Never Forget

Two words, I've heard all day, never forget. 

Never forget that morning, that morning that changed us forever.
That early morning, I suddenly became very aware that this world was not the pretty daydream, my seven year old mind had it out to be. The morning that turned into an afternoon of riding home on the bus; all of us rowdy kids, silent. And then, the afternoon that changed to the evening news, loud in our small house; my mother crying in shock and my father cursing with anger. Finally, the evening that grew to night; laying in my bed, scared and confused.
Until now, I've always never forgotten today, as the day that brought fear to me. Fear of war, fear of sacrifice, fear of an uncertain future.
But now, today is different.

On this new, September 11th, I am not a frightened seven year old.
And I will never forget this morning, this early morning that I woke up and knew I loved you. This morning, turning into afternoon when I remembered your smile, and the way you say my name. And then, the afternoon that changed to my evening alone; thinking about you coming home, to stay. Finally, the evening that grew to night, as I lay here in bed, peacefully and safe.

Granted, I may forget the tragedy of September 11, 2001, whether it be from old age or blocking the violent memory.
But I will indeed never forget that morning, on the new September 11th, that morning that changed us forever. 

..I have been loving you for 730 days and counting.. 

Happy Birthday Momma

Raise your glasses, to the greatest woman in my life.

Nineteen years ago, I chose her. I chose her because of the way her sandy brown hair gleamed and blew, while driving fast in an old jeep. I chose her because I knew the way she would look at me, with those emerald eyes. I chose her smile, her laugh, her cry, her heartbeat. I chose her because of her patience and beautiful soul. I chose her because I knew, when I grew up, she’d be the kind of woman I wanted to be.

She deserves your loudest applause.

There is no time in my life when I can remember her not trying her best. She is constantly doing her best; her best at being a mother, her best at being a sister, being a daughter, an aunt, a friend, a wife. Yes, she has made mistakes--forgetting to put a game jersey in the dryer; not calling back; burning dinner… but there isn’t a year that goes by, that she’s not getting better at being the best.

I apologize, to her, and all the other mothers out in the world, for not always giving you the attention that is due. I am sorry for all the tears I’ve ever brought to your perfect eyes and I am sorry for all the times, and times to come, that I will not take your advice.

If I had one wish, it would be to spin back time and spend so much more of it with you.

Choosing you is one of my best, if not the best, decisions of my life.

I thank God everyday for you and I catch myself begging for a million more.

I am proud to be yours.

I love you Momma.

Happy Birthday.

August 1st

I have decided to value myself over anyone else.
I have decided to treat myself the way I have treated others.
I have decided to let go of the people who only bring bad vibes into my life.
I have decided to remind myself I deserve the best and I deserve to be happy.

With these decisions, that are almost twenty one years late, I will now live my life to the highest capacity. I will not degrade myself with ungrateful thoughts; unnecessary ideas of limitations; and/or complex and undesired relationships.

So long to the days when I used to stress over being the best. Fuck you, all of you, who thought I wasn't the best. I was fucking good at being the best.
I stood up for you- even when you lacked the strength to do so for me.
I called out for you- even when you couldn't find the time to look for me.
I took care of you- even when you were unbearable and mean and especially selfish.
I would have done it all for you- even when you only found the pleasure of being with me, while it was only useful for you.

I have finally decided, that this is going to be the best decision of my life.

Goodbye,
 The Best.

P.S. If you have been offended by this short, but true decision of mine, I am not sorry. And this is me, breaking up with you. 

Fathers' Day

Father 

Thank you for these deep, round, brown eyes and thank you for this honey skin. Thank you for my curly hair and my pink, plump lips. Thank you for leaving me, to become the woman I am today. Thank you for teaching me, I don't ever need a man to stay. 

Thank you for choosing her, and also choosing me. Thank you for years of love and completing my family tree. Thank you for the hard work and constant pain on your back. Thank you for believing in me and never loosening the slack. 

And to both of you, I thank you, from now since the start. Thank you for the lessons learned, and thank you for my strong heart. Thank you for coming with me and thank you for going without; thank you for teaching me how to love--even when in doubt.

To the both of you, I'm sending a "Happy Fathers Day". 

You Are Who You Hang Around With

As the ancient saying goes, I believe it to be very true: You are who you hang around with.
I believe it, in a sense, that you start to become these people. Whoever it may be that you spend those long hours with, your body, mind, soul all change.
It won't happen instantly, but you'll notice it as your washing dishes, or choosing a television show, or driving home. It'll catch your attention and you'll realize, you've become a little bit more like your friend Sam, or Jess, or even a little bit like that rebel, Kiera. Their ideas and morals and goals and laughs and dreams, suddenly are your ideas and morals and goals and laughs and dreams. 
I wouldn't define this as a bad thing, not at all; I would categorize this as a magic--a magic that hasn't been ran off this Earth, yet. Granted, all magics can be scary, can be fatal if not used properly. You must choose wisely, who it is, you wish to be more like, who it is, you surround yourself with.
The only cure, of bad magic--of bad influence--is to leave and find new people, new friends. Once you begin to hang around with new, different people, the old magic fades away as if it were never a part of you.
And again, it will be sudden, it will be slight, but it will leave. And you'll notice it, whether you're laying in bed, or grocery shopping, or tying your shoe--the person you used to be, is gone, with the people you used to be.

A Letter to Her

A letter to all of the beautiful women, who once held his heart:
There is no greater desire than to go back in time and know who you're going to end up with in the end. I mean, if I had one chance to rewind--and make sure I only spent time pursing the ONE who was destined to be mine forever--I would take it in a heartbeat.
Looking back, at all the hours and effort spent trying to make old relationships work out, all the promises of "forever," and the belief that he was it. I begin to no longer see you as an enemy--as an ex-girlfriend, or an ex-fling and instead, I start to feel like I'm looking at my own reflection. Of course, we're different...
But I know, I know what it's like to have a birthday tattooed on your heart--dates and memories and kisses and apologies and fights and laughs and all those tears engraved in your heart.
So, I try not to get upset or mad or envious when I see or hear or assume something of you. Because, who am I, to be angry at the good times you both shared.
Nonetheless, my jealousy seems to run rampant sometimes, knowing you have parts of him that'll never be mine. Like his first kiss, that first look of love, and the first time his unsteady hand touched your bare back--countless numbers of firsts, that so many other girls got and will keep.
It's crazy how life works itself out; everyone giving everyone parts of themselves they'll never get back. And no matter how hard you wish, to get those parts back, it's impossible--all we can do is hope they're not lost in a bitter heart.
And so, I've decided, we each got something the other will never have and instead of the constant want and need to get them from each other (or at least, me from you,) my only request, is that you never forget him. Because I'll never forget mine.
And although you may never read this, just know that the cliche war between the new girlfriend and the ex-girlfriend, will never be me to you. And if it ever seemed to be, remember that old mirror we share.

The Sun and her Moon

As the story goes, there is a long, lost love in the midst of the heavens.
Most have misunderstood, though, the true tale of the two--the Sun and her Moon. Or perhaps, they only choose to hear what fits best, what seems proper, what seems usual...
The Sun, was a color, no Earthly words could describe. Ever-changing and beautiful; so unpredictable, never gave the same sunrise or sunset twice. She was powerful and free; her name was known and somewhat feared. She hurt a lot of people that spent too much time with her. She's killed many things with no regret, or any slight bit of an apology.
And let us not forget, the great and mysterious Moon. Nothing like the Sun, except shining and giving off light. However, that too, was only because of the Sun and how she reflected off of him.
His presence was mostly peaceful and magical. He was quiet and serene, like a handsome dream. Of course, he had some dark secrets, but hid them well in his dark corners.
They, the Sun and Moon, were complete opposite. Yet, they were in love and always found a reason to need the other. In the beginning, they spent so much time side by side, countless hours turning into days and soon, the Earth was raging. Tidal waves and hurricanes, clouds of dust and hot, humid rain started to devour the codependent Earth. They realized that their love could go on, but the Earth wouldn't. And so, they decided to not give up something so incredible and wonderful and they turned their backs away from each other and catered to the Earth.
Since the beginning of time, these two were both depended on keeping the Earth in order. They did this by always being on time and sharing sides and never letting their feelings for each other cast a shadow on the naive Earth.
No one really knows how it all began, the love affair of the bold Sun and the sweet Moon. No one will ever know--but the eclipsed shadows sometime spill out over the Earth and that is when they choose to be selfish with time.

If the two greatest entities of the heavens, below God himself, could give up a love so angelic, so bewitching, so perfect what does that have to say about this Earth of ours? What does this have to say, about you and me?