if i could keep any moment in time,
i'd choose to keep your little hands in mine.
delicate skin, fingers pressed on my chest;
heart beats in sync and harmonized breaths.
i'm fighting time,
i want to stay here forever.
i'm doing my best to memorize,
all that i can remember.
i hope i never see you again
not because i don't love you
but because i'm afraid that i do
and i'm scared
that the moment
i see you
the spark
in my chest
will call for you
and most of all
i'm afraid of what'd happened
if it does not, because then
what would i have of you?
and so i hold onto
the thought of us
and the memory of you
because it's all that i've got of me
and it's all that i've got of you
well i didn't know, you never told me.
if you know someone well enough,
the important things you can leave unsaid.
fuck it, maybe we don't know each other then.
maybe.
and maybe the flaw in all of this,
is that we've been filling in the gaps with assumptions:
making up the parts we want to believe of each other,
with the best of our imaginations.
but maybe the reality of this is the worst of our imaginations—
and all we are is two lost people who long for
the idea of someone who doesn't actually exist.
you're right, i'm not disagreeing with you.
doesn't that mean we know each other better than anyone else then?
not necessarily.
i think we just both latched onto the idea
that we might be each other's answer;
that way, we don't have to face the reality
that that's not the answer at all.
together or apart, i think we're equally as lost.
maybe. i guess misery loves company.
so you're miserable in my company?
ha. if you know someone well enough,
the important things you can leave unsaid.
but we don't know each other, so say it.
i can't.
i know.
if i'm being honest,
i think i might be a shell.
he is sun and i am earth:
though he is bright, he is far.
at a distance, i am kept in his orbit.
if i'm being honest,
i wish i could be like him—
steadfast and certain.
as sure as he rises each morning,
each night he sets;
and so i look to him.
but the more i wish i could be like him,
the more i minimize the parts of me
that are not like him and are of me:
a polarizing divide between
all that i am trying to become for him
and all that i want to be for me.
and if i'm being honest,
i'm scared that at the end of my life,
all that'll be left of me,
is him and the shell of me.
hey there my little moon
i'm sorry i left so soon
but you're going places too
my little moon
and hey there my little moon
know that i'm crying too
cause i hope you remember me
as i remember you
i believe if there's any kind of God it wouldn't be in any of us,
not you or me, but just this little space in between.
and if there's any kind of magic in this world,
it must be in the attempt of understanding someone sharing something.
i know, it's almost impossible to succeed but who cares really?
the answer must be in the attempt.
we all hate playing mind games
but there's no one to blame
the only one in control of your mind ways
is you, what a shame
if the culture of your life requires armor because of issues stemming from shame, fear, or abandonment, you can't expect to feel wholehearted in your convictions or engaged in the people, or things, that surround you.
by self-protecting and reinforcing armoring behaviors—such as blame, cynicism, perfectionism or emotional stoicism—you'll never have the capacity to experience the best parts of life. you can't evolve underneath armor. it cages you in, it's heavy, and it takes much, if not all, of your energy to carry around.
while armor might've protected you when you were younger, you now feel the weight of it, dragging on you and preventing you from growing into the gifts that you have. and this isn't a benign proposition; it metastasizes into grief and depression, and anger.
taking off what you believe is protecting you and exposing yourself to be vulnerable, is one of the hardest things you'll do in your life, but it will teach you to be courageous.
only then will you live a life worth living.
though the year isn't over yet, i catch myself reflecting on the last 5 months and the number of transitions that i've mentally anticipated but wasn't emotionally prepared for. i left a city that encouraged my coming-of-age, only to return to a city that forced me to catch up with parts of myself that i thought i had outgrown.
by moving home, i took on roles i neglected for more than half a decade: i became a daughter again, a sister, a friend. i accepted new roles as aunt, and wife. (yeah, i got married. nuts.) even more challenging than the logistics of planning a wedding during covid was straightening out some tangles that reflected my inability to accept a love that i sometimes feel i don't deserve.
i got a new job and am in the process of finding my place on the team, behind a screen and in the dis/comfort of my bedroom corner. my husband and i settled into a new apartment, purchased another property and repeated the process of making a place that won't be home home, feel like home.
all of these changes have made me hyper aware of my identity and its changing form. i find that i'm having a hard time closing my old chapter, which feels like both a near and distant memory. i'm impatient in figuring out how to accept this new lifestyle—one that encourages balance and personal growth. for so long, dysfunction was my norm so in stillness, i crave chaos.
in revisiting the last three chapters of my life, i feel as though i'm reading a highly disjointed trilogy—each part of the series progressively more chaotic, as the character development unravels. there's pre-sf christine (lost), sf christine (stuck), and post-sf christine (searching). though optimism has worn thin, i've learned to flex better judgement, making the version of me now the most capable of being a protagonist worth cheering for.
maybe the discomfort i feel is growth, disguised as sheep in wolves' clothing (which is less bad than the inverse, though i'd prefer not to be in disguise at all). i want to make peace with who i am, now. i want to be christine in christine's clothing.
much of the frustration i experience comes from trying to find closure with parts of my past that don't serve me, and much of the anxiety that i feel comes from trying to figure out who i want to be and what i need to do to get there.
my frequent feeling of being an inauthentic version of myself might stem from a lack of understanding who my authentic self is, which forces me to feel like i have to constantly adapt. whether it's adapting to stand out or fit in, i find that in most scenarios with others, i second guess how i carry myself and whether or not those portrayals represent my intention.
even in the most insignificant exchanges—small talk while waiting in line, stolen glances with strangers—there's a moment of panic after, where i catch myself wondering if i did right by myself. fortunately, the hesitation is brief. unfortunately, the emotion that quickly follows and is felt at twofolds, is annoyance. annoyed because i know how futile these thoughts are, and annoyed that i haven't yet broken the pattern of cyclical thinking though it's been identified.
side note: i wonder if it's a common phenomenon for people to get mad at themselves for thinking thoughts or feeling feelings, if it's perceived as unproductive.
one of my greatest fears in life is not being able to understand myself enough to find true joy or purpose behind my living. i used to tell myself that this lack of understanding was a result of not having lived enough life, or not having gone through the necessary experiences to fill this void with reason, answers, or something of that sort. i believed that growing up, as measured by the number of years lived, would help me reach a point of clarity and peace, and that all i needed to do was be patient and "trust the process."
but that's the thing. i'm not sure i'll really ever grow up. people talk about their formative years, and how those experiences shape them. but if i'm being honest with myself, i think my entire life is an extension of my formative years; in both good and bad ways, i'm influenced by my outside world.
if i take a step back, maybe it's simpler than i make it out to be. all i need to do is to make sure that i continue to surround myself with experiences that i believe will challenge me to learn (or unlearn), and teach me to be brave. i also need to surround myself with people who hold similar values so that i'm held accountable to standards that matter to me, and i'm being stimulated in ways that bring me closer to understanding what i desire in life.
after all, if a flower withers, you don't fix the flower. you fix the pot, the soil, and the environment in which it lives.
side note: isn't it crazy that your thoughts are yours, and yours alone? and even if you do your best to express it, there's a likely chance that it won't be interpreted in the exact way you want?
“when we engage our effort toward goals that are personally meaningful to us, trying doesn’t feel like trying and success feels successful regardless of what it looks like for those on the outside.”
search your heart and see, the way to do is be.
the love i want is so deeply a part of me,
that regardless of circumstance,
it is to be found, wherever i am.
a presence that is there
in that moment of panic,
in the darkness of being lost,
in the corners where i hide to find comfort.
the love i want is constant:
a steady showing of support,
forgiveness and grace,
in moments onstage and off.
the love i want is an understanding
that we are on the same team:
whether coach, teammate or fan,
we are in it to win together.
the love i want is the love i have,
and i have you to thank for that.
and even when love is hard,
you are deserving of all of it.
happy valentine's day.
while there is little i remember about our time together, i recall parts of you that deeply remind me of who i used to be. head in the clouds, no feet on the ground—we'd sway, aimless, lacking focus, purpose and intention.
with growing years apart, i've been able to boil down that experience with you to an essence: longing.
then me romanticized the conviction as dreamlike, but now me calls it comatose. the state of wanting to wake up to something real existed only because what we had lacked a conscience.
for years after, that longing left me with a void i didn't know how to fill.
i fought to find clarity through the remembrance of you, only to find things about myself that i wanted to forget.
to feel complete again, i looked to supplement parts of me i thought i had given away. but in the process of facing myself to cure myself, there were no signs of damage. no symptoms of loss, pain or ache.
to me, you were a lesson that helped me find my footing and refind a whole self that always existed.
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