2 more years

i have two more years,

i tell myself

before i can quit this job

in two more years

i’d have saved enough

to finally say goodbye

so its okay that my backaches

and that i barely feel alive

i have to keep it going

toughen it out

and i can retire before 35

.

i have two more years

i tell myself

before i fully get over this guy

my lifetime trend

of male obsession

lasts 4 years everytime

and now i’m in my sophomore year

so i still (sadly) think there is a chance

and i fantasize about a guy

who only wanted to be in my pants

.

i have two more years

i tell myself

before this immigration thing subsides

if there is no resolution by then

i will no longer sit on the fence and hide

i will pack my bags and leave it all

there are plenty of places besides

and if it does resolve and i can stay

then gladly i will do with pride

either way it must resolve

by the time im 32

i cant sit here forever wondering what to do

.

i have two more years

i tell myself

before i’ll be fit and strong

emotionally and physically

i will no longer do myself harm

i will be the put together adult

i’ve always dreamt to be

i’ll be in control of what i eat

how i move

and how i will feel

and i know this well

because starting tomorrow . .uh i mean today

i will follow good habits

and no longer go astray

.

when i’m 32

i tell myself

the pieces will all fall into place

all the hard work

all the sarcrifice

will finally end in grace

in two years time?

when im thirty two?

(even though now im actually 29)

i will look back at the mess of my 20s

and see how my stars align

oh so perfectly to lead me to

my heaven on earth, divine

(and i know deep inside

that there is no way this will be true

all my problems will not disappear out of the blue

but the only way i can continue on today

is to keep dreaming of 32)

bird

i think i’ll be a bird

an insignificant tiny city bird

the brown ones with the non descript patterns

the ones no one sees as they rush through life

 

but i see them

when i sit on a park bench in silence

i see them flying around

chirping

pecking at some pizza crumb

throughly enjoying their nyc diet

 

i watch them

and look at them

a little bit of wildlife in the concrete jungle

they’re actually beautiful

 

their wings delicate and quick

 

i look up at the humans rushing around

and i wonder if any of them has ever looked at

the pattern on the wing

of that pretty brown bird

eating their crumbs in front of me

 

a sparrow i think

thats what they are

brown sparrows

 

and that’s what I’ll be

beautiful but unnoticed

insignificantly there

living in the city

and flying free

 

 

 

 

It’s been 3 years!!

I just realized something.

(It’s September 2017 and I’m getting ready to move apartments again.)

It’s September 2017, which means its going to be October 2017 and then November 2017 and then December 2017. (and then it will be 2018)

This is called the passage of time.

When I left home three years ago, I was terrified (but hopeful and excited). Because you see. . .I just escaped a situation I thought I could never escape, a literal cage that kept me away from the life I wanted to live.

And I was so scared.

And I was so excited.

During the day I went to my adult job in my own car from my own apartment. I was free to dress as I like and I was free to listen to music and I was free to feel the sun on my skin. And I was free to dream.

During the night I was alone in my empty apartment and I had trouble breathing and I felt hopeless and I missed my family and I missed the idea of parents and I had panic attacks and I would cry. (heartbroken?)

So I wrote myself a letter then, for me, to be opened in 2018.

Because you see, 2018 was the future. Four years ahead of me, four years of freedom and progress and dreams coming true. (Great Expectations)

I was so foolish. It’s almost 2018 and I don’t think I grew.

You see, when I left home I felt like I accomplished the impossible and so I had nothing to stop me from reaching my dreams. From becoming the best version ™ of myself. Because I’ve already done the impossible you see! So everything else was going to be (very) EASY.

I still remember what I wrote back then. (How cruel was my past self to expect it all from the future)

I am suppose to be a successful fit and healthy and happy young lady with her SHIT together who pursues her creative passions with her supportive and amazing significant other.

But the reality is that I am an unhappy and almost overweight and unhealthy young lady who hasn’t left the house in 2 days and has empty take out boxes scattered all over the house and is lonely.

I drafted my first blog post 3 years ago, in my head, but never wrote it. And so here I am 3 (almost 4) years later.

I said that I will do it tomorrow for 3 (almost 4) years.

I binged on all inspirational videos and books for 3 (almost 4) years.

I did nothing with all that inspiration for 3 (almost 4) years.

I dreamed empty dreams for 3 (almost 4) years.

So here I am. Sunday night. Pacing back in forth my dark empty living room listening to Fools Who Dream from La La Land. And I hear Emma Stone’s sweet voice and I hear the inspirational words and I feel the piano in the background.

And the piano beats with my heart and slowly flows through the blood to my body. And I feel the inspiration rising.

My defeated attitude is subsiding and I feel strong.

I feel creative and determined.

And by the time the flutes come in I am glowing. (I’m lifting my soul with their sound)

I FEEL ideas

but the ideas have no intention of existing. and I realize

just as the song is losing its strength

that the inspiration is worthless

it makes its way through my blood stream but quickly fades

(IT IS TRAPPED IN MY BODY)

and nothing comes from it

and I have to play the song (again) and pace (again) and close my eyes and dream (again)

but I know that its going to lose its high

I already feel it and all the ideas fading again

I should do something.

I need to pack for the move.