Dear Someone,


, , , , , , , , , , , ,

Think back to before you were ever heartbroken. Before you were really heartbroken and left alone undistracted. A puddle of hurt. Rewind before that moment. Who were you? I bet you were brighter, livelier, riskier. I bet life was fresher and felt new. Now you are muddled in a pile of hurt. You seem to have lost you underneath some strange surface of disbelief and bitterness. Let’s try to dig them up. Maybe just a little. Think of who broke your heart. And think of who you were when you were with them. Most likely there are some parts about you when you were with them that you feel you will never get back. As if all the credit goes to them for your greatness. And that is where you are wrong. You, my dear, are giving your power away so unjustly. You believed in you at that time. And what that heartbreak did was make you not believe in you anymore because falling in love is simply so your fault for being true to yourself. No. Yes, you believed in you; no – for blaming yourself in any way. So let’s try this thing where you take a few steps back, permit yourself and try to regather that belief once again. Trust you, as you are the only truth you for sure know. Trust in what you knew made you happy was good for you and anyone who tries to bring you down is just ignorant or blocked of their own happiness. Let yourself be loved by you once again. That heartbreak is believing you were wrong for following your heart. You weren’t. It’s okay to be overly excited when no one else gets it, it’s okay to enjoy arts and things about life and people that no one else gets. Just share it and be okay if no one else gets it. They will take away something from your share. If you are radiating beauty, then that’s all that matters. The world is waiting for your re-entrance. Every moment has a piece of you missing because your light can do no wrong. Find that inner part of you and be happy once again. For you.

Yours truly. 


Poem part 2 (feelings for you)


, , , , ,

You’re a pain I never asked for. A pain I never guessed. So sweet, thrilling, addictive. I can taste you in all my thoughts and visions. You are the high I chase both in and out so much that I wanna be intertwined with you. If love is blind then so I may be. If I am cursed then cursed I will be. For you. I have lost myself to you and the pain feels so good. As good as love can get. And as bad as love can get. It’s worth every second of the high. You couldn’t get it unless you felt it too but it’s so good it doesn’t matter because I’m blind by now, blind, blinded by all you have tempted me by. 

Poem: My life’s love


, , , ,

Where is the love you cast away for me? Where have you placed my delicate hands that became burned so deep? I’ve never known to touch someone who burned through all I had to offer. I thought it was fine until the bone shown through. If I could save you I would. Through words, flowers, whatever transalation of affection. But you make it hard, hard, hard to love you and hard to see you. Disguised as things I could hate but I know better. Love is in everyone but you need it most in my life. 

Poem: “feelings for you”


, , , , ,

I told myself you would be the only poison I’d ever drink and your taste would be my last. Yet this end is longer than I expected, the high is matching the pain and I hardly can bear. You wink, smile, kiss my fingers — I give in. Throw a blanket over it and pretend it’s not cold out here because I’m with you. There’s a strong distance distracting like a wind. Who are you?

I hold my eyes closed tight, holding my tears, holding any tempted fright. I never asked for this but I can’t say I’d have it taken back either. I love you. It sinks to a burn, as it flys to a euphoria I can’t describe. I’d die right now but I wouldn’t be able to addictively live amongst these feelings for you. So I stay. 

Attempt two exploring.

I was so scared.

Never knowing what of

But it was the only place I found myself





I accept.

And then I can move on in whatever I choose.

Usually drawing.

Sometimes writing.

And singing.

And loving maybe


Of mistrust

Of interruption

That is forced.

Scared of losing control by force

Scared of being taken control of

Called “love”

I can’t handle no more.

I will be alone and small if it means I’m safe and away from being overcome with how much I can love.


Tiny heart beating Loud.”

it seems to hit a lot of people interestingly these days.

It definitely resonated when it came up.

It also felt whole.

I felt love with it.

It’s a very top layer of who I really am.

Who I am is…
When I was younger,

I would observe all the adult humans around me, looking for happiness, and could not find it.
It hurt.

I didn’t understand.

I believed everyone deserved happiness. Why didn’t they?

Even when I tried to share I felt so far from reaching them with it.

Also I didn’t know how or what would make sense to making that happen.

I loved them and didn’t know why

I do know that I was desperate to love anything that was given to me in this life

Preferably things that needed it or could echo it

ANd I always saw so much light inside these humans

But couldn’t wake them up to it for some reason.

It was weird because that was all I saw in them so it was weird that they couldn’t see it in themselves.

So I watched them not love themselves

Hoping I could understand

And justify some reason why they should be unhappy

But I never found it back then. 

So it stuck with me

their sadness.

I hoped that if I carried it I could understand it and rid them of it or at least spiritually soak it up from them.

I hate seeing people in pain.

I hate feeling less than what this life is supposed to make someone feel

So I fly from it and try to find all the light I can and gather it into a sun

And just maybe I will help direct everyone to find their own light

Maybe they ended my love to rain a little on them

Rain, is so contradicting

It’s inconvenient but beautiful but intimidating

Unpredictable, unforgiving,

But necessary.

And if it breaks me it only makes me more ‘me’


, , , , , , ,


_MG_2159-X3“If you want to love me, then you have to accept my sadness as a part of who I am. You have to acknowledge my pain is beneath everything I show or present. You have to understand that all my efforts in positivity is really just to survive but what makes me is my pain and to pretend its not there is to neglect the largest part of me as well as what has made my heart as open as it is.”

**Photography by Lance Miller

**Fashion Designer (dress) by Atousa Ghanizadeh 


Every other time I write I am strongly self conscious of the things I am about to post public. Basically I am judging myself while reading through briefly before posting. Sometimes I cringe. Those time I am so critical of myself I am usually writing with some sort of discomfort. As if it were unexposed territory to even myself and I quickly react in disgust.

I used to think I valued my intelligence until one day I realized I shriveled away my soft parts into sharp, cold logic and I wasn’t even happy. Unhappy because it was to impress people and by their reaction I was therefor impressed with myself. I know, it’s extremely ass backwards but that is what it was and I at least now do not judge that in myself to be able to identify my lost self then. Now, I try not to care to be more than needed. I’m trying to balance between just enough reason and how I feel and what things actually mean to me.

 Beginning with faith in myself


, , , ,

I feel like my life is finally returning to me. I seemed to have gone off the deep end for a long while and looking back has made me realize a few things. One of them is in regards to depth of someone. What makes someone “deep”? The darkness? And what popped in my head was a voice softly sliding in, “how deep do you want to go before you risk making your back up for air?”  

Well I definitely went off the deepest end I could find for myself and did actually risk not making it back up to the top. It was an adventure at the very least. A dive into self exploration only to find out I knew it all before I thought I knew. But I was missing the meatiness of experiencing it. And now it seems I have lived it yet wonder if I lost parts of myself by doing it. It’s like I threw away my home, connections and what I knew of life to be wreck less in having fun and trying to see things that just weren’t there. No matter how you look at it, things will still remain the essence of how they were made. Somehow I fooled myself into thinking there was more to my own personal life than I had put the work in for. Somehow I had reversed my fantasies of life into actual life and clearly, I can’t live like that. I have to work with what I’ve got. And here I am back at square one and I am so happy to be back. The voice in my head jokes and says for me, “sometimes I like to pretend life is a lot harder than it actually is.” I realize that happens to be a statement we all can share from time and time. I also realize looking at my life that I have spent most of it running away from myself, from being and loving me. I don’t know what exactly occurred that made me live with that but I am ready to face myself more now. Without that jump off the deep end I probably would never had come to such a facing. I don’t regret it and appreciate myself more for having gone through it. There’s always worse, but my worse had me really hanging on strings of life. There were one too many accounts the past year I tried and wailed about harming myself to wanting to end my life. Sometimes the simplest of reason being that I just didn’t want to do it; live, I mean. So now I am here with eyes more willing than ever to see myself and life for what it is. I am accepting that I have no other option but to accept it if I want to move forward. When I said I spent a large chunk of my time living running away from myself, I mean that I wanted to be anyone else, look like so many others instead, have the life of people more fortunate seeming and even have personality traits other than my own. Always more or less of something I had or didn’t have. The things I loved in others and the traits I thought I lost when I lost certain people were really just things in myself I have had all along. I was just missing the self belief to let it all be.  It was me missing from seeing me, me neglecting my power and love for life. Now it’s just time for faith that all the people or things I thought I lost in life to be reconstructed through lens more direct, from a heart of my own, and through support of those still with me however light or consistent. I have me now and this time I know it.

Ramble of things I won’t promise


, , , , , ,

I’ve always been sort of a bad communicator. Bad, because I don’t see the need or any reason to tell people anything. Of course, unless I wanted feedback or direction of some sort. Actually, I take that back; a lot of times I will want to tell people about things just to tell them about it, so therefor, preferably a positive response back. Once again this more than likely reflects on my childhood of many sorts. One such being that no one really paid much attention to me, another that when I did talk, they had no true response. Those were my early lessons of communication. Not the best, huh? Well, I will have to make due to it as it is all I know.

When I write, I can avoid anticipating judgment or gossip from what was said. I suppose I have a huge trust issue with in-person situations. Whereas, even if I knew those same people were to read my blog, I don’t suspect as much unwanted responses. Perhaps because to read my blog means they are already pre-warned that it is private and personal to me on some level. As opposed to if spoken, everyone speaks and not everyone considers spoken words to contain as much value on a daily basis. I don’t know. It’s just hard to be open and ok with myself sharing myself. I’d rather reserve my personal things shared to those who take it in and instead while in-person just be spontaneous and silly. It’s the only way I’ve known though and If I want to spruce things up maybe I should try a different perspective.

Today’s write is kind of a ramble of things I won’t promise. As all that I think and say can only be promised at most the moment it is thought or said. Then new information comes along and may invalidate or change just a tid bit and then it is all thereafter misleading information. Which is also why I find that sharing things is of the least importance. Rather, lets love and have fun instead or at least talk about external things and people because then we share being not selfish of wanting to talk too much of ourselves. Yet of course I don’t mean gossip. I mean simple observation. I always prefer creative and silly. For example, one time I was riding down the freeway and on the side of the road were one of those huge fields with cows and naturally, I said, “I wonder if the brown cow gets jealous of the yellow cow, like ‘hey why can’t I be like you?'” But that’s just me. We laughed and it was amazing. I wish there were more moments like that to have with everyone. But for that to occur I would have had to felt myself at wholesome of natural honesty. Really, I don’t know what I am talking about and I feel a little vulnerable writing all this as its all just free flow of thought, or rather no thought in between my head and the keyboard. It probably seems like I enjoy disagreeing with myself by now as almost everything I state I immediately after contradict or take back. It sort of explains how bad I am at conversations, too.

Today I woke up and decided I cared about my life again. Maybe that is what this is about. It’s me trying to shove myself out the door mentally to be a little more open. Me being more open means me being more creative, me sharing about myself, me being assertive about being me. And I’ve always known that writing usually leaves me feeling more comfortable in my mind and even in my heart somehow. It helps ground me and helps remind me that I have the freedom to be myself mostly because I don’t have the option to be someone else. So when I write my thoughts and emotions out, it reveals even to myself that that is me which feels and thinks all these enlightened to damned thoughts. And that’s ok. And so hopefully I will find myself on here somewhat more frequently and doing other things more frequently so that I may be living out here in the world instead of in my dark cave of thoughts and bitter hopeless feelings.

I know I said I woke up and decided but really I’ve been working on being able to wake up and decide such a thing for several many months now. I wish it was magic but it’s not partly due to my hard to motivate personality followed by stubbornness. And now I will go off and figure out my next thing to do today to show me to myself, and I.


Again, forgive me for misspellings or bad grammar, etc. for I am rather rusty having not written or even read much lately~