Candlelit Thoughts

Candlelit Thoughts

The lights have gone out in the bathroom and my roommate and I have yet to fix them. At the moment it’s being lit by candlelight. I don’t know if I’ll change it any time soon. I probably won’t. The effect seems to fit my life, which always sounds so dramatic when I tell about it that I laugh at the recanting. Occasionally, I even laugh when it’s happening. Drama seems so funny in real life. It just looks so out of place. And yet, it’s sort of all I really know.

Though drama befits the circumstance, I’m not actually thinking about anything all that dramatic. I was thinking about being someone. Whomever it is I’m supposed to be. I was thinking about how to become that without throwing away everything about me that I’ve spent my whole life trying to be. It sounds deep and thoughtful, but I think it might be more of an excuse to prolong my enjoyment of the candlelight.

I was thinking about rejection. I applied to be commencement speaker this year. I’m graduating college. I didn’t get it and that wasn’t surprising. I think at this point, I’ve applied to and gotten rejected by so many things that I’m a bit numb to the feeling. I see the words “I am sorry to…” give a polite, “oh okay”, sit back down, and finish my tea. If I’d decided to believe in purpose this week, I would’ve said that all of my rejections these past few years have been a plan to rid me of the fear often preceding them. I’m not sure I believe in that this week though. This week I just feel like the universe is being a bitch.

Every thing I go for gives the remarkable impression of being right outside of my reach. I can touch the glimmer of success with the tips of my fingers, but it never glows close enough for me to feel it’s warmth. They told me, as they usually do, of how very close I was. They told me, as they generally do, that the attempt I made was a phenomenal effort. They told me, as they often do, that they enjoyed it so much they were working to give me a consolation prize. I smiled. I thanked them. As I ordinarily do. My stomach fell to my toes (it’s very comfortable there) and I all but laughed aloud at the familiarity. They brought me in to tell me this. They wanted to reject me personally. My inner me keeled over in laughter. How often does something have to happen for it to be routine? How often in my life will I be great, but not great enough?

How is it that I can be everything I want to be and give everything I have to give and it still not be worth anything tangible? I do not feel devalued. I’ve spent too much of my life growing my self esteem to knock it down with things so slight, but still… Occasionally, I have to wonder: what it is about what I want to be that is not great enough to be seen as worthy? If I can do better then so be it, but who is it that decides what is best? Why is my idea of great so different than yours? What is it that you see? What is it that you see in me that’s wrong? Who should I ask for the final word?

I guess it always just reminds me that I’ve gotten more being likable than I have ever gotten from being seen as highly merited. It’s both amazing and slightly disappointing to be seen as less than you see yourself as. It’s humbling as well as discouraging.

My brother says that merit is too relative to certain people to be discouraged by its judgment. “It’s not that you’re not great, it’s that your type of greatness has yet to be seen by the right people.” And then both playfully and seriously he references the history of most great, dead artists…

It’s a funny thing, candlelight. Even playful words seem like painfully dramatic endings…

To You: Sincerely

To You: Sincerely

It wasn’t love
that drew me towards you
But uncertainty
I didn’t see everything I was
But instead
Saw things that I could be
It seems the same people
Are always on my mind
And you are one of three
I don’t understand
How rejection
Could be so attractive to me
I was fascinated by you
Because your world
Seemed so
Easy
You seemed to
Ebb and flow
With the current
Of the simplest simplicity
I could see the waves
Were tainted
Streaked with colors
Of anxiety
But I pulled your finger nails
Gently from your teeth
And kissed them lightly
At least I did in my imagination
I’m not sure
I did really
It seemed
A scary thought
To pull into my
Reality
It sounded
Too concrete
A little unfair
Of me
To present feelings
Of importance
When I couldn’t
commit fully
My thoughts were running
ramped elsewhere
But you pulled them down
right there next to me
I was too entranced by you
To be astounded
Of your interest
in me
I didn’t know you long
But you changed
My thoughts
Completely
I found that I
Became more present
When I focused
On blatant honesty
I was a little lighter
With you
Than I ever thought
I could be
There was no hushed, dark
Sense of revealed secrets
Just pristine
Vulnerability
I may have ran
Too fast toward you
Possibly a bit too
Eagerly
I tend to chase
Beautiful things
Beautiful feelings
Especially
You opened up
my heart
And left a spongy
Piece of you
Inside of me
My intentions
weren’t malicious
Though possibly
Presented poorly
I would love
To say things to you
But I won’t
Because you seem
So happy
And I hope you
Accept my best wishes
Because to you
They’ll always
Be sent
Most sincerely

Dreams

Dreams

When you’re at your most vulnerable, do you find yourself in places that you once knew?
The places you feel like you spent your whole life?
Last night I found myself on Plaina Rd. Looking at the old forgotten rocks that my father placed for desert decoration and running across my old forgotten driveway. It was a simple enough setting. I can’t remember where I was going or who I was with, but I remember when she showed up. Her hair bleached once again, short enough to touch her shoulders. Wearing that green coat she always wore with the furry hood, a somewhat cheap looking edition. She wasn’t the girl I remembered, but she was the one I saw in pictures back when I was missing her. She walked passed me while I was running and I smiled and turned around in her direction. I always knew she would reject me once again, but I always did it just in case she smiled back and I could see my old friend again. She was walking with someone and didn’t stop to talk, but as I always have done, I ran after. She did smile at me. She always does accidentally and I guess that’s why I never stop coming back. She smiled at my silly remarks despite herself while I chased her down, but when I finally caught up to her she turned around and looked at me solemnly. We were stopped in front of my old wire gate, the one that let into the backyard. Nothing but dirt and a swing set, but somehow lovely all the same. And as I smiled at her, a joke hanging at the corner of my mouth, she turns to me and says, “I’m not yours, Faithe.”
I had always told her she was mine. That my world and everything in it was hers because of it. That it was me and her until the end of forever. We’d fight off the world together, and when she got tired of fighting I’d fight for her. And when she got married, to whatever man she chose, I would regale stories of our adventures, smile and give her away. But she had said it. Finally and completely. Words I always knew, but I filtered out of my reality. She started to turn away again, hands in her pockets, she’d walk into a backyard sunset. But before she turned completely, I spoke out.
“Hey,” my voice rang out, the entire front yard was silent as she looked at me the last time. “I wouldn’t want you to be.”
I was surprised at how much truth reverberated in it. I was surprised at my own calm at her words, but I had let her go a long time before and had just never said it. There was a lot of pain I could remember but none of it was present then. I rather her be happy away from me. I rather she love her life in the way she pleases. I rather she feel that love I had always given from the person she wishes it from. I rather let her be ok so I can be ok too.

That Girl

That Girl

I heard she’s beautiful, but distant
I heard she’s everything you’d want a person to be
She’s just not the person you’d want to be it.
I heard that girl is miraculous
They say she may not be who you’d want to be with
But she’s also not the person who’d really notice.
That you thought that way
I heard that loving her was difficult to do
You’d always think more of her than she thought of you
And she’d always see more in you than you ever dared to
So not loving her? Well, that was hard too.
They say that girl is hard not to notice
They say she walks through the room with a type of elegance
They say her presence is as loud as her laugh
That everyone smiles when she walks passed
Because they feel happiness before they see it
They say that girl lives her life out loud
They say her sense of purpose is so clear that when she walks in a crowd
People notice.
I heard people look at that girl with admiration
They say she has no need for external validation
That everything she does seems to exceed their expectations
of what they thought she’d be
And all of that has always fascinated me
How jealous I am of that girl!

Three People

 

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There are three people that I am
And one person that I wanna be
Trying to move forward
But I get lost in my autonomy
Enraptured by the thought
That I’m whomever I intend to be
Because there are three people that I am
And one person that I wanna be
I’m tryna be the girl who has an idea
Of who she’s tryna be
But there are three people that I am
And all of them are me
One.
I am
A girl with much defiance
See on my friends and family I am forever reliant
But tell me who I ought to be and there’ll be no appliance
Because that’s the girl who knows
She knows that who she is
Isn’t what you know completely
She knows the stretches that her heart makes and the depth of her psyche
And she rather be who she knows and not who she ought to be
But seems to always wish that she thought a bit differently…
She is
One
But I am
Three
Two.
I am always afraid
But the thought of being someone sets my mind ablaze
This girl can see her future, bright and beautiful, and quickly forming in the haze
And lined clearly in front of her are all the paths that she can take
She is the girl who’s perpetually caught in stay
Overwhelmed by possibility she much rather drown in the mundane
Than ever take her chances and still end up being plain
She has been that way since birth
She’s aware that she is someone
But not quite sure of what that’s worth
She is
One
But I am
Three
Three.
I am logically capable and emotionally dependent
This girl’s head tells her to do one thing but then her heart makes her end it
Her heart forms an attachment and her head says to resend it
Constantly trying to distinguish the better from the right thing
She’s Incapable of discerning the exact enemy she’s fighting
From herself
They both seem to cause her problems
She tried to lead them both astray but on her way back they seemed to follow
And knowing that they’re always there make her worry about tomorrow…
But she is one
And I am three.
And none of them are exactly who I want to be.
Because I’m tryna be someone who knows who she’s tryna be
But it seems that I am all three
And all of them are me

A Field

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Rumi said there was a field where I should meet him
Far beyond wrongdoing and the right
I had told myself that I should seek him there
That I should meet him sometime soon.
And I tell myself often and frequently
but I am a coward
A coward who cowers behind brave like graces
And hides behind courageous faces
And pretends to be galant with words
But then waits for her moment to flee.
Always waiting
Always waiting for Rumi to appear beside me
As if “halfway” is a word meant for peasants and foreigners
As if I’m already there and it is he
Standing on the wrong side of the river
But it is me
Always me
Waiting to flee
And waiting to be found out again


Personal Struggle: Words

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I open my mouth
And words fall out
And scatter across the floor
I gather them up
But oh, tut tut
They’ve multiplied in 2’s & 4’s!
My arms are too short
I’m sad to report
To hold them like this for too long
I must let them go
But oh, what? No!
They’re bunching together all wrong!
Sentences like
“Oh, where did you go?”
Seem to fall simply to “Where?”
Speeches and songs
I’ve rehearsed for so long
Are all found with patches and tears
Those who are listening
Furrow their brows
And ask of me, “What was that now?”
I glare at my words
Those giggly fiends…
The question is never “when?” but “how?”
Fix it I must
Because they gather to dust
As I sort them all out in my mind
But let them all out
And without a doubt
There will be some lagging behind
I twist them and tug
Throw some under the rug
But they wriggle themselves back on out
I say “Please, conform!”
But I forever mourn
The way that they frolic about
They dance in circles
Mimic cyclones and whirlpools
Causing hazard and running amuck
Then they stop so abruptly
Never quiet, never subtly
So they can show the whole world that I’m stuck
When I calm myself down
As I’m so tightly wound…
They seem to be tamer, more mild
They’re less stuck on my tongue
Where they’re usually hung
And seem to be fairly less wild
When I lighten my mood
Still not altogether smooth…
They at least make coherent sense
If I’ve had enough sleep
And make sure that I eat
My mind’s clear enough to keep them unminced
So I take in deep breaths
Try hard to decompress
All the feelings I keep deep inside
I try not to be nervous
So my words are then fervent
On keeping themselves straight in line
It’s an ongoing struggle
Since my mouth tend to muddle
All the thoughts I’d like to convey
But if I’m consistent
Less tense, more deliberate
I find I know just what to say

Nothing

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You said you wanted nothing from me
And the value of those words resonated with me
They stayed
They comforted me
They let me lean against them
I read them plainly
I read them over
And always heard them say the same thing:
You wanted nothing from me, but me.
You wanted nothing from me
But me
With all the imperfection that came with it
And nothing more in terms of other things
More superficial
And less pure

And now you say you want nothing from me
But the words have changed
The same words spoken through you
have meta morphed
Now you say you want nothing from me
And you mean you want nothing from me
At all
The inclusiveness that your words showed me before
Are mocked by their own current exclusivity
And I miss their reverse meaning
And I am keen on showing you
Just how much
And I want to tell you
How much I still care about you despite
What seems to be indifference
But I can’t
Because you want nothing from me.
And I think I hear it clearer this time.

Seaside

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Come and meet me by the seaside
Rest beside me in the sand
Leave behind you all your worries
Take me gently by the hand
Lay your sufferings down in laments
Give them to me one by one
Help me turn them into stories
We can retell when we’re done
We can wash out in the water
We can rinse away our sins
We’ll decide our deepest values
We’ll decide where love begins
I’ll not leave you if you’re drowning
Hold on to me, I’ll drown too
If you relax your heart against me
We can do it. We’ll push through.

Soundly


What is it about you that makes you, you?

What is it about you that makes me want you?

So badly.

That makes me want you sitting next to me?

Breathing my air

And sharing my space.

I am a selfish person.

Usually.

Yet I give to you as I’ve never given before.

I want you as I have never wanted before.

I love you as I have never loved before.

But I am hateful person.

Usually.

And there is a shared something between us

That says all my feelings are right.

And warns me not to worry.

Because it is those who worry too much

That stray so often.

And those who think too much

That lose all faith.

I am a hopeful person.

Usually.

But I do not hope for anything.

I will want.

Maybe.

For the rest of my life.

Or maybe.

Until I find a suitable replacement.

For that piece of you.

That I resonate with.

So soundly.