Hey There, Wannabe!

Do I have to love my nose? No. Do I have a right to hate it? Also a no.

I don't necessarily hate my nose anymore, but I still want to go under the knife. Am I a terrible person for promoting self-love in the same breath as expressing my desire to have cosmetic surgery? This is my story. #bignose #selflove

Do I have to love my nose? No. Do I have the right to hate it? Also a no. (ClickToTweet!)

When I tell people I want a nose job, the answer is almost always, “but why?! I love your nose, it’s so unique!”

I have wanted to scream that I don’t want a unique nose. I hatedthat word. I always wanted to yell: “I just want it to be remarkably unremarkable!"

"...there's a marked difference between walking through the dark, and walking with your eyes determinedly shut." - Eyes Open

(Or Alternatively, “Turning Twenty And Realizing My Eyes Have Been Shut The Whole Time: A Brief Birthday Reflection”)

Ascending into the two-decade old plane of existence was almost anti-climactic, but to be fair, it had to close a rather turbulent turn of the globe. Since last year, August 31, 2017, I have taken four total double 10+ hour bus rides, snared a dream role at a start-up publication,…

"...the harsh light of the sun hit my face. It burned so severely that I let out the most unearthly scream that could possibly rip from my frail soaked body." - Siren Song, a poetic piece, inspired by @elesq 's oceanic artwork

I remember my first voyage into the eye of a storm.

artwork by elesq

It began as an inbred curiosity, the sort of thing you repress until it feel like if you don’t venture out, you might as well shrivel into nothing. I untied myself from the dock, and let the waves carry me out to where I thought might be meant to be.

I could taste the purple storm building on the horizon with familiar…

Date a boy who loves you, but you can't bring yourself to love back." Before Him, now on my blog for your pleasure!

artwork by Dahui Wang

Date a boy who doesn’t love you.

Date a boy whose eyes hold the stars and the moon, a boy whose hands are warm because they hold the sun. Date a boy who looks through you, searching something else in the crowd. Date a boy who makes you realize your own inconsequence, a boy who takes and takes until you are left with nothing but dusty text messages that once made your world…

"Like a cocoon you envelop me, your soft light collapsing on me, and I want to stay here forever with your breathing as my melody." Cocoon, now live on my blog!

First was the worst. A vampire sucking me dry until I was white, so that purple is blooming underneath my eyes, red leaking from my lips.

Money tree leaves rustle from in the kitchen, swathed in the beige shadow of the blinds. The sink is dripping. The solitary sound reverberates, beating into my bird bones so that I begin to crack.

Second was a jest. Dark summer eyes and calloused hands that…

"People who are gone like to keep an eye on us, and tell us which way to go when we're lost." - Holes In The Sky

Everyone dies someday.

“But not you!”

No. Even I will die, one day.

“But I don’t want you to die one day. Mommy and Baba might die one day, but you’re gonna live forever.”

Stars are just holes poked into the sky so the people who are behind it can look through and see who they left behind. [Click To Tweet!]

Do you really want that? Do you want me to live forever?

“Yeah. You can’t die, you’re…

"I set my pencil down onto the pages of time, wishing to turn space into something beautiful. Now was the time to decide, once and for all, what my heaven would look like." - Paradise

When I left, I was given the task of deciding what my heaven should look like.

I would walk into heaven and decide it was green. Heaven would be lush with the creations that had fallen from His fingers. Paradise would be blooming, juices dripping from petals that sparkled when they caught the white sunlight. Heaven would be buzzing, whizzing through time and space. Golden hour brings silver…

artist credited in post.

Poking his head out of his little gray room, he notices that her bed in the room across the hall is a mess. It’s also empty.

Fuck. 

Artwork by Frederic Forest

He throws on a robe hanging on the bathroom door, heavy from the humidity of his hasty shower, and catches a glance of himself in the hallway mirror. He averts his gaze, and makes his way down to the kitchen.

Though he tries to go unnoticed…

Life Looks Gorgeous On You

When I sit on the train, I like to people watch. Their faces are like blank canvases to me. They stare with dead eyes at the advertisement that’s been plastered above a fellow transit passenger’s head, some pensive, some exhausted, others wearing a simply inscrutable expression.

To pass the time, I begin to familiarize myself with these strangers in my head.

I picture these strangers laughing.…

I have an incredibly flawed personality. The first sign was probably around the time I got diagnosed with an actual personality disorder – unspecified – after my behavior led to a pretty self-destructive, “self-prescribed” binge behaviour. Honestly? I never actually considered it problematic for a long time.

Clearly, it was everyone else with the problem. Tsk, tsk.

Artwork by Christian Russo

The…

I struggle to take this apart and put it back together to create a better picture, for fear of ruining what I have already arranged. Two years ago a hurricane ripped me off the wall, out of my pristine plastic wrapping, and I was left, scrambled, on the floor. I struggle to understand why I didn’t do better to glue my pieces to each other better.

Let’s take a better look at me.

Gif by Audrey…

I keep my head down when I walk. I don’t know if it’s to avoid people’s eyes, fearing confrontation. I don’t know if it’s because I want to watch where I place my booted feet in case I step on something unpleasant. I don’t know if it’s because I’m in a sombre mood and I comically want to act like it. I don’t know if it’s because there is something I look for in the ground instead of gazing…

My eyes are so goddamn tired. I feel a deep thrum around the crescents of my eyelids which begs me to close my eyes and keep them that way. The sensation of throbbing in my forehead aches to get attention, and is urging me to go to sleep and dream about a distant future where I am completely happy. There is a tingling in my long fingers and cramped toes, and the familiar warmth of my bedsheets…

A Poem You Read

There’s something irresistibly poetic about the unknown and the uncontrollable. Stars, the moon, fire, the weather, the angry churning sea-vast and feisty as these elements are, we are captivated by them. The universe doesn’t give two turds but we still strive to encompass our thoughts and catch fragments of our wandering notions in a butterfly net made of a vocabulary almost entirely made up of…

The mind is too beautiful, too phenomenal, and too much of an utter enigma to become a cliche. The window to my mind is closed. The garden rooted in my amygdala has withered, the neurons unconcerned with typical metaphorical ideas. I don’t think, I just happen to exist (I swear I’m not trying to kiss Descartes’ ass), but I am not a slave to the precious aquarian trapped in my skull. My brain, and…