Prologue

I was a strange child. I spent countless hours peering out of my bedroom window, observing the world move, yet I was motionless. I would save every movement that I saw; a picture frame imprinted in my memory through a window frame. The irony is I still feel that way; watching the world move on and I’m not moving with it. I am a strange young adult.

I’ve been keeping journals and diaries for the longest I can remember. The main reason for it is the fact that it has always been easier for me to write events or ideas down; rather than sharing them publicly. As I was growing up I always felt like I was being put under pressure constantly. Coming from a family were everybody seemed to be a genius at anything they would set their heart to, made me feel a bit excluded. My grandparent always says, “Your grade point average says a lot about the effort you put into things.” Truth is, I was never the best student and I had a tendency of getting distracted a lot very easily, so it was hard for me to remain focused. I remember being in class and the teacher would be giving instructions, or directions to a certain task, and I would doodle in the margin of my paper; always lost in countless daydreams.

Many people that know me, are aware that I am definitely not a school person; but for some odd reason I always had a deep connection with words, and Literature was the only subject I was outstanding at. Even if English is not my primary language, I always felt a fascination and enchantment that was indescribable every time I would read a story, either for English class or simply for my own amusement. One day I walked into class and my teacher called me to his desk, I immediately thought he wanted to discuss my lack of participation on the previous weeks; instead he went through some files on his computer and lastly he printed out a scholarship application. He wanted me to apply for it based on my writing, and music skills. I clearly remember him saying, “I really want you to apply, I believe you’re a great artist overall and I know you can do this; I believe in you!” I took the form, gave him thanks and smiled. I walked away… I set down on my desk, stared at the paper for at least a good 30 minutes. I had no words, and let me just be clear and say that my G.P.A (grade point average) wasn’t at the time enough to even graduate and get my diploma. How is it possible that someone could have such high hopes when most of the time I feel as if I’m not capable of achieving my own goals? I wasn’t used to the feeling but, it was wonderful for someone to have faith in you. I was there, and in front of me was my future.

Hey there future! So, ummm you tell me what’s next…

I think the most essential part of being a writer is the fact that, we might die more deaths than the average person, but only because we have lived more lives. Poetry is a metaphor for life and humans have worked to reflect our lives in poetry the way other craftsman have left their marks on the world in stone or marble. The effect of poetry as art is similar, and as profound, and often as lasting and durable in its own form. I consider myself to be just another human being, crafted from nothingness, looking for somethingness.

It means imagining I could be my own hero in this story, that for once all it takes is an open mind with paper and pen to leave a legacy behind. That’s what this book is about, “A Step Closer” to become who you want to be, to go where you aspire to go, to be yourself and embrace it, to fall in love with words.

“We don’t read and write poetry because it’s cute. We read and write poetry because we are members of the human race. And the human race is filled with passion. And medicine, law, business, engineering, these are noble pursuits and necessary to sustain life. But poetry, beauty, romance, love, these are we stay alive for”

―Dead Poets Society, 1989

Starting From Scratch

I will write poetry to you dear.

If that would make you see how precious you are.

The sorrows of tomorrow no longer I shall fear.

The thrills of the unknown are gone within a blink of an eye.

I gave you truth; hypnotizing summer nights

fulfilled with eternal and unconditional acceptance

of who you have become.

I love the way the breeze took away your worries and despondency.

I love the way you gave in at the climax of our love story.

Poems designated for you; and only for your eyes to read, although they don’t always have a clear beginning, middle or end.

It’s simply, the abstract emotion you make me feel when I hold my pen.

If I could write poetry dear,

I will write to you every day.   

Midnight Sonata

And if you’re still breathing after all this pain and the stars have yet

not fade, you’re the lucky one dear because for ages now

my days have been gray.

Long days, meaningless nights.

The tides come and go, come and go.

Mostly, they just go, leave me standing on a starless beach alone,

gazing into gunmetal seas searching for the glint and glimmer of hope.

Some things hurt,

and tonight I am picking shrapnel out of my flesh

from your words and dropping pieces into this fish tank,

watching them through glass do that silly dance object do when flirting with water.

Thinking, this time, this time, you won’t sink me.

I don’t know what you were aiming for, but you missed. 

We were ellipses in a draft of masterpiece we were never able to finish.

Not The One

I am not the one you are looking for.

There are thunderstorms in my heart

and your skin is resistant to showers that fall upon it, 

or so it seems. 

Slicking off and collecting in iridescent puddles at your feet. 

Your hands are not cupped to catch feelings that pour out of me in sheet music, 

ruptured melodies, a tambourine shiver of words your ears aren’t ready to hear anyway.

Too many praises, not enough apologies.

Too many lighting strikes reminding you that you are fragile and fallible, 

that you still have so much work to do (as do I).

And my origami wings were not designed to unfold in the roughness of your hands.

And find more happiness in a simple sea breeze than any amount of money, 

more inspiration in a small act of kindness than all the Seven Wonders of the World.

When I close my eyes at night I contemplate the criticality of staling murmurations, 

over-analyze subtle key changes, and add new legends to my soul map.

All before tucking myself into the black hole of my bed 

and collapsing into a love language you will never even attempt to understand.     

Mental Illness

In 360 B.C.E. Plato wrote, “Love is a mental illness.”

Modern science has since given weight to this claim with studies

that show similarities occurring in brain events involving love and lunacy. 

Our romance is a chemical dance between dopamine,

adrenaline, and serotonin.

So when I tell you that every time I smell sandalwood on your skin,

hear your name from another’s lips, feel your breath on my neck,

see your face; 

I’m a wreck because my brain lights up like a city at dusk, 

my veins all flood, the planets rust.

And when I say I’m crazy,

Deranged, lovesick and struck,

I’m not just making this up.

My dear, these are all symptoms of the madness that is love.

Honor and Code

There are times when you want to find an answer so badly that your head starts to ache. Trying to look for that one thing that everybody asks themselves every now and then; “what am I willing to die for?” Such a simple question made of complexity and all these deep emotions that penetrate the skin, shattering the bone. Is so much more, is beyond the superficial. Is more than love, hate, acceptance or disgrace. Is about the honor! The legacy you wish to leave of yourself. Many have failed trying to aim high, but let’s face it; we all offer what we have.

I’ll die for justice, for glory and wealth. There are many people out there with ambition. Consuming their thoughts with criticism, ripping souls apart. Wondering if I am good enough to fit the standards that society puts in our lives. Not taking chances and matters into my own hands. And all of it is for being too afraid, afraid of raising my voice high. So high that everybody in the other side of the ocean could hear it! Wanting to make myself the owner of my emotions. Not letting others interfere. What a beautiful thing to do! Instead of pointing out our flaws and imperfections, those are the things that make us unique reflecting who we are and showing our typical human nature.

I’ll die for glory because I still have hope. They tend to take my dreams away, make me believe I can’t succeed. Always find myself thinking that I am doing something wrong. I’ll die for those that put on a fight whenever they take away our rights. Rights that guarantees us freedoms concerning religion, expression, assembly, and the right to petition. I’ll die for wealth. A clean state of mind, because memory can hunts us in our darkest times. I am a sinner, a sinner that prays for forgiveness. I implore pity and mercy to a god I don’t believe in. I believe in a god that doesn’t judge and makes exceptions for his children. A god that can trust and his love is based on courage, confidence, dreams and optimism. I don’t believe in a god that labels people. Black, White, Hispanic, Asian, Hetero or Homosexual; for Christ sake, don’t you get we are all people!  

I’ll die for humanity, for my word, and my freedom… 

Delirious Minds

It’s Sunday afternoon, and I was thinking on how today as the sun sets in the valley of countless multi-color clouds, the moon will rise. It will rise telling the story of her past loves, kissing the stars in the bittersweet agony of a broken heart. The next morning will be Monday; well, isn’t that a relief. The days pass by but your memories remain still. Not speaking a word, not saying how you feel. Silence… that’s all I hear. In the crowds you stand out, so different, so remarkable, looking for change. A bizarre idea, a belief of hope. But once again, perhaps the most important thing we bring to another person is the silence in us, not the sort of silence that is filled with unspoken criticism or hard withdrawal. The sort of silence that is a place to refuge, of rest, of acceptance of someone and as they are. We are all hungry for this other silence. It is hard to find. In its presence we can remember something beyond the moment, a strength on which to build a life. Silence is a place of great power and healing.

Sometimes, whenever I look outside at the night sky through my window I wish upon a star. Knowing that wishes don’t always come about in the way that we think, but if you believe and keep your mind open, there’s a really good chance they will manifest in some way. Because even though I didn’t realize it at the time, that was exactly what my night star did for me. Now is Tuesday morning and the sun is shining bright. Its vivid colors representing eternal life. A strong soldier fighting against the dark. The day keeps on going, I see many faces rushing up and down the halls; almost as if they had no time to even say “hello”. Despite the fact that they walk along with extremely long faces, left me wondering what could make them so sad. The night was approaching, and I fell right into her arms, falling asleep in serenity. Felt like years of an eternal peace inside.

It’s Wednesday and the sky cries. The birds are not singing, the animals are not running around, not even the squirrel that jumps from tree to tree every morning has bothered to come outside. I remember a huge tiredness coming over me, a kind of lethargy in the face of the tangled mess before me. It was like being given a thousand math problems when your brain is exhausted, and you know there is some far-off solution, but you can’t work up the energy even to give it a go. I remained still in that moment. I was there. I wasn’t aware of anything else but the sound of the rain. I was stuck on that deep instance were as if the sound became a part of my heart-beat, were I felt it running down my veins.

We live everything as it comes, without warning, like an actor going on cold. And what can life be worth if the first rehearsal for life is life itself. That is why life is always like a sketch. No, “sketch” is not quite the word, because a sketch is an outline of something; the groundwork for a picture, whereas the sketch is our life, is a sketch for nothing, an outline with no picture… It’s Thursday and every day is procrastination, trying to get work done. Trying to keep it moving, making mistakes and hopefully learning from them. People come up to me asking non-sense questions. I’ve got nothing; nothing to say. We are all ignorant of our true feelings, we are all hiding from them. Why? Why are we so scared? There nothing more beautiful in its simplest form than to love and being loved. I have learned that love^__the beauty of it, the joy of it, and yes, even the pain of it^__is the most incredible gift to give and to receive as a human being.

It’s Friday. “Party-day”, as many people say. Meanwhile, I find myself writing articles, and letters I am sure I will never send. I’m talking about philosophy and some old Beatles’ song. Quoting book titles that resonate deep inside my bones. “We don’t read and write poetry because it’s cute. We read and write poetry because we are members of the human race. And the human race is filled with passion. And medicine, law, business, engineering, these are noble pursuits and necessary to sustain life. But poetry, beauty, romance, love, these are what we stay alive for”^__Dead Poets Society, 1989.

It’s Saturday and a whole week has almost passed by. I think I probably have wrote a thousand pages worth nothing. All of them talking about how ironic things toured out to be. I found my old shoe box, the one filled with old love letters, photos and unwrapped gifts. This is what I like about photographs. They’re proof that once, even if just for a heartbeat, everything was perfect. It was all. It was my small infinite of perfection. I think it’s such a funny thing. We look back in time and never realize that we had it all. We really did. I’ve been thinking a lot lately. Not even the slightest portion of my imagination could’ve ever guess that this was it. And that there’s so much more yet to come! I suppose we miss what we had and never came back, but just picture this; maybe tomorrow might come and surprise you, knock you off your feet and it could be your greatest accomplishment yet.

We are back to Sunday, the moon still cries over her lost unforgotten love. I know the sun will rise in the morning demanding for work. I realize I will write limitless pages of stories that still don’t have an end. Time will not stop and won’t settle, it will make you grow and show your true colors reflecting who you are. In the agony of the night the sleepless lovers find a new story to write. The hopeless romantics seek for an eternal charm to keep them alive in the shadowy mist of the black sky. In the morning, a whole angry mob of realistic creatures try to conquer a non-stop journey also known as life. Try to make a mark, leave a legacy. Who knows, tomorrow can be the first blank page of a 365 page book. Remember to write a good one. 

3:00am Thoughts

I believe that every body as long as we live in this earth, look for some kind of happiness; something that helps us look towards tomorrow, some hope that makes us believe that even if the future is uncertain, we can still have some kind of guaranty that things will eventually go our way. I am a strong believer in fate and that we have the opportunity of creating our own destiny. I don't think anybody appears in our lives for no unknown cause or reason. Every single person we meet has a purpose on teaching us a lesson. If there's something i have learned throughout all this time is that we tend to take most of the moments we live for granted. Imagine if today was your last day. How many people would you wish to say your last good-bye to? How many people would you say sorry to? How many are you willing to forgive? What places would you wish to go? and lastly how many people would you admit to say you have ever loved them? Time is such a precious tool and we tend to waist it. I think above all, the important things that actually matter are the little details. I love unmaid beds. I love when people are drunk and crying and cannot be anything but honest in that moment. I love the look in people's eyes when they realize they are in love. I love the way people look when they first wake up and they have forgotten their surroundings. I love the gasp people take when their favorite character dies. I love the way people close their eyes and drift to somewhere in the clouds. I fall in love with people and their honest moments all the time. I fall in love with their breakdowns and their smeared makeup and their daydreams. Honestly, is just too beautiful to ever put into words. Find somebody that brings out the best in you, someone that helps you up every time you fall down. Whoever you find hold on to them because very few people are worth putting a fight for. Love like you have never been hurt, seek for that person that looks at you like you are magic . The most and powerful way to connect to another person is to listen. Just listen! Perhaps the most important thing we ever give each other is our attention. Go on long drives and sing along to the radio, just scream your lungs out and don't ever be afraid of saying how you feel, because opportunities are lost in a blink of an eye but regrets can last for a lifetime. Try to find someone that you sincerely wouldn't mind writing a book about. Don't ever be scared to say what you feel, or write. Simply write! Write whatever you're too afraid to say. The life we live is temporary but the legacy we leave behind is legendary. There is no time for regrets, or important words unspoken. At the end of the day you realize that a lifetime might not be so long of a time period after all. It's simply not meant for someone who wasn't quite right, someone who made you think more than they made you feel. I think we like to complicate things, when it really is quite simple; find what it is that makes you happy and who it is that makes you happy, and you are set. I promise! It's true, we are all different and we all seek for different objectives in life but try this; talk to a stranger, sit down with them or maybe a friend you no longer talk to. Appreciate every moment and opportunity life provides you because you never know who's out there searching for help and just then, you will realize there is not such a big difference between each other. We all seek for happiness. Perhaps our differences are what brings us together rather than our similarities. And believe me, if you want something bad enough, try it! Risk it all and don't be scared. Write love letters, make up a song, dedicate your own poems. Yes, those poems that you are too scared to show anyone else. Look at a sunset or stare at the moon while you try to find any constellations on the sky. Go for a walk on the beach, read as many books you can. The most essential things in life are hidden, look for them. Who knows, they might be just right behind someone's eyes. It could be all, it could be your little eternity of hope.

Time

Time: a matter of seconds, minutes, hours, days, weeks, months and years... We tend to look at time as something irrelevant rather than unique. It seeks its way to always retell what we could’ve been. It reminds us of our past, deepest secrets and fears. Time, doesn’t wait for no one and tends to always pass by quick. We are so cut up in the moment to actually realize that the best is yet to come. Have you ever wondered how life will turn out to be?

Eccentric, outrageous, wild, unwise… That’s what teenagers have made society believe. Obscured souls trying to find a path. A light in the middle of the darkness and a voice that welcomes them into the glory high up in the skies.  I guess I’ve always been different. Even misunderstood; I shall say! I’ve been the intellectual one and quite awkward around my friends. Maybe it’s the way we interpret things in life or just how we imagine they should be. Up to this point I still don’t know how we haven’t given up yet. How dreams still have meanings and how we hope everything soon will be “okay”.

Society has put too much pressure on people. Sooner or later we recognize that we are just a victim of our own minds. Time again seems to pass by slow but you don’t hear any complains.  We are living a beautiful chaos full of drama, desperation and hate. Hate of what we have become. Hate of the end of a childhood and memories that we shall cherish till the very last second of breath. Hate of the world we live in, where no one seems to understand what hides inside our heads. Desperation flows in our veins. We are in urgent need to find the answer to those questions that keep us up at night. But just in case somebody asks “I just want to sleep” appears to be the perfect excuse to don’t talk.

It’s fascinating how things have changed over time! Almost as if there is a war between remembering and forgetting. I ask myself, why is it so hard. I mean, why don’t people understand that there's so much more to life, that it just simply takes time! 

I had an old friend that used to be tired very often. I remember how we used to talk and tell me all sorts of awful and dreadful things. How life has always been unfair and how he has given up on his dreams. One day he really surprised me! He just left without even saying goodbye. I guess he was really tired and wanted to sleep for a while. But even if we no longer talk, I know he’s good now. I know he’s somewhere smiling back at me when he reads this few lines I’ve wrote about him. I also know he doesn’t live that far; after all we are under the same sky. Life can show no mercy, it can tear your soul apart, it can make you feel like you’ve gone crazy, but you’re not. So no matter what the outcome is, never ever give up.

Without those moments in life when nothing goes right, and everything seems to be against you, the brief, yet vibrant instances of true happiness and satisfaction that everyone experiences at least sometimes, would mean nothing. It’s not how much you take, is how much it’s given; and we give the best that we got because time is momentarily and very few things in life last forever. You treasure every opportunity it’s given. We learn from our mistakes, from our flaws and imperfections. We learn from others and their typical human nature. We are one voice. We are united. We are who we are. We are our own saviors. We are unique and on occasions very hard to understand. The mind is a powerful weapon and we should learn how to use it wisely.

All of a sudden, everything felt calm and a harmony of peaceful melodies ran through my heart. I was in a land of my own admiring the view and watching people laugh. The simple joy of loving. The warm feeling of a smile. I’ve never felt so pleasant in my life. But I know it won’t matter after all, I can’t change the world on my own. We think about tomorrow then it slips away, we talk about forever but we’ve only got today. Life is short, to leave important words unsaid but, I’m just the struggling writer with too much to say.

Get a Life

Wake up with the feeling that the whole world got you down. Pressure that keeps building got you dragging on the ground. Chaos keeps on losing in no answers to be found for what you are feeling now.

Danger that surrounds, it gets worse here every day. Criminals in power want to take your right away. Never hear you protest, they won’t have you have your say.

But you don’t try, sit there and whine about your decline. I think it is a pathetic sort of life you choose. Methods abused, solutions refused, good for you but some day you will lose your life.

Without even giving it a try depression is the only thing you will find. Give it one chance before you die; just got one day to get a life.

Every day procrastinate, you won’t get very fast. Listen to religion try and tell you who you are. Marionettes on TV sets parade across your screen, but you don’t know what it all means. Think there is no point in trying to get up each day. When problems are there to confound, only speed your slow decay. Future is relegated to be a bland pathetic waist because you can’t find a better way.

Know you will never make it; you don’t even want to try. Waiting for the day when you can curl up and die. No one is going to listen, the world is out to get you. Blame anyone you want, you get the life you choose. When are you going to get a clue? No one’s going to wait for you. Only you can make it all come true.

A never-ending struggle but one day you’ll see the light. May not think you’ll make it, don’t give up without a fight. Stay fast to aspirations of what you think is right and fight on with all your might.

Bullets or Butterflies

No so long ago I was assigned to write about this specific quote: “words can be bullets or butterflies”. I have to admit, I was quite fascinated to actually write and express my thoughts towards this given quote. Many ideas came to my mind and I was exploding with eager to finally write.

1.   A bullet, representing external harm yet, also the internal damage words can cause.

2.    A butterfly, representing beauty and its delicate ability to always soften the words used.

This is my perspective and understanding of the quote.

Personally, I believe words have such a huge impact on society today. Some people talk without even thinking, others think too much, some are just afraid, while other can’t speak at all. I think it is sad. The fact is that we don’t truly say what we feel, not because we don’t want to, but because we don’t know how to. We are so afraid of always being wrong. But if you go back to the quote and really start to think, butterflies can’t see their wings. They can’t see how beautiful they are, but everyone else can. People are just like that as well. When you truly take time and listen with the ears of your heart you’ll be surprised of the delightful, yet at the same time horrendous things you might hear. 

I took a quest myself and I listened beyond the ordinary routine of everyday’s life.

People… you, me us. That’s what forms a nation of thousands of voices wanting to be heard. I can clearly remember the story of one of my friends. We’ve always been together since before Pre-K. One day he was desperate and could barely talk. I told him to relax, and that everything would be okay. He finally managed to settle himself down and he just let everything out. He recently came out to his parents and told them he was gay. It took him a lot of courage but his parents didn’t take it so well. Now he’s a sophomore in college and his parents demanded he had to move out. Words can leave scars and cuts the naked eye can’t see. Why waste a second not loving who you are? Those little imperfections make you beautiful, lovable, and valuable, they show your personality inside your heart, reflecting who you are.

One late afternoon I decided to go for a walk. I was near the park and I saw a couple arguing for an unknown cause. I didn’t want to eavesdrop but I was quite curious to know what the deal was! I could hear screams from like a mile behind me. I guess he really hurt her because she burst into tears. He just walked away and left her there alone without even saying a word. I think everybody at least once has been heartbroken like that. Then, I suddenly realized, sometimes the person you’d take a bullet for, ends up being the one behind the gun. I felt terrible for this lady. It seemed like he really hurt her and I could see the pain in her eyes. I guess all that’s left is wait for the best, because tomorrow will always be a brighter day!

A few days past by and after a long day I decided to relax for a while. I turned the T.V on and the very first thing that came up was a documentary about the previous war in Syria. I have to admit it actually did get me feeling quite depressed. Just the fact that people were being killed and harmless children had to die. Peace is not something you wish for, it’s something you make. Something you do. Something you are. Something you give away! While you sit around thinking about what you can’t change and worrying about all the wrong things, time’s flying by, moving so fast. You better make it count because you can’t get it back. So, I ask myself; “why fight against countries? Why kill more men?” some bullets can be superficial while others can kill you to death.

The next morning I got up and I went to school like any other regular day. I got there and I walked into to the bathroom just to fix my hair. I saw a girl starring back at the mirror not happy with the reflection she saw. I thought she was beautiful right away, but it seems she doesn’t feel the same way. She finds color in the darkest places. She finds beauty in the saddest of faces. She dances in spite of the fact that she’s different. I didn’t know her but either way I went up to her and said: “Darling, open your eyes. You are not made up of those words that hurt you. Or that number on the scale. Or the expectation you feel you will never meet. You are made up of nothing more than you. You are a lovely and complex. No other is beautiful as you. Look past the mirror. Look at your soul. Only then, you’ll see yourself as how you truly are. Beautiful! So, smile and don’t forget to love yourself” I really hope I made her day. I think happiness is what makes you pretty. Period. Happy people are beautiful. They become like a mirror and they reflect that happiness to others.

I love this crazy, tragic, sometimes almost magic, awful, beautiful life. “It’s only with the heart that one can see rightly; what is essential, is invisible to the eye”.