had i.

had i listened to all those relationship advice articles
i wouldnt be in this place i am now.

had i listened
to the impatience
the entitlement
tug tug tugging to be noticed
in those self-affirming
“10 Signs He’s Not That Into You”
i wouldnt have this relationship.

had i listened
to every friend
who reminded me of my biological clock
& the many many fish out there
i wouldnt have this person.

had i gone against my gut
& listened to all the have-nots
i wouldnt be here to appreciate
all the haves.


do you see?

the admiration beaming from my eyes when i gaze at you?
as if even minutes apart made me thirst for you
& just seeing you in all your handsome charm quenches it.

can you feel?

me trying to pluck the stress from your temples
your neck, your shoulders
as you tell me about your eventful day?
my earnest attempt to transfer all the bad you’re feeling
& take it upon myself.

can you hear?

the sweet sound of honest to goodness happiness?
in my laugh, in the way i coo, “you’re my favorite”
for the hundredth time today.
in the sincerity in my apologies for your long hours,
back to back meetings, & difficult days.

[i’ve never apologized so much before
& rarely ever for things that have
nothing to do with me]

is this what it is to love?

it feels like
such an incredible responsibility
to feel something this insurmountable
for someone else
& having now felt it,
to know that to live any other way
would be a half-life.

tunnels & collar bones

i want to run through every red light to get to you faster
the butterflies caged in my chest break free
when i recognize your silhouette across the dark parking lot
i want to live with my face buried in the space between your collar bones
your smile sets my gut at ease
like the ease you have with kissing the top of my forehead
with a warm, “hey babe”
& i never knew how much i craved
the velvety softness of those two words
until you say it

like how you casually play off the incredibly thoughtful things you do for me,
like loading the Harry Potter audiobooks to a playlist for me,
or leaving me “thinking of you” videos in the morning.
i want to extend each moment,
each second,
because time apart feels like that game i used to play with my brothers,
holding my breath at the entrance of a tunnel
only allowing myself to exhale once you reach the other side–

only, it’s not a game now.
& i’ve only just caught my breath with you
& don’t want to hold it a second more.
& yet.. i want to let you leave.
i want you to go conquer the world,
and be the person you tell all about it
at the end of the day.

if you didn’t ask me, “how was your circle group meeting?”
i’m quite sure
that all of this
would’ve come tumbling out

in one



i don’t ascribe to “the right person” theory
but i do believe people can “click.”

it feels so easy
i didnt ever know,
it could be this easy.

to enjoy listening to someone
to want to do anything to take away their stress
to believe, whole heartedly, completely & truly,
that they are amazing.

we’re those people
circling one another in their own orbit
dancing to their own music that no one else can hear

is this sustainable?
do people do this for the rest of their lives?
because i dont ever want to leave this solar system
or have to stop for water when my legs give out

i just want to keep spinning
because this?
is wonderful.

type A

“is she your type?” i ask, motioning to the smokin’ hot YouTube guru i had playing on his desktop

“come here” he says, pulling me to sit on his lap at the edge of his bed

you are my type” he affirms, wrapping his arms around my waist

“no i’m not” i laugh rolling my eyes, then searching his for a visual contradiction to his words

i find none.

“you are now.” and he kisses me on the cheek

You are the Solution

cliches are born for a reason
they’re cheesy
& lame
& completely out of character

until someone makes you feel the way
you should’ve always felt about another person

they are the reminder
that if what you feel about him
isnt the stuff of love songs on repeat
or throwing pebbles at a girl’s window kind of grand gesture

its not it.
the magic sauce.
the wonderment
& butterflies.

dont settle for your lukewarm feelings

its your heart urging you
to keep lookin’

she vs me

No two loves are ever the same
for good reason.

So stop comparing yourself to his one big relationship,
& how he pursued her religiously until she was finally won over.
The him then, isn’t the him now..
& the you now, may not be so crazy about him,
had he resumed that role for you.

you have been weighed
you have been measured
& you have been found wanting —
to equate to more.

but the reality is,
you aren’t any less
for having a different sort of love.

heart pursuit

fact: i’ve never actively pursued anyone before,
unless you count the 7th grade.
i bought one of those fake fundraising roses
& gave it to my 8th grade crush.
“crush” is an appropriate adjective,
for after i left he properly mocked me in front of his friends
& threw it in the trash.

i never considered myself closed off,
but i definitely wised up real fast.
my heart was no longer visible on my sleeve,
a gleaming badge asking to be stolen.
instead.. it was stitched carefully into the inside of the cuff
so i could finger the seams discretely,
reassuring myself it’s still there.

with you,
somehow its made its way to the outside world.
& its a scary place.

the original forgotten list 


December 25, 2008 (Xanga)

im picky about the word used to describe my pickiness.
my selective nature is.. well natural.

but i think when it comes to matters of the heart,
i have a right to be.

i need someone, who i can look up to.
someone who i know, is capable of helping me with homework,
or to change a tire,
or something where i find that i can learn from them what i wouldn’t feel comfortable/am incapable of doing on my own.

& what they do exceed in, im not threatened by it.
no abundance of testosterone, or being overly proud of their talent at writing…
something that complements my own attributes.
i havent found out whether this means i need to find an opposite, or a match…

i like to laugh.
i like knowing, this sound, this syncopation of air & tummy reflexes… isnt forced.
& isnt because i feel guilty for not finding it truly hilarious — but because it just is.
no mercy giggles here.

i need to be able to talk to you.
hold a conversation, & you’ll hold my attention.
i dont talk much, & i can guarantee you there will be dead air.
but when i do speak.. its meant to spark contemplation/intriguing answers.
i want to find myself craving a question just so i can wrestle with ideas with you
or exchange stories that feel well kept & encoded in our exclusiveness.

i want the best shade of you.
the you, with the highest potential, optimized & in action.
the truest, most clarified reflection of you personified is the person i want to be with.
& if i bring that side of you out.. & you can do the same for me.. its a keeper.

i want someone who takes control.. & has self-control.
yeah, so i get away with murder. or i wind up in compromising situations over & over again.. i want you to accept me, but not necessarily all of my choices.
if i fuck up, i want to be called out on it.
i want to become better, because you need me to never do it again.
whats the fun in knowing i can do no wrong?
… & what’s the harm in telling me ive done wrong?
self-control in that respecting the lines that are drawn is important to me.
controlling your temper, your mouth, your hands, & your mind.

i love consistency.
i like the type of person who is there, on time, & doesnt falter.
i only expect what stakes you set,
& the offer on the table is signed with your mark.

if when you see my worst — because its bound to happen
dont judge me.
what i say in my fractured state of mind,
& reckless moments shouldnt be held/used against me.
if im even willing to share those fears & demons
… i dont want t hear them repeated. ever.

this is all i know i need.
all those periods of searching,
& asking why at some point in time someone didnt fit my agenda..
boils down to this.
what i couldnt sum up in detail
or narrate why a nice boy couldnt become nicely ever after.
& nice boys dont always finish last.
chances are, they just gave in to one or two of my vices…
& i couldnt bear to make more of what it already was.