Sometimes I wonder if my life will pass me by like that of a train ride, only seconds to wait before the door shuts.
You asked me once if there was a time between us I doubted, and back then all I could do was shake my head and roll my eyes wondering how you could even come up with such a question. I wish I knew then. I wish I could elaborate and explain why I couldn’t give you the answer you wanted. I didn’t realize that you were already weighing out the possibilities of the end when you asked me if I could ever picture a time after us. That should have been my cue to find the nearest exit. 
It’s funny now that I think about it. How a person can spend so much of her time romanticizing and failing to see the first signs of trouble when it’s there. How a person can deny and rule out everything that could potentially hurt. How a person can cry over a missed train, despite knowing another one will follow after. 
These days, I’m spending most of my time letting your words echo through my thoughts. That there is a time after you, after all. And despite the storm that takes over me every time I remember how you left me to collect dust, I realize now that even when a door shuts, another one will open. 
Thank you for the lessons. 

Sometimes I wonder if my life will pass me by like that of a train ride, only seconds to wait before the door shuts.

You asked me once if there was a time between us I doubted, and back then all I could do was shake my head and roll my eyes wondering how you could even come up with such a question. I wish I knew then. I wish I could elaborate and explain why I couldn’t give you the answer you wanted. I didn’t realize that you were already weighing out the possibilities of the end when you asked me if I could ever picture a time after us. That should have been my cue to find the nearest exit. 

It’s funny now that I think about it. How a person can spend so much of her time romanticizing and failing to see the first signs of trouble when it’s there. How a person can deny and rule out everything that could potentially hurt. How a person can cry over a missed train, despite knowing another one will follow after. 

These days, I’m spending most of my time letting your words echo through my thoughts. That there is a time after you, after all. And despite the storm that takes over me every time I remember how you left me to collect dust, I realize now that even when a door shuts, another one will open. 

Thank you for the lessons. 

Mornings in New York

At 5:30am on the L train, there’s people trying to fight heavy eyes with arms crossed and hoping the next stop would be their own. Some are just lucky enough to even make it home. I close my eyes and lean my head towards the metal bar and next thing I know, it’s 6am and this voice in my head tells me it’s time to leave. “This is 14th street, Union Square,” she says. I wake up to a man staring me down and he averts his eyes when I give him a glare.

I get up along with half the passengers on the train and we are all walking towards the nearest Exit sign. Men in suits stride a little faster than the rest, and there are some holding on to luggage and heavy bags for dear life. At this point, everything is almost robotic. You can tell a real New Yorker from a visitor by the way their legs take them to places they’re meant to be, and if they’re lingering around the subway trying to figure out the map and asking the grumpy old lady if this train leads them to Brooklyn Bridge, then you can probably assume they’re not from here.

I make my way towards the 4 train and get off at Grand Central Station. Even at this time of day, the city is already busy and full of life. A man misses his train and curses under his breath and tries to argue with his partner that they could have made it if she … I walk faster, trying not to listen in on a lover’s quarrel.

I’m standing in the middle of the Grand Concourse waiting for someone to arrive, and each stranger that passes by me has a look as if he/she is running out of time. Funny, since the big clock behind me says it’s only 7:05am, a little too early to be chasing after time and yet people just never have enough of it. Always running after trains, always running after meetings and catching up on scheduled deadlines, this is what it feels like to be a New Yorker. The rush, the hustle and bustle, with hands always attached to their mobile devices and headphones on just to be extra sure no one bothers. They only look up when they’re about to run into someone or something, only look up trying to search for the way out or the person they’re meeting.

Someone calls out my name, and I look up.

You and I were obscure thoughts,
lingering between unspoken words.
These days, I spend most of my time
accepting my faults, and wandering.
Tossing, and turning, wondering
how much things have changed, how
easy it was for someone I’ve spent
so much investment and trust in,
to turn their back against me during
times when I needed it most.
I’ve traced in every corner, pieces of myself
I’ve let crawl out from under my skin
begging for answers from someone
who chooses silence instead of
an explanation, or an apology.
No words, no acknowledgement.
As if I no longer held importance,
as if the time we’ve spent building
what I thought was something
crumble down to dust,
how I needn’t deserve to be told
the reason why I was no longer enough.

Keen Malasarte, And it still kills me to know I still consider you a friend even when you no longer do. 

There was a voice in my head that reminded me to breathe, though being a hundred feet up in the air it’s kind of hard to. I remembered my ears ringing, I remembered a subtle silence that followed after reverberating heartbeats, but I guess that’s what one gets from having acrophobia. To conquer your fears, despite legs turning numb and bones shaking from underneath, there’s nothing stopping a person from an experience such as this. To witness a world so vast, so big, I began to truly see how minuscule a presence I hold in a city as big as this. So thank you, dear friend Mark for bringing me up here. And thank you to the whole family at NYonAir.com for giving me the opportunity. 
Here’s to more adventures. 

There was a voice in my head that reminded me to breathe, though being a hundred feet up in the air it’s kind of hard to. I remembered my ears ringing, I remembered a subtle silence that followed after reverberating heartbeats, but I guess that’s what one gets from having acrophobia. To conquer your fears, despite legs turning numb and bones shaking from underneath, there’s nothing stopping a person from an experience such as this. To witness a world so vast, so big, I began to truly see how minuscule a presence I hold in a city as big as this. So thank you, dear friend Mark for bringing me up here. And thank you to the whole family at NYonAir.com for giving me the opportunity. 

Here’s to more adventures. 

Most days, my evenings are spent walking. Miles and miles often towards no destination, often lingering between time and space, often alone. But then there are moments much like today, where those kind of evenings take an unexpected turn and you hold solitude away and spend the day with an old friend, just walking and reminiscing, laughing and recalling. Often towards no destination, often linger between time and yesterdays, often finding comfort in someone other than your own. 
Photo by acupofkeenInstagram @acupofkeen​ 
Special thanks to my friend Nick for the rooftops, laughs, and the bruise on my knee. Tonight was one for the history books.
Zoom Info
Most days, my evenings are spent walking. Miles and miles often towards no destination, often lingering between time and space, often alone. But then there are moments much like today, where those kind of evenings take an unexpected turn and you hold solitude away and spend the day with an old friend, just walking and reminiscing, laughing and recalling. Often towards no destination, often linger between time and yesterdays, often finding comfort in someone other than your own. 
Photo by acupofkeenInstagram @acupofkeen​ 
Special thanks to my friend Nick for the rooftops, laughs, and the bruise on my knee. Tonight was one for the history books.
Zoom Info
Most days, my evenings are spent walking. Miles and miles often towards no destination, often lingering between time and space, often alone. But then there are moments much like today, where those kind of evenings take an unexpected turn and you hold solitude away and spend the day with an old friend, just walking and reminiscing, laughing and recalling. Often towards no destination, often linger between time and yesterdays, often finding comfort in someone other than your own. 
Photo by acupofkeenInstagram @acupofkeen​ 
Special thanks to my friend Nick for the rooftops, laughs, and the bruise on my knee. Tonight was one for the history books.
Zoom Info
Most days, my evenings are spent walking. Miles and miles often towards no destination, often lingering between time and space, often alone. But then there are moments much like today, where those kind of evenings take an unexpected turn and you hold solitude away and spend the day with an old friend, just walking and reminiscing, laughing and recalling. Often towards no destination, often linger between time and yesterdays, often finding comfort in someone other than your own. 
Photo by acupofkeenInstagram @acupofkeen​ 
Special thanks to my friend Nick for the rooftops, laughs, and the bruise on my knee. Tonight was one for the history books.
Zoom Info
Most days, my evenings are spent walking. Miles and miles often towards no destination, often lingering between time and space, often alone. But then there are moments much like today, where those kind of evenings take an unexpected turn and you hold solitude away and spend the day with an old friend, just walking and reminiscing, laughing and recalling. Often towards no destination, often linger between time and yesterdays, often finding comfort in someone other than your own. 
Photo by acupofkeenInstagram @acupofkeen​ 
Special thanks to my friend Nick for the rooftops, laughs, and the bruise on my knee. Tonight was one for the history books.
Zoom Info
Most days, my evenings are spent walking. Miles and miles often towards no destination, often lingering between time and space, often alone. But then there are moments much like today, where those kind of evenings take an unexpected turn and you hold solitude away and spend the day with an old friend, just walking and reminiscing, laughing and recalling. Often towards no destination, often linger between time and yesterdays, often finding comfort in someone other than your own. 
Photo by acupofkeenInstagram @acupofkeen​ 
Special thanks to my friend Nick for the rooftops, laughs, and the bruise on my knee. Tonight was one for the history books.
Zoom Info

Most days, my evenings are spent walking. Miles and miles often towards no destination, often lingering between time and space, often alone. But then there are moments much like today, where those kind of evenings take an unexpected turn and you hold solitude away and spend the day with an old friend, just walking and reminiscing, laughing and recalling. Often towards no destination, often linger between time and yesterdays, often finding comfort in someone other than your own. 

Photo by acupofkeen
Instagram @acupofkeen​ 

Special thanks to my friend Nick for the rooftops, laughs, and the bruise on my knee. Tonight was one for the history books.

What Remains of Spring

It was sometime in early March, when the remnants of a wintery sky remained unpolished by the coming of Spring. You asked me what it was like to have met him, and I merely composed myself, trying to come up with the right words to describe our first encounter. 

"He was like a breath of fresh air," was my response. 

And you smiled, and asked how it could be so. I needn’t exaggerate the night as we walked under the starry New York City lights, or the way we laughed as I tripped over invisible hazard. How he held the door while I encouraged him a taste of foreign cuisine, and how even through the laughter and the open conversation thrown up in the air about life, family, and love, he simply listened. As I did, despite holding back the private personal fragments of the past, how we stood and sat and ran up against the old and new places we abandoned through our youth. How he pointed to the skyline, and motioned towards the infinity of the future. How he could so easily hold it within his reach. How I saw in him, someone I could possibly repeat moments of everyday with. 

So what happened?” you asked. 

I needn’t answer in literates. I turned to look through the window and spoke what my heart believed to be true of what ended a memory I still hold to be dear. 

"I had to go home, and so did he." 

A Tangible Sort of Love

I received a letter from someone today, while checking through a pile of mail. Reading it really made me feel like I was significant, considering I must have ran through his mind for him to take the time out of his busy schedule to write me something on pen and paper. It’s so hard to find people these days who ever take the time, and I really appreciated that.

Time, I learned, is something we have a lot less as the years pass. 

I almost teared while reading it, really. Mostly because he ended it reassuring me of my worth. As if he knew it was the kind I needed all along. "I feel like you could use something a little more solid and tangible these days. This is just a reminder that I am here for you whenever you need a friend to wind down with, cry to, vent to, and talk with. Stay happy, my friend.”

And I am so so thankful for you.

Brooklyn College Campus
It’s hard to find a specific place you can call your own, especially with a space as limited as ours. But this, I’d like to call it mine. Far from everything else, far from everyone who tend to recognize me from the past as the girl who kept to herself when she can. Always full of resentment, always pushing people away. Although that girl’s no longer here, some of her qualities still resurface through me every once in awhile. I still see her every time I choose solitude, I still hear her from every old friend’s voice. Like the time he came to mention your name, always holding back the rest of the sentence out of pity it might still hurt me.
I’m okay, my love. I’ll be okay. Always have.
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Brooklyn College Campus
It’s hard to find a specific place you can call your own, especially with a space as limited as ours. But this, I’d like to call it mine. Far from everything else, far from everyone who tend to recognize me from the past as the girl who kept to herself when she can. Always full of resentment, always pushing people away. Although that girl’s no longer here, some of her qualities still resurface through me every once in awhile. I still see her every time I choose solitude, I still hear her from every old friend’s voice. Like the time he came to mention your name, always holding back the rest of the sentence out of pity it might still hurt me.
I’m okay, my love. I’ll be okay. Always have.
Zoom Info

Brooklyn College Campus

It’s hard to find a specific place you can call your own, especially with a space as limited as ours. But this, I’d like to call it mine. Far from everything else, far from everyone who tend to recognize me from the past as the girl who kept to herself when she can. Always full of resentment, always pushing people away. Although that girl’s no longer here, some of her qualities still resurface through me every once in awhile. I still see her every time I choose solitude, I still hear her from every old friend’s voice. Like the time he came to mention your name, always holding back the rest of the sentence out of pity it might still hurt me.

I’m okay, my love. I’ll be okay. Always have.

Grace Street Coffee Shop
"You never know with him. He’s just so damn nice," K said. And he was, he was the type of person that would go out of his way to drive three hours on the opposite direction just to make sure you get home safe. 
"Or he could just be really into you," I replied, "No matter how nice you are, you have to have at least some sort of emotional attachment or interest if you’re dropping your whole schedule just to accommodate someone else that’s supposedly just a ‘female friend’. Seriously, guys don’t just do that." 
"I know, but it’s just so confusing. Last night he slowly crept inside my room so he won’t bother me with work and asked if I wanted tea, of course I said I could make it myself, but he insisted he be the one to make it for me. See? I don’t know if the things he does mean something more." N sighed deeply, and motioned towards her coffee. "I really like him, my whole family is in love with him, I just don’t want to end up looking like a fool if all of this ends up one sided on my end of the boat." 
"Honestly, we’re all fools in love. You just have to figure out if the person you end up looking like a fool for is worth it. And by the sound of it, I think he is."
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Grace Street Coffee Shop
"You never know with him. He’s just so damn nice," K said. And he was, he was the type of person that would go out of his way to drive three hours on the opposite direction just to make sure you get home safe. 
"Or he could just be really into you," I replied, "No matter how nice you are, you have to have at least some sort of emotional attachment or interest if you’re dropping your whole schedule just to accommodate someone else that’s supposedly just a ‘female friend’. Seriously, guys don’t just do that." 
"I know, but it’s just so confusing. Last night he slowly crept inside my room so he won’t bother me with work and asked if I wanted tea, of course I said I could make it myself, but he insisted he be the one to make it for me. See? I don’t know if the things he does mean something more." N sighed deeply, and motioned towards her coffee. "I really like him, my whole family is in love with him, I just don’t want to end up looking like a fool if all of this ends up one sided on my end of the boat." 
"Honestly, we’re all fools in love. You just have to figure out if the person you end up looking like a fool for is worth it. And by the sound of it, I think he is."
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Grace Street Coffee Shop

"You never know with him. He’s just so damn nice," K said. And he was, he was the type of person that would go out of his way to drive three hours on the opposite direction just to make sure you get home safe. 

"Or he could just be really into you," I replied, "No matter how nice you are, you have to have at least some sort of emotional attachment or interest if you’re dropping your whole schedule just to accommodate someone else that’s supposedly just a ‘female friend’. Seriously, guys don’t just do that." 

"I know, but it’s just so confusing. Last night he slowly crept inside my room so he won’t bother me with work and asked if I wanted tea, of course I said I could make it myself, but he insisted he be the one to make it for me. See? I don’t know if the things he does mean something more." N sighed deeply, and motioned towards her coffee. "I really like him, my whole family is in love with him, I just don’t want to end up looking like a fool if all of this ends up one sided on my end of the boat." 

"Honestly, we’re all fools in love. You just have to figure out if the person you end up looking like a fool for is worth it. And by the sound of it, I think he is."