September 30: On The Road

September 30: On The Road

Pause. Time stops.

Photography: edit the photos I’ve always wanted to edit, look through the thousands and thousands I already have, go out and take countless more.

Travel: go on that road trip with my friends we’ve been planning, go visit the different states and locations outside of our regular places, take countless of photos during all of that.

Friends: have talks we never had time for, address things we never had the chance to before, do things we might regret later on but will live for it now.

Writing: write that novel I’ve been planning for nearly a year, write those poems and short stories I’ve wanted to, spend more time proofreading and editing old writing pieces, read through my old pieces to see how much I’ve grown (as a writer and as a person).

Play. Time begins again.

“I Didn’t Do Anything Wrong!”

“I Didn’t Do Anything Wrong!”

The sky is blue. The breeze flows lightly. The leaves brush softly. The voice echo soundly. All seems well.

I glance outside my window and discover something that isn’t all that well. There’s police tape here and there. There’s police cars, fire trucks and ambulances parked all around the neighborhood.

Something’s wrong, I thought to myself as I continued to scan the scene for any hints of what was going on. I wonder if everything’s okay now…

An hour later, I decide to go on a walk. The tape was still there, but I decided to go out towards the opposite direction. I walked far away from the police cars and everything that seemed sketchy.

I walk in silence. I feel the cool breeze along my bare skin. I listen to the ruffling of the bushes and the leaves beneath feet.

Someone’s there. I immediately turn around and come in contact with a sharp metal blade pointed at my face. The sun reflected into my eyes. I couldn’t see the person very well, but I could make out the shape of the figure. It’s the guy they were looking for…

“I need your help.” The man stammered.

I focused on keeping my breathing steady, and responded, “There would be a higher chance of me helping you if you weren’t holding a knife to my face.”

He hesitated for a second, “Well…”

“You mind taking that out of my face?” I sternly asked.

He hesitated still, but then put the blade away. “How do you get out of here?”

“That way.” I pointed behind him, even though there was an exit behind me.

He glanced over and then back at me, “There are cops over there.”

I shrugged and told him. “So? We did nothing wrong.”

“Yeah…you’re right…” He mumbled softly, “We did nothing wrong. I did nothing wrong. I did nothing wrong…”

He continued to mumble that line to himself: I did nothing wrong.

I walked with him over to where the cops sat, leaning on their car. One of them made eye contact with me. I mouthed “help” and nodded to the man who was now walking in front of me. I mouthed “knife” and made a motion across my neck.

The cop got the signal. They made their way over and caught the man before he could run. The last words I heard him say were “No! I didn’t do anything wrong! I didn’t do anything wrong!”

Two Yellow Butterflies

Two Yellow Butterflies

My heart stops, skips a beat, something.

Earlier today, I looked outside my window and saw these two beautiful, yellow butterflies traveling across my backyard. They circled each other in graceful motion as they went this way and that. Where one went, the other one followed. Even though they seemed to be circling around the garden again and again, they seemed to know where they were going.

And then, as if it were planned, they flew in opposite directions. One went this way as the other one went another way. They separated. I couldn’t help but wonder what happened.

Hours passed and now I am sitting here again. I’m looking outside the same window and spot this little butterfly fly around the same area. It came back. But there is only one, and it flies aimlessly and confused. It doesn’t fly gracefully anymore but full of panic and distress. It darts this way and that, the other butterfly nowhere to be seen.

I watch it as it flies faster and faster, until it has to stop and rest. Minutes go by and still it’s searching. It’s searching for something; the other butterfly is still nowhere to be found. My heart falls heavy for this animal, who seems to lost what it regretted letting go of.

More time goes by and I’m still watching this little butterfly flutter its wings in every direction it can. Sharp turns here, avoiding the wall there, it travels across this great area to find what was missing, what it yearned.

Then suddenly, another butterfly comes from across the street. They tangle together, flying in circle around on another in joy. They fly gracefully this way and that. It feels whole again.

September 24: Standstill

September 24: Standstill

She looks up at the sky. The sun shown brightly behind the dazed clouds. The wind brushed her hair against her skin ever so lightly. Her eyes sparkled violet blue in the sunlight…but not from happiness.

Her shoulders are wide apart. She stands up tall. Her holds her chin up to the sky. Her arms are at her side. Her feet a width apart. She looks over with emotion in her eyes….but it’s not confidence.

If I could change something, tweak something, I would change, put a little change in her future, so she would learn to trust again.

Time To Go

Time To Go

The apartment is quite a good size. The oak door stands behind me. The walls are painted a close navy blue with simple designs of white in the corners, growing to the center of the canvases. The ground beneath my feet is layered with oak, shinning in the soft lighting from above.

The small kitchen is diagonally to my right. The dinning table is to my right against the wall. There is a small living room with a simple couch and glass coffee table on top of a furry rug. Directly in front of me is a short hallway with four doors. The first door on the right is the bathroom. The second door on the right is a work room. The doors on the left both lead to small bedrooms already decorated and designed.

I walk into the first bedroom. There’s a single light in the middle of the square ceiling, shinning down upon a full sized bed covered in dark blue sheets. There is a small oak table to my right, sitting in the corner between the wall and a sliding mirror door to the closet. Across the room is a window seat with two pillows stacked on either side. The walls are bare and clean; the room seems unused and empty.

I move onto the second bedroom. The bed is now in the corner of the room, diagonal from the door. The walls are still the same navy blue, but there are more white decorations that run across the walls. There are also many photos, hanging on strings, here and there. They tell stories, represent memories, and more. There are even some frames sitting on the desk across from the bed and below the window seat that is between. A thin curtain hangs over the window, blocking enough light so it is not blinding as it patches the furry rug in front. The room seems busy but familiar.

Walking across the hall, I notice the workroom is in between of being bare and decorated or busy. There are frames along the middle of the walls, a row of pictures on one side of the desk, and a large beanbag chair in the opposite corner. The rest of the room is blank. There is no other furniture in the room besides the one desk and two chairs. There is a large space between the desk and a mirror wall on the right from the door. The whole room is reflected in the glass, it covering the entire wall. It looks so simple and elegant. It seems beautiful.

I walk back out and briefly glance into the kitchen and walk by the living room once again. Everything seems to create an “at home” atmosphere. It’s a settling and peaceful feeling that I longed for. Sadly, it was time to go. I didn’t know where I was going, or even why I was leaving. It had seemed as if I had just arrived.

Always a Next

Always a Next

I’m walking down the hallway when I see them. Two of my friends…fighting…again. I pick up my speed and drop my bag a little away.

“Let go.” I ordered, yanking his hand away from her wrist.

His eyes widened for a second and then had that devilish hint in them when he focused on me. He was in the state of insanity. I knew this state, for him anyway.

“You shouldn’t have done that…” I faintly heard my friend mutter on her breathe, not daring to make a noise.

There was a chokingly tense atmosphere in the air. This was one of the times where we challenged each other, and made it clear.

He pushed me against the lockers behind me, my shoulders making a loud bang. With my wrist pinned to the locker, I felt the cold metal behind me and continued to stare into his nearly black devil eyes.

“Why do you always choose to get yourself in trouble?” He chuckled, amused.

“Why do you always choose to get your ass kicked?” I smirked.

He wasn’t amused anymore.

“Get out of here.” I ordered my friend, who was still watching in fear; her feet were glued to the ground.

She opened her mouth to say something but I cut her off.

“Get!” I commanded, making her nearly run out of the hall.

The entire time I didn’t unlock my eyes with the black ones that stared back. The owner of them raised his hand to slap me, but I caught it midway. The slight confusion, that second of his surprise, gave me just enough time to turn around and yank my wrist free and slap him.

He took a few steps back, his hand rubbing his face. He glared at me, hard, but didn’t move to do anything more. He soon walked away, leaving me in the empty hallway alone.

This was how it always ended. We both knew I won this time…but there was always a next.

Why Now…

Why Now…

My heart skips a beat. My words don’t come as easily. I don’t know where to put my hands and feet, where are my eyes suppose to be.

I shuffle my papers in front of me. I occupy myself drawing and “spacing out”. I don’t know, really, what to do with myself.

I’ve never had this happen before. I’ve never was the jealous type. I was never one to be possessive, especially toward something that wasn’t mine.

None of this stuff happened to me before, before…so why now?

There’s a difference. There’s something special. It’s there. I know. But why?