a daylight dream

I love that this love is a secret. Unbeknownst to ridicule, conversations and dialogue. Something that was meant for just you and me, something a little bit more than stolen glances and broken smiles. Something just a little bit more than that. Because it's a little secret in my mind, making me acknowledge that the world is easier to fight with you devotedly by my side. Inside, with the little cloud of understanding you allow to linger, it's easier to know that I'm alright, that some things were meant to take their time, and that strength is the only thing that can keep me from adding insult to injury in this troubled path of mine. And I know it's meant to stay a secret for a while still. Even in a long time, an eternal part of our story will be a secret. On pictures, we are just glamorous, laughing, adventurous people but never have I ever before known that just a gaze from eye to eye can emit messages a million light-years would never dare to try with. And our gaze is

Today, I turn 22. I can't believe a year had passed since turning 21 for, in retrospect, I could count the milestones of my 21st year on my fingertips. I must say it was one of those tumultuous, spiraling years. My 21st wasn't calm and kind, but pressuring and alerting. Every day was some kind of wake up call of some sort, shedding some light upon what I keep ignoring. But I won't talk too much about my 21st year now that I have a whole year to dream of. Oh, it's going to be so intricately different in every way possible! I might be graduating soon, working as an English teacher for fifth graders, and experiencing this very new and bright beginning. I have been thinking of this day since high school, and I must say none of those sleepless nights were taken for granted. All of the puzzle pieces are starting to fit now, all of those unattached passions and ideas have come to know their place and I'm quite ready to start fathoming the bigger picture. It's

I have written about emptiness perennially, over and over again until I memorized how it felt like to have a heart that is chipping off, rusting, losing its glowing vitality, leaving the inside unprotected and vulnerable. I took my time feeling this pain. The accomplice was surprisingly anger, frustration, and hatred. I did feel hate towards so many things in my life; the neighbors which made no effort to beautify the block we live in, the dreary governmental decisions and bureaucracy, the monotony in our home, and the outbursts of aggression I have to deal with almost every day. I spent some days completely silent, talking only when necessary, slowing down every moment, aggravating the pain, and strengthening its accompanying, infuriating narratives. But then, I chose to be grateful, not only for the things I have but the things I don't have at the moment. I chose to believe in a future in which I have everything I currently lack; family, close friends, adventures, pr