250213: Speaking the foreign language of self-love with a Strawberry in the mouth
The day before Valentine’s Day is always eerie. Especially when you are single. I enjoy being single, but I also enjoy companionship and having a constant force supporting you, and only you. For the past couple of months, I have focused too heavily on relationships when I should have been focusing on myself. I seem to leave myself out of the equation often.
Dating in your 20s, post-grad, is a slippery slope because everyone has different paths and objectives. You have the ones who submerge themselves fully into their work, which leaves no room for relationships and new connections. I seem to always come across those types of people. I value a work-life balance, but I can also respect people who have passion in their full-time job. But I always wonder, why are they robbing themselves of love and new experiences? Is that the concept of self-love that is so foreign to me?
It’s crucial to have a fulfilling life beyond romantic relationships. Relying solely on someone else to build your life is not sustainable. Make your own friends, create your own memories, and let people remember you for who you truly are, not because of your partner. It’s tempting to intertwine your life with your partner’s, but when the relationship ends, the people you met through them will likely support their friend rather than you. You’ll be left with nothing, feeling cold and alone once again. I call this the emotional prenup: you must build a secure life for yourself before entering into a relationship with someone else.
There are countless desires in life, but above all, like everyone else, I yearn for love. Love that transcends fear, love anchored by shackles that hold a missing key, love that burns and glows, radiating through my ribs. Love everlasting, one day. And in the words of the legendary RuPaul, if you can’t love yourself, how in the hell are you going to love anybody else? CAN I GET AN AMEN! ...
250210: twenty four, the death of my mid 20s
My birthday was Saturday, and I find solace in growing older. Some might find it dramatic to consider 24 "old," but the difference between 20 and 24 is significant. Looking back at my 20-year-old self, I see a wannabe wild child, eager for all life offered. That fire still exists, though it's harder to find amidst adulthood and responsibilities. The shift from early to mid-20s was palpable. The world tilted, and the realities of adulthood became clearer. I don't want to learn taxes. I don't want to settle down. People I grew up with are having babies, and while admirable, I can't imagine that responsibility in this economy.
"Sex and the City" always comforts me. I first watched it at 20, and it helps me embrace aging. The women in the first season were 35 and didn't have life figured out. Carrie chased love and spent her money on Manolos, Charlotte struggled with not having her dream life, Miranda climbed the New York law ladder, and Samantha, the oldest, lived as if perpetually 29.
There's so much life left, which makes me hopeful with each passing year. You're never too young or too old to do or be anything. Once you realize you control your destiny, and life has no set rules (besides the law), you'll find your way. Cheers to 24....
250117: welcome to the BlogI'm excited to share that I've decided to start a weekly blog to express my creative thoughts and showcase the new poems and pieces I'm working on. This blog is an extension of the success of my debut poetry book, Forest Fire. Seeing how many of you enjoy reading my work, I thought, why not keep the momentum going with a weekly blog? It's a great way to stay connected with all of you and share my creative journey.