Tag Archives: insecure

By the stars (I am obliged)

Beyond the looming stain of day, afar

is where one’s body lies frozen–gilded by stars

and the wisps of cold that tease down thy breasts,

cooing bursts of dew from within lost breath.

I speak for the one, but should you query

whom, your insistence does leave me quite leery.

‘Speak for the one who knows not what to say,

and regards boundless confinement as the only such way.

By the stars soaked through one’s cloth,

I am obliged to shed light on flesh; a moth’s

flame to guide the forgotten back from wence

it came–no measure, no morsel of penance.

Starved of immortality and weak under

wings of war, I too feel my flesh torn asunder

by the seeds of humanity that grow about

my oneness; the stars bearing life I am without.

Perhaps I am the one; the gilded expanse,

a folly of the stars in line with the romance

of tranquility and dawn.  The irony of a dawn

that is broken but will not break.  Where has it gone?


I wake up.

I wake up to a quintessential morning light bursting through the blinds of my window.  I can see the dark shape of the rain barrel outside and the long spidery leaves of the shrub besides it blowing in the breeze.

I lay in bed for a few minutes.  My sheets have begun to slide off my bed and are folding against the floor.  I pull them up to my chest and stare at the light fixture on my ceiling.  Its glass is stressed in lines and breaks.  I raise my hand so that it rests just above it in my line of vision.

Bored with my myself, I clench my hand into a fist and throw both arms back, resigning myself from my bed with a content yawn.  I am not still sleepy, just relaxed.  Yesterday’s shirt is draped over my chair until I decidedly drape it over myself once again.

My day has just begun.  I am faced with a number of ways I could begin to spend it, and not one way seems any more befitting than the last.

-I could run the elliptical while watching Ellen or The Talk.  Maybe Roseanne reruns are on t.v. still.  Pokémon at 8:30.  I sweat and pant and choke back a tall glass of water, before dancing in unison with my shadowed silhouette to the bathroom to observe my body in the mirror.  My skin is flushed and my waist, tight.  My chest feels even the slightest bit more taught and my butt a little perkier.  The shower washes away my filth and I sit beneath the warm stream of water with my eyes closed, dreaming about love, contemplating life, indulging in happiness.

-I could make myself a feast of a breakfast.  Pancakes, eggs, anything I wanted.  I lounge in the light exploding through the bay windows, watching t.v. with Friday dreaming on his neatly folded blanket on the couch.  Every time I move nearer he growls and expresses his discontent.  But he’s happy to be with me, and I’m happier to be with him.  I kiss his poufy head and rub his ears just as he perks his head at the sight of my plate.  We spend our morning eating breakfast, as I save every final corner of pancake or toast for his whimpering, wagging self.

-I could crawl into my dungeon, the game room, and close myself off from everything.  There are no windows, and the lights are turned off to keep the room from overheating.  Occasionally I’ll turn my favourite lamp on so I can see the keyboard of my computer incase I need to look up walkthroughs for whatever I’m playing.  The blanket my mom and dad got when they married is my blanket of choice and is sprawled across the bed, inviting me to find myself amidst its grasp where I can let my thoughts fade away and dissolve into a different world.  Harvest Moon, Okami, Mario Galaxy, Tales of…

Anything.  Everything I am content with.  My dreams and carefree self lift my mundaneness into ritual and glory.  I have myself, and for the times that I am lacking, my brother is sure to enjoy my company as he watches a movie or a new series or is eager to catch me up on the latest game he’s playing.  My sister always has the family channel on or needs to watch a movie or show mom recorded.  My dog is always itching to run around and play.  My mom is always upstairs in her lazy boy, playing on her computer, napping, knitting.  My best friend is always only a phone call away and eager to go on Gaia or talk about the latest news in gaming, anime, or k-pop.  There is always someone for me to keep myself occupied until I am ready to be alone again.  I am never alone indefinitely.

But today I am alone indefinitely.  And yesterday.  And tomorrow.

Today I am not enough.

The boy not yet a man…

The boy, he rests his hand upon

our existential window,

et je sais que ce n’est pas bon,1

si ses yeux sont des ciseaux.2

A life that mustn’t satisfy

this ageless man, he spins.

His boyish face can’t rectify

the weathered heart within.

With broken seams and mended dreams,

I face him, just, and say,

“Why do you frown just when it seems

the hardships go away?”

His heart unkempt and terrified,

the boy not quite a man,

stretches his hands, un-unified,

autour son coeur;3 Tian Shan.4

A pool of realized fears that shelve

a gaze with no reflection–

he tells me I don’t fool myself

despite my insurrection.

To stand before his realm of glass;

To face myself in vain.

The difference, you see, does not surpass

the image I did gain.

He breathed a breath serrated, and

made contact he did not.

Shed soft tears and still was jaded–

his pitied closet of rot.

1“and I know this is not good”  2“if his eyes are like scissors”  3“around his heart”  4A major mountain range of Central Asia, extends 1500ft.


I wrote this in University September ’11.  Somehow it seems fitting.  My former self must have known I’d need this one day.


Who am I, really?

I’m probably the most innately insecure person you would ever meet your life, dear readers.  I know who I am, per se, but I don’t know where I belong, who I belong with, and what I have to offer this world or the people important to me.  Why do the people I love love me back?

It must be for these reasons:

–I’m an incessant whiner and complainer.

–I’m always hard on my self and never see the value or influence I have on anyone.

–I’m an insatiable hermit.

–I’m an arguer.  I need the mental exercise of a good fight almost every day.

–I’m meager, timid, and shy away from anything new.

How can I be aware of these things and not work on them?  Do I really anticipate that someday someone will just embrace these qualities of mine?  I have people in my life who value me immensely.  Why can’t I see that for what it’s worth?  Why do I always doubt it?

Why am I in the prime of my youth, and not enjoying or appreciating even a moment of it.  Why do I waste my days away doing absolutely nothing.  How does one even do absolutely nothing?  I don’t even partake in the things I enjoy anymore.  I haven’t played a video game in months.  Read a book since my English course earlier this spring.  I haven’t drawn in almost 3 years.  About the only thing I’ve done recently that I like is to write.  Well, type, in this instance.

Who do I have to talk to?  To relate to?  I live alone in this city.  Just me and my cats.  Yes, I’m already one of those people.

I am 20 years old.  I am an intelligent person.  Why am I allowing myself to go through this?