Wednesday, October 12, 2011

#10. "The Letters I've Never Sent"


Dear Mom,

I wanted to let you know that I'll be okay. I had a dream the other day, of me a few years from now. I was so happy.

I was in love. I was successful. I had a house. I never stopped smiling. I want to let you know that you are my rock. I would wait to tell you all of this, but why bother? It means as much now as it ever will that you know how much I respect you.

You have mastered the art of motherhood, regardless of how any of us may seem now. You love us, protect us, and encourage us everyday, and you are appreciated.

The dream that I had the other day? It was my wedding day, you were in the front row laughing and crying all the same, perhaps at who the groom was (because so was I). An unlikely companion, but fitting for what we already know I believe in. I don't have many loves in this world, but you are at the top of the list, along with the family you've created.

Sometimes I worry that dreaming too close to reality is a dangerous thing, but I can't help it. Perhaps I reached a place where I can't tell the difference, nor do I want to, because I am living my dream. You never demanded I choose a different path, and I know I'll be okay.

Hard times are ongoing, but so is fulfillment. I want you to know that I am trying. I will not stop trying to achieve my goals, and no matter how long it takes, I will get there. Watch and see.

Are you worried I'm not seeing what's in front of me? Or that maybe I'm chasing something I will never catch? You've never let on that you are, and I thank you for that. Thank you for trusting me to make my own sound decisions.

But about that dream that I had the other day. I was so happy. I laughed and I smiled, I cried, I practically ran down the aisle! Completely shocked at my eager actions in my dream, I was subconsciously seeing the me I've been afraid of for so long. The one that believes in love, companionship, and all the other makings of some day starting my own family.

No one is perfect. I'm certainly far from it. I'm most comfortable admitting my flaws and expressing my own doubt; some weird defense mechanism I guess. But for some reason I can't get there today. I'm just all positive all the time.

I know good things are coming. I mean all this happy has to be unnatural! Perhaps I'm preparing for good news of some kind, just not sure what kind yet. But I'll let you know.

I wanted you to know that I'm going to be okay.

We all are.

Monday, September 26, 2011

#9. "The Letters I've Never Sent."


To the one that helped me realized my potential,

I have no hesitance in saying you were my favorite teacher. Of course there were the teachers that shaped my adolescence, drove me in the direction of my heart and convinced me to trust myself rather than their judgments of me. But you were the catalyst. The tipping point I’ve been searching for.

I knew this was true a long time ago, but I was afraid you might find the nature of this letter inappropriate. It really isn’t, but I was always concerned with my overbearing emotions connecting me to everyone I come in contact with. I am emotional in everything that I do therefore I know this is the perfect time to let you know all that you did for me.

Did you know that I had no faith in myself? I thought a career in journalism was a mask. That it was my way of hiding the fact that the only thing I thought I was good at was putting words on paper. Then I met you.

I sat front row in your first class, and I made the decision that I would take this seriously. I wouldn’t cruise through the curriculum nor would I look for a way out. I would see it to the end. You talked about journalism like it was this adventure, only everyday or every story was a new one. You made me a believer. You also made me realize I could do this. Thank you.

The classes were not the most exhilarating if I’m being honest, but you were so enthusiastic in the potential that sat before you. I could tell—you were looking forward to what we would become. The tipping point wasn’t that though. It was the post-GWM era. When you went to bat for me. On more occasions than one.

Remember that internship you encouraged me to go after? My adventure that started in DC, and then left there after mastering the art of networking and molding my passion for politics in a way that I could some day use in my journalism career? I would never have made it there without you. I almost felt as though I owed it to you to do well. To chase what I wanted. And I did.

I’m not sure I ever really felt you were my teacher. I saw you more as my mentor. The person I knew would want to hear about my post-undergrad pursuits. The person who wasn’t afraid to recommend for whatever I asked, because you knew I wouldn’t let you down. So this is simply my thank you.

Thank you for believing. Even if you were doing what you always do, and it wasn’t a big deal nor an isolated incident, thank you for going to bat for me. Thank you for telling me what I could do better with my stories, and thank you for turning my lacking internship experience in New York into a true hands-on learning experience with my return to Philly and the internship at Philly Weekly.

Thank you for doing what you do best: for making me aware of my potential, giving me the opportunities to realize it, and always taking a few minutes to chat when I came running back to you for advice.

Thank you for helping me reason with myself. I don’t know who or where I’d be otherwise.

I owe you.


Thursday, September 15, 2011

#8 'The Letters I've Never Sent.'


To My Sweetheart,

The only one I ever really had. You've controlled much of my life for far too long, how did that happen? You were never mine, but I obsessed over you, knowing I would never have you. My nearest and dearest warned me, but I didn't care. I just had to have you, I had to be consumed by my constant thoughts of you.

I wish I could have told you how deep my feelings went. I wanted you to know you were special. You were so important, and now I've rendered you insignificant. How selfish of me. Or maybe you were the selfish one.

You allowed me to feel this way. Actually, you encouraged me. I was at my weakest when you were around. I think I knew you liked the 'helpless' role I played so I fed into that. I don't really regret that, but I regret all of my other actions that led me to end up without you. I never did put my foot down.

I don't believe a woman who says a man led her on. The signs are there, but it's her choice to ignore or misinterpret them. You never led me on, but you were beyond confused. I think in a way you felt the same, but you were afraid, so you took your first exit out. I just held on to your confusion, which eventually led to my own.

You were my only real sweetheart. You talked to me, looked at me, and took my face in your hands like I was yours. And I held on to that. I didn't want to imagine we were anything else.

You were my only real sweetheart. But I'm convinced I never was yours. And that's okay. You became one of my most difficult lessons learned, and I'm much stronger now than I've ever been.

I owe that all to you.

Your momentary love,

Tuesday, September 13, 2011

#7 "The Letters I've Never Sent."

To My Best Friend.

I wrote you a poem ages ago, do you remember? We laughed about how absurd our friendship was, how irrational everyone on the outside acted, and how crazy it is to be so committed, without the commitment. Maybe not in those exact words, but that was the general gist of it. I wanted to update you, on where and how we've grown.

It's been a bumpy road, and I know you'd argue this is only recently so, and maybe you're right, maybe you're not. But still, bumpy it was, and scary. Moments would pass when I was afraid of you. Afraid of what we were doing, how we were holding on, and whether it was still the same.

I worried that you outgrew me, or I you, but one or both of us was in denial. I worried that we had nothing left, but refused to admit it and fought to keep it going, only we ended up fighting each other. I was afraid you didn't believe in best friends anymore, or at least not in the female form. But as usual things happened, and our relationship prevailed.

I'm not sure what our status is, what our friendship means anymore, but I know what it's always meant, and I'm not ready for the end. I just wish we were on the same page, and I think we are, but sometimes I don't think you know if we are. I'm here to tell you.

The life around us hasn't changed much--we've only gotten older, maybe less reliable at 3am (on my part at least), and maybe less chatty on the every day but more thoughtful on the long term. We've expanded our interests, we got a bit smarter, and we developed our own opinions, that now seem to disagree more than ever.

I think it's healthy though, our disagreements. It's never normal for two people to completely agree on absolutely everything, don't you think? I love that about us, the fact that you hate when I disagree and I love to disagree? It's sort of a guilty pleasure. Forgive me if that's wrong, it's just me.

Are you at all worried about our future? Do you think about 10 years from now? Do you realize we're actually almost at 10 years and we've managed to keep the damage to a relative minimum? It's rather impressive, considering the implosion of numerous friendships for both of us, it's quite hilarious. And admirable, that we prevailed.

I told you once the world wasn't ready for us, and today I can honestly say I'm not sure we're ready for us, but I'm looking forward to it. I'm looking forward to the us we haven't met yet, the '10 years from now,' the 'back in the day' reminisces, and the accountability. You are still one of the only people I trust inside and out, whether that's insane or encouraging, it doesn't really matter. It just speaks to the strength that is us. Or is supposed to be us.

I told you once the world wasn't ready for us. And it wasn't--still isn't. It's rare that a man and a woman could last this long in a situation like ours: one sans emotional corruption, intimate disruption and chemical distraction. Bravo to us for being so unique!

I think it's worth it, the bumpy roads, the sudden turns and occasional uncertainties.

Don't you?

Monday, September 12, 2011

#6 'The Letters I've Never Sent.'

Dear friends,

You are the 'me' I sometimes wish I could be. Your strength inspires me, and your success is well deserved.

Our failures are humbling and my flaws are my humility. But your sensitivity to my inequity is much appreciated. I try not to consider a life without your presence--without your wisdom and your criticism, without your realness.

I need you. And yes, I take advantage of you. But we all do--it's a natural occurrence in any lasting relationship. But it's a matter of how long it takes before you realize and rectify your own abuse. I check myself often, do you?

I love you, and I'm capable of loving at all because of you. While this is true I am not afraid to tell you what I think, yet I'm still sensitive to your needs and your ability to handle me.

I may be a bit much, I've been told I pry, I pressure, and maybe I put my two cents in when no one's asking. My bad. Hazard of the job--the job of seeing you reach your full potential. You didn't hire me, but I hired myself, because I know what we're all capable of. I just refuse to let us mess it all up for ourselves. Forgive me for wishing the best of you. I really do apologize.

I wish we could fast forward to the day we're all where we want to be. So we can all lounge around, on a beach or on a mountain, and basque in our success, and our content with our lives, and satisfaction with the roads traveled, and those not.

Since we can't I will simply wait. It's coming. And we're all headed there. Just wait and see. We will all find our own sense of 'happy.'


Saturday, September 10, 2011

#5: 'The Letters I've Never sent.'

Dear You,

You that's never made up your mind. You that can't seem to pick a life, pick a path, or pick up all of the pieces.

I wanted to give you a message. It doesn't matter. Nothing matters. Your indecisiveness is part of a much larger plan already laid out for you, you just haven't walked it yet. But you'll be fine. I believe in you. You should too.

Do you know what it's like to have no options at all?

I'm pretty sure you don't so don't worry about anything else. You will figure it out. I have no doubt.

Just keep going.

Thursday, September 8, 2011

#4: 'The Letters I've Never Sent.'

To the one who has it all,

You're such a funny character. Truly. I literally laugh in the quiet of my bed, reminiscing about the absurdities I've witnessed that define you. It's a great act--and one hard to follow.

What do you do though, when you've fulfilled all your wants? Do you think about your needs, or do you want so much that you don't need anything? You already have it all, but I get the impression you're not completely satisfied.

And when do you stop and think, how much greed can I possess? Is it really worth all of these things that are worthless? The valuable eventually become worth less, because sooner or later there's a new shiny toy that you must have.

A car or a person? Maybe a vacation, or some electronic device. Or a new challenge in life, those are priceless.

What do you do when you have it all? Do you stop in your tracks, take a breather, and start up again--or do you pop the e-brake, pull over and let someone else drive for a while? What do you do?

I'd be stuck in neutral, waiting for your opinion. I never was good at making my own decisions. I mean I make them, but I'd rather not. It's just easier that way, with someone else's influence and his physical being to blame for your screw ups. Not that I screw up a lot, but perhaps you do? You understand right? No? Maybe it's just me.

I wouldn't want to have it all--I enjoy the thrill of chasing it all. But it's nice to see what it looks like, and for the most part, you seem to do it right.

Care to share your secret?
I'm curious to know.

Wednesday, September 7, 2011

#3 'The Letters I've Never Sent.'

My dearest friend,

I know you think you don't care, but I know better. I won't believe that you've given up on me, that you've dismissed me and will disregard me. I know you don't understand, but I think you want to.

I wouldn't say betrayal is your strong suit, but you've performed so beautifully with others that you probably didn't think twice. Betrayal only works when one of the 2 parties involved is left in complete and utter shock and despair. I was neither. I knew this was coming, I just didn't know when.

But it's the way we work now--and though I'm not okay with it, I can deal with it, but only for so long. I'll wait for the day that you realize you were wrong, and I know that I'll only keep waiting. Stubborn should be your middle name.

I know you think you don't care, but I know better. I believe you appreciate the heavy. The words too strong to say out loud but perfect for the written word. The proclamations and expectations that we both have for eachother--like me irrationally believing you will change one day, and you irrationally believing I won't expect change from your worst. It's a phase, on both ends, and soon it will pass.

We will find a middle ground, but it's a timeless struggle. I can't say how long it's been or how long it will be that we've fought this war, but sooner or later an end will arise. And we'll both know better. We'll know better than to question the thin lines that define who we are apart, who we are together, and who we actually want to be for the rest of our lives.

I know you think you don't care, but I know that you know, decisions must be made. Life is a series of decisions--the good and the bad. And caring is the only way to see ourselves through to the other side.

While you think you don't care, I'll care enough for the both of us...this is a woman's world after all. But I know you'll meet me half way some day. I just know.

I know you don't think you care. And that's fine. Just know that I always have.


Tuesday, September 6, 2011

'The Letters I've Never Sent.'- #2


To the master of the game,

I think we secretly enjoy this dangerous game. The one where we have a rhythmic series of highs and lows until one of us blows our top and some one ends up dead and alone? Yeah--we enjoy this. The drama and anticipation of not knowing who's turn is next, the anxiety of what it will take to bring your next high and what you must do to prevent your next low.

We love it. We can't get enough of it. We live for the's the only excitement left in this strange, never-moving-forward relationship. And you always think you're winning--but you really should consider investing in the long term.

You see every little loss I have up front gets added to the bag of my future gains. Just one step closer.. All the L's I've gained mean nothing next to your W's--but they will. It's all a part of a much larger plan, one that involves such a huge loss that neither of us really wins--we just go on as though nothing happened.

Except one thing.

We lose each other. The blows that I've taken are just adding to the bag. You're slowly losing me though it seems I've already lost you. But if the game stays on track, we'll be playing again soon, but will we?

Just keep adding to the bag. A loser can only handle so much defeat. Then our retaliation will be sweet. Nice guys finish last but good girls will always win. Keep that in mind.

So what's our next game? Texas Hold Em? Think you can call my bluff? I got a mean poker face. Or maybe you're more interested in the luck of the draw--I'm always up for a quick round of black jack.

But again be advised, my losses are part of a much bigger plan. And I'm sure you're dying to know. In time my friend, the game's only just begun.

Tag, you're it.

Monday, September 5, 2011

New Series: 'The Letters I've Never Sent.'

I know, I'm the worst when i get caught up in my life but not to worry some tragedy always brings me back to my words. Seeing as the most recent tragedies (a bit dramatic, sue me) seem like reoccurring ones, and in a random twist of fate I've written several unaddressed letters, to the same person, I'm turning them into my next book project. If you can't fix it, write it. Right?

Enjoy Letter #1


To The One That Walked Away,

I haven't realized before now how much power you have over me. Excuse me, had over me. Maybe it's an insecurity thing, or some backwards appreciation thing, or maybe it's just a disrespectful thing. Endless opportunities to right your many wrongs, but instead I right wrongs for you, that I haven't even committed, but manifested to simply fix it.

Foolish as it may be, that worked for me, for a while. As long as I didn't have to face it up front, I could bury it, my weakness, my powerless-against-you epiphany, my fear. I've felt this way for a few years now, but never knew just quite what it was. But it's clear now, it's always been fear. Or disappointment. Maybe both.

Regardless, you've betrayed me, and I've betrayed me. Because I keep letting you control me. I keep assuming that you need me, the way that I need you, but I'm wrong. You don't know what you need, and I only want to need you. It's a powerful thing--necessity. It drives you to places you'd never admit you frequent, but denial is the first sign you have a problem; admitting it is the first step to recovery.

I can't forgive you for the hurt you constantly cause me. I can't forgive you for your arrogance, your stubborn nature that makes you cruel and uneasy to talk to. I can't forgive you for treating me like nothing, because I'm not nothing. I can't forgive you.

But I want to.

There in lies the powerless state I fear. I want to forgive you for years of betrayal, of my trust, and of us. We were never lovers, but I loved you, and I still do, even though you betrayed me. I am the ultimate hypocrite, because what they say is true. There's no room for logic in matters of the heart. And I'll say it again--we were not lovers, but I loved you. I loved what we were, unshakeable friends who would do anything for each other. Friends that never had to hide our most vulnerable selves, and never doubted the others judgment, even if we disagreed.

I can't forgive you. Not for the agony that you've brought me. Not for the uncertainty that you've caused me, about us and anyone else in my life that tries to get that close. Not for the hatred you spewed in your rage. Not for the apparent disregard for my fragility. Not for the opened wounds that you dig deeper and deeper into when the timing's completely wrong.

I can't forgive you. But I want to.

Detrimentally yours,

Monday, April 25, 2011

Youth of America

I have an even greater respect for Lupe Fiasco after his Roseland Ballroom 'Lasers' show. His energy and creative genius as a rapper was the perfect disguise for who I've discovered him to really be--a true poet.

A real, raw, powerful, force to be reckoned with, poet. Thus, my praise and response to his Youth of America.

We have a job to do, Youth of America.
One we tend to forget and perhaps even ignore,
but it's our destiny Youth of America.
Yes, have your dreams but leave opened a door, or two
for those searching for a place, the future Youth of America.

We have a job to do Youth of America.
Protect the land of the free and unveil its flaws for all to see.
Because I am not perfect and neither are you Youth of America!
But we damn sure can try to restore what this place used to be.
Youth of America. your home. Your greener pastures...your be all end all and your playground.
Keep your head on your shoulders and your loved ones safe and sound.
Youth of America, everyone's counting on you!
Yes you'll make mistakes but we expect you to DO. Anything.
Anything and everything rather than absolutely nothing.
To right the wrongs of the past and present, and recognize the beautiful things.

Because you, me...WE--Youth of America...are the last breath.
Are you up for the test?

Friday, January 21, 2011

You thought wrong.

Did you really think that I would go that easily?
That quietly or that feebly?
Did you really think you'd gotten rid of me?
Relieved me from respective duty?

Did you really think?

Did you really think the things you thought,
that led to the discussion/the reasons that we fought?
That a bottom line fracture was the only item to be bought?

Did you?

Did you really let me leave and question everything about me?
Everything I thought I knew and everything I see,
the reasons that we shouldn't fight, reasons that shouldn't be?
Did you really think that I would just let you be?

Did you really brush me off and shrug your shoulders, unconcerned?
Make a decision that affects me without my having discerned?
Did you really think that "abrasive" was the tactic I deserved?
Or was it simply your defense mechanisms dishing out what I have earned?

Did you really think that you would get rid of me that easily?
That I'd go quietly or feebly?
Do you really think you didn't hurt me?
Or do you think it was your intention to berate me?

You thought wrong.

Monday, January 17, 2011

No One Understands.

No one understands.
I mean, I don't even understand.
The way I clenched my fists in both of my hands,
And gritted my teeth to fine grains of sand.

No one understands.
I mean, I don't even know.
Were you just putting on a show?
Or are you truly letting me go?

I mean I don't know why
or how you could easily say goodbye.
You never even tried,
But literally turned a blind eye.

No one understands,
I mean I don't know what it's like.
To be inside your head when anger strikes,
And unnecessary stress does anxiety spike.

No one understands,
I mean I don't know what to do.
I'm confused on what is true,
and I'm afraid to not know you.

No one understands.
I mean I really, really don't.
Because compromise you won't.

And me, I'm just misunderstood.
But you wouldn't even try if you could.
Finally I know where I've always stood.
And no one understands.

Sunday, January 16, 2011

I am so sick.

I am so sick of the stress of it all,
So sick of the theatrics,
the production of it all.

I am so sick of the pressure of it all.
Sick of the anxiety,
and drama of it all.

I am so sick of the anger of it all,
of the pain,
and the drain of it all.

I am so sick of it all.

My biggest fear

My biggest fear is not knowing you.
Not seeing you,
but needing you.

My biggest fear is not trusting you.
Not hearing you,
and not getting through to you.

My biggest fear is about to come true.
Because you've not only neglected you,
But you've neglected me when I reach out to you.

My biggest fear has come true,
as I grapple with the thought of living without you.

My biggest fear is losing you.
My best friend,
the voice in my head,
the piece of me that made me wise.

My biggest fear... is you.

Saturday, January 15, 2011

would you rather fly or be invisible?

Last night a creepy man in a bar asked me if I'd rather fly or be invisible.

To my own shock, I replied: Invisible.

Invisible because they're all looking at me. Invisible because they shouldn't see me like this. Invisible because I don't really want to talk. Just want to be able to sit in the corner under a dim lamp, and write. Laugh out loud at my own jokes, cry at the thoughts I scribble on my pages, make funny faces just because, I'm invisible.

Invisible because I don't like to be in crowds, I don't like to be gawked at by the one creep on the train, I don't want to be approached by the apparent grandpa at a lounge, and I don't want to ask what's wrong when someone else looks put out. Because I'm put out, and I don't want you to have to ask me either.

Invisible because my drama is my own, not yours, his, hers, or anyone else's. Invisible because nobody really cares anyway, and if they tell you they do, they're full of shit and trying to impress you. But it won't last long.

Invisible because it would be easier than trying to be myself. It would be easier than having to look at you looking at me look at you. Waiting. Invisible because sometimes all I want to do is be alone, yet still in the company of significant individuals.

Invisible because I want to be naked. Not have to worry about what I look like in the light, nor have to worry about what flaws are now exposed.

Invisible because it's the ultimate defense mechanism when already nobody sees you.

I chose invisible because invisibility, always protected me. And now that I'm out in the opened, I have no fortress. I am vulnerable. I am aware.

And now, so are you.

have you ever?

Have you ever cried so much that your eyes started to hurt?
That to blink was a burden?
To breathe was a stretch?
And to sleep, impossible?

Have you ever cried so much that your tears completely dried up?
And you reached to wipe your face and only felt the salty residue?
That you had to wash your face to remove the splotchy remnants?
Or you tried to splash your eyes to hide the crimson-redness?

Have you ever cried so hard that you wish you had no feelings?
That all your mental womanliness escaped you for a day,
and your ability to have emotions could completely go away?
That you couldn't feel pain, sadness or sorrow?
Or utter betrayal?

Have you ever looked in the mirror, and not known who you are?
Because the eyes looking back at you were frozen in a different time?
And the thought-stricken stare that stared back at you,
Could not have been your own because it actually frightened you?

I have.