(embracing) imperfection

in time,
you will (only) trust
those who embrace you
(especially)
at your extremes —
deliriously manic
harshly judgmental
sensitively brittle.
in time,
you will (only) care for
those who recognize you
aren’t perfect
& don’t expect you to be.

Advertisements

thirteen things no one tells you (& you learn for yourself)

1. you should strive to be good, not unique. (contrary to their name, special snowflakes are everywhere. genuine people aren’t.)
2. once you discover that home is a feeling, not a location, your restlessness dissipates. (you won’t find a reason to plan your next escape.)
3. when you fall in love, your badass armor will crumble. (you will embrace your softness.)
4. it is okay that your parents like you less as each day passes. (they hate everything about you that doesn’t fit their idea of who you should be.)
5. trust your first impressions of everyone you meet. (your bullshit detector gets better as you get older.)
6. do not let people bend your empathetic ear if they can’t reciprocate. (you’re no one’s crutch.)
7. you will tire of the friends who lament about missing you on social media yet don’t keep in touch. (letting them go is easier than you thought.)
8. when someone insults others in order to compliment you, you’re right to be disgusted. (& to decline the intended compliment.)
9. happiness isn’t a constant state. (even the best days have comparatively low points.)
10. your weekend ritual of binge drinking will get boring. (if it doesn’t, your abysmal hangover recovery time will deter you from continuing the tradition.)
11. everything turns out the way it should. (though you won’t see the reason immediately.)
12. you are resilient. (you will bounce back from disappointments quickly because you can’t afford to waste time dwelling.)
13. when you hold yourself (solely) to your own expectations, you will like the person you become. (you may even love her.)

(permanently) a work in progress

in two hours, you turn twenty-six
(four years from thirty, not that you’re counting).
when your mother points out the “flaws” in your figure,
(breasts that can’t be contained by button-up shirts
& hips that never widened during puberty)
laugh & remember that
her spitefulness is only rivaled by her jealousy.
when you trip in front of the crowd
on the train platform & feel twelve again
(the era of an almost mullet & headgear)
look in the mirror & remember that
you’re not an awkward tween.
when a former party friend suggests
that falling in love rendered you weak,
(being the instigator of wild times
was the mark of a badass)
roll your eyes & remember that
you found strength in accepting yourself.
you are (permanently) a work in progress.

the secret (to happiness)

the secret is that
after you’ve constructed
a laundry list of conditions,
you will throw it away.
when you’ve vowed
to never (again)
let your guard down,
you will do so
without noticing.
when you’re poised
to bolt because
he’s figured you out,
he will grab your hand & say,
“nope.”
when you’re awake
at 2 AM, a tangle of legs & arms,
you know you’ve discovered
the secret (to happiness).

The reclamation of beauty

When I was four years old,
I drew (fair-skinned) mermaids
with huge breasts & light hair
that flowed down to their tiny waists.
The mermaids’ faces never looked like mine —
their eyes were larger (& not almond-shaped),
their noses were smaller (& pointed),
their mouths were fuller (& bright pink).
Every night, I’d pray that the next morning,
I’d wake up transformed into Ariel,
a beautiful (white) mermaid.

When I was fourteen years old,
I watched Gilmore girls obsessively.
While I could relate to Lane (Rory’s Korean best friend)
she never considered herself pretty,
nor was she sought after by cute boys
(the measure of a teenage girl’s beauty & self-worth).
Her first (unrequited) love was music &
her failed attempts at dating were a repetitive punchline.
The sarcastic brown girl was always the funny foil
to the doe-eyed protagonist with a porcelain complexion.
I wasn’t the heroine in my own life.

When I was twenty-four years old,
I lifted my chin defiantly & looked in the mirror.
My eyes were dark brown (& almond shaped)
my nose was wide (& round)
my mouth was small (& pale pink).
I’d never be a tall, restrained, universally liked queen,
since I was a short, loud, unapologetically honest woman.
There was a newfound freedom (& power) in being myself.
I (finally) recognized that when
my handsome man said, “You’re beautiful.”
it was the truth.

Exposed

When thrown from your comfort zone
(exposed)
don’t fear the way
every feeling is magnified.
Instead, embrace the way
defense mechanisms are disarmed.
Use vulnerability like a parachute
while falling (fast) into love.

My boyfriend left for Seoul this afternoon.

My boyfriend left for Seoul this afternoon. He will be there on a work assignment for the rest of the fiscal quarter. I didn’t cry at the airport (or yet). Then again, it’s been less than twelve hours since I saw him off at the security gate (and he hasn’t even arrived in South Korea).

Our little one bedroom apartment seems bigger. It seems quieter, too — although, Ceddy is only loud when he’s playing FIFA on Xbox. His desk is still a mess from his hurried packing this morning. I’ve got my laptop and extra pillows on his side of the bed, so his absence is less obvious (not that it works).

On the bright side, I can drink Jim Beam on the rocks and Ceddy won’t say it tastes horrible — like college and disappointment.

There are many things I want to express, but there’s an inverse relationship between the ratio of bourbon consumed to number of phrases I can articulate.