a lot more homesick.
Fog invades the bay –
The world is suddenly covered in a cloud,
The world becomes so small, known, and cold.
My fingers are numb,
The cold stings my face,
Little droplets of mist tickle my nose.
Fog, a cold breeze, a bright sun –
It’s winter in California.
What I would do if I could spend it with you and your warm laughter.
In less than twelve hours, I will be on my way “home” for Thanksgiving.
Growing up, I was constantly looking forward to the day I was going to “grow up” and leave, and find myself a new city to call “home.”
But growing up does not happen in a day. We all know it’s a process: one we don’t realize we have completed until we’re so busy we can hardly breathe.
Growing up is something we look forward to as children, and once we realize that somewhere along the way we had actually already grown up, we wish to return to a child’s world of curiosity, endless time, and minimal responsibility.
So I grew up, like everybody else. I don’t know when it happened, but one day I realized that everything had become so serious, important, and time flew by fast.
I knew I had grown up.
I moved to a new city, I made new friends, I ate new food, I dressed a little different, my views had changed…
My life had changed.
I swore I would never actually want to go back “home” if it wasn’t for my lovely family and friends.
But, after a few months living away and on my own, I actually longed to go back “home” just to be there.
The winter holiday season only increases my longing for the place that I call “home.”
I miss traditions, the laughter of those whom I have known my entire life, and just being.
At home, there is no need to impress anyone, try new things, visit new places, or stress.
Home is where the heart is happy and at peace, even if only for a little while.
So I am going “home” and am ecstatic.
But this idea of “home” is so obscure.
Home used to be my parent’s house, wherever it was, where I went to sleep at night.
Home used to be the city I resided in for as long as I can remember.
But, being an immigrant, I was always surrounded by people who did not consider this town that I considered home to actually be home
(And in fact, they still don’t consider the city their home even after living within its borders for many, many years).
So I was lost.
I was born in a different city, on a different continent (although I didn’t reside there for very long). It’s considered my “hometown,” but when I visit this hometown, I feel disoriented, lost, uncomfortable, confused, and foreign.
But my passport claims that this foreign place is my hometown, and my family insists that it is in fact, my “home.”
To me: home is someplace familiar, inviting.
The town in which I went to school in, the town in which I learned to ride my bicycle and later, learned to drive a car.
This town was home to me, even though everyone insisted otherwise.
Now, living in a new city, I catch myself calling this place home.
But, when my heart is craving the company of family and friends – I reject even the slightest possibility that this is my home.
Home is so undefined.
When my heart aches for home, it’s always a different place that it longs for.
Home is not a permanent location.
Home is temporary.
Home is what we miss when we’re away.
But more importantly: home is who we miss when we’re away.
A house is made of walls and beams; a home is built with love and dreams. – Dr. William A Ward
And my confusion with what place to call home, leads me to believe the following words:
…This world is not my home I’m just passing through
My treasures are laid up somewhere beyond the blue…
Lying wide awake, eyes popping, burning with anger and helplessness.
She says -” Life is everything but fair.”
Dreams of freedom and ease and peace at the least,
are just that…illusions that tear
Up the present situations, and hope slowly falls
Falls to pieces, shatters like her favorite porcelain doll
And the hot tears are the same, through the years they remain –
Loss of direction, loss of affection
They relieve the pain, and attract even more –
Dreams dreams dreams, and she’s sleeping soundly.
Only to wake up to another day…
Repeat.
The beautiful disaster knows awfully well-
Up and away lie streets of silver and gold.
Up and away, dreams of streets of silver and gold.
Finding Happiness. 