Hello, old friend. How much has changed in the past six years? A lot. Yet here I am again. Heartbroken. If you’ll allow me, I’d like to spill my heart back out to you.

To the question as to if I moved on: yes. With the help of family and friends, I got through those dark days. There are losses that are far more heartbreaking than that of losing a lover. In two years, feeling as though I could not go on, I did. I learned resilience.

I learned to love me. I set new goals for myself. I stepped away from the things that weren’t building me up. I learned to push through every set back, every heartache, every disappointment. I focused on work and raising the kids the best way I know. I made new friends. I learned to enjoy being alone. And then eventually, I learned to love again. It was not easy. The walls around my heart were made of titanium after all. There were struggles and nights of self resentment for being so difficult to love. But it happened.

This time though, it was different. You see I am older now, my expectations have grown with me and this love, this new, exciting love was growing with me too. He was there while I was juggling work and motherhood, and I with  him while reaching his dreams.  We grew together. He was patient while we navigated a somewhat LDR relationship. He was in every sense of the word my partner.

How wonderful it was to be with someone who enjoyed all the same things. We shared dreams, goals, and aspirations. We encouraged, supported, and worked with each other to reach them. How different it was to be building a life with someone. And I said to myself: this is what I went through all that pain for; this is why good things fell apart. This was the better that came for it… UNTIL IT WASN'T.

It is amazing what the human heart and mind can handle isn’t it? How after three years of talking to someone every minute of everyday you can just stop. How someone who you shared a life with, all the goals and plans and dreams can just stop.

So here we are again. Six years later. The same, but different. I am trying to relearn resilience.

THREE DECADES AND EIGHT, and here's a glimpse on how it feels to be alive in my late 30's:

1. It's not all rainbows and unicorns. It's more like a series of unfortunate events and mundane everyday problems.🤦
2. Substantial amount of coffee for breakfast. Or could be home chores, wailing kids. Or rush compliances and paper works. Could be all three, depending on my luck.🙄
3. You always get what you wished for. At a younger age, I wished for a job and kids and it was granted -- certainly not my dream job or dream kids though. I have a stable job and two adorable, lovely girls but how I wish I was more specific then, like "God, pls I want a less toxic, high-paying job and well-behaved kids".🤭
4. Everything hurts for no reason -- my head, my back, my heart. Emotional breakdown visits me frequently, and I've got hangovers from a glass of wine I've drank few weeks ago.🥴
5. Knowing the right thing to do and knowing a greater excuse not to do it. Too many things to do, too little time to accomplish them all but I just can't let the couch down, waving for a nap.😆
6. I've got list of favorites lately.  Favorite people I irregularly talk and hang out with, like maybe once a month or two but love me anyways (shout out to my super friends!). Favorite grocery store because I'm too lazy to go out & explore others. Favorite outfit, mainly shirts & pants, because dressing up upsets me now -- as the age increases, so does the insecurities. Every food is my favorite because it's not everyday that I could afford to eat with gusto. Favorite work out now is moving a muscle while walking to the fridge to get some food or to the nearest socket to charge my phone. My favorite childhood memory? Not paying the bills.😛
7. Getting invites from friends to go out, excitedly sending confirmations to join, then cancelling on the last minute because suddenly I'm too lazy to socialize.😁
8. Working hard to pay the bills & other responsibilities. If I badly needed a break or a sleep, I take the pill if tiring myself with my bike or disturbing my neighbors with my awful singing and guitar doesn't work.😩
9. There is no certainty in love. The fear that life will shatter again and that the pieces I carefully glued will never be the same explains the distance and the high walls.😣
10. Just watching my phone rings because it's rude to cancel, then getting back to whoever called/texted three days later, or depends on my mood and availability to reply. Unless of course if it's work-related, family & close friends matters, or from someone worthy of my time because nonsense & cheap convos no longer interests me.✌️
11. People come and go, letting them pass along and accepting that nothing stays the same because I believe there's more to life than chasing people and dreams not really meant for me. Life goes on, and so must I.💪
12. The best things in life are not things, but the few people who make me feel loved and cared for. Or the simple things I usually take for granted like a goodnight sleep, a decent meal, the sunset, a beautiful song, the simple joys of watching my kids sleeping peacefully and hearing my parents' laughter, and knowing that the rest of my whole fam is surviving well during this pandemic. I don't have the best of everything but I make the best of what I have, thank you Lord.♥️

You mature with the damage, not with the years, dear self. Au revoir to an old version of you,  and bonjour to a better, stronger you.🔥

Who needs
guns to **** when
you have words...?

What is more
deadly, my friend
a gun or a thought?

A gun gives you
the opportunity
but a thought
pulls the trigger...

Find a Poet Not a poser, not a "it's just a hobby" poet. Find one who mumbles lines as they scramble for a pen at breakfast; who shakes their head randomly when their thoughts aren't rhyming properly;  who has notebooks stashed around the house that you must never touch.
2. Listen Savor the spoken words, for those are harder to express. Keep in mind that they can't be edited and re-written, and be forgiving when a mistake is made.
3. Read The body speaks as loudly as words on a page do. When their eyes are closed or focused on the ceiling and the fingers are tapping out syllables, recognize the unique process. Respect the need for quiet, because if you look closely, you can read the poem on their face before they write it on the page.
4. Write Write your story together. Grab hold of the pen and hang on as you move across the page of life. Sometimes you will dance across, others you will be dragged. You may have to cross out a word, or a line, or a page, but don't give up. Discouragement is a poet's biggest enemy, inarticulateness their biggest fear. So end each day with a semi-colon, because the story will never end the way you think it will, and there must be room for more. There is always room for more, more words, more laughter, more tears, more love,
When you love a poet.

2 am is for the poets who
can't sleep because their
minds are alive with words
for someone who's not there.

For the alcoholics drinking
themselves into amnesia to
forget someone who left.

2 am is not for the lovers
asleep in each other's arms.

It is for the lonely, the ones
who are inlove with the
loved but are not loved in
return.

Mi Amore,
you wanted me
to be your anchor
but you
didn't realize
that meant
I had to
drown...