childhood fantasies

Any fiction book I have read says that the non-parters or the people not ‘in’ on the occurrences (Muggles in Harry Potter, Humans in Percy Jackson, etc) were all too dumb to notice things. They said that even if they did see things, their brains would be quick to dismiss any fact beyond the ordinary. Well, I keep seeing things. A shadow for a missing object, a flash of light with no distinct source, a figure in the woods behind my neighbor’s home. I hear things to. Footsteps, high-pitched noises, and whistles. I know I’m not a witch or demigod, but maybe these things are proof that other realms do exist, other worlds I’m not aware of. Maybe I’m a Muggle witnessing signs of magic. How wonderful would that be?

help, whenever

“Help will always be given to those who ask for it.”

It’s probably the most corniest lines ever, yet it prove its worth to me time and time again.

I texted someone yesterday. I barely talk to them; even when we meet, I stutter and keep to myself. Most days I don’t think we are family. She’s so much stronger than me, so much more accomplished. I didn’t think she would respond.

When it comes to relationships, I’m usually incorrect. This time didn’t fail me either. She responded within 5 minutes. She gave me everything she could to help and more. I told her I was so happy that I was about to cry. I didn’t lie.

“Help will always be given to those who ask for it.” I think God said it.

distraction log: 11/21/2019

1:14 PM – I can’t seem to write an essay. I don’t know how to write an essay on something I don’t even remember. It’s annoying that I don’t remember Wuthering Heights. I read the whole book. I didn’t spark notes or anything, yet I can’t seem to remember any details of the book. Just major plot events and such.

1:36 PM – Everyone is writing so much. They already have the makings of a first draft. I finally finished my do now. Why do I feel so incompetent?

1:45 PM – This is pure shit. I spent 40 minutes on pure shit. That is fun.

where do not mind waiting?

I looked at the door again. I wasn’t looking because I was anxious, but merely to check. I looked around at the posters hanging near the concessions stand. My heart choosing future movies I wanted to watch; my brain checked my schedule and made a checklist.
Charlie’s Angels was a definite. I had already decided to watch that one with my friends later. Joker was one to find hard company for. Almost everyone had watched it already. Bala was a Hindi movie my parents would definitely want to watch. I went around the room, judging each movie solely by the poster hung for it.

After five minutes had passed by, I gave one wry glance to the door and went to the concessions stand. I bought a my ticket, a medium popcorn, and a small Sprite soda. I didn’t look at the door as I entered the theater room.

I went to my seat, got comfortable, and previewed the trailers. My heart and brain working together again to add to the checklist. Yes! That one seems like the perfect thriller. Ew. Never watching that one. Please, please. Ugh. I shouldn’t have to wait that long for that one. Why couldn’t it come out sooner? Hmm, maybe. I think I will have to use my brain for that one. Oohh. They was an article on that one; it said the movie was going to be nominated for an Oscar.

Everyone beside me had their phones out which reminded me to shut mine off. As the lights dimmed, I settled deeper into my seat.

A few minutes into the movie, someone slid into the empty seat next to me. “Sorry. Meeting ran late. Hope you didn’t wait long.”

I smiled at him and gave him a kiss on the cheek. “Don’t worry, it’s not waiting if I’m in a theater.”

what keeps you awake at night?

I kept walking up. It didn’t matter if I was thisclose to sleeping, I always woke up.

The first time it was because of my backpack. I scrambled out of bed to make sure I had everything I needed for the next day. I took everything out, laid it on the floor, checked to make sure everything was there, and then, put everything back.

The second time was an online submission I made hours ago. I couldn’t even change anything if I wanted to. Yet I still opened up the online portal, typed in my password, opened the submission document, made sure everything was in order, and closed my laptop.

The third time was because I had to use the restroom. I rushed out of bed and went to the bathroom, only to sit on the seat for 6 minutes because my body decided it didn’t need to go after all.

The fourth time was when I had a nightmare that I got a 50% on the test I had taken yesterday. I got my phone, checked my grades, and put it away.

The fifth time was when I though I had forgot to set my alarm correctly. Again, I opened my phone, when to the clock app, checked my alarms, set and reset them, and put my phone away.

The sixth time resulted in me just staying up the whole night. Worrying didn’t seem to ever end. I didn’t know if I had done anything correctly. I didn’t even have the confidence to believe I had done something right. I didn’t have the assurance that what I did was enough, if it was ever enough. Define enough.


My favorite season has changed from spring to fall. I have grown to favor crisp mornings over dewy ones. I like watching my breath ghost out in puffs in front of me. The colors changing to beautiful burnt reds and oranges.

I like hot chocolates and warm teas while snuggled up in blankets near a fireplace which we technically don’t need to wear.

I love sweaters and boots. I love dresses with tights. I like wearing beanies and open-fingered gloves. I like light jackets and oversized hoodies.

I liked the quiet of all the animals preparing for the winter. The low whistling of the north wind, bringing a shivering with it.

I like sunrises over misty fields. I like sunsets over colored trees.

I like being a fall person.


One day, I will look in the mirror and say, “She’s perfect.” I won’t start cutting fat with my eyes, wondering when it all came in the first place. I won’t have to bite back tears when I meet extended family, aunty and uncle and nana and nani scrutinizing the dress I wore because there’s a bulge showing on the side.

Some days I dream my closet grew. All the clothes shrank two sizes, and suddenly, there’s more room for everything. But, other days, I wish that I just wouldn’t care. I think that’s what I want the most — to not care.

To not care. It seems like a bliss too far away, locked in some place, I can’t find. I know it’s a cliché, but sometimes, a cliché is better than hearing the incessant ticking of an analog lock in my ear.

how would you spend a lazy day?

I didn’t have an alarm for today. The sun peered through my lavender curtains slightly caressing my face. I sat up in my bed. The covers crumbled into my lap. Yawning, I stretched my arms above my head. Getting out of bed, I padded my way around the room, stepping over littered clothes and school supplies.

I sat on top my bathroom countertop with my feet dangling from the side. Wetting my brush, then applying way too much toothpaste, I started to brush my teeth. In my other hand, I opened up my phone. I went onto Spotify and played R&B. Placing my phone aside, I rocked back and forth to the music and my brushing.

Then, I stepped into the shower, turned up the heat to scalding, and washed my hair. Soap suds fell trailed down my body to the shower floor. The made rivulets as the circled around the drain before sinking in.

I shut off the water, towel dried my body, wrapped my hair in another towel, and changed. Downstairs the afternoon sun lit up the kitchen. I measured milk and water in a pot. I added tea leaves and sugar. After placing the pot on the stove, I looked outside to see the auburn trees of fall.

Once made, I got my tea and sunk into the family room couch. I turned on the TV and walked episode after episode of various shows. When the garage door opened, I went upstairs and pulled out a book and a blanket, curling up in bed. That’s how my parents found me. That’s how sleep found me.

morning after

I was shivering.

I slowly opened my eyes. The clock on my nightstand blinked 4:03 AM in front of me. I was on my side, both arms stretched on the bed in front of me. I looked down to see everything bare. My two buds had stood up because of the cold.

You shifted beside me. The arm under my head tensed and then relaxed. The one around my waist tightened. You snuggled your bare chest into my back, and the hair on your legs tickled mine.

I wanted to turn around and look at you, but I knew any movement on my part would render you awake. I felt myself sigh and began to rub my legs together to get a little warmer.

You groaned into my ear and slowly unfurled your body. I instantly became a lot colder. Rolling to my other side, I saw you place your palm near your mouth as you yawned. You reached to your side and pulled the blanket over us, using your legs and hands to make sure we were both covered. Then, you laid your hand out near my head again. When I didn’t make a move to come closer, you opened one eye at me, posing a silent question. I curled up into your chest, and you smiled as we both fell asleep.

Tortilleria Nixtamal, New York City

¡Hola! ¿Comó están todos? In four words, I was transported to another place. Warmth diffused in the air embraced me into a new home. Walking down the streets, I smiled as I read the Spanish signs. It felt as if my four years of studying paid off.

I didn’t know what to expect as I shuffled in with the rest into the tortilleria. Often when I see so much raw food, I get sad wondering about if all of it would be used and the afterlife of what isn’t. But as I took a bite of the tortilla, it’s history flooded into my mouth.