tragic lover

I've loved
I've been loved
but I've never experienced both simultaneously

State Street Station Stranger

My eyes met with a complete stranger & I don't know whether we transcended into each other's mind or the frequency of our brain waves synched but the moment our eyes met smiles were formed in both of our faces. As if we each had the other's key to unlock true happiness.  I swear it was like magic. But then I realize that we were each going in separate directions & the moment was fleeting but right before he left, he whispered, "you're beautiful"  #truestory

Intervened Hoarder

I am a hoarder. I’d like to believe that everything has meaning so everything holds importance to me. With each and every interaction or life experience there is a memory. And at the end of it all memories is all you have left. So I hold on to everything remembering the moments that meant so much to me. The events that left an imprint in my soul. The objects involved are like artifacts that trigger a specific memory. Objects just take up space. But then there are others that are much worse.

   I hoard people too. I hang on to people that at some point or time had significance in my life. They've helped shape me, taught me, exposed me to new things. Even those that have wronged me I've still manage to hang on.  But hoarding people is a lot of work, you see, they don’t just take space, they take effort & time. They take an emotional toll.

Intervention time has come and I now see my self-inflicted pain. Though they've helped me change, it is because of that very change that they may no longer need to play a role in my life. Sometimes it is that very change that has split us apart. It isn't everyone some people can adjust and handle the change but others just don’t treat me the same. I try to rationalize my grasp of them by weighing our shared history instead of the current role they’re playing. Always initiating while they're never reciprocating. Doubting the value of our relationship. I find myself drowning. No more suffocating. Time to do some social cleansing.

Klutz

I lack the most basic coordinating skills. Not a day goes by where I don’t bump into something, trip or fall. If you know me, you know that getting across the hall is an epic journey. Walking down cracked sidewalks and icy hills are like being in a minefield. I’ve broken bones in my body in the most creative and unexpected forms people could ever fathom. Least to say being a klutz comes with its set of adversities.

And it wasn’t restricted to the physical. As a foreigner, I stumble with words juggling two different languages, getting the meaning mixed up in one and forgetting words completely in another. Figuring out the correct pronunciations of certain words, transitioning from one accent to the other.

Mentally, I fumbled from subject to subject never quite finding a steady consistent train of thought because too many raced through my head.

Emotionally, I fall in and out of moods without grasp of any reasoning.

Being a klutz comes with its set of adversities, but it also has its positive side effects. With every fall to the ground, I’d gained strength to pick myself up. I’ve tripped so many times; I’m now an expert as to how to play it off. I’ve slipped right on my back forcing me to look up and see beyond. So next time, you see me down, don’t worry it won’t be for too long.