Soul Searching.

How do you truly find yourself?
Your soul. Who you really are.
Do you run away? Escape from everything and everyone you know and try and figure yourself out?
Do you find it in your dreams?

Dreams.
What’s your dream? 
Is it lavish, is it simple, is it fun, is it mystical? 
Dreams.
Do dreams come true?
Are they meant to happen, tell you something, warn you, inspire you?
Dreams are emotions. They are thoughts. They are love, laughter, comfort, fear, anger. 
Emotions. Feelings. Soul.
Maybe dreaming is….
Conversations with your soul.

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Imagine Nirvana!

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I boarded a plane,
it’s a seven-four-seven,
taking me anywhere
closer to Heaven.
Don’t get me wrong,
Death is not my goal…
I just truly want to believe,
there is more for my soul.
It’s day-in and day-out
as clouds float below.
engines hum gently,
It’s soft and it’s slow.
A world,
up in the sky…
A delusion-less way,
to feel a little high!
It lulls me to dream
of my destination….
It’s always too far to travel by plane,
or train or car!
It’s the journey that counts
they always say!
But I’d rather get there,
and quick if I may.
There’s nothing I’ve left
that I’ll return to.
No significant other,
cat or a cuckoo.
Keep moving on.
I’ll look out the window
and imagine nirvana,
wherever I go!

Was he really “Perfect”?

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He broke up with you right? After telling you he loved you and calling you names like baby and cutie? Yeah. I know he lavished you with compliments only so you can stroke his fakely low ego. Did he tell you that you were beautiful? I bet he dedicated a song in your name! Or maybe he said how he was lying in bed and wished you were there. He dragged “I love you” out of you, didn’t he? Yeah. Don’t deny it. He would talk to you last thing in the night and the first thing in the morning. He constantly mentioned losing sleep over you, every night, but we both know he slept like a rock! He edited pictures you both took together? Did you delete those pictures after he broke your heart?

It’s okay to cry. And referring to him as “asshole” is perfectly expected. Because trust me, you’ll end up talking about him just as often, if not more, than before. There will be the ‘one time’s and ‘I remember’s, and once you think you’re over him, watch out. You better keep your eyes closed in the hallways. Because the next time you see him, he will be all over some other girl. A little part of you will want to warn her, but nobody will blame you for hating her or for blaming her for your pain. Yes, you will compare him to every other boy out there. But apart from the fact that he played with your feelings and broke your heart, he was PERFECT. He was everything you wanted. Or maybe you made that up. Maybe the second he showed interest, you made up this perfect guy scenario in your head and he just happened to be him.
The most important thing though, is don’t let him know he hurt you. Don’t let him know that he could have you back in a heartbeat. Don’t give him that satisfaction. Make him think you’re completely happy now. When he decides to wave at you, like nothing ever happened, wave back, sure. But don’t smile. Make him think that he meant just as little to you, as you did to him.

Listen to me now. You will find the perfect guy for you, just like everyone says you will. I didn’t believe it either, but I’m starting to.

So much for wanting to be a girl…

Have the perfect hair, the perfect eyes, a perfect dress, and an elegance, the perfect charm and not to forget, the sophistication.
Everything. Should just be. PERFECT.
Slender thighs, slim waist, breasts neither too big nor too small.
Don’t be too tall or too short.
Called a slut if her dress is above the knee, a nun if the dress is below her knee.
Skinny is Anorexic. Healthy is Fat.
Chest button open is equal to being a whore, you button it up and you’re a nerd!

But here’s something you need to know…
Button up that shirt if you want to, rip that Jean if you feel like it, eat as much as you want if that’s what makes you happy and buy a short dress if it pleases you.
Walk out with make up or without,
however you’d prefer it to be.
Because you know what?
You are a girl and you. Are beautiful.
The world is going to stare at you and give you looks anyway.
Weather you look like a slut or a nerd or just as normal as normal could be….
So how about you flaunt those thighs and a no make up look, wear your sneekers instead of those painful high heels and enjoy. Enjoy what you love doing because this is your life and YOU. ARE. BEAUTIFUL.

Let’s get brutally honest.

Fuck it. Let’s get brutally honest.
Let me tell you what I want. Period.
I want a man that looks at me like he could burn a hole right through my heart with his desire for me.
I want chemistry that is palpable not just to each other, not just to the room, but that could register to a Richter scale.
I want someone who’s night is not complete, who’s eyes refuse to close, without telling me goodnight and that they love me.
I want to be sought after even though I can be found easily by your side.
I want to be fought for even when I have no intentions of going anywhere.
I want you to think that I am the reason you were put here and that the very ease of your breath comes when I am near.
I want you to look at me like I am the only women in a room full of supermodels.
I want you to crave my fingertips on your skin.
I want you to get lost in my words and unlock my mind.
I want to be Shakespeare’s next story and Van Gogh’s next painting.
I want to be the lyrics to your song.
I am the stuff of stars and you are the stuff of stars and together we can be the next constellation.
I do not want mediocre love.
I want to drown in love.

My Pole Star!

I’m often missing you
and even more these quiet winter nights.
I leave my room to stand outdoors,
eyes searching across the clear sky,
and still I can’t find the pole star,
the one you could always point out to me.

I’ve got to get out from under this sky.
I won’t find that star again now.
I knew I never should have taken my eyes off it…