A World for You | Quick Piece Breakdown

A World for You

Yes, another story about insomnia and sleep! For some reason, I find it really interesting (and aggravating) that I find the need to write about it. This story is basically a story about a guy who explores the world around him and finds peace in the night, drawing him to sleep.

The story takes place at a sleep away camp and the main character, Dan is getting out of bed and snooping around when his cabin-mates are going to bed. I made sure to personify sleep and the night to make it seem more realistic. Dan is a peculiar and curious character and I wanted to give him a sense of innocence that makes insomnia seem harmless. Basically in this piece, I romanticized insomnia just because I thought it would be fun and I haven’t written a story with dialogue in a while.

Dan encounters an owl and has a conversation with it. It would be up to you if he could understand the owl or if it was his imagination. Quite frankly, I like the idea of Dan being able to understand the owl. He only returns back to the cabin when the camp counselors go to bed and when he finally gets to bed, one of his cabin-mates wakes up, but he doesn’t pay any attention to him. It’s almost as if he had earned a night of sleep. Throughout the piece, I had the voices in his mind have a very prominent feature and in the first exchange, Dan stands up to the voices. At this point, the voices represent doubt, but the second time the voices speak, Dan gives into the voices, so the voices represent reason.

Overall, this piece was a lot of fun to write. Thanks for reading!




A World for You | Quick Piece

The night draws to a close and people’s voices are lowered to a whisper, but the undying dialogue in his head continued to shout. The rustling sheets quieted and in that moment, he realized that the world was sleeping before him. He greets the night like an old friend while he silently laughs at his friends for being taken as a victim of the night, strangled in an alternative state. He sat up in bed and got out of his bed, the shushing of his slippers echoing throughout the room. Without a word, he left the cabin and took the moonlight in his hand and the dialogue in his head lowered their voices in revere. He greets the closed shops and welcomes the parked cars. He whispers hello to the dim light in the counselor’s cabin and quickly ducks out of the way before they seem him. None say anything back. He doesn’t expect them to. An evening breeze caresses the valley and the mulberry bushes sway, so he stops in his tracks and sways with them, reaching his arms to the stars just so he could have something to hold onto. The breeze dies down and he thanks the bushes for the pleasant dance and continues on his walk. The voices in his mind begin to whisper, “You fool, it’s getting cold.” He shrugs and feels the gravel pricking his feet through his slippers while muttering under his breath, “I am no fool.” An owl sings a mournful song and he calls out, “Mister owl, what troubles you on this fine evening?” The owl shakes its feathers and hoots a response, so he stands under the tall pine tree and shakes his head. “I’m terribly sorry to hear that. I hope everything works out for you and your missus.” He continues walking and it’s only when the light streaming from the counselor’s cabin causes the entire forest to be basked in black did the voices start to shout again. “You fool, it’s getting late. Shouldn’t you be getting some sleep?” He stuffs his hands in his pocket and softly says, “You’re right. I’ve had my fill for the night.” And with that, he shuffles past the pine tree, the counselor’s cabin and avoided all the sharp rocks and tucked himself back into his sleeping bag. He closed his eyes and his friend whispered, “Dan, what are you doing up so late?” He shrugged and allowed himself be taken as a victim of the night.

Time Manipulation | Poetry Breakdown

Hello again!

Time Manipulation

In the dead of night, you find your thoughts living life
more than you ever desired.
It becomes so vivid and tempting
that you reach out your hand and try to
form it yourself, but it just slips through your hand.

In the midst of class, you find your motions
echoing how many minuets are left of the eighty minuets.
It feels like a lifetime, but it will always remain a snippet.
No danger has ever scratched the surface of your ticking life
except the seemingly lost information – in through one ear and out another.

In the fluid motion of being near you,
my steps seem to echo through the empty streets
and our laughter illuminates the street lights.
Yet, I find myself trailing behind –
afraid of being sucked in and losing my life
even though time is moving
just as it feels.

First of all, I’m sorry for no poem last week. It was my birthday! 🙂 Also, if you’ve seen my last post, then I’ve mentioned that I’ll start to queue my posts rather than writing them the day they’re scheduled because of my crazy schedule. Keep my accountable!

Now, this poem is shorter than my previous poems. I’ve noticed that with repetitive phrases, after three, it will stop making an impact. I’m pretty satisfied with the three stanzas and they communicate the meaning of the poem well.

The first stanza is about dreams. Have you ever had a dream that was so good that you just wanted to keep sleeping and continue it, but once you realized that you were dreaming, you start to wake up? This is basically what it’s about – the frustration of your dreams being better than reality. With time as the theme, time is going against the narrator. The second stanza is about being in class (yes, I’m writing another blog post in class again). Often times, you’ll be in class and you feel like time is dragging like hours has gone by but it’s only a small portion of your life. You’re just not at your best interest to be at complete focus even though what you’ve learned will be later retained, but time isn’t on the narrator’s side again – it feels slow.

The final situation is about an impactful interpersonal relationship and how time seems to stop because I don’t name any evidence of other people being with them. It’s a pleasant moment, but instead of time being the barrier, it’s the narrator being fearful of getting too close. Now, it’s up to you to interpret the situation in the final paragraph and it does relate with me (as all my other writing does) but that’s all I’ll say. 😉

Anyways, thanks for reading!


Besides | Quick Piece Breakdown


Hey, I’m really sorry about late posts and lack there of! Since class started, my schedule is never really consistent. Because of this, I’m going to try and write posts ahead of time and schedule them so I’ll never miss a post and you’ll get what I write.

Alright, here’s to the breakdown.

This piece is darker than most of my other pieces. It doesn’t quite end on a happier note with a solid resolution, but this piece is the raw and honest truth about a portion of people’s minds. It’s quite violent and it’s as if I’m romanticizing the act of violence. Think of it this way – have you ever had those thoughts pop up into your mind and startle you? You’re taken aback and you say to yourself oh I would never do such a thing! That’s true for most of the case, so what I’ve written is basically an illustration of these thoughts – no filter.

In the next paragraph, it’s a response to what your thoughts would be if someone told you that those thoughts (first paragraph) runs through your mind. There’s a slight sense of fear, but if you knew the person, you would be confident that they would never act on those thoughts. Here’s where my title choice comes in. Besides is defined as apart from. Those thoughts are apart from who you normally are and they don’t necessarily define you, but are just a small portion of you. It’s okay to have these thoughts. It’s not okay when you start acting on them and then it becomes a separate issue.

I hope you enjoyed!


Besides | Quick Piece

Upon sitting still and hearing the world quietly, I notice something brooding within me. There’s a sense of darkness residing in me, a slow creeping of unwanted emotions. You may see me as someone so gentle and quiet, but I see myself as a vessel to contain my darkness. For you don’t know how much I’m capable of even when it means that I will lose it all. Besides my softness, I can allow my voice to reach the ceiling and form it into a knife and watch the lacerations form. Besides my gentleness, I can allow my hands to squeeze and strike, without holding back and I will watch the bruises blossom and the tears forming to nourish the wounds. Besides my neatness, I can allow just a swift movement of my hand to obliterate everything in sight, the symphony of glass shattering accompanied with my vocal stabbings.

You watch my movements that appear so calculating and you wonder if I’m actually capable of what I claim. Could I lash out in an instant? Could I just remain calm? I’ve allowed you to see my darkness side and you remain still, watching me carefully. It appears that I’ve left you paranoid, but rest assured I rest my thoughts on something lighter even though they have a tendency to drift away when unsupervised. It’s just a routine in my day, a slight break in my mentality that appears besides myself.

Dream Big | Quick Piece Breakdown

Dream Big

This story was inspired on a walk back from class. I saw a class of elementary school students sitting side-by-side on the entrance of the school. We’ve gotten an email saying that there will be students, but upon seeing them, it struck me that I once was that small and curious. Why did I let that curiosity go and become indifference? Plus, they were pretty cute.

Basically this story is about a little kid’s adventure with his class in a university. He’s so full of awe and inspiration that he quickly knows what he wants to do and a college student spontaneously decides to tell him to dream big. I really wanted to ensue the meaning of determination and the child-like awe that should carry onto our adult life since it helps us see life in a brighter light, move forward and add onto the world. Having a child-like awe is actually one of my new year’s resolution!

This story is my first time in a couple weeks writing a proper dialogue and setting up a story, so it probably appears a little choppy and at the same time, I tried to make the tone appear like a child. Blake and Jimmy were supposed to represent the people who discourage your dreams claiming a bunch of things like that you’re not the right age, you aren’t capable or you just shouldn’t do it, but like Rhett, you should power through.

To those who are feeling discouraged about their dreams, this story is for you. When it feels like you’re alone in pursing your dream, remember why you developed the dream in the first place. Power through the negativity and yes, things will not be easy, but it isn’t impossible to accomplish. Best of luck!

Thanks for reading! If you have any suggestions, comments or recipes, feel free to leave a comment!

Stay dry,



Unconfined Thoughts – Whispering Stories

All around me, I see stories. In the crack of the sidewalk, I can see a dream that once was with suede shoes trotting on the worn gum paths. The owner of the shoes trying to find themselves through their fashion choices, but they find themselves somewhere they never wanted to. In the crack of a smile, I can peer through and sense that something is off and everything about them is a façade. Their brokenness shining through, but they choose to reach out and send love even though they’re an empty vessel. In the tremor of a hand, I brush my hands against the fragile cracks and veins and feel the wants and needs weaving in between each other. Lusts pushes you forward and you find yourself diving too fast and sinking becomes the end result. The strobing lights of the night linger on me, running its fingers down my shivering body and at the same time, I’m haunted by my past and future without ever feeling the rumble of the car. Down the hall, a vixen runs her fingernails along the walls, the traces of her sharp perfume wafts into my nose and her night life stuns and draws me in. What if I could have a double life, enabling my red lips and long legs to entrance men and at the same time, aim high at a prestigious university? The soft throbbing of dance music pulsing through the neighborhood and as I capture distinct beats, I wonder about the artist behind the piece and I wonder about the dancers and drinkers in the house, if they ever stop running. I know that I am. In the loud tones of my family, I can feel my hopes running dry, but even though this takes place right in front of me, I treat it as a façade.

The stories of the world whisper in my ears and I used to shiver from the mere contact of the words because they remained trapped in me. Things that could be, once were and will be haunt me and I stay put. In my left ear, it pulls me down saying that I could never be what I want to. In my right ear, it brushes its fingers against my cheek saying that I can do anything, I just have to leave and forget. The whispers and wishes of the world curse at me, spit at me and beat me to a pulp. They want it all, my life and my mind. Dare I be the lost hope? Dare I be the broken vessel? Dare I be full of lust and night lights? Dare I be the vixen? Endlessly, the whispering stories are like a curse to me – this was my call to claim the title of a writer.

Written: 1/16/17 2:11am