I don’t know lots about this life.

But I know I like certain things:
Like sweet oranges my mama buys
And waking up early mornings
I love fresh air and green too
And books I can finish by one sitting
Cats, Women friendships
I love loving
And sometimes not

I hate lazy and boastful guys
At times I hate calm and boring
But reality seems so slow and stagnant
I hate when I hate
I hate that I am impatient
Yet I know myself to be one of the most considerate

I adore that one kind friend
He made me realize how people impact others
And how one can save their fellow
By just good words

Oh God I hate being unkind

I always blame myself for being indecisive.
But would it make me crazy if
I just love being unsure and somewhat lost —
of things, of places to go, or of people?
Aren’t there really anything beautiful about it?

My God, I know this man is great
he makes me don't wanna hate myself
he allows me to be me
most of all, he stays

his words are detailed and they speak poem for me
long and sweet and safe and paired with strong actions, too
I maybe away from him for days or weeks
but I won't actually leave

all these good things,
while I'm being blind and stupid and young.
to experience such wonderful days when someone waits for you,
one ought to be really grateful

When my friend asked me to enumerate reasons why other people shouldn't date him, instead of answering, I paused. Then I replied with the reasons why people should.

Why would I say such ******* to someone I care for? Why would I tell him things that he would most probably overthink later? After all, my thoughts would only be biased to my experiences -- my answer is a very very small piece of the bigger puzzle. However small that piece may be, I would never give him the damaged version of it. That is my precious contribution to him.

I realized that a pause can make everything nicer. Words are powerful; it can either destroy or heal. Why does it feel like saying good things is so underrated and boycotted. That when you simply say, "You are such a gentleman" it can make a man cry for he became extra appreciative of himself.

Rather than a whole cake,
a small slice & black coffee would be nice.
There is top tier enjoyment --
from the limitation, balance, & appreciation.
Sure,
You might not have it all,
but you can savor every bite.
You might sip the drink’s bitterness,
so you can cherish the sweetness of cake
as if the first time each time.
To be grateful & contented— it’s just lovely.

we reached an intersection --
a same point within our time.
when I think of the past,
I can only recall bits of it.

we consume so much time
in planning & making a memory,
to enjoy its time lapse version soon enough.
still grateful though for the ones I keep.

the power you hold when being quiet;
when you decide to step back;
when you love discreetly;
when you don't care.

as the power piles up, where will you use it for?
I wish you realize that some risks -- the small talks, subtle smiles,
the i love yous, by being vocal and loud and mad --
are fun and worth the power, most of the time.

I found my favorite part of life:
in all its randomness and uncertainties,
we always find our favorites along the way
and we personalize those for ourselves.

It's lovely; we take our own scraps from everything
-- may it be genre of movies, delicacy, fragrance, people --
piece them together,
then own a wholeness that we are.

Although, wholeness is just a euphoric concept;
Some people may feel it, many may be patiently building theirs.
Being complete is a great feeling but it's ceasing life.
Be quirky and wanting -- this is the beauty of life, after all.

I love listing my favorites as much as waiting for the new ones.

I am flawed in many ways—
of how I perceive, how I deliberate.
It feels to be further down from the surface of everything.
But notice that these breakdowns
are earthquakes;
it is as if beneath the faults—
where I found myself helpless, incapable—
are the same cracks
in which the light started to penetrate.
I breathe

The sound of splashing water
as it reunites with the shore,
The scent of freshly-bloomed garden
as the wind revs them,
The taste of sweet, juicy tangerines,
crisp as plucked from its tree
The glimpse of human eyes
as intimate interaction sparks
Oh, to feel these all —
Existential.