Drowning

I am floating in an endless sea,

Struggling to stay afloat,

Salt water filling my throat—

Oh god, how I wish to be free. 

The darkness soon consumes me,

Leaving emptiness in its wake,

A sadness I can't seem to shake—

Someone turn on the lights, I plea. 

It feels as though I've lost control,

Some may call it depressed,

This aching pain in my chest—

 Darkness is starting to take its toll. 

Sunny days are no longer my friend,

I converse with the thunder,

Rain eases me to slumber—

When will all of this bitterness end? 

How long this will last, I cannot say,

Only time can surely tell,

To break this awful spell—

An end to my drowning, I pray. 

-b.m.

Soul to Soul

Why hello there, Moths. 

Hello to another Monday. Mondays are that universally dreaded day, aren't they? They mark the end to the weekend, and the beginning to a long week until it's the weekend again! But maybe if we change our perception of this specific day of the week, we won't curse the moment our alarm clocks go off in the morning, making us get out of bed and taking care of that scary "r" word.....responsibilities *shudder* So how do we do that? We look at Mondays as a beginning. A fresh start. The week ahead can go however you will it to go. If you mold your mindset into a positive one, you can take control (that's right, control) of how things will turn out. You can be in control of how well that presentation goes, or how you do on your exam, or how well you stick to whatever goal you're striving towards. So instead of moaning and complaining that it's that dreaded Monday again, say to yourself, "it is a fresh start to the week, and I am going to make it a good one." Once you've nailed the week and your goals have been achieved, then you can put those party pants on and reward yourself with the pleasures of the weekend!

Or sweatpants and your favorite tub of Ben and Jerry's, like most of my weekends......

Now, onto the topic of the day. In my last post I talked about reincarnation and the idea of the soul continuing on into other lifetimes. I thought I would continue the discussion of souls and talk about soulmates. There are a lot of different religions that believe in the idea, including Hinduism, Buddhism, and Judaism. Each have their own beautiful interpretations.

Hindus believe there is a link between souls in a karmic way. Lehnu, in the Gujarati language, is the term they use for souls that we constantly cross paths with, who guide us towards a life that serves a higher purpose. They are destined to be connected to your life in some way or another.

Buddhists call the idea pratitya-samutpada, meaning all beings are "interrelated." Very similar to what I talked about in my last post, they believe that the soul can live many lifetimes, being reborn an infinite number of times, and along with that are our relationships. If a connection with another soul is powerful enough, then both of your souls will reconnect in the new lifetime. This is what causes the feeling of meeting someone for the first time and feeling as if you've known them forever.

Judaism has the Yiddish word bashert, meaning "bestowed." Your bashert is a person bestowed upon you as your destined partner. They also have the word hevruta, or "learning partner" similar to hinduism in that it is someone that guides you toward a purpose. Hevruta is someone that challenges you to be your best self, rather than someone that is a perfect match or "completes" you.

Many religions have many interpretations, but the common takeaway from all three of these is that they believe that we have soulmates. So, I know you're all dying to hear what I think about the subject. I absolutely do believe in the idea, but I want to note that the term soulmate, in my opinion, does not just mean a romantic partner. I think soulmates can take on many forms, including lifelong friendships. I think we can have more than one soulmate, such as a best friend that understands you in ways you don't even understand yourself, a friend that always knows what to say without saying anything, and a friend that you just instantly click with. And then there could be the romantic partner, someone you feel completely safe with, someone that constantly challenges you to be better, and someone that you knew you loved the first time you spoke (love at first sight is an ENTIRELY different subject for a different day). It's about connection. How your soul connects to my soul or his soul or hers. If you feel you have one of these soulmates, that destiny has brought you together with that person in some crazy way, do yourself a favor:

Never let go, moths. xo  

Rebirth

Happy Thursday Afternoon, Moths. 

Thursdays are such an underrated day, aren't they? But think about it: tomorrow is Friday, which means the weekend is practically here! Thursdays are the tipping point of the week, after Hump Day Wednesday and right before Thank Goodness It's Friday (or is that just the restaurant?). Well I'm designating Thursdays as Thankful For Thursday, yeah?

Anyway, the topic of discussion for today's post: reincarnation. I know, I know. My last discussion was on the idea of God and eternal life with Him after we die, but like I said in that post, I am very open-minded about a variety of different concepts pertaining to the after-life, and this thought of mine peaked my own interest, and so I will share with all of you lovely people for a food-for-thought (not sure where that expression came from, but if you want to send me food for my thoughts I wouldn't say no...).

SO, reincarnation! In particular, the opportunity of being reincarnated as another life. Many religions, including Buddhism and Hinduism, as well as historical figures such as Plato and Socrates, believe in this idea of a cyclical life. Now I am not saying whether I necessarily believe in this or not, but there's something about being reborn with a new opportunity that I want to discuss.

*side note: the thing about discussing religion is that we will never really know what's right or wrong until we die and experience it ourselves! That's why I do not deny nor scoff any one religion over another, because as humans, we are far too small-minded to possibly fathom the scope of something as grand as a higher being. 

Now, what I am getting at is our chance to make a difference in the world and spread love/joy/kindness/happiness/etc. with every life. Say, for example, in one life a person spreads their message through music as a musician, and in another life they spread it through movies as an actor/actress, and in another they are an activist standing up for a worthy cause, and maybe in one of those lives they are an aspiring poet/writer that has a blog to spread their message about topics like heartache and independence and mental health.....okay maybe that last one was me. The point is that maybe if we choose to lead a life of love and kindness, that our souls will continue on to inspire in another body as another life. After all, our human bodies are only temporary. Maybe if we do that, if our souls stay pure and good-hearted, we will be chosen to be reborn into life on earth to continue to make a difference. To change the lives of others along the way.

Notice there are a lot of "maybe's" in there...

Whether we are reincarnated, or sent to eternal life with God, or simply left to rest for eternity, it's not about what happens after we die. It's about what we do with our lives now, here, in the present. There are a lot of "what if's" when it comes to the after-life, but the during-life is what we can be certain of. We're all alive, but are we living. Are we looking past the material things and the petty things, and focusing on family, friends, relationships, happiness....the things we can hold onto forever. The things that we carry in our hearts, not our wallets or handbags. Focus on those things. Focus on being true to your soul.

Live a worthy life, moths. xoxo

Caress of Sleep

It's barely dawn as I begin to wake,
Caressed by the light of morn.
Outside sparrows claim their stake,
To return to slumber? I'm torn.

Sleep calls my name, a whisper at most,
her gentle touch tugs at my eyes.
Enveloping me, holding me close,
What wonderful dreams there lies.

The promise of morning fades away,
I leave the sparrows to their song.
The beckoning of sleep outweighs,
To her familiar warmth I belong.

-b.m.

Contrast

Hello My Lovely Moths.

It is a crisp fall night out and the breeze coming in from my open window onto my hot skin from my heated blanket is blissful. Late at night when the world is asleep and the air is still, I have my window wide open just listening to the gentle rustle of the wind kissing the tree's leaves, and the calm of it all is so radiant I could almost hear the stars singing to me. In that moment, nothing else in my life matters. There is no today nor tomorrow, there is only the present and I have absolutely no worries. It's almost so freeing that I forget everything that has ever caused me strife and the tiresome weight I've been trudging has been lifted off of my shoulders. But as much as I want to pause that safe moment and live in it forever, at some point my eye lids start to droop and I am caressed by sleep....

A n y w a y, 

Where was I going with this post tonight...? Ahh yes I remember. Tonight I want to talk about the idea of the balance between life and death, good and bad, light and dark, etc. A little background:

The other day I was riding the university bus to a class and feeling absolutely dreadful of how things have been going in my life with school, relationships, personal accomplishments, etc. Lately it has felt as though the shadows have been puppeteering my strings, drawing me into its darkness like a predator and its prey. As I was feeling all of this, lost in the music that was drowning out the world around me and staring blankly out of the window, I saw two pigeons fly off of the roof of a building: one was pure white while the other was strikingly dark. I know I know, you were seeing things, that sounds like something out of a movie, but I swear to you I saw it clear as day. A bird as white as fresh snow flying alongside another bird so much darker that it seemed as though it were the white bird's shadow. The moment was fleeting as the birds flew off past another building, and I looked around as if to see if anyone else had just seen what I had. Nobody seemed to be as astonished and jaw-droppingly mind blown as I was, and the passengers around me were either lost in whatever it was lighting up their phone screens, or desperately trying to secure their spot on the nightmaringly overcrowded Rutgers bus. It was the most striking thing I had ever seen, and my poetic mind immediately jumped to the conclusions that only I was meant to see those birds and that they were flying, feathered signs from someone up there answering my worries and doubts.

Bri, they were two random birds that happened to fly by while you were riding the bus. That hardly seems like a sign from God.

I can see how that observation would be more realistic, but I don't believe in coincidences. As I hinted to in the beginning, the idea of a  "balance" between light and dark, yadda yadda, was sparked by these two birds. You see, without one, we would not be able to appreciate the other. For instance, take the notion of life and death. If we did not experience death (say that we lived forever), then there would be no drive to live life to the fullest because we will have eternity to do the things we want to do. Like a project with no deadline--it would never be finished. On the flip side, there has to be and end to life for there to be the idea of death, without which we would not be able to appreciate the beauty of. Like a solution with no problem to give meaning to it. Seeing the white pigeon would not have been as significant without the presence of the darker one beside it to emphasize the contrast. In life, no matter how much turmoil you go through, no matter how much pain and suffering, you wouldn't be able to feel how truly effortless life is without it. Like that feeling when you have a stuffy nose and looking back at how much you take for granted the times when you could breath with your mouth closed and not have to blow your nose every five minutes sounding like a train horn... Ahh, the simple things in life. 

So yes, I think that the two birds were a sign to remember that with the storm will come the calm after. I was so humbled to be given this intimate message. As if I was chosen to see this because I would be able to appreciate its significance the most. Given to me so that I may relay it to others. I promise, no, I pinky promise--*gasp* that's the most powerful promise there is, that's how confident I am in this--that you're no exception to that rule. That as hopeless as the world may seem around you, it will get better. The beauty of it all is that you will come out of it so much stronger, and realize that because life threw you that curveball, you can learn how to not strike out the next time around (talk about a home-run, am I right?!).

Okay, is it just me or am I on fire with the analogies tonight??
.
.
.
Accept all that comes with life, moths. xoxo

     

Priority

For once I want to be someone's first choice:

The first person they tell when they have good news.

The first person they call when they have the blues. 

The first person they yearn for when their mind wakes.

The first person they think of when their heart aches.

The first person they trust with all of their secrets.

The first person they text when hopelessly sleepless. 

The first person they say they love when asked.

The first person they truly feel could be the last.

The first.

-b.m.

Child's Play

Being drunk gives you the courage to text me at 3am? 

That's a coward's line. 

You've been watching too many cartoons, dog.

-b.m.

Pity

I almost feel sorry for 

little boys that feel like 

they need alcohol to 

get the courage just to 

text me at 3am. 

Honey, you could be 

drunk off of our 

love at 3am.

And he chose the bottle... 

Pity.

-b.m.

A Little Faith

Good Evening, Moths. 

I've been on a rollercoaster of emotions as of late. I could be laughing so much that my cheeks hurt in one moment, and sink into a depressive state retreating to the safety of my bed within a matter of hours. A constant fluctuation between being on top of a mountain, looking out at the world, and sitting at the bottom of the sea, left alone to my thoughts. It's exhausting, really. I know you're all thinking, this sounds very saddening Bri, but as with everything else in life, there is a lesson to be learned from this, and a point to sharing these personal ups and downs. 

So, the topic I want to talk about tonight is the idea of the body as a temporary vessel, and how minuscule our time on earth is. This is not to say that what we do doesn't matter and that there's no point to life, so just bare with me and keep an open mind. I recently watched the movie "The Shack" (and by recent I mean just last night). If you've taken anything away from the posts I've written in the past, you can likely gather that I am an empathetic, emotional person. Usually (almost always) there will be a part in a movie that I will cry to, it's inevitable. Whether it be a happy ending, sad ending, and everything in between. What was special about this movie is that I was so invested, that I cried multiple times throughout. What's extra special about it is that the idea behind it is based on someone that lost their faith in God when something terrible happened in their life. 

Hold up, you're about to talk about religion?? 

I will tell you that despite having gone to church almost every Sunday growing up, I am not the most religious person. I don't study the bible or listen to scriptures on the radio in the morning. Because of my ecology background, I heavily learned about evolution growing up and for a while I was hard-headed on the idea of a "higher being" controlling all of life rather than just nature itself. I asked questions (and still ask) such as "why isn't there anything in the bible about dinosaurs" and  "how could a person be made using the rib of another??" As I've gotten older, I am a lot more open to the idea of God and wish to understand more. I know, it all seems confusing on where I stand as of now, but all I'm going to say is that I still believe in evolution and natural selection and all of that ecology jazz, but I accept the idea that there is something greater than we can ever imagine that lies beyond the earth. 

That brings me to my next point: we as humans aren't even close to being able to comprehend all that God and heaven may be. Just writing this post, I have a hard time finding the right words to convey my thoughts. "The Shack," although a movie, beautifully captures the hesitance of humans to accept that there is a God due to all of the hatred and violence and sin that happens every day. A common phrase skeptics use is "why would God let these bad things happen." I'll be honest, this was something that sat at the back of my mind when I went to church growing up, but the movie does a really beautiful job of reflecting this thought and creating a possible explanation for it. The idea is that everyone is God's children, and He/She loves all of them unconditionally, with no bias or hesitance. God, however, cannot stop bad things from happening. There will always be sin and bad things on earth. But as I mentioned earlier in this post, human life is temporary. 

Take for example, the movie. The onset of the skepticism and anger of the main character is that his young daughter was kidnapped and murdered while he was saving his other two kids from drowning in the lake they were camping by. As anyone else would have reacted, he went into a deep depression. How could such a horrible thing happen to this young, beautiful girl? More so, how could God let something like that happen to such an innocent soul. Yes, what happened was terrible, but this little girl, a child of God, will now spend the rest of eternity with God in a place where she will never feel pain, grief, fear, etc., again. A moment of horror will now equate to an eternity of happiness. When looking at it that way, her death isn't something to be mourned. The father will have to wait a little while until he can join her, but by the end he knows that they'll be together again in this eternal life, and the years he'll have to spend without her are nothing compared to the lifetime they'll spend.

Now how does this relate to me and my depression lately? When I stop and take a step back from my life, I realize one of two things: (1) what I'm feeling now won't last forever, and (2) by accepting God I will always be loved, and the short time that I have on earth will be nothing compared to what I have waiting for me after it's come to an end. It's almost a relief once you accept this. Like all of the struggles that I face/will face are so unsubstantial and no matter what failures I face or mistakes I make along the way, I will always be forgiven and loved unconditionally. The vulnerable human body with its sensations like hunger, cold, pain, heart ache, and exhaustion are all--yes I'm going to say it for the millionth time--TEMPORARY. Stop fretting over the little things, because the human lifespan is a blip compared to e t e r n i t y. It's almost the same as when we were babies, how we don't remember a single sensation or memory from it. The times we had to get our first shots or cried for hours for some forsaken reason (sorry mom and dad) were so minute that our brains didn't have the capacity to hold onto any of it. That's how this life will be when we are spending eternity with God. You will make it through this. I will make it through this.  

Have a little faith, moths. xoxo

Fleeting

I wish I could freeze a moment in time. Bottle up its essence. Revisit it at times when I feel life is too much to handle. When life seems like a never ending storm cloud. That moment, bottled up, would be like the sunshine peaking through. A reminder that even on the darkest of days, there is still light hidden underneath, waiting patiently to illuminate the sky.

But life is not all sunshine and rainbows.

These moments are so fleeting. So temporary. Once they're gone, we can't get them back. We can take pictures or videos, sure. They will live on as memories that we can look back on. But we will never be able to truly relive that utter happiness we had in our hearts that day, or the gut-wrenching laughter that poured out of us so effortlessly and uncontrollably as if nothing else in the world mattered. People change. Life moves on. That's the way it is. And once we're at the end of the road, greeting death as a forgotten friend we've been meaning to catch up with, we'll reflect on those moments we held onto so dearly. How precious they were. How fleeting the were.

How fucking fleeting they are.

-b.m.

Deep Down

It feels as though I'm deep under water, swimming to the surface, but

never

truly

reaching

the

air

.

.

.

that's what depression feels like

-b.m.

Know Your Worth

He compares your beauty to the stars because he sees you as
one among millions.

You aren't a single star in space my dear,

You are the 

whole 

damn 

galaxy

And he hasn't even been to the moon.

-b.m.

Lost and Found

It's only when we 

lose ourselves 

that we discover 

what we have 

to find.

Get lost, moths.

-b.m.

Ignition

You set a fire in my heart,

yet

                you're

afraid

             to

    get

                                  burned.

       

-b.m.

sdrawkcaB

Wanting

To

Go

Back

To

How

Things

Were

Is

Backwards

Thinking

-b.m.

Rhythm

      She doesn't need someone else's music to dance.

She 

            sways

to  

              the 

rhythm 

         of

  her

              own
damn

              heart.

-b.m.

Thin Layer

Human life is such a fragile thing. A thin layer of skin lies between the outside world and our beating heart and breathing lungs and brittle bones. Filled with icy blue liquid that turns scarlet when it gets a taste of the stale air, as if in shock. Some veins are visible, pulsing with rhythmic elegance so poetic no pen nor paper on earth could condense it to mortal words.

Such a fragile thing.

A slip of a knife.
One too many pills.
A breath under water.
A broken heart.

Such a fragile thing.

Life.

And it hangs on such a thin thread. That threshold between life and death. Between breathing and being still. Between light and dark. Between being and having been. The craziest part? We have the power. The power to end it all. But we choose to continue on. The bravest thing anyone can possibly do. To get up every single morning and try. Try so damn hard. That's all we can really do, is try. Because there is no one on this earth that is winning at life. There is no peak existence. There is only making it to the end, when you've done all that you could do in a lifetime and have no more left to give to the world. That is when you have succeeded. So for now, just keep waking up in the morning. Keep making the most of what you can and striving for what it is you were put on this earth to do. Keep choosing life.

Keep living, moths. xoxo 

Brewing

Something is stirring from deep within;

My hands are shaking.

My body is quaking.

A storm is brewing beneath my skin.

Like a dormant volcano inactive for years;

The pressure is building.

The air is chilling.

Threatening to erupt are my deepest fears.

The explosion, by nature, is cruel and relentless;

The screams are shattering.

The tremors are battering.

The victim, my spirit, is weak and defenseless. 

The screaming hushes and the shaking stills;

My soul is hollowed.

Then darkness follows.

Hauntingly silent, my loneliness kills.

Back to dormancy, I quiet once more;

The smoke clears.

Dried are the tears.

How long it will last, I cannot be sure.

I cannot be sure.

-b.m.

twenty one years

twenty one years i have lived.

i have grown.

have felt.

twenty one years i have not found love.

i have not received love.

have not made love.

twenty one years my heart has waited.

my heart has ached.

has yearned.

twenty one years of being polite.

of being supportive.

being patient.

twenty one years of suppressed words.

of suppressed feelings.

suppressed desires.

twenty one years without your eyes on mine.

without your hands on mine.

your lips on mine.

.

.

what will the next twenty one bring?

-b.m.

Plague

There’s a menacing shadow 

that stalks in the night.

It seeks out the innocent,

& consumes their light. 

It’s poison takes many forms,

a shapeshifter, of sorts.

Whether it be smoke or liquid,

or a solid, like quartz. 

By air it dances without constraint,

sashaying from lung to lung.

By sea it swims into the veins,

through skin or off the tongue. 

It preys on anyone in its path,

no matter how young or old.

Brothers or sisters, daughters 

or sons. Over all it takes its hold.

A prayer for those trapped in its 

jaws, fighting the ultimate fight. 

From the pain they’ll learn to grow,

Like plants to springtime light.

-b.m.

Ghosted

you had become a ghost,

a distant memory, slightly faded,

the words written in my journal.

i remember the night i told you goodbye.

when i yelled and screamed,

and promised that was the end of it. 

the nights that followed were cold.

too empty in the darkness, too alone,

the silence echoed. the tears whispered.

i learned to hear your name without crying. 

learned to smile at other men again.

 no longer searching for your face in theirs.

then i ran into you on the street one day and 

everything came pouring back. i hid it quite well 

behind the smile i had practiced. 

your smile. that smile that shook the ground

i stood on. the smile that i fell in love with. 

the one i tried so hard to forget.

i'd never felt love like what i had with you.

 it was indescribable. my heart ached from 

how hard it beat for you every day. 

i was a forest and you were a god damn match. 

carved from the same tree but you burned like hell 

and i was flammable.

you were ignited by our love. i was struck by 

the beauty and danger and raw power of your flame. 

until one day it burned out. 

and all that was left were ashes. dust left over from a 

wildfire. beneath, the embers still glowed with 

an unwavering passion.

i almost lost it. i almost broke like that god awful day. 

all of the pieces i glued back together, 

threatening to fall apart. 

but i didn't. we talked. mindless chit chat about

 how we've been. formalities. and then we parted. 

yet another goodbye.

i was left standing there in the street. processing. 

was he as broken as i was before? 

was he glued together like me?

i like to think so. that's the thing about love. 

it's excruciating. when you have it and after it's gone.

 a blessing and a curse. 

but it stays with us until we die. 

a score made on our hearts like tattoos of the past. 

they fade but never truly go away. 

we might have gone our separate ways, 

but we'll always have that. the love we shared. 

the kind they write books after. 

so once again you're a ghost,

a distant memory, slightly faded,

the words written in this poem.

always there, forever. 

-b.m.

Sparrow Song of Laughter

The sparrow sings his happy song, 

As clouds slowly roll along,

The summer night of mercy,

On the golden shores of Jersey.

His chirps of laughter bathe my 'tentive ear,

A sound familiar, and one I love to hear,

His joy abounds, to sing his cheery tune, 

In the midst of a dewy morn' in June.

His celebration lasts the whole day,

His life fulfilled, as if to say,

What joy must be to sing his song of laughter,

Without a fear of sorrow after. 

-father of the moth
(d.m.)

Speechless

Oh the frustration of

not finding the

right words.

It eats away at me,

like vultures on 

the dead.

-b.m.

Fallen Star

What a heartbreaking thing,

For an asteroid or comet.

Once above as a mighty king,

Now a rock so common. 

I wish I was on the moon,

Dancing among the stars.

I'd fly up like a balloon, 

Take a scenic route past Mars.

Up there I'd be alive and free,

Away from this horrible place.

Think how wonderful it would be,

Floating peacefully in space.

Here my soul is constrained,

Weighed down by gravity.

To the earth it is chained,

Dreaming of the galaxy.

You see I'm simply not meant,

To flourish within this planet.

Patiently awaiting my ascent,

For now I am all but stranded.

-b.m. 

Don't Blink

How it it, that
in a blink
of an eye,
all of life can
pass you by?

Once you were two,
life was so simple.
The cow said moo,
no stressing a pimple.

Then you were eight,
things were still good.
No worries of weight,
toy swords of wood.

When you turned sixteen,
things seemed different.
You dreamed of prom queen,
some friends had drifted.

Now you're twenty,
soon out on your own.
Saving every penny,
paying student loans.

Soon you'll be thirty,
finally settled down.
Making use of your degree,
feet firmly on the ground.

Eventually you'll be sixty,
enjoying your time.
Grandkids playing with kitty,
happiness at its prime.

Finally at the end,
you'll look back and say,
I cannot comprehend
how it felt like a day.

-b.m.

State of Mind

Hi Lovely Moths.

Another restless night here (three a.m., to be precise) and restless nights merit new blog posts so I guess there are ups and downs to it? Either way, here I am...writing. And hopefully there you are....reading.

Shall we?

Do you ever have one of those days where everything seems to be going wrong? Like the WHOLE universe is plotting against you? Almost as if you're the character of a video game that some sadistic teenage boy is making jump off of a cliff over and over again? Maybe that last part is a little dramatic, but you get what I'm saying.

Well, today felt like one of those days. Things just didn't seem to be in my favor. A cocktail of college lectures, minimal sleep at night, and a crippling bout of anxiety does not a happy moth make. In fact, two of those things are part of why I'm writing right now, while the other is not going to be very enjoyable when I have to get up for it in about five hours......

What do I want to get across to you with all of this? Three magic words: state. of. mind. What do I mean by that? We have a lot more control over our lives than we think. Have you ever heard the expression, "like attracts like" ? If you live in a negative state of mind, you will attract and open a gateway for negatively perceived situations. For example, have you ever said something along the lines of "this is so typical of my life" or "these things always happen to me"? Be honest (I promise I won't tell anyone!) By saying these things, we are inviting the idea that what happens to us is out of our control, and that they will continue to happen to us whether we like it or not.

BUT.....it doesn't have to be that way! *gasp*

Do tell oh wise moth!

It is very simple: think positive thoughts. I know that sounds like the most cliche therapy mantra you've ever heard, but I'm serious. Peter Pan was onto something when he told Wendy and her brothers to "think happy thoughts" so that they could fly. Your positive thoughts might not lift you into the air physically, but emotionally it could take you all the way to the stars. By changing the chemistry in your brain and training it to adapt to positive thinking, you'll start to encounter situations with a better attitude rather than accepting their possible downsides.

Example: 

(so you know what the heck I'm talking about)

Say you just missed the bus and you now have to walk to where it is you want to go (granted it's not impossibly far away and you're not in a complete rush) or you have to wait for another bus.

Negative thinking: figures I would miss the bus, why am I never on time for things, this is just my luck, now it's going to take me forever to get there, there will never be a time that I don't miss the bus, I'm too tired to walk, this sucks.....

Did you read any of these in your head in a sullen voice or emphasis on words like fooor-eh-ver (reference to Sandlot anyone?)? These are what are known as "self-destructive" thoughts. Words like never or figures or sucks are often key words to negative thinking. There is an overall sense of self-blame and pessimism with this thinking.   

Positive thinking: I'll catch the next one, a little walking and fresh air might be good for me, now I'll have more time to listen to my music, it happens to the best of us.

Could you feel the difference in those ones? Rather than blaming yourself for missing the bus, these thoughts acknowledging that it happened but making light of it rather than treating it as a punishment from the universe.
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So moths, my challenge to you is to start off small in the direction of positive thinking. Try to train yourself to catch when you think negatively, acknowledge the situation you are in, and think of something positive that could come out of it. The more often you do this, the more likely you'll be to think that positive thought and nix the negatives entirely. I'll start: at the beginning of this post, I thought "there's no point in writing this, nobody is going to read it, I shouldn't even be up this late." After acknowledging those negative thoughts, I can flip them to be positive; everything I write may not be read by others, but I write them for me, if I weren't up this late then I wouldn't have these creative juices flowing!

Think on the bright side, moths. xoxo

Deceived

i am here in the dark,
thinking of what you said.
oh the lies you bark,
as i lay tired in my bed.

it's 3 a.m., winds howling outside,
rain desperate to come in.
a storm from which i cannot hide;
heart aching for what might've been.

this tired feeling is deep within,
body, mind, and soul.
reparation i can't even begin;
slowly taking its toll.

it feels as though nature knows,
as she yells her thunderous roar.
her painful cry of tortured woes;
to a lost love she bitterly swore.

but fear not, the storm will pass,
as thoughts of you subside.
succumbing to some sleep at last;
with that, i am satisfied.

-b.m.

Blind Courage

Good Evening, Moths. 

It is 1:30 in the morning. A time when one would normally be sleeping, refueling their body with tender sleep to prepare for the coming day. I, unfortunately, am not one of those lucky people. My soul calls for writing, and so I am here.......writing..

You see I have the mind of a highway at rush hour. Bustling with the noise of honking horns, or in my case, thoughts. Thoughts with the intention of arriving at some destination, but getting jammed with countless others, left to sit, rather impatiently, and fester. A traffic jam of the mind.

The only way to clear a traffic jam is to allow the cars to flow. And so shall my thoughts.

Metaphors aside, I do have one such thought that has earned the subject of tonight's post. And that thought is romanticized......well, romance. Let me set the stage:

It is a time before Facebook and Twitter and even the mighty Google. A time before a couple of clicks told you everything you needed to know about a person before even speaking a word to them. Bookstores were alive and visited often. (Yes, they used to have actual stores filled with actual books you could hold in your hands, as opposed to the electronic versions available on your kindle using one-click shopping on amazon that can be bought without so much as leaving your bed. Imagine that.) In order to truly get to know someone else, you had to talk in person. Take walks in the park. Get coffee together.

In this long lost world, there are two people talking to each other via online chatting. Neither know the identity of the other, they simply speak to one another willingly. They feel as if they truly connect with each other, despite never having met in person. They speak about books that make them feel some kind of way, thoughts they have over the course of a day, and so on. The woman owns a neighborhood bookstore, one she had inherited after the passing of her beloved mother. The man, quite ironically, is helping to open a big-chain bookstore across the way that inevitably leads to the downfall of the woman's dearly cherished store. Neither of them know how pivotal a role the other plays in their lives, and they even cross paths and interact on multiple occasions (with little warmth for another, of course.) The man finds out first who she is, he comes to the realization that she is everything he wants in his life, and fights to earn her affection. In the end they finally meet, and she simply says "I was so hoping it was you," after which they have the long awaited first kiss.

Some of you may be thinking, this kind of thing only happens in the movies. Well, you're absolutely right. I'll give you two big hints: the woman is Meg Ryan and the man is Tom Hanks.......

You've. Got. Mail.

The quintessential recipe for a classic romantic comedy, or rom com. As if "Sleepless in Seattle" wasn't enough, they had to go and make another one. If there's anything you need to know about me, it is 1) I am a utterly hopeless romantic who is convinced was born in the wrong decade, and 2) I am an absolute sucker for the sappy, predictable yet heart-wrenching movie genre known as rom coms. Nobody likes to admit they're a sucker for this stuff, but deep down we all are, don't lie to yourself...

Anyway, what was my point in all of this? Yes, the basis of this movie is totally cliche and probably unrealistic, but the idea that falling in love with someone's words rather than their looks is something worth delving into. It is such a foreign concept in today's technology driven world. There are apps where we "swipe left" or "swipe right" based solely on a person's image. We first judge a person's appearance before deciding whether they are worthy enough to start a conversation with, never have knowing whether they have a wealth of knowledge to share or a story worthy of telling. How many people have we passed on throughout our lives that may have been able to say the words you wish you could speak with someone else or discuss something you too are desperately passionate about? We'll never know the answer to that, but I can guarantee there have been a few.

We go through life thinking we know what we want in a person. We have an image ingrained in our minds early on of what our perfect match would look like and how tall they would be and how the story of how you two met would play out. We're so set on finding these attributes that a person who may be everything you'd hoped for is overlooked because they're a few inches too short or they're not what your parents envision for you. How can such minuscule infractions cause us to pass on even the tiniest chance of being with someone that gets you? Someone that understands you and all that you believe in? Someone who may love you?

I know, I know. Someone's been watching one too many romances lately. I'll try to tone down the dramatics.....In essence, love may be presented to you in many different forms. We just need to gather the courage to set aside our expectations of what it's supposed to look like, and deeply cherish having even the slightest chance of tasting what it is to love and be loved.

Have the courage, moths. xoxo

Fragile

A storm rages, growing in force,

the winds a haunting moan.

Mother nature the very source,

her tortured woes unknown.

The sky darkens, trees sway,

birds no longer singing.

No further shall the storm delay,

to unleash the hell it's bringing.

A similar storm wages on,

consuming my ethereal light.

My spirit's like a fragile fawn,

paralyzed by crippling fright.

Don't fret, for the light is strong,

keeping the dark at bay.

Only time will tell how long,

for that, I can only pray.

-b.m.

Unidentified

Who Am I?

The color of my hair?

The clothes that I wear?

The touching of my thighs?

The circles under my eyes?

The petiteness of my feet?

The food that I eat?

The dimple in my chin?

The paleness of my skin?

The grades of my tests?

The size of my chest?

The secrets that I hide?

The times that I've cried?

Who Am I?

(b.m.)

Solace

I seek solace within nature,

In moment of utter despair.

No presence is there greater;

For loneliness I cannot bare.

First, 

I hear the gossiping trees,

Whose whispers fill the air.

Curses travel with the breeze;

To the woodpeckers they swear.

Second,

The restless stream passing by,

We've little time to chat.

To each other we never lie;

A simple tit-for-tat.

Next,

Always one to voice an opinion,

The cardinal's never shy.

Loudly claiming his dominion;

Must he constantly pry?

Last,

The sound of a howling tune,

From where else but the wind.

As a wolf to the full moon;

Confessing of all his sin.

The sounds occupy my tired soul,

Quieting my destructive mind.

Slowly filling the hollowed hole;

Dissipated are thoughts unkind.

-b.m.

Hushed

Style 1:

Autumn will soon take its reign,

The shift rooted within my bones. 

The wind whispers its sweet name,

Filled with craving, it aptly moans.

Cool air caresses my face,

Sneaking through the window.

Filling every inch of space,

It rests beside my pillow.

Crickets' chirping fills the air,

Their chorus ever-ceaseless.

To the world they boldly share,

Their deepest darkest secrets. 

Above, the sky softly weeps,

Her tears descend with poise.

Falling on the Sycamore leaves,

They produce a sultry noise. 

It's early morn', the world's asleep,

Dark has yet to turn to light.

Soon the sun will start to creep,

To this moment I hold tight.

Here exists neither future nor past,

No yesterday or 'morrow.

A place to attain some peace at last,

No anxiety or sorrow.

              

-b.m.

Style 2:

It's the end of summer. There's a chill in the air as the weather starts to shift. The window is wide open, allowing a cool breeze to dance around the room. It's early morning, before the sun wakes and stretches her light across the earth. Rain lightly taps on the rooftop and bounces off the leaves of the trees standing outside. The world feels soft, hushed, as though time itself has paused for a moment to savor the peace of it. Sleep could not keep me from the sensation. The aroma of serenity. Nothing else exists outside of this space, for the moment. There is no past, no future. Only present. All of the noise in my mind is quieted so that the only noise to grace my ears are the chirping crickets and soothing raindrops. 

Drip. 

Chirp.

Drop.

Chirp.

 My eyelids begin to fall. Eased into rest, I allow myself to let go. 

Let go. 

Let go. 

-b.m.

Playground Behavior

Tired of the game these boys always play.

Say they want your heart,

But their actions don't say the same.

Texting at two a.m.,

Acting like boys and not men.

Tell you they'll give you the world, 

When their parents are still paying rent. 

Ask you to show some skin, 

But don't care what's within. 

Asking them questions about their life

(Because you genuinely care)

But they dodge anything personal and say,

"Baby I love your hair."

Why should I show you what's under my shirt,

Or beneath my skirt?

Because you're a flirt?

I've seen this movie before.

I know I'll get hurt.

Like I said, I'm tired of these games.

No more late night texts 

Or app with the flames.

Maybe one day you'll grow up 

And act like a man,

But until then,

It's just you and your hand.

-b.m.

Meaning of Life

Welcome to September, Moths!

It has been one long heck of a summer. I wish I could say it was filled with memorable nights and drinking until the sun came up, but unfortunately the real world had me tied down to work and school. Which I'm not necessarily complaining about because I saved up money to live comfortably while I'm away at college for the next couple of months, so there are trade-offs.

Now I know you're all thinking, are you going to tell us which school you go to, or what?? Since you begged, I'll share! I will be a senior this year at Rutgers University in New Brunswick! I transferred here last year and have been so grateful for the house I was accepted into. This house, called Helyar House, is unlike any other living arrangement out there. It is a co-op/coed, fifty year establishment filled with long-lasting traditions and amazing influential people. It really is a humbling experience to work alongside 39 other people to keep a house running effectively and-for the most part-smoothly.

Part of the uniqueness of this house is that the students who live within it basically have full control with a strong sense of independence. We have an E-board consisting of a president, vice president, food coordinators, historians (one of them being me), etc. The members of this "E-board" moved in a couple of days early to acclimate to the house for the upcoming semester, consisting of some training sessions discussing things like diversity, constructive personality exercises, stress/time management, etc. At the end of one of these sessions, our residence counselor, Neha, left us this food-for-thought before heading to bed:

What are three or four things you want to be remembered for when you die?
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That escalated quickly, huh?

The context behind this is that we were discussing things about each other, such as things we feel we are oppressed by, memories we had about issues with gender/race/confrontation in the past, and things alike. The goal of all of this was to feel a deeper connection with the other members of our E-board, as well as feeling comfortable enough to share these things that may be crouching in the back of our minds. It really hit me, and as I laid in bed that night, I couldn't get my mind off of the thought. Sometimes we are sidetracked by all of the clutter in our lives. Clutter can be stress at work, worrying about if you look "too fat" in this outfit or whether or not we're having a bad hair day or worrying about posting this picture rather than the other, etc. We hang on so closely to these minuscule issues that when we are asked to take a step back from it all, it seems so utterly ridiculous that we wasted any time worrying about such things in the first place.

And by we I mean I, naturally.

So what are my three or four things? I'm going to share them with all of you lovely people:

• I want to be remembered for my smile and the way it lights up the darkest of rooms (as I have been so graciously told)
• I want to be remembered for having a kind and compassionate nature towards others
• I want to be remembered for my unwavering passion for wildlife, and things alike 
• I want to be remembered for my infectious, side-hurts-so-bad, only-stopping-to-gasp-for-air, kind of laugh
• And above all, I want to be remembered for all of the happiness I've brought into other people's lives

Let me be clear: I'm planning on my death being a veeeeeeeeeeeeery long time from now, and this is just an exercise to gain a perspective on life. 

Neha also said that if there ever comes a time in our lives where we are at a crossroads, or are going through a difficult situation in which life seems impossibly overwhelming, that we ought to utilize and retouch on these in order to reorientate our souls with our meaning of life. In other words, to take a step back from the magnifying glass we look through every day. No one is going to remember that huge pimple you had during the tenth grade that you ogled over all day, or that one time your belly rolls showed when your crop top was a little too cropped. None of these things will matter once we've departed from this physical world. It's how you chose to live your life, and how you treated people along the way, that matters.

I urge anyone reading this to take a few minutes to yourself in a quiet and secluded place to think about, and write down, what it is you wish to be remembered by when you die. Don't treat this as a morbid exercise, but rather your own guide from which to touch base with your core/soul. Write them down and store them somewhere you can access, somewhere it can remembered when you need it the most. These are for you and no one else, so really dig deep. 

What are you living for, moths? xoxo 

Aware

Life is but a reflection of,
The Earth, the Sea,
And the Stars above--

The Earth teaches many a thing,
What wisdom its soils do bring.
From it, sprouts plants and trees,
Whose leaves dance in the breeze.
On it supports buildings and homes,
In it conceals diamonds and bones.
It is never judging of those it meets,
To everyone it graciously greets.
Within its lips, truth there lies,
Of the day light, and night skies.
Secrets it holds for those who tell,
For above it heaven,
And beneath it hell.
Always to it does life return,
From Earth, there is much to learn.

As a balance to Earth's benevolence,
There lives the Sea's bold arrogance.
Thrashing and swaying with gust all day,
To the Earth, it has much to say.
Never does it withhold a confession,
But done so with utmost discretion.
Although the surface looks of steel,
Beneath it flourishes a great deal.
In the shallows communities thrive,
Stimulating the waters to feel alive.
The dark abyss is a different being,
Hiding demons, within it screaming.
Many are there secrets untold,
In the Sea a mystery does hold.

Keeping watch over the sullen Sea,
Are creatures unlike you and me.
They fill the sky with sultry lights,
And take away the lonely nights.
But the Stars are not what they seem,
Despite their envied lustrous gleam.
Behind the light is a shadow of death,
A projection of beauty is all that's left.
This reality is their burden to bear,
For your sadness they wish to spare.
It's no wonder they are looked upon,
And their shooting light wished on.
From the Stars I've come to learn,
Even in death does passion burn.

So you see, that all around,
Are inspirations,
To be found.


 -b.m.

Blurred Lines

Andrew Salgado

National Poem Day: Favorite

Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening

Whose woods these are I think I know.
His house is in the village though;
He will not see me stopping here
To watch his woods fill up with snow.

My little horse must think it queer
To stop without a farmhouse near
Between the woods and frozen lake
The darkest evening of the year.

He gives his harness bells a shake
To ask if there is some mistake.
The only other sound's the sweep
Of easy wind and downy flake.

The woods are lovely, dark and deep,
But I have promises to keep,
And miles to go before I sleep.
And miles to go before I sleep.

-Robert Frost 

One Art

The art of losing isn't hard to master;
so many things seem filled with the intent
to be lost that their loss is no disaster.

Lose something every day. Accept the fluster
of lost door keys, the hour badly spent.
The art of losing isn't hard to master.

Then practice losing farther, losing faster:
places, and names, and where it was you meant
to travel. None of these things will bring disaster.

I lost my mother's watch. And look! my last, or
next-to-last, of three loved houses went.
The art of losing isn't hard to master.

I lost two cities, lovely ones. And, vaster,
some realms I owned, two rivers, a continent.
I miss them, but it wasn't a disaster.

--Even losing you (the joking voice, a gesture
I love) I shan't have lied. It's evident,
the art of losing's not too hard to master
though it may look like (Write it!) like disaster.


-Elizabeth Bishop

Constrained

Emilio Villalba

Bitter

at some point in your life,

somebody will come and

promise you such 

pretty things 

and whisper sweet words

in your ear,

so sweet you'll salivate at 

the sound of it.

you'll crave it. 

your hunger will drive you

towards it, and you'll be 

mesmerized beyond reason.

little do you know,

the aftertaste is

bitter. 

he was bitter. 

he promised me a love he never

had to give.

a future he never intended on

having

with me.

spoke empty words with selfish

intentions.

he wanted my body and not my

heart,

i was blinded by his compliments

and attention.

i soaked it in like sunlight to a flower

after a long, cold winter.

one day, though, i woke up from my

filtered reality.

i saw how he only texted me after

midnight.

how he never asked me how 

my day was.

how he called me sexy, but not

beautiful. 

the realization that he would never 

leave his girlfriend

for me.

how silly of me.

i was made the side piece.

the project he would revisit

time and again.

the toy he could play with 

without fear of 

causing damage.

how had i let it come to this.

how had i let this boy,

not a man,

play me like one of his 

video games.

take advantage of my eagerness

for love

or the softness of 

my heart.

i am a work of art. a masterpiece.

not something to be handled 

by someone with greasy fingers

and inexperience.

i am a fucking jewel,

among the rarest of stones

encased in dirt but my god

do i shine on the inside.

i am not a puzzle that can be

solved in a day.

i am full of clues that first need 

to be uncovered and then

pieced together 

in order to see the 

complete picture.

and he only cared for the surface.

-b.m.

Imperfectly Perfect

Happy First Day of March, Moths!

Wow I have really been slacking in the writing department lately! The thing with me writing poems and blog posts and such is that it isn't something that can be forced. Sometimes inspiration just comes to me and I can't stop typing, and other times I don't even know where to start. Rest assured, my creative juices are flowing today and thus: my new blog post!

Today I want to talk about imperfections...

*screams*

They're not as scary as they sound, I promise. I very briefly mentioned the idea of imperfections in my Sorry Not Sorry post a few weeks back, but I didn't go into much detail about them. Firstly, what do I mean by imperfections?
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im·per·fec·tion
/ˌimpərˈfekSH(ə)n/

noun

1. a fault, blemish, or undesirable feature
   ex. scar, birthmark, freckles, wrinkles, cellulite, stretch marks, pimples, etc. 

definition courtesy of google
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Now that we have that squared away, where am I getting at?

*What I am about to say may be shocking to some, reader discretion advised*

Ready? Imperfections are......beautiful! Yeah, I said it. And boy do I believe it to my core. I'll tell you why: there is no such thing as "perfect." Seriously, it's true. All of those Instagram models and celebrities that you see through filters and makeup are all made up of imperfections. They're humans too, they get pimples and pass gas like all of us. These imperfections make us human. They tell a story that only collects with age. How cool are birthmarks?? Not everyone has one but for those that do, they are completely unique to that person and no one else. It's almost like being a knight donned with a special medal they have to wear for the rest of their lives (that's right, if you have a birthmark you're now officially a knight). How about wrinkles? I know they've come up with everything but the kitchen sink as far as remedies for "anti-aging" against wrinkles, but what makes them so cool is that they're remnants of every movement you have ever made since being born. Those lines on each side of your lips? You got those from every time you have ever smiled. They're the mark of happiness in your life. The wrinkles on your forehead? They were made every time you were ever surprised by something and it made you raise your eyebrows. And scars? They're probably the coolest of them all. Each one undoubtedly has some interesting story to go along with it, like that one time in middle school when you climbed a tree and fell out of it, so you got this sick little scar on your back (a.k.a my mom) or that time you wrestled a crocodile in the amazon and lived to tell the tale...(okay, that one is a little farfetched, but you get the point). For all of the mothers reading, think about those stretch marks on your stomach that you absolutely dread. Do you remember how you got them? You carried a human being inside of you for nine months, that's how. You did the hardest thing anybody can do on this planet. Those stretch marks are proof of that feat, and you should be wearing them with pride for what you have accomplished. Don't even get me started on tattoos. These are chosen imperfections, or pieces of art as I see them. Some are words, some are giant tigers, but regardless they're now a part of you and your story.

Personally, I have every single "imperfection" that I have included in this post. Some I may dislike more than others, but as I said before, they are a part of me. They make me who I am. I have a "beauty mark" freckle on my left cheek that has been there since I was little, and I've come to love it because it makes me unique. I have four tattoos (to my father's dismay), a birthmark on my left wrist, a butt chin that I get from my mom, and countless others that I've acquired over my twenty years of life. I wouldn't change a single thing.

So, I challenge you to make a list of all of the "imperfections" you see. Write down how you got them or how it makes you unique or who in your family you may have gotten it from. Do this without judgement of yourself. Look at these quirks like an outsider looking in, and you have to explain it to them. What inspired you to get that tattoo? Is it sentimental or was it your 21st birthday and you had one too many drinks? No matter what it is, embrace it and be kind to yourself.

Love your imperfections, moths. xoxo

Star-Crossed Lovers

A tale of love as old as time,

Of the moonlight and sunshine.

Every morning, as she wakes,

Dawn approaches the land.

Through the sky her light breaks;

A beautiful array, so grand.

But where is the moon,

To witness her splendor?

Gone much too soon;

His grace he cannot render.

A sacrifice he must bestow,

Each and every day.

So she can shine her radiant glow;

How he longs to stay.

They meet again as daylight ends,

Such little time they are given.

What a sight as their colors blend;

Toward each other they are driven. 

But together they cannot stay,

As she finally must set.

A given order they must obey;

An end to their duet. 

His love illuminates the night sky,

As his stars come out to shine.

Surely for her, you cannot deny;

A tale of love as old as time. 

-b.m.

Intimate

the second his skin came
in contact with mine,
every particle of my being
danced with excitement,
as if awoken from a deep slumber.

the way his strong hands molded to
the curvatures of my face,
their warmth seeping through my skin
to the deepest parts of me.

his lips crashed against mine like waves
to the shore, and i could taste a hint
of desperation on his tongue, like a bear
discovering honey for the first time.

his long fingers delicately removed my
clothes. he had a gracefulness to the way
he pulled down every zipper, undid every
button. my insecurities peeled away with
every layer.

his eyes roamed every inch of my naked
body, like a blind man seeing everything
clearly for the first time. i had never felt so
vulnerable, yet unashamed in my life.

his soft, delicious lips explored me from
head to toe, as a scientist to a new world.
his tongue traced the outlines of my body
like the contours of a mountain or the
bending of a river.

our bodies entwined with one another,
unclear of where one started, and the
other ended. there was no him and i.
there was only us. 

i felt it all then. all of his emotions, and
dreams, and fears. as if they were a
reflection of my own. he had given himself
completely to me,

and i did the same.

-the moment i fell in love


b.m.