Sometime in the near future

Maybe one day I will be able to look back and say, wow, I survived the bitter cold in Chicago for over a decade. Alone.

Maybe one day I will remember nights when I languished. Like a towel wrung dry, twisted so hard that loose fiber hang like cut wire.

Maybe one day I will feel relieved that I never have to experience an unnatural state of being. A tropical island type of kid in subzero, Antarctic temperatures.

Maybe one day I will sit in a living room full of loved ones and feel warm.

Maybe one day I will be held, undconditionally. Maybe they will feel goosebumps through my wrinkly skin.

Maybe one day there will be someone wise and instinctive enough to know that this person I see before my eyes is someone I will never let go of. Because, damn.

Maybe one day I will remember the window installation I put up alone, for myself. Maybe I will still feel that same cramp in my right shoulder, a pain that creeps up to my neck and into the back of my head. A twinge, like snapped raw spaghetti.

Maybe one day I can rest a day or two from all this positive self-talk and just sit in my thoughts, feelings, emotions… and a waterfall of tears.

Maybe one day I can rest a day or two from strength and mental toughness.

Maybe one day I will miss days when I chugged through dirt and snow on my way to work, cussing loudly in my head, fists shaking violently at the sky in my imagination.

Maybe I will remenisce wet socks and dirty Nike Roshes from my commute. Maybe I will laugh at my impatience, or should I say silly love for my dog that I did not want him to wait an extra five minutes to be let out to pee. I opted to walk the 20 minute route in 0 degree Fahrenheit instead of waiting for the bus. For my dog. To pee.

Maybe one day I will remember the love I showed myself that carried me through the dreary Chicago days when the sun went on vacation for a few weeks.

Maybe one day I will remember my fear of subzero temperature and the moment when I conquered it.

Maybe one day I will remember nights when I talked to my dog and felt like he understood my hopes, dreams, anxiety, depression, self love, and my love for him.

Maybe one day I will pat myself on the back and tell me, “How far you’ve come, how strong you’ve been, what amazing stories you have!”

Maybe one day I will enjoy warmth in January.

Maybe one day I will not have to count months of winter left.

Maybe one day I will forget the number of people who let me down.

Maybe one day I won’t have anxiety about Spring since it might still be cold.

Maybe one day May will be hot as hell. The sun will scorch my skin and blaze my soul.

One day I will laugh at myself for living in Chicago for over a decade. Alone.

One day I may thank the bitter cold which inspired me to write.

One day I will take one last glance of the city, and breathe in slowy.

Breathe out. Then leave.

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Wanderer

I’m wondering what you are doing at the exact moment. How you are feeling, what’s going on in your mind. How busy you are, if you are smiling through ups as well as downs. If you drank water if you ate if you took your vitamins and if your body feels well. I’m wondering if you are tired and if you are thinking about me too. I’m thinking about what you possibly look like while at work surrounded by those you work with. I’m thinking.. what shoes? I want to know if you’ve had your breaks if you need to rest your feet a bit. I’m wondering if you are getting your steps in. I’m thinking about what you are holding in your hands. I’m thinking about your hands. I want to know if you have you’re hair up or down. If your curls are tight or relaxed today. I’m wondering if you put lotion on, which kind, and what you smell like. I want to know if you have that glisten in your eyes you always have when I see you. I want to know how naturally glossy your lips are today. I want to know how your heart is since you woke up.. at peace? At ease? I always hope for that.

Kiss

Before they even touch, I thought about how it would feel if
I brushed them against yours
So gently that I actually cannot be sure if you feel them. But the proximity of my face to yours, yours to mine
sets our chests ablaze. Our minds swivel like a broken compass- its arrow spins, spinning, spins without any intention to stop.
Our breaths warm like ocean water in temperate climate. Almost in rhythm, but slightly off beat as a reminder of the effort put forth from each radio device to connect. Two distinct wavelengths searching for a common frequency- slightly off beat, but in syncopation.
Then, like a gust of wind that inspires the waves to roll, the ship rocks with the swell and tilts.
They touch, and I make sure I breathe in slightly so I may swim in your scent…Not counting seconds, but, we linger.
My fingers begin to travel in search for a place to stay. The exploration is unplanned yet delicately purposeful. Terrain included in their voyage will remain unscathed, but with each step the host quivers to signal direction.
So…Do I turn right here? Should I keep going? A little slower? A little here, a little there?
Our lips part with hesitation. Like a cold beat with heavy bass and delayed notes that complete a swing so groovy your ears scream with pleasure.
Breathe out… Our minds implode like flashing signals upon dark waters and code meant for only each other to understand.
I look into your eyes for response and after a few seconds you replied without words:

“Come back.”

Bathroom Musings 2

Sitting on the toilet
Thinking about yesterday
In the morning I was sad
lamenting the loss of friendships

My mood quickly swerved for a U-turn
Pressed on the pedal, its time to play ball
Hit the breaks hard, got ready to score
windows rolled down, “yup, that was a good call”

Left the gym with spirits high
thinking yes, we can dominate
hoping the floor would be better next week
no stopping us then, tell that crowd “calmate!”

how fast our perceptions can change
we always live in multiple realities
well, think im finished on the toilet
wipe it up, impurities

Theres no conclusion to this poem
just thoughts while alone in the bathroom
i hope i can see things on lighter notes
as if im about to be on the court soon,
like im about to play ball.

Bathroom musings

Sitting on the toilet
thinking about yesterday
I left a wedding
and left behind some friends

friendships are precious
also breakable like glass
sit on it too hard
shatter right under your ass

people are human
human error is common
my mind wanders near future
house parties, will i still invite them

my memories tell me
its okay to leave friends
when they dont love you the same
and dont bother to change

but i do need friends
i need community
i think im finished on the toilet
wipe it up, impurities

Theres no conclusion to this poem
just thoughts while in the bathroom
but i went to the wedding
believing I should sit on the side of the groom.

Not trying to fit in

I wouldn’t say I’m a rebel, but I do find myself getting stuck in situations when I have no choice but to be myself despite feeling pressure to fit in. Whether at work, with friends, with those closest to you, with family. Because the result of fitting in sometimes leads to losing your identities. By identities I mean: those very facts of who you are and what you are.

I’ve experienced tremendous pain in hiding who I am. That pain was doubled by the fact that I was young and didn’t know how to process it. Tripled by my family not being there for me, not that they would have been helpful if they were there. Quadrupled by extreme isolation. The last one- may be the reason why I still struggle with being alone or being by myself. The very thought of it brings excruciating anxiety.

In Chicago, I find it hard to not feel isolated. I often find myself opportunities to empathize and not be on the receiving end. Most of the time, I brush it off. It is my chameleon-like ability to snake through various circles, feel out of it, but still put in effort to enjoy my time while I’m at it.

Situations don’t faze me anymore, but sometimes they trigger painful memories. These days I am more able to regulate, process, and get rid of negative thoughts that serve no purpose but for a downward spiral.

I chose to be here, and this is what it takes. Finally, after 8 years of pain, I finally know how to BE in Chicago. I’m not saying it’s easy. I just know how to do it now. Pain is pain, but, in psychological terms, I know how to cope with it.

Birthday

When you anticipate something bad happening, you walk yourself into bad situations. Things that are usually good become seemingly bad. Every year, something happens on my birthday. Since I was 18, I learned quickly that this was a pattern. A fight with my best friend. A break up. A typhoon that drowned and killed. Another typhoon. Miscommunication. Drama. Lost lives.

I don’t like telling people when my birthday is. Those who grew up with me always remember, and no matter how far we are apart and what drastically different time zones they always remember to wish me a happy day. 15 years of friendships. And counting.

My birthday scares me. Every year I try to play it cool. I’m afraid to get hurt. And that’s why I don’t like to celebrate it. But like I said, when you anticipate something bad happening, you walk yourself into bad situations. And I’m trying, to reverse this pattern.