You weren't the good guy

At  2:30  am on  a Saturday  night you messaged me "If you had one wish what would it be?" 

I lied.

I wish I never met you.

I wish I never got caught up in your bullshit. 

You know what I hate more than a man who tells you directly that he doesn't want you - 

a man that pretends to be the good guy. 

You weren't the good guy. 

You aren't the good guy. 

You just pretended to be. 

For what?

To get inside my pants?

Or to get inside my heart?

I can't stand that.

I had balance and stability and then you showed up. 

Ruined everything.

Ruined my self esteem.

Ruined my confidence. 

But it's okay because I know now.

I mean it's not really okay, but it will be.

I wish I kept my guard up. 

You didn't deserve to know me.

The parts of me that I keep hidden for safe keeping.

You didn't deserve to know my heart.

And yet, I let you in time and time again.

But I am relieved, because I know now. 

Well at first I wasn't relieved, but it finally makes sense.

You weren't the good guy.

You aren't the good guy.

That's just what you wanted me to believe.

When your heart breaks it almost feels like the end of the world, 

but it isn't. 

In fact, it's just the beginning. 

I am rewriting my story.

One without you in it. 

Because you tainted it.

The image of you I had in my mind and in my heart. 

But it'll be fine, because I know now. 

I mean it's not fine, but it will be eventually. 


I don't give a fuck anymore

 Does anybody else hate "I told you so's?"

I do. 

I hate them so much. 

I hate them mainly because they are always appropriate and on time. 

And you know what's worse? 

When you have to say 'I told you so' to yourself. 

Your fucking self. 


You knew better.

You knew this would happen.

And still you thought this time would be different. 

You fucking asshole. 

Yes, Amanda, you. 

There are exactly five stages of grief. 

They are denial, anger, bargaining, depression and acceptance.

I think I have made it through all five stages. 

Not delicately. 

Not quietly. 

Slowly and painfully. 

Some days it's as if I made zero progress whatsoever.

And then there are moments of complete silence.

No drama. 

No noise.

Just silence.

It's ironic because our parents try their absolute best to shield us from ourselves.

They know and recognize the signs, 

hand signals, 

gestures that all lead to trouble.

And yet we don't listen.

Knowing their right.

Thinking that somehow - this time, 

maybe things will be different. 

Knowing what you know. 

And now?

I just don't give a fuck anymore. 

I bow out gracefully.

You win. 

You didn't want me to care, so I won't. 

It's too much.

It's too hard. 

So Amanda, I hate to say "I told you so."

But yeah, you knew better.


4 months

Do you think you can estimate an exact amount of time 

that it could approximately take to get over somebody?

Maybe a ball-park figure?

Could you round it up?

Total it?

Have you ever thought to calculate the amount of time,

in your head or maybe out loud? 


I've been sitting here 

staring at the empty blue sky, 

as the grass slowly turning back to green -

writing down,



totaling the amount of




and days that you have taken up my head 

space since you've been gone. 

It's been four months...

4 months of pain.

4 months of sadness.

4 months of contemplation.

4 months of realizations. 

4 months of acceptance.

Is that sad? 

Is that pathetic? 



Actually now that I mention it - totally. 

I can't help but feel like I could have 

done something more.

Said more.

Learned more.

Been more to you. 

Been better to me.

4 months of rain.

4 months of forgiveness.

4 months of trials and tribulations. 

4 months of decisions. 

4 months of visions. 

I can't help but think that way. 

I'm not upset anymore.

I'm back at this standstill between these two roads.

Do I go down the road that's familiar?

Or do I switch pathways entirely?

It's not getting easier.

It's not feeling any better. 

I'm sorry but I couldn't keep your sweater.

and now I'm all out of words for these letters. 

It's been four months...

I feel like I should be over it.

I feel like I shouldn't dwell on it.

I feel like I've spent enough time on this. 

And yet, here I am.




It's been four months since you've left and I'm still in this with you.


Conversations with myself about you

"Man, what do you want from me?" 

"I want to talk to you."

"About what?"

"I don't know. I just...I don't like how things are."

"But that's how they are."

"...But I didn't want things to turn out this way."

"But they did turn out this way."

"But I didn't want that."

"Honey we are where we are. Accept that."

"I can't."

"Don't you understand that I can't talk to you 

because it hurts talking to you... 

really hurts, okay?"

"Standing here, right now,

 is killing me, okay?" 

"Don't you understand that?" 

Conversations with myself about you.

They never seem to end. 

It's like I'm at war with two parts of myself.

One that can't let go 


One that can't wait to get away.

Conversations with myself about you.

They always make me mad.

I can't be at battle with my own thoughts.

They protect me.

They guard me. 

And yet, I feel like they lie to me.

I want to break free of you.

I know I do.

And yet, 

my mind keeps wandering back to the 

dark spaces that consume you.


Why can't they just leave me alone?

All these dark, lonely spaces...

We couldn't make it work.

Accept that.

I can't.

But why? 

You've been able to do this before.

You can do it again.

Can't you?

Conversations with myself about you.

I get frustrated quickly. 

My eyes begin to fill up with the warmest tears.

I can feel my face getting red.

And I start to slowly shut down.

You're better off.

Aren't you?

Photography By: 


Just Like Our Plants

We bought this set of plants together. 

It was another way I was trying to impress you. 

Never succeeding and always failing. 

Yet and still, here I was. 

Trying to connect with you.

So you helped me get started.

I bought these plants, 



and gardening tools to get the job done. 

What was so special about it? 

Well, we did it together. 

You and I.

Me and you.

You showed me the ropes, 

and I followed resiliently. 

And just like those plants -

 I thought our relationship would evolve. 

We would retain enough sunlight 

and just enough oxygen. 

With the right amount of time 

and space,

We would be able to grow 

and to breathe. 

We would water each other,

feed each other 

in order to build our foundation. 

But as time went on...

This one plant in particular began to fall apart. 

Leaf after leaf.

Stem after stem.

Green turned to brown.

It didn't matter how much sunlight it received,

nor the amount of oxygen or water.

It couldn't be saved, 

for whatever reason...

Now all that's left is the root.

The foundation of what the plant was. 

Metaphorically speaking, 

it spoke to me about our relationship.

It didn't matter how much attention,

how much affection, 

how much love,

how much effort we could give to one another.

All of our nurturing came up short.

Now all that's left was two people.

Two separate souls.

No longer connecting.

No longer sharing.

Just being.

So I guess it's back to our roots we go.

Back to our foundation.

Separate and Together. 

Together and now Apart. 

Photography By: Brendan Griffiths 


Unanswered questions

I just want to talk to you, but I can't.


I have questions. 

And I guess I want answers.

Like for starters, 

Why didn't you call me? 

Why didn't you care? 

Why couldn't you love me? 

Why couldn't you share?

Why wouldn't you let me in?

Why wasn't I enough? 

Why do you always stop just as we are about to begin?

Some shit to me just doesn't make any sense. 

As women, I feel like we build up these thoughts, 


moments to be monumental in our head 

to be something more than what they actually are.


Why do we do that? 

Why do we get caught up in these moments? 

Is it that we're hopeful? 

Is it that we're in denial? 

Is it that we're scared of being alone?

I would just like to know. 

Why can't I accept this? 

Didn't you feel the sparks fly when we kissed?

Why haven't I moved on?

Why do I not feel strong?

Why am I not okay?

Why didn't you want to stay?

Why do I still miss you?

Why do I still want you? 

This shit to me doesn't make any sense. 

I'm mad at you but mostly I'm mad at myself. 

I knew it was too good to be true. 

Because I knew you. 

I knew better. 

Didn't you get my letter? 

I just wanted to talk to you, but now I don't. 

I had questions, 

but now I don't need the answers. 

You made it perfectly clear this time. 

That I won't go back.

Not now, not ever. 

Photography By: Marcus Carter


Healing, The Rough Kind

There are some days where I feel on top of the world. 

Like I can touch every cloud in the big blue sky. 

I can feel the wind striking, as it pierces my cheeks.

I see the sun cast over all the trees and enhance their leaves.

Then I remember.

I remember why I walked away. 

Why I had too. 

You didn't love me. 

You don't love me. 

That was a hard pill to swallow.

Then I remember. 

The pain.

The tears shed. 

The nights I laid awake in my bed. 






We had all these moments.

I had all these moments.

Moments where I thought

and really believed that you were the one. 

You could be the one. 

Then I remember.

It hurts. 

Everything hurts.

I'm healing though.

I think.

A little by little.

Healing, the rough kind. 

It isn't pretty or glamorous.

It's delicate and soft. 

It's extremely hard to grasp.

Then I remember. 

It was just me in this. 

Completely invested.

Completely connected.

Lost in you. 

Overwhelmed with pleasing you.


We shared these moments. 

These moments where I thought,

this is it. 

This is home for me. 

This is where I wanna be. 

But you didn't want that, 

and you don't want that. 

I can't begin to wallow. 

Then I remember. 

It was never enough.

I couldn't be what you wanted.

I don't know how 

and I don't know why.

All I know is that I tried.

I hold back my pride, 

widen my eyes,

release my hands,

and hold back my tongue.

I can't.  

I won't.

I'm healing, though.

Healing, the rough kind. 

It's supposed to be unpleasant. 

Then I remember.

I'm hurt. 

Everything hurts. 

This time, I really wanted it. 

But sometimes - 

I don't know, sometimes 

we just don't get what we want. 

For whatever reason. 

Then I remember. 

I know what I want.

I know what I don't. 

I know what I deserve. 

I know what I believe in my heart to be true. 

I deserve something real, 


and ready. 

Then I remember. 

I remember why I walked away. 

Why I had too. 

You didn't love me. 

You don't love me. 

And even though you don't love me, 

I love myself. 

That was a hard pill to swallow.

God knows, you'll be a tough act to follow. 

I won't wallow.

But I'm healing though. 

Pardon me, it's the rough kind. 

Photography By:


No, Not Once

You know, 

Not once did you ever tell me you cared. 

I felt like at some point or another after everything 

we had been through, 

that you might, just might've cared. 

Foolish of me to hope so, 

but now that I think about it - no, not once. 

Not once did you ever genuinely compliment me. 

I felt like at some point or another

maybe just maybe you would have and could have. 

Without any of your subtle backhanded innuendos.

Ridiculous of me to believe in that, 

but now that I contemplate it - no, not once.  

Not once did you ever say what was really on your mind. 

I would always have to

 articulate my thoughts and actions, 

but not you. 

You stood cold and tall in your silence, 

as my pain became more and more apparent. 

I wondered what you might say. 

I imagined we'd find our way.

Laughable of me to expect anything more from you,

but now that I look back on it - no, not once. 

Not once did you ever treat me as your equal. 

I felt like at some point or another

 you would see all that I have to offer, 

how much I loved you, 

how much I wanted you, 

and how much I wanted to be needed.

Naive of me to even consider we could be anything more 

than what we already were, 

but now that I meditate on it - no, not once. 

Not once did you ever make me feel wanted. 

I felt like at some point or another, 

you would eventually open up to me. 

Open your heart,

Open your mind.

I waited and waited, 

but now that I reflect on it - no, not once. 

Not once did you ever make me feel special. 

We would have these moments. 

Moments I cherished.

Moments where I thought that maybe, just maybe 

this could be it. 

 Preposterous of me to put my trust in you, 

but now that I reminisce on it - no, not once. 

Not once did you ever tell me you loved me. 

I felt like at some point or another, 

maybe just maybe you did. 

I had prayed about it. 

I had dreamed about it.

Careless of me to put my faith in you, 

but now that I mention it - no, not even once. 

Photographer: Marcus Williams


Not a Poem, Just a Memory

 It was one of those days.
It was a best friend day.
You know the days: where you and your best friend or friends just enjoy every second of the comfort, insanity,
and the melodramatic cinema matinee showing that is your friendship.
Catering to it, immersing in it - but not in the bad ways, in every good way.
That means having your favorite foods present, retail therapy and of course the rom com's that everybody sheds a tear at.
We had one of those days, I was feeling sad and you let me wallow.
You protected me from my sadness, you didn't let it overwhelm me.
You listened to me and my crazy theories about relationships and why they don't work out.
I could tell that you were sad but you tried to bury it.
You and I, that's what we did.
We stayed silent in our pain.
We didn't have too, we could've fought it. Fought it out loud.
I know that now.
Instead, we did what we loved.
We sang our hearts out.
We danced, well you danced and I swayed off key, off beat.
We laughed so hard we'd cry.
We laughed so hard, we almost forgot that the world was a lesser place than we had hoped it would be.
We made each other laugh.
It was like we were when we were just kids on the playground.
You knew me, and I knew you.
We had each other, we were untouchable.
Goofing off, enjoying the moment.
Like we could just stay kids for one more day.
I didn't know it would be one of our last moments together.
If I had known that...
What would I say?
Would it, could it ever be what you gave to me? 


A clear vision

Have you ever felt like, 

I'm exactly where I need to be at this moment? 

This moment in time doesn't feel off. 

This moment in time feels just right. 

This moment in time is mine. 

All mine. 

Nobody can take it away from me. 

Have you ever felt like you have a clear vision of the road ahead? 

Without prior knowledge of where you might be going, 

or rather where you might end up. 

The road is clear.

It's first thing in the morning. 

The birds aren't even awake yet. 

The sun hasn't risen, it's still dark out. 

We had both alarm clocks set. 

The coffee was brewing as soon as we hopped out of bed, 

and we are ready to get a head start on the road. 

The open road, 

it seems surprisingly wide, not narrow. 

It almost appears never ending, as if the road will just keep going. 

Who knows, depending on where we might end up,

it just will without us even knowing.

Have you ever felt like the reason for your clear vision is nothing more 

than just pure acceptance? 

Pure acceptance of what is. 

Pure acceptance of what things will be. 

No longer stressing in anticipation.

No longer awaiting the outcome. 

Just living. 

My road is no longer congested. 

No sign of traffic in plain sight. 

It's just me. 

The open road, 

All four of my windows rolled down, 

My hair blowing every which way, 

and my music blasting out my eardrums. 

I'm here in this moment, 

and everything is numb.

I believed that my clear vision started with you. 

I was wrong. 

It ended with you. 

Meaning, you had to evaporate out of 

my heart and out of my mind 

in order for me to pick my route. 

I found one, and I'm sticking with it. 

It's clear and free.

It's not wishy-washy, 

it's verified for a guarantee. 

It just accepts me. 

So I'm sticking with this route,

It's not proud or unjust. 

It's fair and full of trust.

It actually makes me feel like I'm enough.

Frankly, it's been really good for me. 

So now hopefully you'll see,

I'm finally happy. 

Photography By:  afarmerphoto96  


Gratitude, Satisfaction: Finally ForwArd

Have you ever found yourself repeating a vicious cycle? 

Whether it's your own bad habits, 

or in the form of a friendship, 

or even a relationship. 

If you find yourself on a course that we all know to be familiar 

and also known as déjà vu  

Please grab your coat. 

Put on some gloves. 

Don't forget the keys.

And let's head out the door 

and onto the open road. 

We don't have time to look back. 

My patience tank is now officially on empty with you.

I've put up with enough.

I've tolerated your constant bickering, 

unnecessary silence, 

and total blatant disregard for my love and care, 

So now my tank is officially on E with you. 

I can't go back. 

I've dealt with enough. 

I've fought until I can't bicker any longer.

I've tolerated your unnecessary silence, 

I've witnessed your total blatant disregard for my love and care. 

And now I can't witness anymore. 

I can't be the one who's always on trial. 

I'm always the defendant. 

I constantly need to win you. 

Woo you. 

Surprise you. 

Gain you. 

And I never do, so I can't anymore. 

It hurts now less and less. 

That's probably because this time, 

the second time around - I really tried my best.

I can't get to you on the other side of this fence. 

I've shimmied. 

I've climbed. 

I've dug below the surface. 

But you never let me through. 

I don't want there to be a whole of what was left of you. 

And as soon as I gave up, I found something new. 

Better for me. 

Happy for me. 

There for me. 

Maybe you were what I needed to go through. 

One last time forward,

in order to escape this vicious cycle,

break free of you as my bad habit and finally get to the truth. 

You were never mine. 

You were never meant for me. 

But I'm happy I loved you. 

Because now I know this time, 

at least I remained true. 

Photography By: 


How Important is mental health to you?

My isolation doesn't require a simple response. 

Ask the follow up question. 

"How are you?"

"How are you really?" 

I think most of us are afraid of the response. 

Don't be. 

It's okay to not be okay. 

It's okay to feel overwhelmed, 





We put too much focus and attention 

about our overall appearance to those around us. 

Stop right there. 

Don't be afraid of how you may be perceived due to your sadness. 

Sadness is not permanent, but it can be without changes. 

Sadness has become part of my passage. 

My voyage. 

And my journey consists of a several emotions, 

half of which I have not been able to fully understand or comprehend. 

However, my mental health is more important to me,

and it doesn't require your sympathy, either. 

I'm okay with not being okay. 

I'm okay with feeling overwhelmed,




and drained. 

I realized I was putting too much focus and attention 

on pretending to be okay, 

instead of actually working towards that happiness that I am in search of. 

Ask the follow up question. 

"How are things?" 

"How are things really?" 

The truth is, most of us won't initially say how we really feel 

about any given situation. 

It is in our nature to stay guarded. 

To protect ourselves. 

Break down that barrier. 

If you need help, ask for it. 

If you want respect, demand it. 

If you need love, pray for it. 

How important is your mental health to you? 

Are you willing and able to self reflect 

and self evaluate? 

Can you acknowledge your role in all given scenarios:

 whether it be with family,


or a relationship?

Have you made peace with your mistakes 

and your shortcomings? 

Are you willing to fail in order to later succeed? 

My isolation doesn't require a simple or candid response. 

Ask me the question. 

"How are you?"

"How are you really?" 

I'm not okay, but I have a feeling I will be. 

Photography By:   @mymomcallsmecam  


The pages of my head

  I’ve become like ripped pages out of a journal. 

Blank thoughts, 

empty spaces, 

crossed out paragraphs 

and a total lack of inspiration. 

I have so much to say. 




Theories about love and peace

Ideologies about time and space. 

But each page gets torn out, 

crinkled up, and tossed into the trash. 

My safe haven no longer brings me peace, sanctuary. 

I can’t seek refuge or salvation in this house. 

So what do I do? 

Where do I go? 

What can I say? 

I just sit there reluctantly staring at the clock,

as I smack the pen across the top corner of the page. 

This empty, 

dotted lined, 

single-spaced page.

 I used to be able to relate to my thoughts, 

now they seem like a distant relative who I’m no longer in touch with. 

Yet, I can’t escape it either. 

These feelings,

 these emotions, 

this mental state.

I think I doubt you and your intentions, 

because I doubt myself. 

I worry that you will always want more. 

Something more than me. 

Something more than I can offer. 

I don’t know why I feel like that.

 At times it’s as if we’re the closest we’ve ever been: 



*bites lip* God, physically 

and then suddenly it’s as if I don’t know you at all. 

Is it supposed to be this rocky? 

This constant back and forth? 

I think we’re both caught up in a rut of what we want and where we are. 

I think maybe I’m too screwed up to get into another relationship. 

Maybe it’s just not in my deck of cards anymore. 

Maybe I’m not the ace that I thought I was. 

Maybe I’m just another number, like one through ten. 

Maybe I’m not special. 

So I continue to stare at this page, 

with so much I could say and instead I just close the journal. 

It's time to start letting my actions speak.  

Photography By:  



I'm always writing about someone else. 

Caring about someone else. 

Thinking about someone else. 

Worrying about someone else. 

Praying about someone else. 

I wish someone would write about me. 

Care about me. 

Think about me, every once in awhile. 

Worry about me, even if it was only a little. 

Pray about me and for me. 

Just maybe. 

And maybe I could get my way. 

Just once. 

One single moment where everything is exactly as 

I imagined it in my head. 

I wouldn't have to shed one tear. 

I wouldn't have to fidget with my nails. 

I wouldn't be checking my phone frequently. 

It could just be my moment. 

My day. 

Just maybe. 

And maybe I could get the guy. 

Just once.

One single opportunity that I'm actually the one he wants. 

The first time and only time. 

It could just be my moment. 

But it's not. 

And it never is. 

And I wish I would just stop hoping that it would be. 

Because one minute I feel like I can do anything and 

be everything that you want and need, 

and the next minute it's as if I never mattered to you. 

You never cared. 

And I'm just stuck with these thoughts and dreams of who you and I could be 

and could we ever be together, 

but it's hopeless. 

So maybe. 

Just maybe,

I'll get over you. 

And the idea of you which has now been tainted in my head. 

I hope one day, I can stop loving you.

I'll stop writing about you. 

I'll stop caring about you. 

I'll stop thinking about you. 

I'll stop worrying about you. 

I'd stop praying about you and for you. 

Just maybe I could get my way. 

 Photography By: @mymomcallsmecam  




I guess I just thought I meant more to you. 

There was a time where we could tell each other things, 

and now we just don’t say anything. 

I mean I guess I can’t be mad, right? 

I don’t say anything and you don’t say anything. 

We are both completely comfortable in our silence. 

Well, maybe I’m not exactly comfortable as I am content. 

I am starting to recognize that if we meant more to each other, 

we would do better and frankly, we just don’t. 

It makes me sad to think about. 

My eyes begin to water, 

my cheeks start to feel warm, 

and suddenly I’m vulnerable again. 

I stay silent in my pain because to me, 

it’s not worth mentioning or dwelling over. 

It is what it is, unfortunately. 

However, I can’t help but wonder – is this my fault? 

The reason we can’t speak, the reason we don’t. 

Do I make it difficult? 

Sometimes I feel like I do, 

but then I find myself feeling clingy or attached to someone who doesn’t want to be 

and then I back off quickly and abruptly. 

You can understand that right? 

Why I feel the way that I do? 

You don’t even read these so what’s the point? 

Like I said, I guess I just thought I meant more to you. 

And it sucks, because I feel like I know I do. 

But then other times I just feel like another girl to you. 

I think I have to stop writing about you because 

if we meant more to each other, 

we would do better 

and frankly, we just don’t. 

Photography By: @spencer_charles 


Then and Now, Now and Then

 "I think I love this picture so much because of how happy you look. 

I go through a lot of our photographs together, but nothing beats that smile on your gorgeous face. 

Today, I will mourn for you but not tomorrow. 

Tomorrow will mark a 3 year anniversary of your suicide. 

Not a single day goes by that I don't wish I could have been there to stop you and 

tell you how much that I love you and how much I need you in my life. 

But I didn't, but I hope that you already knew that, and a lot more. 

I feel you in the wind outside as it gently crosses my cheek, 

in my own laughter, 

in the words of a song, 

and in the smiles of the people that I love.

 I see you, 

I hear you. 

Some people said to me that I should have been a better friend, 

and I am here to say that I should have been. 

You deserved a lot more than what was just apparent. 

Tomorrow and most days are hard without you, 

but I want to celebrate you and all that you had given me in such a short time. 

Over the span of a 14 year friendship, 

I want to say thank you for being the best part of my life and of me. 

I love you." 

I wrote this in May of 2015. 

Do you know how closely I hold those words to me. 

Throughout every moment in my life, you have always been my center. 

When we were kids, you always made me feel loved, 


worthy of everything that is good. 

You were and are the true definition of loyalty. 

When almost everyone that I knew and was close too gave up on me. 

You were there. 

You were there when I needed you the most. 

And as horrible as this may seem, I can't say the same. 

I don't believe that I was there when you needed me the most. 

That's what really hurts. 

My guilt lies alongside my pride. 

I was too proud to admit that I was wrong. 

I was too stubborn to admit that I was hurt. 

I carry that cross now. 

Unfortunately, that's my burden to bear now. 

But I hope that God knows how precious you are to me. 

I hope he tells you in vivid detail how much you mean to me. 

I hope he shows you everyday how much that I miss you. 

I hope he truly represents how much that I love you. 

If you have lost someone to suicide, please join me this weekend for the Out of the Darkness Washington DC Walk.


I wouldn't call it goodbye

I didn’t want to get to this part.

The part where we fight. 

The part where we don’t see eye to eye. 

The part where we are both talking and not listening. 

The part where words are flown around without any real meaning, no definition. 

The part where I can’t express how I feel without collapsing. 

The part where I can’t see our future anymore. 

The future that once seemed possible, plausible. 

The part where I feel like I can’t do this to you, or to me. 

The part where I feel like I need to let you go. 

I didn’t want to get to this part. 

Can we just stay in a space where we both learn from each other. 

Grow together. 

Heal together. 

Can we just stay in a space where we are just laughing for hours 

or cuddling all day on a lazy Sunday. 

Can we just stay in a space where I want you 

and you want me just the same. 

Why can’t we get to that part? 

Maybe it’s me. 

Maybe it’s you. 

Maybe it’s this. 

This situation that we put ourselves in.

Because I want the sky 

And you want the moon and the stars. 

But I’d give up my dreams of the sky if that could mean it would realign with yours. 

How did we get to this part? 

I didn’t want to get to this part. 

I prayed about it. 

I thought about it. 

I dreamed about it. 

And now, I don’t want to say goodbye - so I won’t. 

You are you. 

I am me. 

We are who we are. 

We can’t be anything else but that. 

So I guess we should just live out our dreams and see if our hopes and ideas eventually meet. 

Photography By: mindofkhalil


I guess we retreat


You always do this. 


Just when things are actually going our way. 

You retreat. 

Back to square one we go. 

Back to basics. 

Back to our old ways. 

Back to our old traditions. 

Back to our old customs. 

It’s like you begin to panic because you actually can see a real future with me. 

Why does that scare you so much? 

I mean I can see it. 

I can picture us together, like actually together. 

Waking up together. 

Making breakfast together. 

Watching our favorite anime shows together. 

Listening to music together. 

All of it. 

I can see our potential, so why can’t you? 

Is it me? 

Do I come on too strong? 

Do I make you retreat? 

I just want to know. 

I don’t want to get too close to you again and then you just pull away from me. 

It’s not fair to me. 

To want you this much and you just – do what you always do. 


Back into a corner. 

I don’t want you to feel trapped, cramped, like I’m in your space without consent. 

Do I make you feel like that? 

Maybe I should retreat. 

Back into a corner. 

Because I don’t want to feel trapped. 

And yet at the same time I do, because it’s never a trapped feeling when I am with you. 

I feel you. 

I feel your love. 

I feel your attention.

 I feel your affection. 

So why do you want to retreat? 

I’m waving my white flag as a means of surrender. 

I’ve given all my love to you and that's all that I can give. 

I can’t give you anymore. 

This thing that we’re doing. 

I surrender to you.

 I surrender my compassion, strength, and resistance to you.

 I just want to give you everything you’ve ever wanted. 

But maybe what you want just doesn’t include me. 

So then stop. 

Stop making me believe that it does. 

Stop making me hopeful. 

Stop making me second guess who I am as a woman and who I am to you. 

So this time, I guess we should both retreat. 

Back to square one we go.

Back to our old ways. 

Back to our old traditions. 

Back to our old customs. 

Retreat to your safety net, and I’ll retreat to mine. 

"Because every time I think you’re being straight with me and 

I think I understand you – and we just go right back around.” 

 Photography By: 


At a Crossroads: Which Path Would you take

 Have you ever been at a crossroads in your life? 

A standstill?

Have you been in a position where you were offered a do-over, re-do, or another opportunity to do something differently – would you take it? 

I found myself here.

I found myself with another chance to start over with you. 

However, you start to recognize a familiar pattern: the early warning signs, the messages, the phone calls, and suddenly it hits you – you’ve been here before. You’ve been exactly here with this person. If you could change or alter the circumstances in which you two met, interacted, maybe even fell in love or fell out of love – would you? I find myself asking these questions a lot more than I would have ever anticipated. Because there you are. You came back and now I’m at a standstill in the middle of two roads. I know that I love you and that my heart finds comfort, solace, gratitude, lust and joy within you. 

On the other hand, I’m hesitant. Often distant at times, hard to reach, and unable to communicate or properly express to you how I feel and what I feel about you. 

Has anyone else experienced this? 

In front of me is a man who makes me feel so many different things at once that I don’t even know what to make sense of it. 

I wonder if he knows. 

I wonder if he can sense my feeling of queasy, uneasiness around him. 

I wonder if he can see how my face lights up after he brews me fresh cup of coffee the morning after, every giggle or in my case cackle, every gentle touch, when he stops, pauses before taking the keys out of the ignition, and proceeds to dance in the car with me. 

I wonder. 

Truth be told: I’m at a crossroads primarily with myself. I never told him the truth. I never expressed my deep love and admiration for who he is as a person. For the man that he has become. How could I now? So much time has passed and even though he’s here – I’m often hesitant, distant at times, hard to reach and always unable to communicate or properly express to you how I feel and what is it that I feel about you. I thought I had been in love before, maybe I was in the sense of having actual love for a person. But I had never really been in love until I met you. As cliché as this sounds, I knew from the very first moment I spent with you. In fact, I have a scar from our first date, (quite literally) it never healed and neither did my heart. 

When I lost you the first time, I ached for you. I had never done that before. Sure, we all get upset when things don’t go our way, or when a relationship or friendship quickly crashes and proceeds to burn shamelessly, but I didn’t realize what it meant to genuinely every single day be down and out about a person. I was knee-deep in my sadness, and then I had a moment. 

A moment of silence. 

A moment of clarity. 

A moment of acceptance.

 There’s a quote that I love from this movie titled 17 Again, “If I love you, I should let you move on.” Sometimes we have to let the people we love move on, even if that means without us. I had to stop being selfish. I had to reflect and say to myself, “if it was meant to be – it would be, and maybe it just isn’t.” As soon as I had let myself become content with the idea of you not being here: there you are. I write these words with a heavy, happy and apprehensive mind. I had only phathomed your return. I pictured myself taking each road and considering each possible outcome, but yet I still haven’t moved. I want to tell you the truth, but I’m so happy that you’re here that I don’t want to push you away again. Maybe that’s selfish, but even if he is here for all the wrong reasons – he still came back. And now that he’s back…let’s just say if you were me and you had my two choices, two paths – you would know why it’s so hard to determine which path to take.

Photography By: 


I wouldn't call it a poem


I’ve been thinking a lot lately about you and what it is that you mean to me. 

Lately, I can’t describe it – but I hate it. 

I hate feeling like I can’t fully be myself because I’ve been in denial. 

Denial about you. 

Denial about you and me. 

Denial about what it is we are to each other. 

I have so many questions for you. 

And yet I stay silent always. 

I can’t help it. 

I’m so afraid of you. 

I'm afraid of you and the way you make me feel. 

I’m afraid of the feeling that you have always given me – hope. 

You make me feel like I can do anything or be anything that I want to be. 

Openly and effortlessly. 

Yet I stay reserved, timid. 

I can’t let you know how I feel because it’s too dangerous. 

It’s dangerous because I have a discerning intuition that you don’t feel the same. 

I’m afraid of that rejection, but on the other-hand I await it. 

Why is that? 

I think it’s because you’ve always seemed too good to be true. 

How every part of my body gets chills when I prepare to see you. 

How I can easily place my hand on my stomach and feel the butterflies swirling around in circles. 

How I physically have to fight the urge to smile at you when you poke fun at me and my annoying quirks. 

How I have to force myself not look into your ocean blue eyes that contain a hint of lime green right in the center which has always kept me perfectly aligned. 

I guess I just wanted more. 

I wanted more for us. 

And I wanted us more than I wanted anything. 

Now, I’m not so sure. 

It could be my fear, 

It could be my doubts.

It could be my worries about how you might act and react. 

But really I know it’s this feeling in my head that maybe it really is too good to be true. 

I would love to call you mine, even if it was just for a day. 

And yet I stay silent as always. 

Photography By: Marcus Carter