My Life Starts Over

me in a random selection of words

Category: Personal


I want to create.

I wan to design websites.
Nifty websites with vibrant colors, cool little graphics and hidden trinkets.

I want to develop video games.
Giving out tasks and watching over talented people build greatness from thin air.

I want to write stories.
Stories so vast, so detailed, so intriguing, no one ever forgets them.

But fear holds me back.
The fear of realizing I’m not capable of attaining any of my dreams.
The fear my dreams are only empty promises.
So I settle.
The longer I settle the more my fear takes over and I feel useless.
A never-ending cycle of me dashing my own dreams.



I think about nothing.

And when I think about nothing, I feel amazing.


I love it.

Floating through the world with endless possibilities and no worries.

Then it stops.

Reality kicks in.

And I remember bills, work, money, strengths, weaknesses. Loss.

Sometimes I feel like crying. For no reason.

Cry just to let it all out. The emotion, the pain, the feeling.

I hate feeling.

I hate caring.

It weighs me down.

And reminds me I’m human.

Poem: Regret

It’s been a while and I’m still whole.

Not in pieces like I thought I would be a couple of years ago.

It all faded before my eyes without me knowing.

I knew, sometimes, but you were always there to blind me,

with your crooked smile and empty words. I fell.

So hard. So easily. No one’s done that to me in a while, and I was hooked.

I hate me. Regret you. Can’t forget.

A never ending circle I’m trying to break.


Is it just me? Or are you also…

Never mind. That would be pointless. To think, hope you’re a disaster like me.

Fumbling through memories that snatch me away from reality as quickly as they bring me back.

It’s always the hurt one who is left with all the pieces, emotions, feelings,

unless someone tells me different.

I Want you. Hate me. Regret you.

A never ending circle I’m trying to break.

And then forget.


I’m ashamed. It’s been 4 months since I’ve written: sat down, put my thoughts together, then typed them into something I’m proud of. I just don’t have the motivation. I don’t know if it is because I’ve lost interest, courage or ideas. Not having time has been my excuse, but I know that is not true. Maybe I’m still trying to figure out if I want to be a writer anymore. Is that weird? Having to decide whether or not you want to write. Something that used to be simple to me is now a mystery, lost in the mess that fogs my brain.

Recently, I decided to pursue a career in web development. I’ve dabbled in the past, but it wasn’t until a couple of months ago I decided to really get into it. I like it, but I’m also overwhelmed with . . . with life, I guess. Am I good at it? Am I going to slow? Am I doing enough? To keep myself motivated (and because I’m having a difficult time understanding), I joined a JavaScript class. I’ve also been Google searching and trolling social media to find a mentor. I want some insight into the world of Front-end web development that you can’t get from a Google search.

There is so much I want to do with my life and I feel like I’m not pushing myself hard enough. Yea, I’m tired when I get home from my 9 – 5 that I hate, but shouldn’t that motivate me even more to do everything in my power to make my goals? I guess I’m scared I won’t stick to it like everything else I’ve tried to do: production assistant, screenwriter, journalist, blogger, etc.

I’ve planned a trip to San Diego, random? Yes. I’ve never been and I figured why the hell not. Maybe it will help me find my way or maybe it will be a huge waste of money. Either way, at least I can say I went.

Anyone who reads this know of a programmer in San Diego, let me know! I would love to interview them for my website.



In the past seven years, my relationships have taught me more than I could ever from my parents, school, friends, books, anything. I’ve become a better person and met amazing people I probably would have never met under different circumstances. The most important thing I’ve learned about is Love.

Love is complicated. It’s a lot of things: stupid, confusing, spontaneous, frustrating, beautiful, surprising, but most of all, complicated. I think I hate it. Not because I’m afraid I’ll lose it, but because it can take so much out of a person. Constantly giving yourself (with the possibility of getting hurt), always feeling crazy and second guessing yourself. Are these supposed to be the things that make love fun? Being so crazy with love that you just let it engulf you. Maybe at first, but after a while you can lose yourself. Or are you supposed to lose yourself and become a completely different person? Someone you don’t recognize. Maybe if you become a better person. You stop throwing things during an argument or learn more about your sexuality. But is that enough?

There’s a fine line you must always walk: between compromise and selfishness, the whole truth or white lies; it’s dizzying. In romantic comedies, everything falls perfectly into place at the end and you never see the happy couple hate each other. In real life, nothing ever falls into place; you just deal with it and hope things change. Doing the right thing and trying to be even a little perfect—if there is such a thing as perfect—is impossible.

What if you communicate with, trust, and love your significant other completely, but things still go wrong? How do you really know when to just walk away? When you start questioning it? You could take a break, but does that ever solve anything? Wouldn’t that just mean one step closer to breaking up, to giving up?

How much trust, communication, honesty, and perfect can you have before everything is right?

Random Thoughts: Selfish

The most difficult part about a relationship is not being selfish. I can communicate all day, jealousy is not a problem, the trust is there, but my selfish tendencies keep sneaking up on me. The want for something so bad is a burn in my chest. When something doesn’t go my way, it makes me sad. I know, I sound like a baby, but it’s true. No matter how hard I try, I just can’t get rid of it.

Long distance relationships carries surprises (not the exact word I want to use, oh well). No matter how much you plan or how far ahead of time you prepare, something always goes wrong, and there is nothing you can do about it. I’ve developed a “it’s not going to happen” mentality just so I’ll be prepared for the worse. It doesn’t always work. When we make plans that have to be cancelled last minute because his job decided they wanted to be assholes, my selfishness flares up and I become this pouty baby again. I hate it. I hate his job. I hate loving him.

Your Words

You’ve always known how to use your words

thanks to the way you were raised.

You’re eloquent speech makes you stand out

from the background that surrounded you

Now you use those words to pass on your wisdom

reveal hate, stupidity, the obvious.

You also use those words to hurt

the one person who is always there for you.

You don’t see it.

You think it’s normal.

She cries to herself, while you feel justified,

a winner.

Your words burn more than anything else.

You don’t see it.

You say she hates it when you’re happy,

but it’s the opposite.

When she twirls, dances, and sings not so perfect,

it angers you and you defend it.

You treat her like a child.

As if she’s some annoying little brat you can’t stand to be around.

So, she stays quiet. To you that’s petty.

I can’t get it right.

Keep busy and work, wrong.

Be happy and twirl, wrong.

I’m not normal enough for you,

and you can’t handle it.

You hate everything I do,

and wonder why I stiffen when you touch me.

Why I stay in my room while you enjoy your laughter.

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