Instead of reacting with anger, instead, come back with compassion and understanding. Sometimes a knee jerk emotional reaction kicks in when our buttons are pushed, and sometimes our emotions cloud our judgment and we say things that hurt, they cut like a knife, and when the smoke has cleared, we hang out heads in shame about the daggerish words we have used to cut others down, regret is a heavy consequence of this battle of words.

So instead of throwing salt on the wound, I choose love and compassion even though others may be blinded by rage and hurl treacherous words, They say these things because inside they are hurt, they are hurt because I’m finding ways to heal and they are still on the ground in agony. I choose not to hurt them any further. Because bitterness only serves as poison; eating away at my insides, it’s killing me and I just want the poison out of me. I want to love them; although they may hurt me.

We hurt others because we are hurt ourselves, I’m not better, I’m guilty of it, not a day goes by where in someway I haven’t hurt someone, either through my actions or my sharp tongue ( which is my own worst enemy) I pray for redemption and forgiveness. I am not perfect, father but I take comfort in the fact that no matter how far I stray from your path, you’ll lead me back and can give me the strength to have compassion when it seems so damn hard on some days.


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My writing is published

I wanted to tell all of my followers that I submitted one of my poems to a writing website, it has been approved and they are going to publish it. I am not getting paid but this will give my writing more exposure, I am so excited right now because I have never published writing outside of my blog and social media. And I was really afraid of my piece being rejected but clearly it’s worth publishing to them.


I am so grateful for all of the support I have gotten from my blog and my social media platforms, I never in a million expected this. I wrote and continue to write for therapeutic reasons and I really didn’t think I would get such a positive response from sharing my writing.


I felt so alone for so many years and I kept my feelings inside; not expressing them for fear of judgement. I had so much hurt and pain, that I was just a broken person. But once I started writing, it became a flood of emotions and I wrote and wrote and wrote, I just needed to get it all out. And afterwards I was able to finally heal. And my purpose was to help myself but I had no idea that it was helping others as well, which warmed my heart, that my writing could encourage someone else to open with their feelings, that was never my original intent but words have power, don’t they?.


For everyone who has supported my writing and shown me love and understanding, I thank you from the bottom of my heart. Your support means the world to me and you have given me the confidence to share my writing and grow as a writer. Thank you for coming along with me on my writing journey and I will continue to write, it’s an essential vitamin at this point.

The masks we wear

Whether we realize it or not, we all wear masks, to protect us from the elements, to survive in harsh social environments. We mask our true emotions, our sadness, our hurts, the crippling rejections we face from time to time when we make the mistake of trying to connect with others.


Rejection stings like a thousand bees but we never show it, we carry on with fake plastic smiles, so others won’t feel uncomfortable with the pain we carry with us, a heavy knapsack of boulders; weighing us down but we can’t show weakness, so while we lay on the ground in sheer agony, we laugh it off to avoid the judgment of onlookers. No need for help, I’ll help myself. No need for medical attention, just leave me on the ground for a few more days and I’ll somehow manage to crawl back home.


Me, I have a mask and I wear it on occasion but most of the time I leave it at home, in a drawer somewhere. I forget my mask and all I can be is myself, I don’t have the luxury of hiding my pain for the benefit of others, what you see is what you get.


If life has given me joy, I might crack open a smile, giddy at the prospect of happiness, even if it’s short lived.


If negativity invades my space as it oftentimes does, a frown or an eye roll is sure to come. I don’t have a poker face, I can’t hide my emotions as easily as you, although I would like to at times, to be just like you.


I feel bitter because I want the happiness you so easily fake, if I had those skills maybe you’d like me more and want to be around me instead of avoiding the black cloud of emptiness that is my existence


I don’t know if this is me talking or the illness talking. I speak out of hurt and need to process all of this because the truth is fleeting, when your own mind decides to feed you lies and you believe every line, every damn time.


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Normal is boring

Normal is boring; be real, be extraordinary, be genuine,  be someone  that sparks that most interesting conversations, be creative, imaginative, light up the room, don’t let them dim your light, be bright, speak truths and be a truth seeker, don’t downplay your intelligence to appease them, don’t waste your energy on anyone that can’t see what a bad ass you are. Be anything or anyone you want but never be normal, there’s enough of them to go around, be you, always

The path

The future seems uncertain and the road I’m walking seems dark, full of potholes, it’s windy and I hear wild animals screaming my name.


I have no idea where this road leads but I can’t go back to where I am walking away from.


I shake from fear but I carry on, wherever this takes, I must finish this journey.


As I sit down to catch my breath, I find a a lit pen beside me on the grass, this pen will be my light that can help me combat the darkness as I walk this path.


Through the light, I can now see others beside me, they are on this road too. I never realized that they were there, the darkness hid their faces and I somehow failed to hear their footsteps alongside mine.


Now I take comfort in the fact that I am no longer walking alone. We may not be going to the same destination but at least we are on the same path.



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The rainstorm

It was so long ago, a summer rainstorm that seems to compliment the mood I’ve been in for ages
I’ve grown tired of this place, there’s nothing here for me, no one I’m close to.

The traffic drives me crazy, people are rude and cold and seeing the same old places leaves me in perpetual yearning for a past that wasn’t that great to begin with.

I know I’m leaving home and I’m excited, a brand new place, I don’t have to be reminded of that hurt again, I can leave the past behind

I’m at work right now, Fairfax square, looking out the window, at the rain pouring down, tears from the sky. I keep thinking that although it hurts to still be here, I am scared. I have never lived anywhere else, this is all I know but I want to leave, I feel conflicted.

No one at work understands. The girl working with me is next door talking to her boyfriend, the store is empty, because who wants to go out in a rainstorm to get videos? I’m listening to same songs on a loop, I hate those tvs, I’m so bored with no one to talk, just waiting for a sign of life

In the present day, I moved, another state ( another state of mind) and my life has changed in so many ways since those old days. I look out my window and the rain is soaking the ground and I think of that day, that memory, when I was so hurt and couldn’t have never imagined the life I live today and the progress I made.

I guess the rain washed away the remnants of the past, a rainbow appeared and I got to the other side, but it was the most perfect rainstorm because after every rainstorm, there’s always a rainbow.


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Failure to connect

Failing to connect the dots, thoughts escape me as I sip my drinking, laughing nervously


Trying to think of something to say to the person who has chosen to sit beside me, but I’m lost in the ever-present sound of life as it passes by me and they leave without saying a word.


I’m still on this stool, waiting for a smile that never comes, so I look around to see a friendly face but all I see is darkness


A sea of people but I feel alone, washed away in loneliness, a common theme


Another face, I open my mouth to speak but a soft whisper comes out, I sheepishly realized that the eyes in front of me lack interest and so I turn back the glaring glow of the television broadcasting a basketball game which leaves me feeling bored.


I walk outside with my drink that burns and churns my stomach, the patio is empty, it’s cold and I start a conversation with the only person I haven’t failed to connect with: myself. “How are you?” I say. “I’m great”, my own voice replies.


We talk until closing time, the man motions for me to leave, we get into the car, head home, put ourselves to bed and get a good night’s rest. A failure in connectivity which no longer pains me since it is so familiar.  😦

Highly sensitive

I’m highly sensitive. Every day. Not just when it seems popular. I can’t shake it, change it or think or feel differently. Sensory overload happens. Processing all that comes in can feel like hearing an orchestra of flowers blooming while simultaneously filtering through thunder.


I need an inordinate amount of quiet. So, I carve out nooks of silent pastures that freely let me process inside of a reverie. Sorting the colors and the extension cords of perfectionism’s wanderings, as they can be bold streaks of insights, subtle tones of connecting to the unseen and reaching and touching parallel inside of a fast-moving world where critics are bolts of lightning.


In between there is an arc that acts like a prism. I shield my eyes, silence my ears, cover my soul with blankets and let the trillion voices of everything slowly, slowly melt to the waves deep below the sea’s horizon. The earth’s holding is grounding as Nature supplants an intercourse of restoration. Holy is her abundance in the arms of sensitivity. Rocking the murmurs, the weeps, the angsts as an ethereal howl. Holy. Holy. Holy. Respect your sensitive.


Carolyn Riker | Illustrator: s. hee


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Music is my comfort

I have a total obsession with music, it has such a calming effect on me and can mirror my sadness, happiness and anger. Sometimes a piece of music can express what I can’t say in words.


Other times, it sparks a memory, a feeling that was long forgotten, something that seemed insignificant at the time but somehow seems important to me now. I am taken right back there, transported in time, seeing long forgotten faces, in places I haven’t been in years, the ghosts of the past.


Other times I can’t connect with someone in any other way but damn, when you mention we have the same music tastes, I am your best friend ever, I’ll talk your head about the glory days of grunge and late night MTV watching till the cows come home. And when you meet that person, it’s like finding a long lost brother/sister or something, like someone who finally gets your obscure music references


Music has always been my escape, when things hurt too much I put on my headphones and take a trip to a musical world. When no one understood me and I was lonely, I holed myself in up my room and I turned to music because it was my only comfort, on days that hurt so bad that you’d never understood.


This is ode to my first and only love, music, the records that saved my life, that held me in times of despair. This was written for anyone who could never quite understand my obsession for music. Here it is. 📻 🎧🎶 🎸


Ego vs Soul

This was written by a fellow writer friend of mine. Please follow her on instagram- thetruthwriter


EMPRESS, A High Priestess.
An innocent.
A conjurer, a conqueror.
A Rebel.
A devil and a God.
I am Human.
Living this experience.
What is this.
Can I master it.
A master of peace
A masterpiece.
I know.
I am divine.
Sacred and shit.
This self mastery is hard as fuck.
I’m up for it
I’ll never give up.
But I accept I am flawless as fuck.
Perfectly IMPERFECT and such.
As I honor my flaws and not giving a fuck.
I rise up.
I ebb n flow.
I show up for myself.
Sometimes I wish I was someone else
Somewhere else.
Is this mental illness
Or mental wellness.
Searching for something deeper.
A depth of me u can not reach.
Knowing the death of my ego
Is the rebirth of my soul.
Not a believer, but a knower – my Soul.
A flower.
She knows.
Out of the ashes.
Wearing her scars.
She came so far
Still reaching and searching for her heart.
I am limitless beyond belief, soul reminds the monkey mind.
I return to the hive and universal mind.
Illusion is time.
Rewind, I can not.
For I am in this space.
can I go to space.
Is it real.
Are we really in a bubble
Is there a devil.
All these human constructs.
Am I going to hell.
I was born in hell.
I had to go through hell to reach my heaven.
Do I know who i am.
Hell fucking no.
Because I am still becoming.
I am evolving
Thy will be done on earth as it is in heaven.
Though I walk through the valleys of the shadows of death, I will fear no evil, for I know evil.
I am the LIGHT
The darkness waits for me.
The ego surrenders knowing it can not escape OR rule thee.
For I am the ruler of my kingdom,


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