Bella | Quick Piece Breakdown

Hello everyone!

I’m back and writing stories again! I hope you didn’t miss me too much! This summer, I’m really going to try my hardest to make sure I write every week whether it be a story, poem or a vignette. Hey, maybe you can keep me accountable.


This story was inspired about some birds that were having a conversation outside of my window. From there, it spiraled into this story you just read. I also incorporated my time being alone in my apartment into this character and how it can shift your mentality and be all about you.

Basically, this story is about a man who is recalling small aspects of his life. He’s basically all alone in his room and going about the day. He had an argument with his mother, but he doesn’t seem as concerned with it as he is with his seperation from his best friend and not being able to partake in different stages of his best friend’s life all because he had simply rejected him. At the end, he is shown to have some aspect of emotion when he laughs at seeing his best friend’s daughter, Belle, but he ends up crying himself to sleep.

A sad story? Yes, I’m sorry.

A lot could be interpreted from this story from friendship to depression to how someone so small could bring someone so much joy to isolation. My main idea for this story as I continued to write it from my initial sentence about chirping birds is that people aren’t always who they’re perceived to be even the darkest and saddest of individuals or even those who don’t appear to be sad at all. There’s a backstory to everything (including that flash fiction/short story).

Fun Fact: Bella means promise and beautiful, so in a way, the main character is promising to himself that things will get better somehow.

I hope you enjoy this piece!



Bella | Quick Piece

Outside the window, the birds happily flitted around announcing their cheer for the world to everyone who was listening. I just happened to be listening, but I wasn’t too happy that I had no choice. I stared at my blank computer screen and saw a sad reflection of myself. I wiggled my eyebrow like a mother would to entertain her child, but I felt no joy erupt from within me. I picked up my phone and checked the time even though I had a clock sitting on the shelf above me. It read 3:20pm, too early for dinner, too late for lunch. My eyes refocused from the numbers and onto the smiling face I had set as my wallpaper. Every part of her was radiating with joy that was matched with a brilliant smile. At the corners of her eyes, they crinkle with a gentle reminder that she was a woman with a story. Perhaps she was a mother or a sister or someone’s lover. I cracked a smile, but the phone’s screen shut off, brutally reminding me of my balding head, unshaven face and acne broken face. I resisted the urge to fling my phone into the wall like I did with my old phone and put it down on my stack of World War II books. My mother gave them to me every single Christmas and birthday until I stood up during one of my forced parties and announced, “I don’t read those fucking books. I don’t understand why you think I would enjoy them.” Needless to say, that was the last party and the last time I saw my mother. In fact, I see that anonymous smiling woman on my phone screen more than I see her or any other female. The last time someone came over to my place was a couple weeks after I was unofficially denounced from the family. That someone was my best friend and when I was younger, he would be the one to bring me out of my “lock-yourself-into-your-room-and-sulk” phase. When he came over, I decided that I wanted to stay in that phase, so he left. I checked up on him, through Facebook of course. He got married three years ago and another bloke was the best man even though I had agreed with him when we were twelve that I would be the one no matter what. I guess that contract was bullshit to begin with anyways. I have to admit that that was what caused me to fling my other phone into the wall. You see, I have a strict bedtime routine where I would check up on him before I fall asleep and you can piece together what happened after I was disrupted from my routine. I just went to Amazon and ordered myself a better and nicer phone and put a new girl as the wallpaper.

I looked out the window and noticed that the birds had quieted down and night had fallen before I even knew it. “Well, I must’ve been more productive than I thought I would be.” I muttered to myself before rolling into bed and pulling out my phone and checking up on my ex-best friend. He has a daughter now named Bella and yesterday he put up a video of him doing her blond curls for the first time. Her laughter echoed in my ears and for the first time, my chest erupted in joy and I burst out in laughter only to end in solitary tears. I reassured myself and whispered, “That was a good laugh. Better save that up. Don’t worry, everything will be okay.” I gently kissed the phone screen and slipped it under my pillow, closing my eyes. A single tear rolled down my cheek, bidding me good night.

Unconfined Thoughts 24 — An Evening Stroll

When I was walking home from meeting up with my friend yesterday, I passed this man. Even though our total interaction on the world was less than 1 second, something about him intrigued me. There was something about his gait and how his leather boots clopped into the cobblestone streets — a perfect match. Or maybe it was how he smelled and how it lingered around me, enticing me, but he was already down the street. Based on how he smelled and how he dressed, I think he was on a date. What if it was a foreign exchange of secrecy? I could picture him meeting up with a vixen with a tight black dress and bright red lipstick. She would lean in and try to entice him, but he stays still and asks for the secrets. Or maybe he was the type of guy who may appear sophisticated on the outside with tailored suits and designer shoes, but he would be that guy who leaves enthusiastic comments in random YouTube videos. He doesn’t really seem like the type to spend hours watching cat videos, then again, no one ever looks like it. I turned back after our brief exchange and witnessed him pulling out his phone, check his messages before slipping it back into his pockets.

I was on my way to meet this girl I matched with on Tinder, but I passed this girl on the way there. The gleam in her eye indicated that a lot more shit went down in her life than she would’ve liked, but based on how she dressed, smelled and looked, she handled it like a boss. I smiled to myself as we passed each other before a crazy idea popped into my head. I pulled out my phone and quickly messaged the girl from Tinder saying that I suddenly fell ill, turned around and said, “Hey, you! This is probably going to sound weird, but I think you’re beautiful and do you want to grab a drink or something?”

Written: 5/27/17 8:03pm

Note: I couldn’t decide whether or not I should schedule this for a Quick Piece or post it as an Unconfined Thoughts because this had never happened to me. I was just really excited to share this piece with you all. I would definitely consider this piece as flash fiction though. I’ll give you a couple words as analysis to compromise: spontaneous and impulsive, but potentially life changing decision of open minded individuals. Inspired by: my long marathons of watching YouTube videos and wondering what kind of person would write each comment. Hope you enjoyed! 🙂

It’s Destiny | Poetry Breakdown


I hope all has been well for you!

It’s Destiny

It’s Destiny
Old ladies sit on the paint-peeling porch,
smoke emerging from their rosy lips
followed by the whispers of
what once was
what will be
and what is.
They see all like the Fates
with their darting eyes.
All I can do is duck my head and hope
they don’t unravel my secrets.

A young lady sits on the marbled floor
blood dripping from her fingers,
not a trace of remorse on her face.
Out the window she smells traces of her
something that resembles her mother’s cooking
and tears begin to flow
as her fingers trace 911.

A musician waltzes with himself down the streets
of the damp morning,
oboes and cellos taking his hand
and the timpani grace each step he takes.
All night he spent scribbling down calculations necessary to send a man to moon
only until he plays his jam
did he realize that he rather be the one
going to the moon.

A wise professor quietly steps into his bedroom
only to find the haunting silhouette of another man caressing his wife’s cheek
like he did on their wedding day.
Shocked, he found himself.
Chocking, he grasped his throat.
Collapsing, he met the floor.
A singular thought escaped through his lips
“Of all the questions I’ve answered in classes,
nothing in my studies has prepared me for this.”

I wake at the sound of my alarm
and peer out the window, the cracking of dawn
just appearing over the horizon — a smiling world.
My soul had been sobbing and weeping endlessly,
but I suppose it’s destiny that I find the courage
to embrace the opening dawn.

One of my good friends told me to put 100% into my writing, so here’s a nod to that – highly creative and full of imagery, a little shocking, but with good intentions. I hope you enjoyed reading it!

Basically this poem is about embracing life from the complexities, complications to the simplest notions. I start with old ladies because when I was walking back to my place, I saw that these old ladies were always out on their porch. I found it peculiar because it was a college neighborhood where everyone is a college student or of that age, so it’s quite a sight when you see someone who isn’t your age or the professor’s age. I also thought that they would be the best fit to represent wisdom and experience.

From there, I describe a crazy incident (not going to say what, so use your imagination) and the lady turning herself in, a student who realizes what he wants to do and then a professor who got his heart broken in the worst way possible. All these scenarios have more to them obviously such as whether or not the lady was forced to cause the crazy incident or if the relationship between the professor and his wife was strained. There’s a bizarre sense of liberation and loss of control at the same time.

Finally, a connection to the reader and I do this by using I. You can be that I or it could just be me talking to you. It’s up to you and how you interpret it. Dawn represents the start of something new and fully embracing it. Changes are imminent, but you just need to adapt to them.

Thanks for reading!


Three Years | Blog Birthday

On May 10, 2014, I created this blog. Three years (and five days) later, my content has evolved in ways that I never imagined it would. Some things have remained consistent — I’m still writing, but I’ve truly identified what I really love to write that is, flash fiction and poetry. I’ve realized that I want to find a job somewhere in publishing/editing after taking a semester long class developing a school-wide publication. While I still would love to chill and write, an ideal career for me, that’s going to take some time. Yes, I’m still going to keep working on my writing. Yes, this blog is still going to be running. It’s all about stepping stones.


A year ago, I started being more consistent with my posts. This developed into Quick Pieces and I ended up posting 25 flash fiction/short stories accompanied by 23 Quick Piece Breakdown posts. I continued writing Poetry Breakdown and I ended up writing 18 posts. I started Unconfined Thoughts October 2016 to replaced Saturday Adventures to truly express myself. I ended up writing 23 posts, not counting the introduction post.

I’m pretty proud of myself!

I have to say that at first, it was hard to get back into the groove of poetry, but as I continued to write it each week, it flowed nicely. I also realized that my writing style in my flash fiction was transitioning nicely into a good balance between fancy poetic and moving plot. Oh yeah, I changed the design of my blog!

Here’s to another year of blogging and writing!

Thanks for sticking with me! 🙂

Year 1

Year 2

First post


Concerto | Poetry Breakdown

Hello everyone,

I hope you’re doing well.


We draw our bows across the strings
and the cadenza echoes through the hall.
Silence falls.
One breath.
And applause.

I stand to take a bow among my teammates
like we have conquered something within ourselves,
presenting it for you to see.
The weight on my shoulder melts off
and all the sudden, the griping pains of rehearsal
fade into joy.

Winding corridors.
Bright lights and unfamiliar faces, but
not you
not here
not yet.
Crinkling flowers
Hugs and kisses
Selfies and congratulations
The latest gossip and if that guy who played the bass was hot.

There’s this loneliness after a concert
as I rejoin the regular, brandishing my weapon of choice
looking for the hero I saved through my persistent hard work.
There you are, beaming.
And my soul can finally rest.

I wrote this piece in honor of my concert that took place on Tuesday. If you didn’t know, I’m also a musician and I mainly play the violin. I’ve been playing the violin since I was in third grade, so about 13 years now and in college, I play the violin for the Symphony Orchestra which is amazing. There have been several times where I’ve teared up simply from the beauty of the music. So, I like to write about my musical experiences, but oftentimes I find that they’re indescribable.

After my concert on Tuesday, I was leaving the stage and felt this flood of loneliness which is odd because I should feel a sense of accomplishment. After a lot of thinking while meandering through the crowd, I came to the conclusion that throughout my musical career, I always had to wait for my loved ones after a concert. In high school, there would be some concerts that my parents couldn’t make so I would leave by myself. Sometimes parents would burst into the “waiting room” with flowers and collect their child, exclaiming “Great job! We’re so proud of you!” All around me, people would be talking and I would kind of be silent. I didn’t really have many friends and I typically kept to myself. I think I got used having to wait, but it doesn’t help that I see this celebration around me. Would I say that I’m jealous? Of course.

It’s a really bizarre feeling. From the adrenaline high of performing with the high concentration to make sure you don’t mess up to a strange sense of feeling lost in a building that you’re so familiar with — like everyone and everything became strange to you. Only until you see your parents or friends light up as they finally find you, the sense of accomplishment comes. Am I the only one to experience this? I don’t really enjoy this feeling because it really throws me off. I guess I won’t ever forget those lonely feelings, but I will always also remember those feelings when I was presented with flowers, asked for a picture and complimented. That embarrassing feeling is a good one.

Well, I wrote that poem about that confusing emotion and hopefully I’ve captured it and that you can somewhat relate as well.

Thanks for reading!


Dear Familiar Stranger | A World Around Us

To those who have been hurt whether by themselves or by others with sharp stabbing words or with painful blows, hang on. Your soul will heal and your organs may still bleed, but what doesn’t kill you makes you stronger right?

To those who have been lured into a trap of use and misuse, never fear because there is love and genuine care out there. Someone will come along and gently take you in, feeding and nourishing you until you’re all better. Never let that someone go or you’ll be like the trap that broke you.

To those who feel perpetually lost with no light in sight, no opening to look for and nothing to hold on to, just know that liberation is near. Your eyes will soon meet light and this revelation will stun and surprise you, but it will be present.

To those who work until their fingers bleed, shout in the empty streets, but no one listens or cares, there is still time.

Dear familiar stranger, you definitely heard life is hard as if they’re saying suck it up as if they’re saying we’re all suffering out here, there’s no reason for your complaints. Let it out. Sit in the pain. Feel it only so you can conquer it. It only gets worse when you sit in it and let it overtake you because that just means you are lesser than what you have created when in reality, what you have created should compliment you no matter the difficulty.