Tag Archives: daily prompts

Fight Your Instincts

You want some advice? Okay, I’ll give it to you.

Never fall in love.

Despite what the movies tell you, what books tell you, what art and music and all of that other shit tells you, never fall in love.

Do you see me? I’m half of what I used to be. The man that I was is nothing compared to the man who I am today. Love will make you better, they say. Bigger. What they mean is that love inflates you, fills you with the air of false promises and disillusion. And when love goes away, all that air escapes. You don’t shrink back to your pre-love size, no. You become crumpled, stretched out, like a condom that’s been used and carelessly thrown away.

She took half of me, maybe more. Some days, it feels like it was all of me.

The day our love ended, it felt like she plunged her hands into my chest and ripped open my ribcage, like some hack-job autopsy. Ribs broken and shattered, shrapnels of bone splintering my veins. One by one, she took my organs. My liver, my spleen, one of my kidneys. I watched helplessly, waiting for her to pull out my heart and end it all. Moments passed and my eyes – as I could not speak – asked her what she was waiting for.

She smiled and shook her head. I’m not taking your heart, she said.

I want you to remember this.

She sewed me up without a single care about the neatness of her stitches. I looked down at my chest, ruined and permanently scarred. She left me my heart so I could remember this. This pain.

So don’t do it. Fight your instincts pal. Don’t fall in love.

Well, I Never…

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The City of…

I moved to Los Angeles for school.

Who could resist going to school in the City of Angels; the city of perpetual sunshine; the city of perpetual droughts; the city of traffic that’s seen as normal and just something you have to accept if you’re going to live in Los Angeles; the city of godly Mexican food; the city that used to be Mexico; the city of beaches; the city of no rain; the city of no weather; the city of blistering summers; the city of fitness; the city of fake fitness if you have a good plastic surgeon; the city of two universities; the city where UCLA is better if you’re smart but USC is where you go if you’re rich; the city of film & television; the city where you might see a celebrity and realize that wow, they don’t look as great as they do on screen; the city of museums; the city of hipsters; the city of skid row; the city of the homeless…

I love this city. Or really, maybe it’s the city where you tell yourself you love it because to say otherwise would be blasphemous.

We Built This City

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Playa del Rey

My locs are filled with sea water and memories of today. A day spent in the sand, building upon what is slowly becoming ‘us.’ Swept under each wave – overwhelmed by emotion – and wondering what the future may hold, but willing to accept the present as it is.

The beach is my favorite place.

It’s a place that molds to your desires, adapts to your thoughts, shifts to bring you closer to what you truly need right here and right now. I can choose to start afresh, choose to continue on from yesterday, or choose to ignore time altogether; to find solace in the repetitive waves, creating the one true sound of nature.
Places

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Top Five

A writer once said, “You are the average of the five people you spend the most time with.” If this is true, which five people would you like to spend your time with?

  1. Barack Obama. First African-American President of the United States of America. Actually, he’s a bunch of “firsts.” Easily the first person who popped into my mind with this question.
  2. My mother. Self-explanatory. The reason why I want to cook everyday for my family & support them in every endeavor. The ultimate success story in my eyes.
  3. Kobe Bryant. The embodiment of determination.
  4. Rosario Dawson. She’s beautiful, she’s smart, and she is full of culture.
  5. Solange Knowles. If I could give one less fuck than I already do by being in her presence, whew, I’d be blessed.

Circle of Five

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All Mine

With a plot of land — not too small, not too large, but just the right size — I plan to leave a legacy. A modest home will be built upon this land, designed with love and modesty, built with sturdy wood and good intentions.

Every year, the family will take their annual photo on the front porch. It will start with just a man and a woman, entirely in love and proud of what they’ve accomplished. They are homeowners, the African-American dream. Each year, their faces grow a bit older and then age dramatically. That year, they are joined by a small bundle of joy, nestled in the arms of the woman transformed into the mother.

A few years later, another bundle arrives, replacing the previous one who can now stand on his own two feet. The home changes to accommodate these additions to the family. A study becomes another bedroom. The once pristine living room is covered in colorful hand prints and an assortment of crayon drawings.

Many firsts occur in this home, on this plot of land. Each photo documents a new year of the family, another mark of age for the land.
A Plot of Earth

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2005.

In 2005, I was a clumsy teenager – 15 years old to be exact – with worldly aspirations and a deep desire to escape the mundane town that I grew up in. College was so far away at that point yet those three years would eventually come crashing down upon me with the entirety of its strength.

But I was 15 in 2005, and although college was an ever-lingering thought in the back of my mind, I was probably consumed with one of several different thoughts: why was AP Biology so boring; I felt like quitting the basketball team yet I was going to go to practice yet again; this cute boy named Michael; why I hadn’t had my first boyfriend when all of my other friends were already on their 2nd or 3rd; I wonder if my parents would let me go to the mall on Friday night (the answer was no — it was always no); and how long until track season began.

Now, in 2015, I look back and am perplexed at how simple my life was at 15. Little to no worries about anything of significance and the leisure to just go to school and participate in activities & sports that I liked while occasionally hanging out with friends. Life was good back then. Life was GREAT.

As I am about to turn 25, I would tell 15-year-old me that life gets harder. While you will definitely struggle, you get through it all. Thoughts of boys fall to the wayside and are replaced by professional aspirations & personal life goals.

Okay, I’m lying; you still think about boys.

Buffalo Nickel

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The House’s a Fire

5 Things I Would Grab if my House was Burning Down:

  1. My lockbox. It contains my social security card, checkbooks, my external hard drive & my passport along with some other essential items. Basically, my life.
  2. My phone. This thing was expensive and I don’t have insurance.
  3. My laptop. It’s old and I need a new one, but it’s still functional and contains all my recent photos and documents. And it connects me to the outside world. I also don’t have insurance.
  4. My DSLR camera. Again, expensive and I don’t have insurance.
  5. My purse. Hopefully my wallet is in there along with the current book I am reading and some Chapstick.

That’s pretty much it. Everything else I have would be easily replaceable. I’m sure that items 1-4 could fit into item 5. Compact and convenient. I’m all about efficiency.

Burning Down the House

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