Quarter Life Crisis.

I wanna travel to countries thousands of miles away and soak up the culture. Go to indie concerts, music and film festivals. View art museums with the intellectuals. Go to fashion shows and sit on the front row while serving face for the cameras. I wanna ride the tallest roller coaster in the world, skydive, bungee jump, and tell myself how great it was and that I'll never do that shit again. Then I wanna dine at lots of those "they have amazing food and nobody knows about it" restaurants. Visit exotic islands and beaches so I can play in the sun as if I don't have photosensitive skin. I wanna go to one of those posh lounges in an expensive city and have an unforgettably drunken night with lots of picture-taking so we can reminisce but not post on Instagram.   And I wanna share those moments with the best set of friends a girl can have. Until then, I'll continue to watch my marathon of Greys Anatomy on Netflix, eating leftover pizza by myself, while searching for better job and career leads in the midst of my post-grad quarter life crisis. Sigh.

Dope II: Overdose

While the rest of my friends in high school were smoking weed, drinking, and popping pills, I wrote poems about him and thought about how good his last name looked next to my first. See, love was always my drug of choice.

It's much more addictive. I thought one gram of love could outweigh every pound of pain dropped on my heart. I was always chasing after my next fix. Being in love was such a rush, but inside it was killing me. It became toxic. Eating away at who I knew myself to be.

Love leaves scars. Looking in the mirror, I was scarred beyond recognition. Confused at what I saw. Half blind and half afraid. I convinced myself to take one last hit of my drug.

But this time I couldn't handle it. Fragile and weak, my heart stopped. My eyes wide and blank. My soul dark and empty. Love bled my body dry. Overdosing on the one thing in this world that made me feel alive. How ironic.

Revelation.

You can't always play the victim when it comes to life's tragedies. Sometimes you play a role in the birth of your own sadness. Others aren't always to blame.

Prayer.

I've been through my share of BS. Ups and downs. Emotional traumas. Especially when it comes to relationships. When I care, I care deeply. When I love, I love unconditionally. This usually leaves me hurt, which I am beyond fed up with. In the midst of a fresh emotional wound, I broke down. I prayed everyday. Asking for clarity and answers. On the last day of my week of prayers, I let go. I left all of my troubles and pain in that last prayer. I promised that from that point I would be worry free. I opened my eyes clear minded and confident in the fact that He would bless me. I know He has put me to this test for a reason and I know that each heartbreak was a lesson. I know that one day He'll place a wonderful, god fearing man in my life and I smile at the thought of it.