From a journal entry.

i remind myself to remember these moments. 

the first time a boy breaks my heart. 
the first time i receive an acceptance letter i am truly proud of. 
the first cross country road trip i take. in the hopes of leaving my demons behind, nonetheless.

and the first time i decide to fight for myself.

i remind myself to hold close the people who loved me unconditionally along the way. the ones who held my hand in grocery stores when i sobbed uncontrollably. the ones who showed up unexpectedly and at the most perfect moment in my life. 

and the ones who proved to me in the end that everything in this world happens for a reason.

xx

I don't know what it is about India that unearths the writer in me. The long periods of silence. The vastly empty days punctuated only by meals and tea and the occasional guest. The smells, the myriad of sounds, the vibrant colors. Perhaps it's a bit of everything that forces me to break down this wall I've erected to preserve this feeling of numbness.

I read somewhere that we only accept the love we think we deserve. These days I feel like I'm not worthy of love. In any form. By anyone. I feel like a pretty crummy person for so many reasons. I will never be what they expect me to be. I will always disappoint. I will always be just a little less than what's needed. And I'll have all the regrets that I've carried with me. Those that keep adding on. I haven't done a lot in the past year to be able to stand up for myself or the person I've become. I don't deserve your love. Never have. Perhaps never will. I'm just not suited for this. And for that I'm sorry.

home away from home.

a letter

You picked me up when I had fallen so hard; taught me to dream again; dragged me into every possible adventure.
You're there somewhere, I'm having such a hard time finding you and it's breaking my heart. Just to hear you laugh or say something stupid or even just smile.
You are the reason I'm still standing, that I love what I love, that I'm as brave as I am. You were a dreamer who taught me the value of dreams. I miss you so.
I don't know how I have such a hard time fighting this, when you fought so hard for me. Just come back, as you are, it's okay, so we can be the pals we've always been.

i am just a poor boy though my story's seldom told.

Some days you end up sprawled on your polished wooden floor wondering how you got to a place where you feel so empty.

But some days, the thunder echoes louder than your fear. And your music drowns out their existence. And you have a seat. You feel elated. 

You realize that if it doesn't work out in the end, you'll leave. You'll find a way to avoid home. A way to avoid the bitterness that tore at your seams. You'll find a way to survive. Because you were born a fighter. You were raised an achiever. But more importantly, you taught yourself to dream.