mo money mo problems.
I cared about much more important things in life when I made less money.
i’m a prophet.
I wrote this in 2011, right before I got my heart blindsided and broken. I was fearless then.
That which does not kill you, will only make you stronger. Life is about taking risks. We risk our lives every day, getting into a car, getting on a plane, crossing the street. But why are matters of the heart that much more terrifying? Fear is there because there is an unknown variable that you can’t see or control. Let go of what you cannot control. That’s the only way to enjoy all that life gives to us. Why does the world end when someone leaves you? In reality, it doesn’t end. Life goes on. Lessons continue to be learned. That is, if we choose to let it.
Fearless and writing notes to my 2013 self, apparently.
There are a lot of things about life I still don’t know, but what I do know is that I know exactly what I want from it. And that’s really all that matters.
Birth date is one moment in time, a once in a year celebration.
Re-birth date is of your choosing; time and frequency. Be reborn everyday as you awaken into all that you are and will be.
I feel a great heaviness in my heart. Sometimes I find the speed and randomness at which life travels unbearable to think about. It’s not often, but when they’re there, the thoughts are crippling. It’s in these moments where I lose myself in a state of limbo. Retreating to avoid human contact, and at the same time, screaming on the inside for someone to understand. In this war against myself, the battles I lose are now few and far between, but none the less draining to my spirit. I know I’ll win the war, but sometimes I wish I never had to fight in the first place.
God sent me an angel yesterday.
I got in an accident last night. As soon as it happened, I got out of my car — blessed to be unscathed but still shaken up from the experience — and walked by a very kind Filipino man in his car who said that he saw the whole thing and I was completely in the right. As I was getting ready to exchange the necessary information with the other driver, the first words out of that driver’s mouth were words of blame. Once the Filipino man saw me get yelled at, he offered to be my witness. He stopped his car in the middle of a busy street and as we were honked at, he gave me his phone number and rushed off.
I just spoke to him now, and he said as soon as he saw the driver yelling at me instead of apologizing, he wanted to help. “I saw everything, and I will tell them the whole story. I don’t want you to have any trouble with this at all.” He was secretive about his full name and said he didn’t want to get too close to me, as it might hurt his credibility as my witness. As I thanked him profusely (and cursed myself for not being able to more accurately express the gratitude and relief I felt), he said he just wants to help and do nice things for people who need it, and we should all do the same for each other, always. The entire time I was fighting back tears at the thought of such generosity, as I myself longed for a way to repay his kindness.
No more than five minutes after we hung up, still reeling in awe from the actions of this wonderful man, the other driver’s insurance company called me for my side of the story. They immediately ruled the accident his fault, and not mine.
Kindness, love and gratitude to others will always come full circle.
How does one man get away with so much evil, and not even be aware of the hurt he causes others? Can he really believe his words are merely reactions towards the supposed wrongdoings of those around him? Truths, even? How can one man really believe he is deserving of love and respect, after all he’s done to wrong the ones bound to him by contract, by blood, and by laws of sheer humanity? And what’s worse, how can this man be my father? How am I to live with him for eternity? Through life and death, his blood is mine. Eternity. I realized tonight—my independence is a curse, a coping mechanism birthed from learning not to trust anyone on this planet. Long planted in me since the earliest of childhood, this emotional detachment from memories of screaming voices and words meant to kill, was my way of surviving. If it had not been for this shield I created for myself, I am confident in saying I would not be here today. I’ve learned to seek approval from within, I’ve learned to build a life without a man’s support, I’ve learned to rely on no one but myself. But because of this shield, how do I continue living a life? A life alongside others? I’m becoming agitated and tired. Retreating into myself as I fight a blind war against everyone around me. The war I started fighting for my mother decades ago, will easily soon become a losing war against myself as I push any possibilities for love far, far away. How much longer can I protect her, and protect myself, before I start hurting myself? Or has it already begun?
What I love most about public transportation is watching people on the bus and wondering what their stories might be. Right now as I take the bus Downtown I notice a man sitting across from me with a Los Angeles city guide. It makes me wonder what country he might be from, whether he’s travelling alone, and whether he likes this city I call my home. I watched as he watched someone else’s baby smile at others, and I witnessed a smile crack on his own weathered face. It reminds me of all the times I was a stranger in other cities and countries, wandering someone else’s hometown aimlessly via public transit. It’s humbling to think that we all come from different cultures and different walks in life, but all take pleasure in the same things: exploring, learning, seeing, and the innocent laughter of a small child.