TIKKUN OLAM

years without phone calls or visitations, not even an email, the occasional card with the sappy message already written, black ink name to make it personal, a wrinkled ten dollar bill tucked inside. visit for graduation, congratulations, we’re so proud of you, the kiss on the cheek and the awkward hug. “you need to impress them, so you better pretend like you enjoy talking to them.” impressing family, that’s not how i thought it worked. five feet and six inches of a living, breathing trophy, ready to be shown off and worn by the greediest of hands. i can’t breathe sometimes in this place, but maybe that’s just my temper.

all i pray is that superficiality isn’t hereditary.

I still have to see Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows pt. 2. 

the lines between exhaustion and sadness have blurred and faded a long time ago. focusing in and out, sadness then fear then fatigue then numbness. i don’t know what to do sometimes. do i try to cure my sadness or do i just retire to my bed with melancholy—i don’t know. for now i’ll just write my letters, recount all the memories i’ve had with people, and think of all the times i was happy. i’ll write until i sleep.

i’m just emotionally worn out, and my  heart needs a bed as comfy as my own.

My boyfriend came home today, and I haven’t been this happy in a long time. It’s nice to spend the entire afternoon rolling around in bed. Peaceful. All of my homesickness vanished. I’m so tired, and I can barely think, but all I really have to say is I’m endlessly thankful to have someone like him in my life. All of the darkness fades when I’m next to him. Soft breathing, arms wrapped around each other, warmth. With him I have learned the beauty of silence.

Ever since I went to Christian camp last year at the will of my parents, a girl has texted me every single day. Every single day since late June. A girl from that camp, a devout believer in God, a ‘good Christian’, a sweet girl. Every single day: a bible verse, words of encouragement, an “I love you”, a biblical story. I never respond. Never. I don’t know what to say. “Oh, well sorry to bring this up, but I’m not quite sure what I believe in anymore. Actually I think I once said thank you. I don’t find this creepy or annoying or anything at all. Not even frustrating.

It’s just strange. I’m a girl you barely know, and you so much want to support me, to have me in the love of the Lord. I don’t understand why. I’m lost, I guess. Not quite sure what to do or believe or say.

Stuck in the art of pretending.

I don’t even know why I’m writing this down. I guess I just need to get this out of my mind.

One year ago. I made a boy a sandwich because he jokingly asked me to and threw it across the room at him when he came into the classroom. Later in the day he came to pick me up, I shot a nerf gun at his car, we went to Blockbuster to pick up Iron Man, we went back to his house and started the movie, but we never actually watched it because we couldn’t stop talking.

It’s just really funny how things work. I doubt that sandwich was the reason Omar started dating me and that we’re still together today, but it’s still funny to me how we began. It’s been one year. In that vast expanse between two dates of similar names, a lot happened. Ups, downs, turn arounds, but all I know is I really love where I am right now. Even though you live a thousand miles away, we’re so strong. And, really, you’re coming home in two days. I’m in love with this feeling. Lost in love, I am even further tangled in the beauty of silence. How we don’t say anything, and everything translates. Everything comes together wonderfully without a single word. Beautiful. 

The moral of the story is never underestimate a sandwich and never overestimate distance. The little things matter, and sometimes the big things don’t. And never overlook love because I swear to God it’s the best feeling in the world. 

fading out and blending in 

farther yet and more still

like one paint into another

until i’m nothing

but color and silence.

Change is confusing. Not the fact that it happens or what exactly changes or how it changes. Change is confusing because sometimes I don’t know whether it’s helping or hurting. If to go along with the falling apart and the coming back together again would be productive, bring me to a better spot in my life, or it’s only going to destroy me soon, in the future, inevitably. I don’t know. Do I go with the flow or take initiative to escape from something possibly destructive? Am I becoming worse or is the best yet to come? 

I do not understand the workings of the world, and even more I cannot understand the workings of my mind.

your hands fall dead beside you.

you are nothing but a weak carousel

following patterns, circular design

with a music beating beating out

the pain, horses with smiling faces

that never escape the cyclical dance

of a spinning wheel.

the children laugh and take pictures,

but do they ever see life outside of

the ongoing circle? eternal and brutal,

following old streets and ways, recreating,

re-destroying.

like feet pacing a sidewalk in waiting for a lover.

the waiting continues

the lover never comes

the feet have grown tired

the ground has been traveled, once, twice,

even four times still, 

but why, oh why, do you still come here?

your hands fall dead beside you.

your sadness might as well be your grave,

your bed your casket. 

AP Literature. I think I’ll do well, but we’ll see. I might fall over during the essays, but…maybe not. 

AP German. Ich hab keine Angst davor. Vielleicht werde ich während der Prüfung einschlafen.

AP Statistics. Failing. Unless the entire test is inference and chi squared tests. Or unless it just becomes…not math.

AP Macroeconomics. LOL.