The room was cold
but the air was warm.
The room was filled with people,
and yet I still felt alone.

I sat in the corner, observing people:
the way they spoke,
the curl of their lips when they laughed,
even the darkest secrets they wished to hide—
fake smiles,
bitter tears,
toxic love.
I observed everyone except myself.

In the corner, it was dark.
My skin felt molded to the wall I leaned on.
All the chatter in the room,
thinking so much,
yet feeling so little.

I looked around the corner,
taking in all its qualities.
It was the only part of the room
where light didn’t seem to shine—
a prison,
isolated.

I couldn’t help but wish
people observed me the way I observed them.
Wanting to be seen is a dark feeling—
aching for love
without begging for attention.
In the quiet moments,
I realize I might be alone.

This corner is my safe space,
my shield from
fake people behind masks
and the dark jokes they laugh at.
But it is also my cage—
the reason I am concealed,
isolated from the rest.
Who knew my place of comfort
was also the cause of my loneliness?

I need to get out.
Five simple words,
but they feel hard to swallow.
This corner holds me back—
from experiences,
people,
hurt,
happiness.
I need to get out.

I muster the courage to stand.
I take a deep breath
and embrace my surroundings:
five things I feel,
four things I see,
three things I touch,
two things I taste,
one thing I want:
freedom.

I step into the brightly lit room.
The place feels unrecognizable,
a world beyond my isolation.
The people almost seem—
friendly?

I make rockets of my legs
and approach a girl.
Her name is Rose.
She has two piercings,
three friends,
four sisters,
five dogs,
and a million dreams.

She tells me her story.
I almost feel pity.
She struggled growing up—
two homes,
a loving mom,
an alcoholic dad.
But in her story, I find comfort.
Knowing others struggle too,
I realize sadness doesn’t like loneliness.

I glance back at the corner
I once called home.
Now I see it clearly—
it was a prison all along.

I’ve said many lies in my lifetime.
But one of the most used ones was
‘I’m fine’

“How are you doing?”
I’m fine.
“How was your day?”
It’s fine.
“Are you okay?”
I’m. Fine.

And I too, desperately tried to make myself believe that.
I grasped to the possibility that
I. Was. Fine.

Even if I struggled or
I self destructed,
I was fine.

In the process of domestication,
I shut the possibility of
emotional unwellness.

I wanted nothing to do with the
bitter reality,
and the stinging truth,
that maybe:
I wasn’t fine.

So when someone reached out their hand
and offered to walk with me
through the flames.
I hesitated.
The idea of help was almost foreign to me.

I rejected their help,
because I thought I didn’t deserve it.
But it only hurt us more.

In the end I convinced myself.
I was born to die.

Many people claim God isn’t real
yet continue to speak,
“If it is in God’s will.”

Many people claim God isn’t real
yet will pray,
“God have mercy.”

Many people claim God isn’t real
but continue to recite scripture
in His name.

I wonder if they do this on purpose,
or if part of them still believes.

Maybe religion treated them wrong,
gave them no alternative but to leave.

I don’t blame them.
It’s hard to feel alienated
in a supposedly
“open community.”

Or maybe they’re in denial,
afraid of a higher authority.
Perhaps they know they haven’t been good,
that deep down, they never fit
the Christian standard.

But as much as they say they don’t believe—

we will beg on our deathbed
to get into a heaven we do not believe in,
as we are all just contradictions within ourselves.

It might be regret,
survival,
logic.

But in those final minutes,
you’ll pray to a God you deny
because no matter how you try,
you cannot accept
your own nature

Our last day together, we’ll sit
at the edge of your car,
right above the hood,
overlooking the night sky in the empty
Walmart parking lot.

You don’t know it,
but a year from now, we’ll be torn apart.
We might not see each other again—
not even at all.

But that same night, we’ll recall
old memories from the past,
lingering in our minds
for the longest time.

We’ll laugh at the time we both got
in trouble for breaking the clock.
We’ll smile at the time
we tried to cook
but ended up burning the food.
We might cry the moment
we have to say goodbye.

Just know, every moment since birth…
it has always been you.
I know how much you cared…
just know I did too,
even if I didn’t show it as much as you.

From the moment I took my first breath
to the day I’ll take my last…
you were always my twin at heart,
not just in mind.

Love you,
in every universe
and in all
timelines.

I hope distance doesn’t make us strangers,
but if it does,
I’ll be happy with the fact
I once got to know YOU.
Even if it was for a limited time.

What do I live for?
This is a question many people including myself ask.

Society has consumed the idea that
if we don’t HAVE an ultimate goal
or a perfect life plan,
then our life is meaningless.

You see there’s so much
unrealistic expectations
that are placed on yourself
for simply wanting to reach a perfection
that doesn’t exist.

To this I say:
No.
Not because you don’t have the next 10 years planned it doesn’t means your value is less

Personally,
this is my answer to that question.
What do I live for?

In all honesty I don’t have a goal for my life.
I’m not planning on becoming the next
superstar, or millionaire.
I live day to day.

I don’t expect anything more out of life,
than to simply be happy.

I don’t think you need a reason to live.
You don’t have to live for the idea of perfection.
You don’t have to live for goals you might not even reach.
Simply live because you want to.
Find a fulfillment in life.

Having your future predestined is ridiculous.
Sometimes I can’t even see my future
in the next year.
The world might end tomorrow,
but all you were focused on was the next day, not this one.
If you live preparing one day ahead when are you truly alive?

Practicing slowing down is
sacred and important.
Moments of peace in quiet rooms,
in the sunsets,
morning coffee,
a good book.
These are moments are the I live for.

I live because I know..
despite my own flaws and struggles.
Life is too short to waste.

To be loved like a poem not a song.

With carefully picked out words,
thoughtful actions.

Not a fast rhythm,
but a slow gentle pace.

Maybe some people prefer that swifter pace,
with straightforward love.
However,
there is such an elegance
to the complexity
of slowness and quietness.

There’s a sort of peace that comes with
patience.

…

Love doesn’t have to be hidden,
but it isn’t also meant to be announced like a firework or wildfire.

I don’t need an instagram bio to make it “official”.
No need to publish anything,
or make a big debut to label it
as “real”.

Not because I am ashamed of being in love,
quite the opposite.
I care about it too deeply
to let it get ruined by the toxicity of people.

I also don’t think love should have to fit in a mold.
It doesn’t need to be the typical online love we see on our screens daily.
Understanding that each person loves differently
can bring together distinct personalities.

Maybe it just needs time.
The right soil
to grow.

Don’t condemn me for something you too did.
What makes you any better?

Who are you to judge the equally guilty person?
And in what right mind should I trust that your opinions aren’t based on unjust bias?

You judge Eve for have eaten the forbidden fruit,
but wouldn’t you too?

You’re no better at being human than me.
Or the homeless guy on the street,
or the slave you so claim worthy to keep.

Your judgement should be taken as a grain of salt,
almost worthless.
Because you’re no better than the murderer,
the thief,
or the saint.

This is where the like of morality blurs,
because if I’m not a good judge,
who is?

Who is the one worthy to judge?
Truthfully…
no one.
No human or animal is cleansed or perfect.

But one whom clearly understands the laws,
and upholds them
is truthful.
Not perfect,
but sufficient.

But on a wider spectrum,
true judgement upholds moral values.
But no one has the same values.

The most important thing when it comes to righteousness
is a diverse and open mind.
Able of taking in different perspectives and opinions
and slow to react with anger or bitterness.

Realistically though only a few handful of individuals can classify themselves under these conditions.
Because as humans it is as natural to judge than it is to eat.

Am I trying to justify it?
No.
And in no way am I trying to uphold or encourage it.
Yet, I am recognizing it.
Because as much as I wish it weren’t,
it’s the dark side of being human.
Or at least one of the many parts.

Maybe living in peace means living without judgement,
but if that’s the case
I guess humans live pretty agitated lives.