As you stand by the edge where the surf washes ashore, you become hypnotized by the alluring waves that come crashing against your feet. You stand rooted in one spot, still very much focused on the songs of the sea. The ocean's arms caress you so gently and beg you to become one with the sand. You wriggle your toes and your feet sink into the warmth and grittiness of the sand's touch. The waves knock you off balance every once in a while, but you have gotten the hang of it and with every wave that comes your way, you heave your shoulders, stiffen your body and inhale deeply. You feel anchored.

     That was how I set out to feel, but this is entirely the opposite of how I am feeling this week. Of course, it might be too early to sum up my week since it is only Monday, but so much has happened in this one day that I feel hopeless, guilty even...

Promise

We never promised each other much
we were always just kind of touch and go.
as if we knew we'd know that somehow we'd grow differently
so we did and we do
and none of this is to say that it wasn't worth going through
or that i care any less about you
shoulders to lean on are hard to come by.
I know because there were times I would have broken my own neck
just so that I'd have one of my own to cry on.

And I remember when each finger was a pawn 
moving slowly across the chessboard of your body
and we made each game last.
Passed up each avenue of attack because neither one of us were trying to win
So how do we begin again when that feels like now and this feels like then?
When all I can do is tell you 
"if you've got something that needs saying, tonight I'm paying dues."
I've got a pocket full of blues and two pennies to rub together
Which means I'm wealthy enough that I can finally afford to pay attention.
I'm listening.

And I know right now I'm somehow like that kid sitting in math class, 
terribly aware of his first boner.
It's hard. 
But difficulty has never been a good enough reason to describe 
the effort it takes to make the good times and the memories worth having. 
And they were and they are and I wouldn't have come this far 
if you weren't worth the sleepless nights where abandoned appetites of a heart, now rail-thin, because of the constant hunger strikes. 
In your absence, I'm finding value, 
because what starves you carves you, 
and I'm chipping away the rough edges of a statue 
built to memorialize everything we've been through. 
And when I'm done, I'm gonna set it against 
the backdrop of the sun and stare just no matter where I go, 
it'll always be etched into the back of my mind, 
stenciled in behind whatever future I have left to find. 

Maybe we were never meant to last. 
Maybe we're only meant to reflect fondly upon a past where we cast ourselves in the lead role of a one-year sitcom. 
One that had the critics standing, while putting hand to palm, 
in an ovation we're still getting curtain calls for. 
And the stage floor was a graveyard for the 
freshly cut roses that we waded through 
to take our bows and say 
thank you. 
It was beautiful. 
And it was and it is and none of it was ever show-biz. 
But we were waiting for lights to dim on a stage where we set ourselves to music. 
As if the swelling violins could ever 
mimic the hidden moments found in the theatre 
where we kept audiences stapled to their seats. 
And they watched us, looking for vacancies they could occupy in the spaces between our heartbeats, 
as if silence was a room for rent, 
and we both went "shh." 
But the beats themselves: 
they were loud enough to drown out the applause. 
And we laughed at the ushers left looking in the aisles for the dropped jaws of patrons who still can't believe we took time to find beauty in the flaws we possess. 
That there's only something better to be found in allowing our collective damage to coalesce. 
And all we confess of ourselves forever 
is that we will make it through this. 
We're gonna make it through this, 
like a big-ass jug of cool-aid with legs and arms 
busting through a brick wall to quench the thirst of our loneliness and say "fuck yeah." 

Yes, I miss you. 
When I'm not looking, the softest parts of me 
will issue restraining orders. 
Not the kind that define borders or boundaries; 
these are the kind that will keep me in place when I ask 
"please, call me when you get there." 
Because every somewhere I go to, 
is just another place that reminds me I miss you. 

And my broken heart is where I keep the scar-tissue 
that I used to dry my eyes when a tear tries to make a break for it. 
I've built my eyelids into an Alcatraz, 
where every prisoner has a parole board meeting scheduled for yesterday. 
And they played dominoes until time comes full circle, 
like a sun rise, and today tries to set them free 
because they'll be locked up here until I let them go, 
until it's safe to let you know 
you're my best friend. 
And that some things end 
so that other things can begin. 
Sometimes an ending can be an origin.
That history is a resin that can keep 
two people stuck together, 
that change can be a tether if you let it. 

I'll always want to kiss you. 
Or touch you.
Or do that thing that drives you crazy. 
And by that, I mean you literally go crazy when I call you "cranky pants." 
Sorry, but it makes me laugh. 
And that's important to someone 
who's given more than half of their life to tragedy. 
I keep your side of the bed empty with a just-in-case mentality of
that hope's middle name is maybe and maybe you miss me too. 
One day, 
you and I are going to make it through this. 
And we'll look back 
and we'll realize 
that we have, 
and we did, 
promise.

As the days go by...

     2012 on a whole has been an amazing year for me. It started out with my graduation (that I skipped), which also involved competing hard to earn a medal (but I lost). Then the sleepless nights that I spent working on university and scholarship applications. Followed by... Finding out about my acceptances and rejections, and making the decision to take a gap year. Finally, applying for a job, landing it and dealing with the 'working world'. 

     Within that short time span of 12 months, I transformed from a student, into a working adult, and had to make shifts in mentality, maturity and motivation. I was no longer the kid who ran around the atrium, spending sleepless nights because of the overdose of coca-cola and projects. Instead, I was an educator who had to teach, influence and role-model. I could no longer make simple mistakes for every move I made was monitored. The pressure increased tenfold when I was thrown into the deep end of the sea. I learned about the harsh reality of 'termination' of my colleagues, and about survival. It might be a blessing in disguise, but after twenty years, I finally understood what my dad meant by "It's a dog eats dog world out there". 

     As much as I would like to scare you with the 'real world', there are rainbows and sunshine after the storm. As always, I had my fair share of fun and laughter. Dressing up as a Red Indian, playing with a leaf blower, jumping on a trampoline, getting my whole class of kids to go on a Treasure Hunt, 'acting' as The Big Bad Wolf in a skit, and going on field trips were just some of the stuff I got to do at work. That aside, staying in touch with old friends, and making new ones through workshops, overseas projects, volunteering, and socializing (unfortunately)  most definitely expanded my social circle. The greatest highlight of all, would be to finally be able to independently purchase flight tickets to travel (twice in month at that!).

     So much has happened, and I know that I should be be happy. However, deep down inside me, I feel emptier than before. It might be because I have not had an 'ah huh!' moment, or maybe because I have not made any new discoveries about myself. Or maybe I have not consolidated all the 'moments' just as yet. Maybe because... I don't know. I spent the last week of the year, trying to figure what exactly was making me feel so hollow inside, but it is already 2013 and I still do not have the answer. The possibilities are endless. Nevertheless, it would not kill to be positive. I want to believe that the hollowness in me is a cry for a greater adventure, and I hope that there is one awaiting. For you, for me, and for anyone keen on traveling on the road to self-discovery :)