She is the Sun. I am the Moon. Everywhere she goes, she shines brightly. Whenever with her, I do not shine. I glow and reflect the light she gives off. She is brighter, prettier, taller, thinner, smarter, funnier, lovelier, more outgoing, and has an actual personality. Naturally, wherever she goes, any attention follows her like a rabid dog in heat, eyeing a juicy steak for its last meal. I am just an afterthought, as, at first, I am cautious, observant, quiet, and perhaps even a bit cold, gloomy and dark. But even after people get to know me and I warm up, she is still too bright for them to give me a second thought until they remember that I too exist, or notice that I am still around.

She is welcoming, while many see me as unapproachable due to the chronic disease of the resting bitch face, and my lack of interest in smiling unless I'm truly happy because smiles give you more wrinkles, and are far too tiring to maintain. For me, it would be putting on an obvious pretense. For her, she is naturally just being herself.

If I'm invited somewhere and ask her to come along, everyone gravitates towards her. Whether it's a good friend or a potential love interest of mine.

But, such is life and this is nature. At first, at one time, I seethed with jealousy. Why? What am I lacking? Many things. Why does everyone always like HER, why is SHE always getting all the attention? But she did nothing wrong and she is a good friend.

I gravitate towards her too.

I felt less because she was always more.

I adore her. I'm glad I met her and I respect her. I wish her the world because she is a true star child who can achieve anything she sets her mind to.

I am not hideous. On my own, I too am often noticed. Attract attention. I am not an idiot. There have been things I've accomplished in the past. Things I could be proud of. My body might not be ideal, but I am able and functional, and that is such a privilege to be grateful for.

I never even liked being the center of attention and would try be at the side. But I guess I noticed the placement more with her around.

Through her, I've learned a few things about myself. I can now deal with my nastier side a bit better. I am a bit stronger. For you have control over no one else's actions but your own.

Now, when in a group or just solo with her, I amuse myself by observing and making predictions about others' reactions towards us. They typically come true.

I think she picked up on my inner angst, but this is something we will never talk about. The problem is with me, not her.

So I'll just resign myself. Those who wish to know me will. And those who don't...won't.

Which is worse? 

Living half a life in the moment and

spending the rest in suffering? 

-Or-

Living carefully and planning everything ahead 

so that the rest of the days will be in comfort?

Each option is just as bad.

There has to be balance. 

You can't be too reckless or 

you screw everything up. 

-But-

You can't be too boring. 

Life is short and the world is unstable.

You might spend most of your life

setting up what you will never have 

due to an accident 

or 

Stop hesitating and break free.

Don't let caution make you fear

the best moments of your life.

"Excuse me. I need to go to the bathroom," you say as you get up before your blind date tries to cup a feel. 

There are three stalls and it looks like someone important is in the center. Another uniform is standing right outside of it. Can the poor person take a dump in piece? You ignore the toilet guard and enter the last stall. You make yourself comfortable.

It's too awkward to do anything so you decide to wait for them to leave and take out your phone. Then, you hear a weird noise in the stall next to you and accidentally drop the device. As you bend over and start to pick it up, you hear another strange noise and look to your left. 

There's something that looks like tentacles putting on a lump of flesh.

Horrified and fascinated at the same time, you stare in silence. The body suit slips and falls to the floor and you are met with the President's hollow face. Tentacle arms pick up the suit and the process continues. You sit back up and stay silent.

You didn't see things wrong. But...that must mean that...that creature.....is the President. The President is not human...

Toilet flushing. The thing opens the stall, walks out, washes its now hands, and leaves. The guard follows. You're finally alone.

You get up and zip yourself up. Nothing's happening today. You leave the stall, look in the mirror, and wash your hands.

Well. That's that. The President isn't human. That must be why there's an 80% approval record and a nearly impossible excellent track record. You dry off and go back to your date.

Whatever. A lot of other politicians are bigger monsters anyway. I guess "it" feels right at home. Who knows? Maybe this is for the best.

Your date looks at you and smiles as you sit down, a large chunk of salad stuck between the teeth.

Humanity's probably doomed either way.

"How do you know that you're truly alive, and what is living? I never seemed to understand the concept, since living day to day and working just so that you could live seems so dull and boring.  Why? All this type of circular motion that humanity seems to constantly go through. I don't get it. I simply don't get it. Explain."

Around three or four years ago, I had a dream about walking around my university’s campus. I had time to kill, which I usually used to explore hidden passages and useful shortcuts, so I started walking through a newer path, timing myself as I cut corners and made distance triangles in my head.

I got to one of the dorms, and was about to pass it, until something got caught in the corner of my eye. On the basement level, very well hidden, I spied a door.

I thought it was rather unusual for a door to be there, but felt something pulling me towards it, and followed the curious sensation. I put my hand on the doorknob, turned, and felt no resistance. After a small push, the passage was open.

The door led me to an interior of a small room. To the right of the entrance was a body mirror leaning against the wall, with a small shelf and a coat rack beside it; while across the entrance stood a small, old, twin bed, with a dark mattress, a gray cover, and a small white pillow.

At the time, it seemed logical for me to assume that I discovered that place, and, as any explorer, I claimed the room to be my “official hangout area” for the times when I had time to spare in between classes. For the next couple of days, I went to the room and used it for sleep.

__________

One day, when I was on my way to my favorite napping place, I saw a young woman, few years younger than me, standing by herself, looking rather distressed. The girl was thin, with long, curly, reddish brown hair, and numerous freckles. She wore an old, dark brown, flower patterned dress, which seemed to be a bit outdated for present day fashion. I assumed it was either a hand-me-down or “vintage”.

When she saw me, she told me she was not feeling well and was wondering if there was a place where she could rest. I couldn’t take her home, and a part of me wanted to help her because she looked so weak, so frail, and, without any reason, despite the lack of any signs, I thought she was pregnant.

Then, I remembered my special place, which immediately triggered an annoyed inner response because it was “my” place and I didn’t want to share it with anyone. But, she looked ill, and the outside weather was very hot, as it was summertime. She needed that room more than I.

I told her there was a place that no one knew of, where no one went, where she would not be disturbed. She looked relieved and followed me to my no longer secret room. She saw the bed and immediately walked up to it to lie down. I looked at her, slightly lamenting the loss of my former resting place, as she placed her right arm over her eyes.

As I about to turn around and leave, I had the feeling that I should tell her something. Without any knowledge nor warning, the words came out of my mouth. “You know, I’m not sure if it’s true, but there are rumors that this place is haunted.” She did not seem phased and thanked me, but told me that she would stay. Feeling that my job of warning her was completed, I turned around and started heading towards the door.

Right before I was about to pass it, the mirror caught my eye. From it, I saw a little boy staring at me. He was pale, with well groomed blond hair and blue eyes, a tucked in shirt, and a pensive face. I looked at him as he looked right back at me, with no reaction other than the simple acknowledgement of my presence. I did not feel any malice from the child, just the cool, mild curiosity of a scientist performing an observational study. Looking the somber boy straight in the eye, I asked the girl if she was going to be alright, and, after she said that she would be okay, I left the room and closed the door behind me, knowing that I will no longer return.

It was time for me to go to class and I started heading back when I felt as if someone was watching me. I stopped and saw the emotionless boy observe me from the very top window, several floors above the hidden room. We stared at each other for a few more moments and I went my way.

__________

I thought about the dream a bit after I woke up. Having it was a bit unusual since there was no reason for me to have such a dream. I lived at home and did not really know much about the dorms. Also, the day before was a rather good day and I watched a comedy show right before I went to sleep.

Still thinking about the dream, I told my dad about it, who then told me something strange. In his dream, that very same night, he was back in the dorms of his school. He was heading down and saw a little boy sitting on one of the stairs. Thinking that it was unusual for a child to be there, he approached the boy and asked him about what he was doing. Without any warning, the child disappeared.

__________

Last year, I got a job as a Resident Advisor for a high school summer program on campus. As a requirement, we had to live in a dorm, which was rather old, slightly creepy, and had rumors of being haunted. I learned that its popular ghosts were a little boy and a young woman.

The little boy was rumored to be the child of one of the servicemen working at the dorms. One version of his story states that he was playing with marbles and fell down an elevator shaft as he followed them, while another version claims that he fell from the top of the roof, after one of his marbles slipped away. It is rumored that people can often hear the noise of marbles rolling down the hallway, for his playtime never ended. But, the university is over 100 years old, thus the building itself is ancient.

The young woman’s story states that she lived sometime during the 1960s, got pregnant, and had a baby in the dorms. Due to her fear of her parents, she did not tell anyone about her pregnancy, stuffed her baby in one of the drawers, and the baby suffocated. Rumors are that she regretted her decision and, to this day, she is still looking for her child. On several occasions, I stayed at the dorms during the weekends, when the kids were gone and the rooms surrounding my dorm were unoccupied. Quite often, especially during the night, there were sounds that seemed as if drawers were being opened in an adjacent room. A few times, I had my coworkers and friends with me, and it seems that I was not the only one who heard the strange sounds. Other coworkers who stayed in dorms far away from mine also had similar experiences. However, the building was rather old and the noise was attributed to rusty, old pipes.

__________

Our Resident Director that year was a storyteller who told us about campus legends and later, near the end of the program, hosted a ghost story night for our students. I told her about my dream from what seemed several ages ago, and later participated in the ghost story night with her, telling my audience of the strange dream I had before I even knew anything about my new, short term home. The day after the story night, the RD took me outside of the dorm, and showed me a set of stairs which led to a basement door.

__________

__________

__________

Nothing we do is ever good enough. We always need to do more. Set a goal? Do everything to make it happen. Attain it? Set another goal and aim towards it. You're always climbing, without ever being able to reach the ceiling.

We keep setting ourselves up for success and never failure, all the while never knowing what true success really is. Comparing ourselves to others, and often failing to look within ourselves; we make the materialistic culture succeed and slave ourselves day by day to gather meaningless trinkets. Always thinking and rationalizing that, eventually, after scaling so much, everything will pay off and we will be "happy." But that's also without knowing what "happiness" truly is.

After all, we are never satisfied and thus can never be fully "happy."

That's human nature I guess.

Although I try to refrain from cursing, I do think that sometimes it's more than acceptable to use vulgarities.

I mean, damn, they're a part of this bloody language and, if they were so fucking awful, then they wouldn't exist.

Sometimes, we feel things that cannot be expressed with regular words. Trying to say that you've had "a really bad day" simply doesn't cut it as saying you've had a "really shitty day." The effect isn't there. The first makes the person think "aw, poor thing," while the second really throws the punch. Without these "vulgar words," the intensity just isn't there. They just get a bad rap because they're usually associated with negativity.

Same goes for writing, since these words are best to express our own and our characters' emotions, as well as fully show our bright and colorful personalities.

No shit.

Just use responsibly.

I just finished working as a resident advisor/counselor for a summer program that aims to help high school kids get into college. They tend to come from low income families or families where nobody attended college before, and the actual program stays with them through the entire school year, as well as during the one month summer program.

I've had to wear many hats. Other than spending time with the kids during meals, events, and activities, I've taught two classes: yearbook/photoshop and improv. I feel like I've been a friend, mom, sister, grandmother, aunt, teacher, supervisor, official photographer (my Facebook album is intense, I am a bit proud), entertainer, etc. to these kids, and, overall, it's been pretty tough sometimes since, eventually, everything piles up. The job pretty much requires us to be on 24/7 from Sunday evenings to Friday afternoons, and it can be a bit exhausting. But, on the other hand, spending time with these kids makes the experience worth it. They are so smart and sweet and I'm really glad I got to meet them and be a part of their lives. I truly believe that they can do great things.

I feel that, growing up, I haven't really had anyone as a role model, and I wanted to try and be something like that for the kids. In a way, this is one of the things that keep me going because I want to do my best in life and accomplish things so that they could see that, for them as well, anything is possible. Because of that, I try to "dream big" and set goals that I can hopefully accomplish one day, like teach abroad for a year, or eventually get a Master's and maybe a PhD. If I could do it, there's no reason that they can't do it as well. Although I believe that they deserve the best, there's not much I can do for them. All I can do is give them my time and attention, and hopefully this helps.

I worked for the summer program last year as well and, when I came back this year, it was great to see just how much these kids have grown over such a period of time. Seeing their progress, spending time and having fun with them, as well as the fact that they seem to like me, often makes me think that, in my own way, I am making some sort of a difference. Despite so many awful things happening in the world, moments like that make me think that life is actually worth it.