perfectionism is definitely a thing

the more years i experience, the more i understand that failure makes us who we are.

risks are a necessity because the beauty comes right after the risk.

i accept mistakes a little bit better with each day or each event. because there aren't really mistakes.

i have been examining some topics as they relate to me in a few departments, namely:

1 self worth

2 perfectionism

3 being enough 

4 gratitude

they are all tied together and here is what i have discovered:

1 i am wonderful. i am capable of anything. seriously. anything. i'm unstoppable!! and that is a powerful feeling. i am empowered, i am positive, i am passionate, and i am artistic.  i am WORTHY of all the good things, i am worthy of true love and acceptance and i will not search or beg for it. i will give it truthfully because i am worth it.  

2 we are all perfectionists in some areas. there are some things we just want to be perfect. for me, it's work. i am hardest on myself there because i expect myself to succeed. in fact, i expect success at whatever i set my mind to. 

i am slowly but surely accepting the challenge to not be perfect, or rather, to not pressure myself to be something i will never be. i usually don't wear makeup on my days off. i forget things, i slip up, and i say things i wish i had thought twice about. and i'm okay and i'm human not in spite of these things but because of them.

3 i am enough. not sometimes, not on the weekends, not at whole foods, not in my subaru or when traveling. i just AM. all the time. you all are too, any of you who happen to be reading. we are all enough and wonderful and offering so much to this little world. it's those vulnerable moments, the ones that make us shake and cry and want to hide...those are the ones that leave us cracked and full of doubt. but those are the most beautiful moments. they give us the ability to let the light back in, to see the joy and wonder of things. i come back to the word, i come back to "enough." that is a heavy yet enlightened word. 

4 gratitude is a practice. it's not just on thanksgiving. to actually remember and realize, to be mindful and vocal, or at least slightly aware, of the things we are grateful for is hard sometimes. it's a struggle. when i am flying on an airplane, do i think about how annoying the person next to me is and how i can't believe how rude she just was....or do i think about this miraculous machine that's taking me to california in less than 2 hours? i mean, i am flying! 

it's not about constantly being grateful and happy and positive, because that is not realistic; that's not life. life is feeling it all, and knowing it is all part of you. life is feeling and listening to your heart but then being grateful and honest enough to express what it has to say. gratitude is about sharing truth. with yourself, with others, with the world.

who do you love?

last night, did you go to bed wishing you'd said something yesterday?

and will you say it today, knowing that even if it hurts, it was worth it?

tell him to find me

hello, stranger.

i wish i had time to tell you a story.

it's one of those ones that you

hear

and immediately wish it happened to you.

a whirlwind type thing.

i think you'd like my story.

hi,

if you see my guy walking around 

(the one from the story) could you please

tell him i love him?

and that it's all just here,
inside?

the love, i mean.

just inside me,
slowly leaking out, though,

into other places that deserve it.
additional places.

because it's not all about him.

i love a lot of people and 

i do love myself.

hello again!

could you remind me?

did i ever tell you 

what it felt like

when i kissed him the first time?
it's so cheesy.

it felt like
i never knew what kissing really was.

did i tell you what he said after?

he didn't say anything. 

we kinda just stared and he 

tried to catch his breath.

stranger, hey. 

i know i told you about

the time

he held my hand

as i told him something about me

few have ever heard.

and he kissed my finger tips

and felt the details of my hand 

while i cried.

and then he said, 

"it's okay. you're okay.
i'm so happy you told me."

hello, stranger. 

could you would you
read my mind?

i'm having a hard time understanding it;

my heart keeps getting in the way.

do you speak the language?

hello there.

if you come across my guy...

could you please let him know that

for my own good,

for my sanity,

for my spirit,

because anything one-sided just sucks
and is truly unfair,

because this hurts too much to keep feeling...

and 

because i deserve to live my life...

could you please tell him that

i am letting him go?

that i have stopped 

hanging on to the empty hope 

that he will someday return?

which is not to say that i wouldn't

open my arms to him,
still.
which is not to say that i wouldn't

run to him so fast if

suddenly he was there, just out of the blue.

if i heard him call my name,

i would be paralyzed.

i mean, i would

say nothing 

because let's be real, just to see him again

would catalyze tears, not words.

i would be overjoyed,

stunned into silence,

but that's just

if i ever did see his face one more time.

i would run, i totally would.
but i can't wait right now.
i deserve better.
time just keeps passing.
and this is my time.
he will understand.

hello?

are you still there?

i get that you don't understand it 

and all that i have done

but

just trust me.

there is a better you, always.
fierce and brave.

just waiting,
right around the corner
for the reveal.

see you soon, stranger.

i am trying to write more.

it's this thing i'm trying to do.
i have a bad memory. and i'm...i'm a feeler.
so there's a lot to get out.

but every time i pick up my pen to finish my story about you
(because it's like i can't move on until i cover that)
(feels like i'm living 3 months ago and feeling everything fresh every day for at least a couple seconds, minutes)
(so i have to write it down, get through it)
there's 3 or so blank pages
just watching me.
every day.
waiting
anticipating
the story of you and us and
everything we've ever been,
which may have been nothing and it may have been everything i felt at the time.
no, it was something. it was a lot.


i just can't.

it's just too hard to write anything down.

once,
while writing,
when starting this story,
(which is my life and not a fairy tale which also
complicates things),
i opened up my phone to scroll through and find out what date something was.
i wanted to remember that date, that memory.
and i only knew from our texts.
so then i'm trying to find it and of course
i'm eventually reading all our texts. and i'm just laughing and crying at the same time
because now
going back through it all
i can see it all so clearly.
it's so obvious, when you started to slip away
but back then
i was laughing more than i ever had
and feeling more perfectly fine than i had in years
because you unknowingly helped me see the simple joy in so much
and helped me believe in my own beauty again.


i can't write
because i feel so much love for you
still.
god damn.
so much love is in there
that it actually hurts from the inside,
and it's trapped with no where to go..
restricted by that elastic cord that's keeping my journal shut.


all i want to be able to do is
look back
at these
memories
a few years down the road
when i am older, wiser, and over it,
and smile
at the recollection of your laugh and your smell and that moment in the dark,
and the way our first kiss felt.

i can't write it and close the book
because it's not over.

it can't be over.

perhaps some cliches in here but mostly truth

something i am understanding a little more each day:
you create yourself a little more each day.

work hard.
play hard.
love hard.
but don't be hard.
be soft,
even when you get hurt so badly or you feel so angry that you could just turn to stone.
dream big and then go for it,
even when people or your own
insecurities
try to tear it all down.
jump.
don't fear the fall,
embrace it.

you're in control of your own happiness.
you create this life.
this journey is all yours,
but it's all about connections with others.

soak it all in, baby.

dear will,

i can't remember the last time i heard your voice.
and when i say that
i mean
YOUR voice
not your voice affected
                        infected.

i call you every single day.
i have never stopped calling.
it got hard when the voice said
"you have reached the voicemail inbox of.."
dead
and harder still when it turned to
"the number you are calling is not reachable."
gone


but i still try every day because
i imagine the day you pick up.
it will be the best day.


i hope you don't just call
i hope i can see your eyes again.

please, god or whatever is out there,
let me see his eyes again.

and i'm holding on to this hope that you will come back...
despite my better judgement
or the present moment
that says
"he blew in and out like the wind...
now let him go
like the wind lets go
of all it touches."

whiteknuckles
nothingbuthope
nochoice
andthatsjustme

everywhere i look,
i see you.
you know where to find me.

love,
ali

PS-no no...yeah...yeah no...i know.

sorry i'm sad outright but keeping it in is like quicksand for the heart

i've got a lot of love in me
a lot of light
we all do.
don't you see that?
just like...just like those stars up there.
it's black if not for them.
we're all made of the same stuff.
all the same stuff.

sometimes it's easy to feel lost in the waves...
radio
water
cellular
sound
micro
all these different types of waves
we're just kinda wading in all day and night.

but look up to those stars
and just know that
the light reflects in your eyes
because it's a part of you

it's already in there.

look down at the tide
and if a tear falls down
see it disappear like it belongs there
because water from within you
is water from anywhere else

look into someone's eyes
deep
and know that the blue in theirs is their own but yours at the same time
because that blue connects you two. the water. the light.

warning...just real dark shit i guess.

sometimes i have experiences in life that just lock me away.
it's weird.
i guess i am not locked away. i guess they render me unable to react
or to express, rather, in a constructive way,
(because lawd knows i am expressing some shit on the reg)
what i am truly feeling about them.
my journal stays empty, i don't pick up the guitar, the blog doesn't change and really i put on this mask that everything is okay and then eat some chocolate or something to make myself feel like i'm
"dealing with shit."
sounds depressing...i know. and it is sad.

it's kind of a helpless feeling.
not as helpless as what i am with you. i am helpless because no one can change you but you.
not even me.
i looked into your
eyes
last week and you were just dead behind em.
god. i've never been so excited and then immediately broken hearted to see someone...
who i knew 4 weeks ago is not you now
there's 2 of you


and i accept that reality.
but i cry about it many nights.

my strong and funny and wonderful loving guy
is in there somewhere
but sometimes this cloud overtakes things,
and this bitch of a feeling becomes something you need to medicate

and i guess i knew that from the start
but really
there's nothing i could have done to prepare for this.

because all of that "life is about getting out and dancing in the rain" shit
is easy to swallow when it's watermarked over
a photo of a girl with nothing wrong, umbrella in her hand..
but life is actually about going along, just as you usually do,
and then having to dry your fucking clothes after you've gotten caught unprepared in a cold flash storm that really soaks you to the bones