Month: September 2015

The Large Bottle

She stared at the orange bottle. It housed 30 small pink pills. They were almost lost in the container, dwarfed by the large side of the prescription tube. She was almost excited about the possibilities of taking a dose. If she started today, she would feel better tomorrow… she hoped. She wanted to be optimistic. She tried everything else before getting fed up. She had a huge dinner and swallowed one pill. She woke up five hours later. “Why am I awake??” She feels strange. Restless. She tries to go back to sleep. She can’t. She is upset. She takes out her phone and looks up side effects of the drug. Nausea, restlessness, fatigue, headaches, insomnia, muscle spasms, irritated bladder, increased appetite, blurry vision and a couple of other things. These side effects should last about four weeks until the drug can settle in properly. She can’t believe how long her wait for happiness is going to take. She can barely operate her car. You know the feeling of falling in your sleep? Well, that’s how it feels all the time. She stares at things longer. She sat in front of her computer just staring at the screen for ten minutes. Doing nothing. How can such a tiny pill be so powerful? She isn’t looking forward to the weeks to come. How can the symptoms be so bad?

But she is still hopeful…

Change of Season Again

Hello world. Hello people. Hello self.


A Woman Coiled

Finished reading The Bell Jar.

Finished reading The Bell Jar.

Confused. Impatient. Unintelligible. I run around and around in my head wondering where I will go and where I will stop. If not stop, then explode. I know myself and if I am right, then I will explode at any moment. I can feel is winding me tighter and tighter. The effort is strenuous and tiresome. Perhaps the full weight of an average adult body is not enough. A blue whale is a better gauge of weight that I feel is keeping me twisted out of human form. I cannot breathe on some days because the heaviness that I feel on my chest. This imperfect form of bad decisions their consequences. Fear and loneliness. Aggression and hate. Swirled together in a vat in my own skin just waiting to burst. But the scary part is that it never does. I can somehow take the ravages of my coiled self. I can take the pressure and possibly the pain. I can take it all. I am a woman coiled. I am not a snake or a metal spring or a demon figure. I know that depressurizing that coil is recipe for a a detailed mess and I am aware of the clean up procedures. It is one thing to know the procedures and another to follow them. The coil gets worse when I mention rules and regulations. Not the typical noise of the law of the land, but the moral laws of human decency and of religious worry. The unspoken laws. The varied laws. The abstract laws. The laws that are still important enough to die for. Strained and contemporary laws. The laws that give hushed voices a name. I cannot control their power over me. Their uncertain strength is too unrecognizable. I cannot be that keen to knowing everything and that is why I know nothing. Inexperienced and lonely in my own group. Unvaried and questioning. The swirl repeats again. Uncut and smooth it goes. Crushing me, making me smaller and smaller with unknown certainty of where my limit will expose itself. Why do I think that it is a spiral of downward activity? Why can’t I change the trajectory towards the sky? But, then again, who has heard of blue whales swimming in the sky?

When I Loved You

Graffiti in Westwood, CA

Graffiti in Westwood, CA

When I loved you, you were the reason my heart skipped beats. You were the reason why my mind was cloudy and illiterate. You were the only thing on my mind. You were the truth and the lies I told myself. When I loved you, it was like I could not make mistakes. When I loved you, wanting to be near you wasn’t an option for me. When I loved you, I asked you a billion questions because I wanted to memorize your existence into a permanent memory. But that was when I loved you.

Now, the love is faded. It has you reduced like a boiling pot of water. The heat will still be there, but the water has evaporated. A gaping, burning hole continues to form after the water vanishes. The smell of burning metal fills my house and there is nothing that can be done until I get the pot off the fire. Right now, I am still running that fire. I can only hope for the best. It’s funny how something so innocent as water started this mess, that unless you watch over it, it starts to grow wild and unsightly-even dangerous. The innocent water fades away. Retreats to the air. Exists in the house before escaping somewhere else.

There is evaporated love that still lingers in my lungs. It shadows itself in what-if scenarios and fantasies of a future that I wanted when we were still together. “Maybe he is the one. The type of guy to support my aspirations and my dreams. Maybe he will be a kind father for our kids- a real role-model. Maybe we will live in a house with neighbors who envy our constant love for one another. Maybe he will surprise me on how mature he becomes without sacrificing his sense of humor. Maybe we will be old together and have kids that love us back and think that we’re the greatest positive influence in their lives. Maybe we will continue to have adventures and surprises even when we can no longer walk.” Lovey thoughts like that. But also very valid to me at the time. It’s hard to realize that that is no longer the option. That the relationship ended and that there is no turning back. What was said was said. What was done was done. There is nothing that you owe each other. Certainly no future together.

In my dreamlike state of love and boiling water, I realize that I was dealing with a human being that was not me. I fear that we were not meant to be in many ways. Even from the beginning. We were either too similar or too different. But that is because I wanted to gauge the relationship first. Give it a chance. But too many chances were given. I was too nice. I was too forgiving. I was angry at you for making me feel this way. In the end, after so long, we decide to no longer be unhappy.

Some days I feel like the easy option is still to keep loving you. It is easier than hating or trying to forget you. Some days I feel like filling that pot of water again and perhaps watching it closer this time. And on the days that I am sane, I think about moving on and finding someone new to start loving.