astoldbyanj

[astoldbyanj]

Hey, Luna

Hey Luna, how's your fair weather

A pitch black night without me?

Do your firefly friends remind you about us

Just two flames once intertwined

Who dared fight the darkness

Side by side?

Hey, Luna, how's your side of the sky

A quiet calm evening without tears?

Do you remember when we quieted each other's fears?

Do your longing lullabies ever mention my name

The way mine do yours

The way it did then,

The same

Hey Luna, how's your perfect timing

A late night shift to never see my face?

Do you remember when we could never be apart?

Do you think I don't miss you

In my mornings when I start?

Your embers etched

Blue ink at heart

Hey Luna, how's your forever

A well laid out plan in the cosmos?

Do your stardust written dreams make you think of me

Just two flames still intertwined

Whose hopes once aligned

Do you also feel lonely every night?

[astoldbyanj]

Angel eyes

She has angel eyes

The bright and hopeful kind

She can see through rain

Heal the sunshine from its pain

But she's in love with someone else

Who no longer exists

Almost a decade past relationship

Can she ever be that happy

That innocent and carefree

Without the weight of all the responsibilities?

She has angel eyes,

The piercing capturing kind

She can see through you

She gets you the moment she meets you

But she's in love with someone else

A lost at sea part of herself

Oceans deep love she once knew

In her secret dreams come true

But the tides are ever changing

She'll never find the same wave twice

Couldn't kill her if she tried

So she tries.

And tries.

Wouldn't come back if she cried

So she cries.

And cries.

She has angel eyes

The deep and dark kind

She has seen the world fall apart

Knows the signs of a broken heart

But she's in love with someone else

Lost in daydreams by herself

Can't forget, believe she tried

A long lost sailor's little wife

She has angel eyes

In a heartbeat, she'll save your life

She'll give her time, her love, herself

But she doesn't know how to ask for help

But she's in love with someone else

The unbroken part of herself

Her angel eyes still pure despite

A darkened world that dimmed her light

Yet she shines.

She shines. 

Couldn't dim her if they tried

She shines.

She shines.

Can she ever feel that way again

That carefree innocence

Without the weight of all that's been?

Can she find herself again?

She can.

[astoldbyanj]

Writing prompt: If you're Ari in her music video We Can't Be Friends, erasing all memories that remind you of heartbreak, what's the one memory you would decide to keep?

When I met your ex for the first time, 

awkward silence, 

Anxious and tense,

You can hear every breath,

But with pride in your chest, you said, 

"You know she worked on this and that..."

Talking to her about me...

I didn't even know you knew,

Never thought you listened,

nor cared about what I do.

It was the first time I thought, 

"I do make you proud."

And when I came out that morning,

You with a coffee mug in your hand,

Your voice croaked when you said,

"Thank you for being here,"

And I think you said I love you.

And I was able to say it back.

It was the first time I heard it,

The first time I thought,

"Is this the first or the last?"

Either way, 

Forever it will last.

But the rest of the moments, 

Are too hard to keep.

You on the wheelchair,

Up and down the hospital ramp,

Countless scans and xrays,

The endless list of meds on hand,

The clinic's white walls of bleach & alcohol,

Speaking of alcohol,

Vowing I'd never drink again.

The day you came home,

Bearing the big news,

Thinking it was a joke,

Praying it was a joke.

The way your voice choked,

The way my heart broke,

It was the first time I ever saw you cry.

Praying it was a lie.

Breaking down on the bus,

Imagining what it would feel like

If you were ever to leave us,

As if it would prepare us,

As if it were just a scare,

As if it were just a nightmare.

Waking up to the truth,

That nothing could ever prepare you.

You ride the waves

Waiting til they end,

But it's an endless ocean,

Love and grief forever friends.

A living pulse beating, 

Rising falling on every breath,

Wiping the shore on every stretch.

I'd wipe out all of that, I would,

Erase all the pain, if I could.

[astoldbyanj]

Writing to live the questions..

This is the first time.

Up until this point in my life, I've been writing to find answers. In the hopes that as the words spill out in magical rhythm, so will a truth come tumbling down out of nowhere, something I've never known before. But the truth is I can never write about anything I don't already know. The answers will only come when I'm ready to know them. The answers will only come when I'm ready to live through them.

[astoldbyanj]

Prompt : Write about a perfect first date

(tbh wasn't particularly inspired by this prompt,  but this is what came out of it..)

You call me on a tuesday night

You couldn't wait for me to reply

Talk about your childhood

Too long & intimate to type

Mention my new favorite cafe

Something that you haven't tried

"Can we go sometime?" you say

Try to sound less excited, "Alright."

Alright.

I'm running late in 2 inch heels

You're right on time as I pull up

Hoping we don't mess this up

Hoping I don't mess this up

I'm spiraling but you're there smiling

And all my spinning fears just stop

Walk down a street I know so well

But catch my reflection

Feel like someone else

Someone brand new

Giddy, golden, from blue—

—Skies to a perfect sunset ahead

All ends are beginnings, they said

Sit on the grass in my dress

Don't really mind if my hair's a mess

All those times the butterflies

Meant free flying, crashing goodbyes

I've held my head down since then 

But maybe this time, I'll try again

All those times the butterflies

Scattered doubts on all I've felt 

But here with you, you make feel

That I could trust myself

I could trust myself.

[astoldbyanj]

Prompt : Write about a What if in your life

A Bonfire Story

Part 1 The Spark

I didn't know it til it hit me. 

Bullseye, a flaming arrow to my chest. She had a fire in her belly and a fierceness in her eyes. I had a warmth in my smile and a skip in my step. We started out as friends, as the best of lovers always do. 

We were both so young, just two eager-eyed creative souls. We bonded over shared passions, how we both wore our hearts on our sleeves, unlike (seemingly) everyone else. We bonded over shared dreams. We'd lie on our backs in the middle of the classroom hallway, and look up at the cold florescent lights as though they were stars in the sky. 

One drunken night, I let her hold me in her arms. I looked up at her, blinking at the blinding truth that yes, I wanted her too. I pulled her closer to my breath, and in that moment, it felt like we were never meant to let go. 

We made magic together. We made poetry together. We'd stay up all night, telling non-stop stories to each other, hoping our story together would never end. We've never known love could keep us that warm, and burn that bright. 

We said one day, we would run away, and keep each other warm forever. 

___

Part 2 The Burn Out 

I didn't know it til it broke me. 

My first real heartbreak. Every morning, I'd get up hoping it was just a nightmare. I dragged myself to the bathroom like every step was walking on shards of glass. For three years we walked on flames for our love. How could a flame that bright turn into only embers?

We were both so young, just two reckless kids playing too close to the fire. When we couldn't take the heat, we'd burn out. Our hands and feet scarred by the burn marks. When her fierceness revealed itself to be fear, she'd lash out at me, like a dragon with a dagger in its wing. Hurt people hurt people. And I fought fire with fire. I was too young and immature to know a more loving way to fight.

The same flaming arrow that once captured my heart, was the same one that pierced through my soul. The same passion that I once fell in love with, was the same one that pushed us to our downfall. The same fire that molded us, that shaped our adolescent years together, has now burned away into the ground. Leaving behind two different mounds, almost unrecognizable from each other. 

One cool afternoon, I let her hold me one last time. We were on our go-to bench, sharing earphones, listening to a sad song about a love gone lost. She looked up at me with pleading eyes, asking if we could still be in each other's lives. It felt wrong if we wouldn't be. But l couldn't even meet her gaze, my eyes stinging in salt, and bitter sadness. It was too painful. Can lovers really turn back into friends? 

We said one day, maybe we'll be okay.

___

Part 3 A Second Match

I didn't know it til it was too late. Years of healing meant I couldn't look back. 

But what if it wasn't. What if what seemed like opposite roads were parallel lines that eventually converged back to each other? What happens when you relight one end of the line? Will the other catch flame too?

We were both so young back then... Now not anymore. I've grown tougher, thicker skinned, not easily burned. She grew calmer, cooler headed, not easily provoked... Both evolutions shaped through the wise old teachers called pain, grief, and time.

One mundane morning driving out for errands,  I let myself take a little detour. It just felt like a good day to drive the long way home. Ten minutes later, there I was. Finding myself pulling over to our old spot by the bell tower. I walked to the same bench where we used to sit, realizing that this bench has been there for so many versions of me. There was the college kid version of me, who was madly in love, terribly insecure, but carelessly happy too. I remember sitting there, with her head laying on my lap, and the sun in our hair. Then there was the broken mess of a shell of me. I remember sitting there with my knees to my chest, bawling my eyes out like it was the end of the world.

Then there's the version of me now. There was the girl I've become, more certain of herself, more true. I heard a little voice inside me say, I wish she could see me now, I wish she could be here now. 

Then I heard another voice say, 

"Hey,"

It was a familiar voice, so familiar, that it took me a while to register it wasn't part of my own. The voice was approaching the bench, calling out to me. It was a little shy, a little unsure, but it was a voice I'd know from a mile away. 

The sun was high above by now, enough to blind my vision. I blinked twice, checking if this was just another one of those dreams. But it wasn't. She was really there. 

By then she was just a few feet away I could touch her. Just the thought of that was like a match strike, shooting sparks up my arm. I could touch her. I could hold her hand. I could tell her, 

"Hey, you know what? We're okay. We're okay now."

Part 4 to continued (or not)

[astoldbyanj]

Prompt : Write your own Modern Love Essay (inspired from the New York Times column)

The evolution of my love letters - Chapter 1 (to be continued)

I was sprawled on the floor of my childhood room one afternoon, clearing clutter & dusty knickknacks, when I stumbled on a stack of old journals & envelopes. There they were, my prized love letters from old friends & old lovers, hidden away in my dad's antique treasure trunk. 

I've always loved letters.. My first love was writing itself. My favorite show was As Told by Ginger, a story about the diary of a clumsy, awkward, red-head teenager who dreamt of becoming a writer. I resonated with her so much, even if my parents wanted me to a doctor or a lawyer instead. 

I grew up in an all-girls Catholic private school, the kind that used to be run by nuns, the kind where you'd get into trouble if your skirt was a centimeter shorter than what's written on the dresscode.. the kind where we had annual religious weekend retreats, to get away and reflect. My favorite part about the retreats was we got to exchange "palanca" letters with each other, basically letters you write for your friends about what you think about them, what you like about them (& possibly what you don't like about them). This is so they can have something to reflect on during the quiet time of the retreat. I treasured and kept all those palanca letters that my friends wrote to me. And I loved writing to my friends about how much I adored them. 

My little secret back then was that I had a few friends whom I adored a little more, & a little differently, than the rest.. The letters I'd write them would be long & written with extra tenderness.. Secret little crushes.. Honestly, I didn't think much of them then. I just thought maybe it was normal to develop certain feelings of fondness for other girls when you didn't really have any male options. 😂 It's not like I really wanted to do anything with these feelings, I just thought they were displaced hormones of adolescence. 

Until I was in senior high school. It was then I unexpectedly formed a strangely intimate bond with a girl in my advanced math class. 

She was awkwardly funny, nerdy, and terribly smart.. the kind of smart that didn't have to study so hard to get good grades.. The kind of smart I could only wish to be! I was an over-achieving straight-A top student. But not because I was naturally gifted in anything, but because I had to spend sleepless nights studying every textbook, footnote to footnote. It was exhausting. But that was my life.. I'd wake up, go to school to study, then go home just to study again. My grades were all I truly cared about. Until I met her.

I honestly don't remember how it started, but we developed this secret penpal relationship through a journal, which we would take turns writing to each other on. I'd write about my day, & whatever concerns & reflections about life I had back then. Then we'd meet in the corridors, I'd hand her the journal, and we'd share a little hug. She'd write back, equally long, and equally well-thought out. I didn't overthink this relationship we had, I didn't want to at all! If I did, I knew it would just feel wrong. 

One day after school, I was happily writing back to her on the bus. And much to my horror, my younger busmate snatched the journal, and started reading it out loud! She asked me who I was writing love letters to. Red faced and confused, I quickly denied it, "They're NOT love letters!" And I snatched it back from her. 

I continued to deny it, until I couldn't anymore. Until our exchanges grew longer, and deeper. Until our hugs lingered longer too. Until reading her letters was my favorite part of the day, a guilty pleasure—like how some kids would sneak out to parties and drink with boys. I didn't do any of those things. I dedicated my time purely to strive for perfect grades, to be a perfect daughter, and to make my parents proud. Would it be so bad if I secretly spent just a few hours reading and writing on this journal? 

Writing back to her felt like melting my heart onto the paper. On those pages, I could let go of what everyone seemed to expect me to be, and just let myself be..myself. That was my one form of rebellion.. But it scared me, and it couldn't feel more wrong. Eventually, my head caught up with my heart. We were graduating, and I couldn't allow myself to be caught up with confused feelings over someone I shouldn't even have feelings for! I had to get my head back in the game (a very nostalgia-appropriate HSM reference 😂). 

We got in the same university, and we went on campus tours together. But I knew sadly, in the back of my head, that we wouldn't keep in touch in college. It had to end. I wasn't ready to face the awakened questions about my sexuality, let alone allow myself to explore them any further. I wrote her one last long letter, and we met up in the back of an old building at our new campus. One last long hug, and that was it.

Looking back now, it was my first experience of intimacy. It was the first time I ever felt so vulnerable and seen by someone else. What else could feel more intimate than pouring out your heart & soul onto a blank piece of paper, and just letting go, sending it out to the wind, for another soul to find and read it?

Over the years, the kind of love letters I'd write (and receive) have evolved from confused puppy love, to my first intense real love, and then to a more mature and deeper love. From my teenage years of being afraid to let go & give in.. to my twenties, where I learned what it really meant to give my all—to love so much, that it hurts. Without any regrets. 

And now, entering my thirties, I've loved and lost, and found my way back into love again (another 2000s reference just to continue the nostalgic theme 😂)... The kind of love letters I write now are the most vulnerable and intimate of all. They start with "Dear self," and they don't hold back. No longer afraid of showing my true self, for no one else but me. No longer afraid of giving away my love to anyone, because I know how to refill it from within myself.

[astoldbyanj]

Prompt : Write a letter from love (As inspired by Elizabeth Gilbert's letters from love) 

Dear Love , what would you have me know today?

Dear you, crazy girl, crazy child,

Why are u so reluctant to receive love? Why is it uncomfortable for you? Of course, I know the reason. You were never used to receiving it freely. You didn't grow up thinking you could get love for free without doing anything to deserve it. But I don't need you to feel pity for yourself.

You have love. You have an immense deep and vast ocean inside you, & sometimes it hurts so much because it's overflowing out of you, rivers longing to give love and nourishment to living beings on its way. But sometimes you feel like there's no one there to meet the level of love you give. So then you've decided to contain it instead. Lock it up like a moat around your heart. But child, you don't need to do that either. 

Here's a thought. What if you could be like a fountain? Let the love flow and come back to you. Let yourself shine and be the biggest tallest most beautiful fountain. Allow people to come and be inspired, dance below you, make  wishes, dream, and fall in love with just the sight of the life-giving love that you let flow. Can you imagine that?

You could be a river. Can you imagine yourself as a river that leads back to your own ocean? And not just a boring river, but a river beautifully adorned with gold cascaded bridges, where kids can run with flowers in their hair.. They can pick the blooms in your path and they will never run out. Because no matter how many people come take from your river, it is overflowing and leads back home, to your ocean, where it refills itself, never lacking, always content. And that is how you become the most magnificent inspiring river system anyone's ever seen. And you can inspire others to be the same. 

Think highly of yourself, think bigger of yourself. You weren't meant to serve small. The sooner you start seeing yourself as the overflowing river system, the sooner you will feel fulfilled, never lacking. You got everything it takes. Stop standing in your own fucking way. Play in the fountain too. Dance under your own rain showers. Have a little fun. You're allowed to splash some water on your face. You're allowed to be loud, and laugh, and cry, and do whatever you've always wanted to do. I love you. Stop doubting that this love is endless & will never run out. Has it ever run out before? You've never had to go thirsty, you've never withered, even in your darkest days. Your sunshine is from within. Do you not know how much power and radiance you hold? You are truly a light. It's time you started burning brightly, without fear of extinguishment. Your light is eternal, as is mine. I'll never let you run out. You can always borrow from mine. 

Now dry up those tears & soak in the love instead. Just take a moment, my dear. Close your eyes and breathe love.

I love you,

talk to u next time x