Creative Writing, Picture Diaries


I remember this day. It was the best part of the whole trip. It was the moment I finally let go of all the all my preconceived notions.  Jumping on that scooter and having the ability to roam foreign territory on our own, gave me the confidence to strip away the dependencies that made me feel boxed in my own judgement. That moment was what life should be about: floating, feeling – free.

I’ve been contemplating a lot lately. Each day as I come home from work I can’t help but feel a bit of angst and heavy emptiness. My whole day gone, my eyes burn, and my muscles continue to get soft as I sit in front of a computer for 10 hours a day. I try really hard to maintain my work – life balance: I work out 2 – 3 times a week, I play in a classical quartet one night a week, I socialize with friends, I Netflix and chill, I live in an awesome city, I have health benefits, I have the weekends off… the blessings go on and on. But every Sunday night, as I get myself ready for the week, I can’t help but feel a sense of loss. What have I done wrong along the road? I’ve always listened to my parents and my mentors. I finished school, which was a struggle and a half, I really wanted to become a traveling artist – of what, I have no clue…. I took the job that not only would accelerate my career, but one that also helps others. Everyday I think, there has to be more than this, working for the machine.

Why do we work so hard for such a small blimp in time, to come back into the grind, and forget about what truly is mine – time, my day and my night- should be spent as if I own it. Time spent should be for me. I’ve been daydreaming with my boyfriend lately, about this idea of dropping everything and working on organic farms around the world, touching the earth, learning how to survive on our own. We keep toying with the idea, and as much as I want to do it, I am completely terrified. We made a promise to keep pushing each other, the only thing stopping us is ourselves.

We have a goal set for January 2018; and I’m thinking of Portugal.



Doubt – A poem.

Creative Writing

via Daily Prompt: Doubt

As grey as the cement I walk on,

So is my spirit of which the lights have been dimmed.

I walk on, pavement after pavement.

Pushing the trash beside me,

Reminding myself that it’s sunny somewhere.

Somewhere outside this city.

In one house – A poem.

Creative Writing


In one house.

What emotional intellect would it take for two people in love to live in one house.

One house, which, over time becomes your sanctuary,

your time capsule, your gray cell,

your pillow.

Two minds in one house circle each other in tired tracks.

Two spirits dance in unison down candle lit hallways.

Two people together in one house, root their feet into the earth;

eternally weaving in and out of each other down the deepest of depths

and the highest of blue skies.

Post Cards to Prisoners Anyone?

Creative Writing

My Boyfriend and I have been watching a lot of documentaries lately on prisons, their systems and how they compare to other countries. We watched one on solitary confinement and we were moved to find a way to send them mail. Many interviewees emphasized how family and friends are dwindling away, how they miss just having a stimulating conversation, and the painful anxiety they get when the mail arrives and there isn’t any mail for them, their only contact with the real world.

We decided to choose a few profiles off ; and we were selective over which ones, being careful not to choose the obvious romantic seekers. We made up pen names, to be safe, and introduced ourselves as a couple, both of us writing something in the same card. My boyfriend who was so enthusiastic about this found himself stuck, not knowing what to write, and I found myself writing as if it was to a long lost friend, quite the opposite of what we expected of ourselves.

We hope this will, in some incremental way, save someone’s sanity, and teach us a thing or two. I look forward to getting a response.

We shall wait and see.

Clear Blue Saturday – A poem.

Creative Writing

being one in the many makes me feel alive
riding trains and getting lost in the sea of faces as each cell host passes by
engulfed into this membrane of unity-not fully unified- but together we ride the veins that feed this life
this backdrop behind me with pure raw vibe…alone it stands.
alone we stand.stand and deliver the image of what we want to happen today.
against pillars and posts
hiding out in a shadowy host
we remember today as the sad feelings of tomorrow
what is the still mind in a moving box?
transporting itself back to the center
we ride trains into the tunnels of our minds. hide out for the day and listen to the drops echo in high resonance splash into the emptiness with an opaque sound on the mind’s peace.
we pulse around continuously
where and when can we rest? and even then, can we?
like a vacuum to my stress, i venture out of the city to regain the confidence.
take this day like a lark. take this day like a plunge.

Ghost – A Poem .

Creative Writing

Ghost 1ghost 2ghost 3

Watching her play “The Entertainer” on the keyboard,
I was completely overwhelmed with a vast ocean of dark emptiness.
I’ve completely dived into a realm where I did not belong.
I could never belong.
But I already knew this.

I didn’t know how to act or what to say.
I have nothing that has prepared me for this.

The little girl has so much excitement to see me
but I could care less about her.
She is not me, and I am not her.
There lay the initial problem.

The little boy has down syndrome.
and autism.
he is the only person I can relate to
as we share the same bewilderment towards each other.
We stare with trouble
trying to comprehend these two lives crossing.
I can barely muster up a fake smile or laugh.
I can barely carry on a conversation.
What am I doing here?
I feel like a ghost who realizes everyone in the room can see me.
I sit in silent anger.

All this was premeditated.
So why then, am I choking?

This house in which I sit,
This music which fills up my ears;
This was all taken away from me.
And I’m the only one that really understands its magnitude on my soul.

Too much time has passed for anyone to try and put a bandage on the wounds.
Too much time has passed for anyone to cap the nightmares.
I was the only one that tried to split the gap.
I was the only one that cared.