Writers & Love



I don’t think you need to be in love to write.

But you had to have been once.

~Lang Leav

I hesitate to call myself a writer; more one with rambling thoughts and run on sentences, who wishes to be a writer. I take my emotions and find words for them in the most honest way that I can. So, if I have loved someone in any way, you can be sure they will spill out onto these pages.

Isn’t that what writing is? Feelings made into words.

If a poet falls in love with you,

you will live forever.







*Music Mood: 11 Blocks-Warbel

“I like reading your blog” she said

“You do? What do you like about it?”

“Knowing what you think. I was always in love with your thoughts.”

I miss you in the stillness; when it’s quiet. That’s when memories of you interrupt my rambling mind. For a moment, I allow myself to remember you, but only a moment. Any longer causes my heart to crack in places that took too long to heal. I start to remember how it felt for my soul to be known or how easily your hand found mine.

Graduation Letter


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A letter  from my cousin. Written out in my senior year book. It touches my heart to this day. I hope everyone is lucky enough to have a cousin like her.

I was thinkin a minute ago and I realized how stupid the human race is. Because no matter how hard I looked, I could not find ONE fitting ‘cousin quote.’ There are thousands of friendship, sister, brother, mother-daughter, gay lover quotes, but is there even one cousin one that’d mean anything about us? No. But maybe that just shows how special you and I are together. Because no else in the world is as lucky as I am to have a relationship just like ours, because another one like it doesn’t exist. If there were to be one, there’d have to be someone like you in it. And, too bad for the rest of the universe, there is no one like you. No one else would be able to deal with my crying and non-stop blabber. My late-night chats when I just need to talk…even overtaking your bed cause I’d rather sleep with you in your bed than alone. No one else would really sleep on the trampoline with me in the beginning of April, or tell me the honest-truth even if I did get pissed, but even more when I realized I was wrong. Again. But you did. And because you’ve always been the closest to me, I’m confident in knowing you always will. No matter where you are, what you’re doing or how you’re feeling, I know you’d drop it all to hug me, cry with me, yell at me, make me a quesadilla, or give me a reality check. And you know I’ll always try. But being as conceited and selfish as I am…;)  I’d say I’ll miss you, but luckily I don’t have to. Cause nothing could tear us apart. I love you, you know more about me than anymore. So you can always fix anything. You can DO anything, too. Do not give it to anything. Ever. You know you better than anyone. Don’t forget. And you should always trust in the beginning to give someone a chance, and always love everyone. That’s how you live each day to it’s fullest and now everyday is a good day to die. Promise. C*3



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I’ve been thinking a lot lately about the heart; my heart specifically. I used to put on this front that my heart was impenetrable.

Impenetrable: “Impossible to pass through or enter. Impossible to understand.”

I was desperate for love growing up. So much so, that I closed my heart off. I can see how that doesn’t make sense to some, however, to the others who grew up the way I did, it is how we survived. To give you a glimpse into why I say that, I’m going to tell you a story.

I was young, around 9, I think. My cousin was staying with us for the weekend. I was very protective of my her due to our growing up and hated when she was away from me. This particular weekend, I wish more than anything she hadn’t been there. It started with loud shouting from the hallway.  As my tiny body began to tremble, I reached out for my cousin and moved her behind me. In those same seconds, my mother came crashing through my door followed by my stepdad. I quickly pushed her under my bed and sat in front her. Shielding her from the unfolding nightmare in front of us. I covered my ears with shaking hands, but covering my ears did not help my eyes from seeing the mirror crash down over my mother’s head. I watched my mother’s body fall to the floor; I yelled stop before I had time to think, realizing what I had done, I pulled my cousin from underneath my bed as he turned his attention on me. I looked into his eyes and saw nothing. Not a glimmer of guilt, only rage. I shoved my now crying cousin out the door as she was screaming for my mother and pulled her to the front door. We ran barefoot through the rain to a broken panel under the trailer where we hid. In the mud we laid listening to my stepdad pace the floor. My cousin eventually fell asleep while I continued to anxiously wait to hear another set of footsteps. It was long into the night before I heard her and by that time, I was so deliriously tired, in my young mind, I thought I had made them up. Sleep finally came to me and I woke up to my mother, bruised and battered, shaking me awake.

That is where my walls came from. My childhood was a nightmare in that of itself, but that is where my walls became thick. Okay, back to what I started with. I was thinking about my heart. It has been broken many times and is often anxious when it comes to meeting new people or investing into a new friendship or relationship. I’m cautious because I know that my heart is easily hurt. I know myself well enough to know that when I get invested, it is never halfway. I don’t love in halves, it’s just not who I am. I think I need to remind myself to be thankful for the bad part of my history as well as the good, for that is where I truly found my hope, love, resilience…and myself.





“Home” by Warsan Shire

no one leaves home unless

home is the mouth of a shark

you only run for the border

when you see the whole city running as well
your neighbors running faster than you

breath bloody in their throats

the boy you went to school with

who kissed you dizzy behind the old tin factory

is holding a gun bigger than his body

you only leave home

when home won’t let you stay
no one leaves home unless home chases you

fire under feet

hot blood in your belly

it’s not something you ever thought of doing

until the blade burnt threats into

your neck

and even then you carried the anthem under

your breath

only tearing up your passport in an airport toilets

sobbing as each mouthful of paper

made it clear that you wouldn’t be going back.
you have to understand,

that no one puts their children in a boat

unless the water is safer than the land

no one burns their palms

under trains

beneath carriages

no one spends days and nights in the stomach of a truck

feeding on newspaper unless the miles travelled

means something more than journey.

no one crawls under fences

no one wants to be beaten

no one chooses refugee camps

or strip searches where your

body is left aching

or prison,

because prison is safer

than a city of fire

and one prison guard

in the night

is better than a truckload

of men who look like your father

no one could take it

no one could stomach it

no one skin would be tough enough

go home blacks


dirty immigrants

asylum seekers

sucking our country dry

niggers with their hands out

they smell strange


messed up their country and now they want

to mess ours up

how do the words

the dirty looks

roll off your backs

maybe because the blow is softer

than a limb torn off
or the words are more tender

than fourteen men between

your legs

or the insults are easier

to swallow

than rubble

than bone

than your child body

in pieces.

i want to go home,

but home is the mouth of a shark

home is the barrel of the gun

and no one would leave home11

unless home chased you to the shore

unless home told you

to quicken your legs

leave your clothes behind

crawl through the desert

wade through the oceans



be hunger


forget pride

your survival is more important
no one leaves home until home is a sweaty voice in your ear



run away from me now

i dont know what i’ve become

but i know that anywhere

is safer than here


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And if it’s falling that you’re afraid of, we can hide from commitment and convince ourselves that we’re just friends, I’ll learn the curve of your smile and you’ll connect my freckles like constellations and we’ll pretend we aren’t falling like leaves in October.

Take a deep breath-here comes the drop. I know it’s your first time here, but soon you will get used to the motion; the headlong dive into the deep. Just go with it. You only get one chance to fall in love with your heart still whole.

People always say that it hurts at night and apparently screaming into your pillow at 3am is the romantic equivalent of being heartbroken. But sometimes it’s 9am on a Tuesday morning and you’re standing at the kitchen counter waiting for the toast to pop up. And the smell of dusty sunlight and earl grey tea makes you miss her so much you don’t know what to do with your hands.

*not my words, just some late night feelings and unable to find my own words.


Every Memory


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“If this is love, I don’t want it. Take it away, please!  Why does it hurt so much?”

“Because it was real.”

-The Hobbit

Love is so many things and right now it feels like an ache that will never fully leave my heart. It’s an echo of all the memories that play through my head, it’s the projector that has no off switch. Every smile, every laugh, every sleepy hello at 2am…all these memories etch themselves further onto my heart like a brand iron. The pain is comforting and torture all wrapped into one.

I was talking with a long time friend the other day and I told her, “I still wear the ring she gave me…this all is just so hard without her.” She responded so lovingly by saying, “Because you love her. Because you found your place with her. Because you finally let yourself be you.”

I think that is all for tonight. As the quote says, “Sometimes memories sneak out of my eyes and roll down my cheeks.” It makes it very hard to see the screen. It’s really hard to miss her and to love silently. I’m still working on the moving on process. It seems to be a lot harder than I thought. I’m told that it’s fine and I shouldn’t feel embarrassed by the time that it takes. Love really is so many things and tonight it’s sad…hopefully tomorrow holds a little less sadness.




“Eventually, it will get easier…” In case anyone is unaware, that is the popular statement after a breakup. I hate it. Yes, I know that eventually my heart won’t feel like it’s been squeezed to death…eventually it won’t feel like my whole world is collapsing around me…eventually, but not now. I think after being in love with someone for any amount of time, it is well deserved to have a nice long, ugly faced cry after it ends. The story behind this blog starts like this; I met a woman at a wedding and we quickly became friends. It was as if I had known her my whole life. It was never uncomfortable to talk with her about my life, fears, dreams and desires. Some time along the way we both realized that we were feeling more than friendship for one another  and then there it was…love. I remember the night I realized I was in love with her. I was sleeping and I woke up thinking about her and something shifted in my heart and I felt like it was going to explode with happiness. I was in love. We had ups and downs like any relationship but ours was a little different. We had 12 hours of distance between us and no matter how frequent the visits, there was always a goodbye at the end. We broke up and went our ways and I was still not over her. Partly because love doesn’t just go away and another was that I had bought a ring. The ring…the one she wanted and I was going to propose. Obviously, I didn’t…and then it really ended with her saying that we should turn the page and move on.

That is where the beginning of this blog comes into play…the eventually part. I have done the ugly cry face and woken up with puffy eyes. I’ve done the crying in the shower thing and I’ve done the I need to keep my mind busy thing. However, the sadness always catches up to me and I find myself missing her more than I ever thought I could miss one person. So, I have given into the sadness and have decided to allow it to run its course. I won’t hide the fact that my heart is broken and I won’t hide the fact that I’m still in love. I will start this moving on process and see where it takes me. I think in the back of mind I will always be hoping for another chance with us and I’m kind of a sucker for fairy tales. I’m not betting on that chance, but right now it’s a nice thought. I think if I had the chance to tell her one more thing it would be this;

“From time to time, I hope you remember to have grace for yourself. You really are as great as everyone says. Remember that people come and go but that doesn’t mean you are easily forgotten or that you’re not important. It just means that they were to blind to see how wonderful you truly are. Remember your logic of wishing on falling leaves. You deserve to have someone tell you how beautiful and amazing you are everyday. I hope when you do think of me, it’s with a fondness. I would hate to be remembered badly. Lastly, please always remember that for a beautiful time we loved with a depth far beyond any distance.”

To life and expectations


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I’ve been thinking a lot about life. About how far I’ve come from where I’ve been. A lot of people used to think I wasn’t going to be successful, that I was going to become my mother. I won’t go into details since that is not what the focus of this rambling is about. What I can say is that success to me looks like, having a job, not one I particularly like, but a job nonetheless. I have a wonderful little dog that has my heart, she makes me laugh when I’m sad and hogs all the blankets at night. I have terrific friends. Amazing, wildly funny, loyal and above all…loving and kind. No, the focus of this is not how I was thought to be going nowhere and would end up fading into the mold that so many had fashioned for me. The focus is life and expectations, or rather my life and my expectations.

I have found I have a lot of resilience. I had a teacher tell me that once and she wouldn’t explain to me what the word meant. She said that if I looked it up, I would better remember its meaning…and she was right. I always remembered what it meant. I’ve failed continuously throughout my life, but I also resisted the path that seemed easiest to take. I would like to take time to thank those people for not believing in me. Not for thinking less of me, but for giving me the drive to get up after I fell. The drive to be better. I wanted more and my heart gravitated towards that goal. It pulled me into the lives of people that poured life into me. Telling me, I was strong, I was valued and that I was loved. Most importantly, they told me I was more.

I was continually told that my life could inspire people. “Look at the battles you have faced and overcame…don’t you think that is worth talking about?” That is what I was told. I was and still am hesitant that my story could change anyone, but I am told that my heart is in the right place and that is all that matters.

Looking back on a journal entry, I found this ending, “When I am older I want to look back on my life and say, I lived, I did things and made memories. When I failed, I failed hard but when I succeeded…I flew.” I haven’t always met the expectations I have set on myself, but I would like to think that I have done pretty well despite the beginning I was given. One expectation was that I travel the world. When I was younger, I thought it sounded reasonable to drive to Africa…after some growing up and geography lessons, I soon realized that driving was not an option but there were other ways of getting there. I haven’t been to Africa yet, but I have traveled to many parts of Asia and Honduras. It’s a good start so I haven’t been too hard on myself. Another expectation was that I move away from my small hometown. I did that and then I moved back, only to move away for the last time. It was hard and I struggled. I wanted to give up, but I didn’t. Eventually, it became easier and then all of the sudden…I was fine. Still struggling, but living. I remember looking around my first one bedroom apartment and thinking. I have finally made it. I failed, I succeeded and I flew. My last big expectation was to fall in love. To really fall…and I did. I fell in love with an amazing woman. We loved with a depth far beyond any distance measured. She is vivacious, intelligent, and extremely loving. My life is better for knowing her and from being loved by her.

I guess in the end, I believe life is about loving without boundaries and sometimes getting your heart broken. It’s about falling in love with whoever you want and being happy. It’s about memories you don’t remember until a song or a smell triggers that moment and you remember exactly where you were and how you felt. It’s about hoping for things that seem way beyond your horizon and then fighting to get there because it’s worth it for you. Your expectations for your life will, I believe, determine your happiness. To sum it all up, be patient, be hopeful, be understanding and be loving. Hold your expectations next to your dreams and never stop gravitating toward what pulls on your heart.