Tibetan Sand Mandala.

Not a day goes by where she passes by the place where they have stood & she cannot help but feel some spiritual feeling inside her.

For on everything he touches, he leaves a mark. Her bed sheets still smell like him.

But he is like a Tibetan Sand Mandala; artwork created then destroyed.

He gave her sacred space, but he is gone now, into the water, following the transitory path of life.

So she stands in that spot where he once stood with her, & she can only close her eyes & remember the ceremony that happened there.

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Alone, but not Quite Lonesome.

I look forward to the days when I’ll have a love that plays out like the movies.

You know, the kind where he’s driving on a cliff-side road with a view of the ocean, and the windows are rolled down and we’re laughing as the wind blows through our hair.

And we’ll keep riding until we get to the secret spot we’ve decided to make our own.

We’ll have lunch picnics there and I’ll probably punch him for trying to jump out at me from behind the bushes.

We’ll take hikes and scenic walks.

Or maybe we’ll come back at night just to look at the stars.

There will be just enough trees to create a picture frame of the sky, and we will be our own visionary art, dancing in the dark.

A hideaway, a chance to catch some privacy.

A chance to be.

Yet as I sigh the sigh of a hopeless romantic waiting for this day, I venture by myself to this place that I will share with my ‘soulmate’ and I feel as if I’ve found my home.

My toes dig into the dirt and for some reason, it’s okay that it’s just me, myself, and I.

It’s okay that I’m alone, because I’m not lonely.

In fact, in this time and place, in my own company, I have never felt more full.

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via Daily Prompt: Privacy

 

A Honey Drop of Doubt.

Transparency.

It’s all I ever want, all I ever ask for.

Too often, life is sugar coated. And while I love sweet things, my palette needs to be exposed to know the sour, salty, and bitter tastes of experience as well.

So f*ck it. Throw me in a hot wok with all of that sh*t.

Best learn how to face the fire head on, no?

I just want people to tell me the truth. Because at the end of the day, someone’s gonna get hurt either way.

Might as well rip the bandage off in one ‘go.’

For me, it’s better to have a minuscule spot of blood on the skin compared to a moistening, building infection under the latex or cotton coverings.

Besides, I’m resilient. 

So why, pray tell, am I most frightened when someone finally comes around and tells no lies and speaks words like honey?

Honey.

So sweet and so thick. So rich in the color gold. So crystal clear. One needs only a small spoonful to add flavor and in a short amount of time, the taste becomes an addiction.

How is it that something so pure has been placed in front of me?

Things I want, things that I’ve always wanted, but never asked for out of fear of being “too much,” are now being freely given to me without me asking, and it’s nice.

Quite wonderful, even.

And still, I doubt.

In my mind lives the thought of it all being “too good to be true.” The thought that the honey will lead me to a sticky situation that I cannot escape because I naturally get too involved. The thought that this addiction will lead to a deterioration of my health in one way or another, be it diabetes, weight gain, or my mental stability.

How rewarding it is to finally have something to savor after years of sitting at the table.

But how long until there is no food left on the plate and the emptiness settles?

You are You. 

You are you.

Imperfectly, perfect you.

You may not see it now. You may be tearing yourself apart right now for all the shortcomings. For not being where you want to be.

But you are here & that’s what matters.

You compare yourself to the models on TV, to your friends who have graduated & are working towards their dreams.

They are images of beauty & success.

But you are your own model, & need not follow them. For their beauty & their success is theirs, not yours.

You are your own person on your own journey & that is something that will never change.

So if you get sad thinking about how “behind” you are, stop that.

Stop it right now.

No one will travel the same road as you.

There will be times when paths meet & you will walk alongside someone. It may be long, it may be brief. But in the end, it’s you that you have to live with.

So love yourself & find what you love.

No one has that sparkle in your eye like you do. That spark you carry is solely your own.

Because no one can ever replace you, ever be you.

You are you.

Wonderful & worth the whole world, you.

Why I Write.

I am not usually one to share my writing to anyone, lest it be posted on this blog or for a school assignment, blah blah. But just recently, I had a friend of mine read a piece from the notebook I started keeping. He asked me if what I wrote was inspired by things I actually experienced in my life.

I thought about it and the answer to that question is “yes.”

I write because I can never properly formulate the words to exit my lips as elegantly as I am able to do so on paper. Though the sword cuts through the body and spews blood across the land, it is by the pen that the tragedy of war is remembered. If it were not written, then it could be more easily forgotten. For the blood is eventually washed away by the rain. And it is the pen that tattoos the soul with awe of how we are all connected.

For when I am in the moment, I cannot describe what I feel. But when I close my eyes and twirl the ink rod between my fingertips, it becomes an enchanted wand that allows me to repaint the memories and live again, whether in pleasure or in pain.

To feel.

And to understand.

That is why I write.