Tug-a-War

" I look for ghosts; but none will force 

Their way to me. 'Tis falsely said 

That there was ever intercourse 

Between the living and the dead." 

-William Wordsworth

Last weekend marked Halloween weekend 2012, leaving me with the irony that protrudes along with my halloweekend. There he was, the ghost of my past who hauntingly reappeared in my life. The only thing more haunting about his re-occurrence has to be my conclusion about his presence in the first place. However, this ghost of my past is now someone who I can finally see right through. His tricks and schemes of toiling with my emotions back and forth may of had me fooled for a little while, but now the only thing more scary than his presence is watching him vanish away into thin air.

One minute he would have my back helping pull the rope behind me, and then the next minute, he would be right in front of me fighting to pull the rope away from my very own hands, contradicting himself and everything that kept the rope together in the first place. He would reassure me and then he would disappear causing me to lose any sense of control I thought I had. It was just so easy and yet so frightening how I felt trapped to hold on to that rope knowing everything that rope symbolized. The words he said and the actions he pursued revoltingly evolved into inverses of each other leaving me wondering what was real versus my imagination.

However the thing about ghosts are that they are souls who have passed, emphasizing that they are in the past. Therefore, I think it is up to me whether this ghost is real or in my head, whether this ghost is alive or dead. My resolution is that whether the ghost of my past tries to trick or treat me, he shall remain under the tomb of all our memories because I refuse to allow his tricks to scare or fool me any longer.

Games over, I am dropping the rope.

The Nice Guy Theory

We are all just a bag of bones, bones aligned as an internal structure protecting one of the most fragile parts of all: our heart. All hearts carry the same function. They beat. All bones hold the same strength. They have the capability to break. So consequently, what sets aside the adverse differences between the good guys and the "bad" ones?

Nice guys never win. I cannot stand how frequently that has been proclaimed and how many numerous people believe that proclamation.

But here's my theory.

There is no such thing as nice guys and bad guys. I fully believe all humanity has the ability to hold goodness, which solely relies on approach. The thing about the "nice guys" is that they are so incredibly brave. They express their emotions, by throwing their vulnerability to the wind, in a wrestling ring where many possible tactics are fair game allowing the potential of damage. In comparison, these "bad guys" are the furthest thing from bad at all. Maybe they are simply numb. Maybe their emotions were defeated, by tactics that were far from fair game, in a wrestling ring that caused severe damage leaving them with broken bones, broken vulnerability, and possibly even a broken heart.

I can only hope that the wrestling ring does not permanently affect how one feels once the battles are said and done. Regardless of the results on the scoreboard, these guys do not need to attain a gold medal in order to win.

To conclude my theory, we are all just a bag of bones, bones aligned as an internal structure protecting everything we are: our hearts. Hence the words on the top of my blog and the words that created my blog in the first place,

"We all live with the objective of being happy, our lives are all different and yet the same."

-Anne Frank

Fall into Autumn

"I paint flowers so they will not die."

-Frida Kahlo

Autumn has to be my favorite season. It literally marks summer's fall and reminds us that change is inevitable and that the world forever spins round. Sometimes I think people are naturally scared of new beginnings because they are scared of letting go. But interestingly enough, what I am realizing is that how I feel about autumn is a parallel reminder to how I feel about writing and relationships.

Although autumn connotes as a change of temperature and wardrobe, I know it is much beyond that. As it gets colder, we wear thicker layers. I can still wear that tank top from the summer by adding on a scarf and a sweater. The addition of clothes does not take away from the tank top itself, rather, it emphasizes the beauty of layers. With time, I will throw more clothes on my back. My layers will only grow thicker, but my foundation will remain the same. Timeless.

Like autumn and any other season, our thoughts cycle throughout our everyday lives; they repeatedly come and go. Moments transpire into memories becoming tangible within a blink of an eye. Temperatures change and wardrobes change, but it is not a process of throwing out the old and disregarding the past. Instead, it is the process of our fated change solely relying on our permanence, allowing anything and everything anew.

Hence, why I adore and started writing in the first place. The way I see it, my writing is a canvas painting my view of the world. My thoughts, my words, whether minuscule at that moment or not, can be captured, illustrating how I felt at that very moment in my life. My thoughts, my words, which may evolve into memories, will layer onto wherever fate may take me. My words forever an artifact. 

So where there is change, there is permanence, which is why autumn is my favorite season. The colors of the leaves may change and the faces that occur in my life may differ as well, but the heat of the summer and the ghosts of the past are simply layers that have brought me to fall into autumn.