thoughts

To the one who meant the world to me 

You broke the word that bound us together for months — months that felt like a wonderful infinity. I wish I could say I broke it and you didn’t. That way, things wouldn’t feel unbearably heavy. But my heart heard you, and there’s no way of rebuilding what I thought you would hold special no matter what.

Maybe I said the right things at the wrong time. Or maybe I said the wrong things at the right time. Maybe my brutal honesty pushed you to put a stain on what defined us and the world we shared. But here’s what you didn’t know that night, and what I hope you’ll understand someday: I was so careful even as I was putting my walls down. I was so careful even as my emotions were running high. I was so careful because you meant so much to me even when you thought I was careless. 

I have nothing but endless tears for that split-second moment you questioned the very idea that made me see the two of us, together and apart, in such a bright light and in such amazement. I’ve always thought you were that special friend who would think I’m more than enough even when I’m at my most vulnerable. I guess I was wrong, and I guess it’s time again to smile, laugh, walk, and talk like everything’s okay and like you didn’t break me. 

Standard
thoughts

Numbered chances: New Year’s Eve thoughts 

We flip one page, and in a matter of seconds, we’re one year away from those moments we said yes to changes and challenges. We’re one year away from those moments we said no to letdowns and heartbreaks. 

It wasn’t easy saying yes; it wasn’t easy saying no. But we did it. And we deserve to pat our shoulder and smile our hearts out for the simple reason that we did it.

New Year’s Eve reminds us of how resilient we can be after a 365-day ride on that bittersweet thing we call life. It reminds us that life simply goes on even after we didn’t get a reply from the person we miss so much, or even after we didn’t get our dream job or our dream house. 

Though the last day of each year marks the beginning of looking ahead, it still gives us the kind of nostalgia that makes us itch–the kind that makes us carry and embrace our beautiful, wonderful past. 

It’s the kind that makes us cry and cling to what was and what could have been. This is the ugly part of New Year’s Eve, but we accept this with open arms because, truth be told, even New Year’s Eve isn’t exempt from the idea that things can both be pretty and ugly at the same time. 

With all these thoughts running in our fearless, tireless minds, we also realize once more that we have 365 chances to smile at a complete stranger and make his or her day a bit better, to be gentle to the person who annoys us, and to be loving and warm to those who continue to stand with and by us. 

In the coming new year, let’s turn the other cheek and whisper to this harsh world that we are lucky in little ways as well as in big ways. After all, we have 365 chances to make or break, to ponder on or let go of. 

Many times, it’s hard to believe in the bright possibility of things, but if we try a little harder and believe a little more, we just might be able to turn our numbered chances into an infinite collection of all things great. 

Standard
thoughts

The speed of light: A thank you note 

When everything conspires to drain the best in me, even the most cliche positive quote waters and refreshes the driest parts of my heart.

It’s no wonder then, that for the first time in a long while, I understood again what it feels to have tears of joy running down my cheeks when a special friend sent me this: “Some days, you just have to create your own sunshine.”

It was strange having those tears fall like waterfalls in the instant that I read “create” and “sunshine.” Maybe it happened because I said the syllables of those bright and empowering words on such a dark and discouraging day; maybe it happened because I received the big, sweet reminder on a day I never wish to relive. But if I were to dig deeper in the recesses of my heart, I think those tears of joy meant that I truly, really want to act on the belief of creating my own sunshine–my own glow, my own light, my own glitter–on days when everything seems cold and colorless from all corners. 

I may not recover from a letdown faster than the speed of light, but thanks to a special friend, I know I can stand and think straight again even if I’m bruised and frustrated.

As I’m writing this, I’m wondering how I can repay my special friend for carrying me up in the clouds after I fell hard on the ground.

It’s 4:01 AM, and all I can think of right now is a long, warm hug coupled with this short blog and another little thank you note–this time on a fancy paper. 

Standard
thoughts

Etched in my universe 

You’re etched in my little universe, and I’m not surprised. You showed me what it feels like to linger in someone’s light. You shook my quiet and tamed world, and made its dullness a complete blur.

Your free spirit glides in and out of mine. Your free spirit beats the finitude of time. I’ve never believed in the boundlessness of things. But in the twinkle of your being, I sense the infinity of feelings.

You’re never too little or too much on my bruised hands that you unknowingly but daringly clutched. I wish you’ll never let go. But if and when you do, my little universe will not forget to thank you for what you’ve shown. 

Standard
thoughts

When serendipity says hello 

If I had to pick between hope and serendipity, I’d go for the latter. I can only think of one reason why: I feel stuck. I feel caught up, and there’s no fancy way of putting it.

When I have these I’m-never-going-to-make-it-here episodes, chances are I’m playing with what little hope I have. I don’t see this as borderline pessimism; I see it as an instance or a fact that makes me “me.” And when I stay true to myself, to every fiber that makes up my soul, I never really feel down and empty. 

But then again, this doesn’t add gold coins in my little pocket of hope. In such a circumstance, that thing called hope remains what it is: abstract and untouchable. 

In the middle of it all, I’m still not left empty-handed. “All is not lost,” some people say. Most cliches don’t work on me, but this one is an exception. 

In the moment when all roads point to being stuck, in the moment when every criticism, insult, and half-baked promise and compliment stings, a ray of sunshine creeps through my bare corner. It is serendipity saying a warm and hearty hello. 

It wishes to remind me that I can and should move forward even if I’m stuck in a bubble that refuses to pop. Unlike hope, serendipity bursts with a refreshing element of surprises, twists, and turns. And this is exactly what I need and want. 

I’m broken, yes — in ways that even tears can’t capture fully sometimes. Right here and right now, I’m just grateful that a little phenomenon called serendipity came knocking at my door. 
  

Standard