Tag Archives: living

So, my birthday approaches

My birthday is right around the corner. It is specifically during this time that I look back at what I have lived like this past year. Last year around this same time, I told myself I was going to do something so amazingly significant that I dared to call it a miracle, a self affirming accomplishment that would somehow fill me with the happiness I craved.

But life is funny at how it comes around to giving you what you wish for. I have failed fantastically instead at almost everything this past year.

I failed at love. Somehow my giving nature backfired and resulted in a love where I gave everything and lost everything. I also tried the opposite of keeping everything and I still lost everything. It’s the loss of that part of me that identifies with being someone’s someone that hurts. Because you merge, after sometime you merge with the other person and somehow identify yourself as one with another. And I’m not sure if that’s how love is supposed to be, or what. For me, the other person’s happiness was equal, if not more important than my own, but it ended up with me failing myself. I failed, incredibly so at being a real person. I acquiesced my own opinions, beliefs, wants, that internal part of you that roots you to earth, and lost. I became a ghost of the person I was.

So I clung to that other part of me that identifies who I am, my job, my career. My focus on that grew to an obsession, and I turned into a somewhat greedy, selfish, and bitchy person who stayed working until 11pm or up until 4 am to write grants for an organization, that at the end of the day told me I didn’t fit into their vision. I should’ve gotten the clue when I was the only person upset over a missed deadline and my boss’s response was “maybe it wasn’t meant to be.” But failing in my personal life meant I couldn’t handle failing in this public part of life, but I still failed at it.

So when I arrived home, I realized that this past year I became a ghost to my own girls. I may be over exaggerating there a bit because being a perfect mom is a huge deal to me. And hearing words like, “remember when mom used to make cinnamon rolls” hit home hard. Finally being home to make them breakfast or pick them up from school made me realize I missed an entire year of them growing up though. I missed dinners and I missed honor roll ceremonies, thereby not fitting into the vision I had of my own home. I’ve always identified with the mom that’s always there for you. And somehow in this year of changes in family dynamics, in schools, in jobs, in growing up, I failed to be there.

I have also failed in my own studies. I have failed in understanding global economics now for two tries. To be quite honest, I didn’t even open the book for the other two classes until now, thirty days before the term is up. I have failed at writing or publishing anything. I have drafts upon drafts saved of words from moments that didn’t seem momentous enough to get a poem or maybe they were and the words didn’t fit them. Either way, they remain unpublished.

And the last year me, would have blamed it on all the stresses I have in my life. I would’ve cried and been down on the dumps for about a day to three days, if I’m honest. And I have cried at these failure, apparently I’m not as smart as I presumed, and I don’t manage time well, or living life, or being in love well. But I only allowed myself 20 minutes of crying. Previously, I would’ve gone to bed and stared at the ceiling or watched the sun rise in complete self-indulging-pity parties led by depression. But, I haven’t let myself do that.

Somehow this past year of fantastical failures made me realize that stripped of everything that I thought made me, I somehow are becoming me. Failing at everything, gave me a lot of free time to sit at home and reflect on why (not lay in bed and cry about why, but really, think). And I could blame my failures on one thing or the next, but in truth, I am to blame. For not knowing who I am, made me make decisions that lost me even further to myself. And in some funny, random way, my mistakes have taught me to cross out who I’m not and start to discover who I am.

I am just me now. I am trying to figure life out, only this time I’m not clinging to societal ideals of perfection in love, in careers, in families, or in self identity. This past year I made a wish that I would accomplish something so great I would be incredibly happy. I instead failed at everything, but somehow became happier than I’ve been in a while. So this year, when I blow out my candles, I’ll just say…actually, I don’t know what to wish for, because I’m a little scared of how life will interpret and grant me my wish. But that fear is exciting. And previously, that fear, would cause indecisiveness and paralyze me. But not this year, this year, I will just be me and I will do me with the understanding that I will fail sometimes and laugh about it, or succeed and cry about it, or mix it all up in the process.

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© Sara Febles

Dance

I just want a loud song
I want to let my hair go
A dark room I can let go
And dance
My own kind of dance
The darkest dance in my soul
I need to leap knowing my feet will catch me
I want to fall and scrape my knees
I want to turn and get dizzy
I want to lose my breath
Burn my muscles raw
And feel sweat run down my neck
I want to lose myself
Dance my way through my own hell

As long as

As long as I feel it and know it
My words will write themselves for him

As long as I hear the violin calling
I’ll choreograph dances for him

As long as there’s longing
There’s nothing I won’t do for him

A perfect fit

I think it’s meant to be
I’ve made a list of all the ways you’re a perfect fit
Mind you, this doesn’t rhyme in any sort of way
Though I tried like a little kid
But that’s the best part, so…

One, I think scooting over is ok
You think lifting me up and sitting me on your lap is better
And I happen to agree
Because random points of laughter feels amazing on any day of the week

Two, I can’t cook for shit
And there you are five starring every meal
Trying to teach me to cook but I can’t help but smile at how tall you look in the small kitchen
And how much I’d rather burn it to get all of your attention for myself

Three, you prepare and plan for tomorrow
Fill the minutes and check off to do lists
While I just kinda wing it and sleep in
Try to match outfits in the morning
And show up to work a few minutes late to
Smiling cause I kinda made you late too

Last but not least, I think this is the most important point on my list
I see you and you see me
And the world doesn’t seem to notice
How close and connected we are
You pull and I walk
I push and you come back

And these are just some of the things on my list
I’ve yet to touch upon the ways you touch me
That’s another poem entirely
But this is a good start
In case you didn’t know how well you fit in my heart

The piece

Don’t be confused
By the you and the he
The me and the she
And my random ramblings
You are mine
And belong to me
You are not an index card
I move around in my novel
You are not in some random drawer
You are the page I long to write on
You are a new chapter
A new story I’ve yet to uncover
And I haven’t started on
Because I need you to write it
My side of the story is incomplete
You are the piece that fits best in this plot twist

He knows

He thinks he can write anything
To take my breath away
To make me gasp and blush
And think of more ways to love

He thinks his phrases and sentences
Will land like a vine of kisses on
On my outstretched arms and legs
Making me point and stretch his way

He thinks his words will reach me
And the rhythm of my heart will start to skip beats
And my mind will enjoy playing with
And my lips will wet while murmuring

He thinks syllables will stack
Underneath my back making me arch
And move my hands
And dance for him in more ways than one

Fuck, he knows me so well

Sleepless

I didn’t let my eyelids fall last night
I didn’t turn off the lights
I know the second that night comes
He’ll be there
With his arms around my soul
And I’ll be there
Hanging on for all dear hope
And we’ll let
Countless suns and moons go
Just to hold each other strong
So I’m waiting for the sun to come up
I’m not turning the light off
At least until that image of us
Is one that I can bare to have nights without