Dropped Paint in the Water

A bit of an old piece. It was nice, so I decided it was worth publishing. I don’t feel exactly the same way anymore, so I doubt I’d be able to edit it to perfection.


 

It was quiet and still and simple before. Everything was cool and clear, crisp, defined. Predictable, controllable, black and white. Distilled, practically. If-then statements were worthy of trust. A was A, and B was B. If, in the off chance, there was a miscalculation, steps could be retraced and reparations made. There was a respect for the cosmos.

Even if passions arose, they were easily contained and segregated and dissected. Feelings were processed on a standard factory line, and packaged and lined up nicely as brand new packets of advice. Oh, this is joy. Oh, this is sadness. Oh, this is irritation.

And then someone dropped paint in the water. What is this in my chest?

Its vibrance almost seemed to give me new eyes. Is this what they meant by euphoria? Is jealousy that feeling you get when he talks about her that way? Was my hand clasping and unclasping by my side as I walk, seeking somehow to reach more than air… loneliness?

Someone rearranged my things. My tools weren’t working the way they used to. If-then extended into if somehow-then maybe. A had become B, but B was neither A nor B, and occasionally C or delta would enter the picture. And for the first time ever, I couldn’t even be sure if I was in the wrong.

It’s ironic. I had the kind of cynicism and practical prowess that could shield me comfortably as I walked through hell. Then joy comes along and I’m caught off-guard.

I keep looking over my shoulder, hoping you’d come running up beside me, take my umbrella from my hand and ask what I’m doing all alone. The hair on my nape tingles every time someone passes from behind, hoping you slump over from behind and bury my head in your hoodie and cologne. I look either at the sky or my feet when I walk, lest my eyes run away to seek you.

I’m bursting with questions. Then I catch a glimpse of you from across the room, in your mirthful laughter and reserved energy, and for a singular, quiet moment, a crystal caught in time, everything coalesces into one simple answer. The simplest things are the most fundamental; and also, the hardest to explain.

Usually I don’t like things I can’t wrap my mind around. Funny, since I like you.

Me Through the Eyes of (An) Angel

One of my closest friends in college, Angel Duque (she’s published! You can order one of her books by contacting her through Facebook https://www.facebook.com/angel.duque.56), decided to go into sappy mode and wrote all of us in our group of friends a quick “character sketch” of sorts – the kind you would find in an eerily specific ThoughtCatalog MBTI article, except you KNOW this one’s tailor-fit (and of course she’d know how best to go about it). I was so amused by her work that I decided to share it all with you here.


 

How would I describe you:

(Disclaimer: This is how I see you, and I may get things wrong or you may not believe me, but this is how I see you.)

Standard answer: A big and hopeful dreamer with both a head in the clouds and feet firmly planted on the ground, annoying and insufferable sometimes, but only because she understands things in a different way.

Longer answer: A female version of Icarus with wings, only less likely to fly too close to the sun because she knows better, but won’t hesitate to go as high as she can, because if there is anything to this person, it is that she believes that the human will is limitless and she is not scared to fight for what she believes, because she knows that there will be someone to catch her, whether it be her God or someone else. Believes in the best of the human spirit, but her belief isn’t without its boundaries. Could be annoying, because she sees things differently from people, or focuses on things that you wouldn’t normally linger on, but that’s okay, because she’s a living reminder to never assume anything of people, to always remove yourself from your bubble and be understanding, because if she can do it, then you most certainly can also. A person with a strong imagination, but business is business is business is business, and she becomes almost a different person when given responsibility. A calm and relaxed person capable of flights of anxiousness, but like a mentally healthy person, her anxiety pushes her into action and less into crippling doubt—someone I envy because of it. Eccentric and proud, and not afraid to tell what’s on her mind. Her faith is staggering, whether it be in her God or a person, but that doesn’t mean that when she judges, it isn’t too critical or sometimes harmful, because sometimes, her words are like a scalpel in the hands of an inexperienced surgeon, capable of slicing vital parts without meaning to. But that is why you remind her, tell her that her words hurt, because her heart is huge and she cannot bear the idea of hurting anyone with her words, and will almost always try to make it better. Her patience seems vast, but it isn’t, and there will be limits to it, and once it reached, her anger is like a hot flash. Intense but fleeting. Someone who has layers and layers and layers and you think you know her, but then you peel back another layer and found yourself with something new.