Mind Racer Not Chaser

Wandering Soul.

My Beautiful Angel.

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I miss you so much. I still cry. When I’m alone my mind always wanders back to you. I imagine our phone conversations, when you would repeatedly ask me when I was coming home and what you could make for me. I love you so much bebe ji. You were the heart and soul of our family. You taught me the most important things I have learned in life. I wear your ring every day so I can feel like you are still with me. My heart breaks when I ring your doorbell and I don’t see you running to the door. I wish we could both just lay in the sun one more time listening to you telling me your childhood memories while drinking tea. I’ll love you forever and always.

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“There is a difference between kissing someone because they are attractive and kissing someone because words can no longer accurately express your feelings for the person.”

My Best Friend.

She is adorable. We met 4 years ago, although it feels like we’ve known each other since birth. She makes me feel light, as if I am dancing on air, yet keeps me grounded. If soul mates exist, she is mine. She’s so cool – I wish I could share her with everyone without being envious of the time I wouldn’t get to spend with her.

After meeting, we quickly became inseparable. Not seeing each other for two days became unbearable. We would sit in random coffee shops for five or six hours talking nonstop. We would go to the beach and eat nutella out of the jar. We would drive around the ocean until we found a new picnic spot. We would go for fancy dinners. We would eat hotdogs every single weekend. Get high and listen to amazing music. Have tea, high tea, any tea, tea lattes. Force each other to study so we could go lay on the grass in the sunshine and literally talk about nothing and everything. The world, religion, travelling, boys, cultures, childhood.

I have never met someone who is so much like me, that I could be with all the time and not get sick of. How beautiful is it to find another person who you can completely be yourself with, tears & happiness. Someone to bring you flowers, make you breakfast, or take you for brunch when you are feeling sad. Someone you don’t have to filter anything with. I am so lucky. I didn’t understand the meaning of best friends, or soul mates, until I met you. I haven’t met someone I want to indulge myself in. That I want to spend every waking minute with. I just want my best friend and I want us to sing and make dinner, laugh & enjoy. Without you I feel incomplete.

War.

There are whole nations in your chest cavity
Where I am stumbling blind quite honestly
Oh, how this body only knows rhythm when it is fed to me through your lips
How the only time I am moved is when you wreak havoc on my nervous system

I drop hints around his potty mouth,
the feral way I know how, with nicks and tiny licks I show him
possession without manipulation,
oh, the only time I will pin him down is so
every
part
of our bodies can lie in perfect alignment
while your pen is ready to stab him in the flesh,
mine is ready to paint him in the light of day
because,
metaphors jump across the page to coat him in layers of Gold Ochre,
Terre Verte,
Scarlet Lake is the colour of his ears when he laughs at his own bad jokes
But you,
you only know rage the darkest shade of carmine,
call me belligerent but I’m not the one battling my pride

one day I hope you’ll find the time
to pull apart your pre-
conceived notions and stubborn skin
the one you wear like chain-mail and brigandine
until then, this is one war I cannot win.

Bare.

“Intimacy is one of my most favorite reasons to be alive. And I don’t just mean the physical aspect it leads to. I mean the number of stories and jokes, and the level of honesty and compassion that lead to the point where I can trust you with my entire body. I’ve come to realize that I constantly hunger for spiritual intimacy – the kind where when I breathe you in, it sets my lungs on fire. The kind where you can look me in the eyes and make me feel completely bare.”

Estrellas.

A pesar de que estés lejos,
lo que siento aquí dentro crece y crece,
que a veces me asusta el pensar
dónde voy a poner tanto amor
cuando ya no me quepa en el pecho.

No importa que te mudes a otra galaxia,
tú siempre estás aquí,
y sobra decir que yo vivo en un mundo dentro de ti.

Porque por más lejos que estés,
por más preguntas que hagas,
no importa el lugar donde estés,
donde tú vives es aquí… en mi corazón.

Who.

There was a time not long ago, I would internalize every single move I made that had the honor of coercing a smile from your lips. The feature most coyly brought up in misguided attempts at subtle flirtation. I would immediately feel the scalding courage of such cheek.

Then, time passed by and as it did it enforced the fact that there was you, and there was me; separate entities, we would always be.

Metronome.

Our sexual desire trumps all. We love with open mouths and open limbs. The way your tongue knew my body. The way you could make me shiver like no other. I got dizzy when your breath tunneled through my ear, like incense in my nose. I was always left wanting more, searching for it, yearning for more. You, inside me, but no where to be found. Love me not because I fit in the coffin you bought her. Sometimes I taste splinters on my tongue from the hole she tore through with her fist. Your pulse became my metronome. Love me not because I fit in your hands, I don’t, never did. And never will. You didn’t like the feeling of something slipping between your fingers.

Salt.

I feel a giant wave cascade over me and pull me under and I’m disoriented and I can’t tell up from down or air from water or bubbles from clouds I feel salt on my cheeks but is it derived from sea or deep inside me? I’ve wished to be a surfer or a mermaid; this longing, I think, has been kept for this exact moment. I have emotions inside of me so big that I sink to the bottom of the ocean floor (or the end of the sky), anchors and deadbolts inside of me and I feel them whirlpool at a constant rate; I choke on sea tears and bubble clouds; I don’t know if I’ll be able to compass myself. I don’t know where the combination of disorientation and whirlpools and deadbolt anchors will take me. I’m scared. I don’t know if I’ll be okay. I shout into the void.

Collisions.

“At 19, I read a sentence that re-terraformed my head: “The level of matter in the universe has been constant since the Big Bang.”
In all the aeons we have lost nothing, we have gained nothing – not a speck, not a grain, not a breath. The universe is simply a sealed, twisting kaleidoscope that has reordered itself a trillion trillion trillion times over. 
Each baby, then, is a unique collision – a cocktail, a remix – of all that has come before: made from molecules of Napoleon and stardust and comets and whale tooth; colloidal mercury and Cleopatra’s breath: and with the same darkness that is between the stars between, and inside, our own atoms.
 When you know this, you suddenly see the crowded top deck of the bus, in the rain, as a miracle: this collection of people is by way of a starburst constellation. Families are bright, irregular-shaped nebulae. Finding a person you love is like galaxies colliding. We are all peculiar, unrepeatable, perambulating micro-universes – we have never been before and we will never be again. Oh God, the sheer exuberant, unlikely fact of our existences. The honour of being alive. They will never be able to make you again. Don’t you dare waste a second of it thinking something better will happen when it ends. Don’t you dare.”

Caitlin Moran