Magnolia | Quick Piece Breakdown

Hello everyone,

I’m writing this outside, so whoever sent the sun to me – thanks! 😉


This week, I was pretty lost about what to write because of recent events that happened at my University. I’m planning on writing a post about it! The events rang in my head, but I didn’t want to write a piece that circulated around those blaring issues. I wanted to write a piece about hope rising from a place of trouble. I also bought a new hand lotion that said it smelled like magnolias and it smelled wonderful! I’m basically saying that this piece was born out of many inspirations.

This piece is full of “what if”s, a place of uncertainty. What if the narrator never went out drinking with her so-called friends, how would she felt? What if her best friend was no good and wasn’t able to help the narrator? What if the narrator didn’t get caught up in the mess that it seems like she trapped herself in? The narrator is in all of these “what if” scenarios. Everything that could’ve gone wrong did go wrong, but somehow she stops herself from continuing making it worse for herself.

It starts with the narrator reminiscing about a time that was safe, lying with her mom and feeling her mom’s trouble and wondering how she could help. And then, the narrator finds herself in her her place of trouble. I reveal that the narrator has a problem with drinking impulsively after being lured out by her “friends”. There are quotes around “friends” because they aren’t who the narrator would call her friends and that is shown in contrast with her interaction with her best friend.

The narrator is stuck and she’s so ashamed that she couldn’t find herself going out to meet her best friend. She tries to reason with her best friend and put up an entire façade about how she’s feeling, but her best friend sees right through her lies and gets right to work in helping her friend get back together again. And that’s the biggest contrast – between the apparent broken relationship the narrator has with her mother, her “friends” who took her out drinking despite knowing her impulsive behavior and how the narrator treats herself with belittling remarks and expectations that are way too high. Her best friend grounds her and brings her a little glimpse of hope and without even saying “everything is going to be okay”, she shows it.

I didn’t realize it, but magnolia is a flower that is traditionally linked with femininity. Women have an unspoken bond with each other even if there is a slight conflict between them. We have each other’s back. And this rule can definitely apply to the rest of humanity especially with ongoing conflicts just like what had happened at my university. We need the hope, the unspoken hope to reassure us and remind us that not everything is dark and painful and we can regain our steps again.

Thanks for reading my piece & I hope you liked it!



Magnolia | Quick Piece

The scent of magnolias overcame me as I walked along home. It was a comforting scent that reminded me of nights with my mom. I would lie in her arms and she would tell me about the drama that happened at work. “I don’t know why Sharon would always think that I’m stealing from the office storage! What would I do with 50 boxes of paper clips?” my mom laughed and sighed. “I’m getting tired. You should head to bed, it’s a big day tomorrow!” Somewhere in my mind as a nine year old, I wanted to give her advice because when I was lying on her chest, I could feel her ragged breaths and skipping heart. I knew from my science classes that hearts and lungs shouldn’t make that kind of rhythm, but my mom’s did. “It just can’t be helped.” I said to myself. “You just have to keep going.” I said as I continued walking down the street back to my apartment.

The next morning, I woke up with a bottle in my hand. I don’t even remember going out to drink because I swore to myself that I wouldn’t have anymore alcohol in my house after what happened last time. I groaned and rolled over to my side. “Where is my damn phone? Please don’t tell me I lost it.” I muttered as I dug through a pile of my clothes. I managed to find my phone in the pocket of a pair of jeans I like to call, butt enhancers. I only wear those jeans when I go out. “Fuck. I went out last night. What did I do this time?” I said as I scrolled through my text messages. It seemed like my “friends” texted me right as I got home saying if anyone wanted to go out for a couple drinks and I was already regretfully too deep in my reminiscing to even realize that I was going to do more damage than intended. I laughed out loud and shouted to no one in particular. “According to this fucking group text, I hooked up with my ex-last night! Good thing I had the right mentality to tell him that I didn’t want to sleep with him! Goodness gracious!” Without realizing it, tears started flowing down my face. “The day hasn’t even fully started yet and I’m already crying! Wonderful!” I bawled and cursed as I struggled to get out of bed and make myself a little more presentable. In my frantic state, I somehow managed to drink 2 cups of water, call up my best friend from high school and get out the door to meet her at our favorite donut spot.

I arrived at the store and I couldn’t get out of my car. I pulled down the sun visor and stared at myself. I was still wearing last night’s eyeliner and my hair was so greasy that I could make fries from them. Usually I don’t care about what I looked like, but I just couldn’t stop thinking about my mom. If she saw my like this, she would tell me to get myself together and move on. “Mothers! They just know exactly what to say, don’t they!” I screamed as tears started flowing down my face again. “I hate this. I hate this pain I feel. Why does it have to be me?” I rested my head on the steering wheel and closed my eyes, comforted by the silence that surrounded me. A sharp rapping at the window startled me. My best friend was frantically knocking at my window and screaming my name. “I’m okay!” I called out and opening the door. “I was just so tired. I think I just fell asleep. Sorry about that!” My best friend rolled her eyes and said, “Cut the bullshit.” she reached over and wiped my eyeliner from my cheek. She pulled a hat from her purse and said, “Donuts are on me and let’s talk in the car, okay?”

Plagiarism | Poetry Breakdown

Hello everyone,

I’m waiting on that warm sunny day. If you have some, please send it over my way! 🙂


“You are incredible. Did you know that?”
the voice floated over to me and I looked up hoping to see
you, but it was just empty space.
It’s really annoying how I have to hold myself high
with an upright back and in-tuned ear.
Voices appear too ridged and bright,
like sugar was unwillingly pumped through their veins
just like the bags of gummy worms I eat to maintain my composure.

“Honey, honey, honey – what do you want to do for your life?”
I almost wanted to belt out and say,
“I want to stay alive, but there are too many things bringing me down.”
I know you’ll say that I shouldn’t let these things bring me down
and I’m stronger
and I’m better
and I can rise above.
But words are just words.
And words won’t be action
until you move your mind.

I am told in order to go with the flow,
you have to be someone you’re not,
copy what everyone else does
and you’ll flow faster.
They also tell you to just be yourself.
And I want to scream.
They tell you to know what you want resides in your heart.
And I want to cry.
They tell you to just do it and it will follow through.
And I want to destroy everything.

If plagiarism is the “wrongful appropriation” of something true,
does that mean I’m cheating plagiarism
for the sake of acceptance?

This poem took way too long to write! I remember waking up in the middle of the night with a poetic line running through my head, combined it with my angst and wrote a little draft. I would revisit my baby poem to nourish it and it kind of turned into an awkward teenager, but my words weren’t really mashing with what I felt, so I gave the poem a little break. I know you’re not supposed to leave a kid unoccupied, but you know, I needed it to get past the awkward teenage years and mature! The birth of a poem!

Essentially this is a rant to myself and to everyone who just fails to see me as who I am. There are literally so many contradictions to being a human and no one really reassures you and says that having contradictions is the exact thing of being human. You’re constantly being told to “be yourself” when people don’t accept you if you’re going to make a sassy remark. They’ll laugh politely and we’ll move on to conforming to societal standards. There are all these “requirements” and “timelines” that we have to make and it’s irritating because I can do things at my own pace.

In the first paragraph, the “you” can be someone who you can confide in without any filters and still feel good about yourself or that “you” can even be yourself. As you can see by the first sentence, that “you” isn’t there, leaving the narrator a little vulnerable and it ends up being all terribly sweet and fake. It’s always an ethical battle – be fake and have everyone accept you because you’re more “relatable” and “well-rounded” or do you be yourself and risk having a hard time finding a bond? At least I always find myself asking that question.

I hope you enjoyed my poem! Thanks for reading!


Good-Night | Quick Piece Breakdown

Hello everyone,

I hope you’re having a good week so far!


Did you notice that 2 out of the 3 quick pieces I’ve written this month are sleep based? Maybe it’s because I’ve written these stories when I’m about to go to bed or because I’ve realigned my sleep schedule and it feels great! But have you ever realized how much time you spend on your bed? We spend about a third of our lives sleeping and you definitely do other things in bed like watch movies and read books, so it makes sense that most of my stories revolve around sleep. 😉

This story is basically about a woman who wakes up from a nightmare and went out to look for the “murderer”, but her boyfriend noticed and reassured her before going back to bed. It’s a simple, sweet story and I like to think that love doesn’t always have to be sloppy kisses, sobbing tears and sex. It can be simple acts of understanding and cherishing your significant other’s time. It’s actually simpler than you think!

Thanks for reading my short piece! I hope you enjoyed it!


Good-Night | Quick Piece

I woke up with a start. Someone was getting murdered and I could’ve prevented it. The sight, the memory was so vivid that I was almost convinced that it had happened, yet no matter what I did to tell myself that it was just a dream, my mind wouldn’t rest. My eyes darted around the pitch black room, scanning the warped shadows as I tried to distinguish the shadows between reality and mind tricks. As I started to sit up to scan the room again, a soft snore startled me. I smiled as I saw my boyfriend sleeping peacefully, curled on the side. I crept out of bed without disturbing him and looked around in every corner. I made sure to check under the desk, but no one was there. “Honey? What are you doing under there?” a groggy voice called out in the dark. I crawled out from under the desk and saw my confused and tired boyfriend awkwardly standing in the shadows. “I had a nightmare and dreamt that there was a murderer, so I got really paranoid and wanted to look–“ my boyfriend wrapped me in a tight hug and kissed me on the forehead. “It’s okay. I’ll protect you. Let’s go back to sleep.” he said as he led me back to bed. He tucked me in and crawled in after me. Within minutes, we were fast asleep. The next morning, I woke up to the morning sun and my boyfriend’s bright eyes. “What did you dream of?” he whispered. “Eating endless chocolate cake with you.” I said with a smile. He closed his eyes and laughed. “Good, no more murderers.”

It’s All Human | Poetry Breakdown

Hello everyone,

Here’s a fun fact about squids: A giant squid’s eyeball is about the same size as a basketball.

It’s All Human

My dear, don’t think about the amount of toothpaste you use in your lifetime.
How the plastic tubes sit in landfills.
How the chemicals accidently make their way
around your digestive system.
How you have to make a difficult decision
between the $3 toothpaste and $1.00 toothpaste.
How you somehow know that these statistics are recorded
and put into world record books, just for kids to wonder
and for adults to fall into an existential crisis each time they throw out the trash.

It’s hard being a human.
Remembering to put on chapstick so your lips don’t peel.
Remembering to wash your clothes, so you have underwear for tomorrow.
Remembering to eat your greens, so your bowels don’t cease on you.

We create cringe compilations of those beyond the spectrum of normality
as a laughing stock or perhaps as a lesson to learn, a lesson to conceal.
We hide from any remark of racism and avoid all topics of ethics
because it’s “not our problem” and “it’s not going to do anything anyways”.
We twist and turn beliefs until they’re completely distorted
and not even a single plea will be properly translated without being manipulated.

It’s so hard being human.
Worrying about human trafficking
or if I could pay next month’s bills.
Worrying about my children’s education,
if they can get out of the system so they won’t have to suffer.
Worrying about rapists, bigots and, albeits
or if I could have enough time to buy groceries.

It’s hard being human –
why be indifferent or
why weigh one heavier than the other
when it’s all human.

This poem took 2 weeks to write. It started with a trip to Trader Joe’s and I was looking for a better alternative for toothpaste, but when I got to using it, it tasted really bad and didn’t seem to whiten my teeth. As much as I wanted to be more sustainable and try to make decisions that are better for my body, there are some things that you can’t sacrifice. For me, toothpaste must always whiten, clean and prevent my teeth from developing cavities. You can’t really find natural toothpaste that does those jobs, but if you know of some, let me know. 😉

On a more serious note, this poem is about most of the injustices that occur on a daily basis mixed with the responsibilities that come with being human. Using the word, human, sounds a little indifferent to the fact that each individual is unique with a wide variety of backgrounds, but you get what I’m saying.

You’ve been through a tough time and someone is counseling you. They say, “You should be grateful that you don’t have it as bad. There are people out there suffering things that are a lot worse than you.” Honestly, I hate it when people give me sympathy like that. It just sounds like they’re putting down what you’ve been through and not valuing your pain. Yes, there are people who go through worse, but everyone has their own journey, so how could you compare them? Just like how there are many issues in the world right now and I covered a few in my poem, but there are also the “less important” issues in your personal life. While paying for rent isn’t as “weighted” as surviving a war, they’re both necessary for survival.

Although this doesn’t mean that worldwide issues should be diluted to receiving the same attention as daily issues. I’m calling for an equal treatment that’s deemed respectable for each unique situation. That’s why it’s hard being a human because you need to know how to properly discern how to respond to an issue. We are the humans, the most complex creatures and how we react will determine its worth, so why not react better?

Thanks for reading & I hope you have a great day!


Liar | Quick Piece Breakdown

Hello everyone,

Fun fact: it snowed this week. I’m not happy and I don’t want to talk about it. How’s your “spring” going?


This piece was based on a personal rut I’ve been having. It’s probably because I’ll be graduating in almost a month, don’t have security on a job yet and I’m getting overloaded with projects when all I want to do is lounge all day.While I didn’t stay inside all day and build a false world around myself, I have spent long hours doing everything besides my homework.

I really wanted this piece to have a comforting tone mixed with an indifferent tone. It’s actually a pretty sad story since the narrator just didn’t try to make the situation better for themselves. I suppose you could call a mass creation of writing progress, but based on the last line, the narrator was trying to hang on to the better times when they weren’t alone. Strangely enough, the narrator doesn’t have any fear for what will become of them. It’s more so how long they’re able to keep it up. The narrator is lying to themselves by creating this façade and that is the worse way to treat yourself.

If you’re ever feeling monotonous, here are some things you can do to cure monotony!

  • Buy some cake that you’ve always wanted to try and eat it by yourself
  • Dance spontaneously to songs you can’t stand
  • Put on mismatched socks and flaunt them
  • Scrub the nastiest corners of your house
  • Go on a walk in the park and name every bug, plant and bird you come across

I hope you enjoyed Liar! Thanks for reading!