Passion

He gazed at me through clouds of smoke

Eyes low and sparkling like two diamonds against dark brown skin

I’m scared

Of what

Everything that you are and everything I’m not

How can you know what is and not

It’s in the way you speak without offending

And argue your point without rising

But you

Your soul is an inner fire my love

As does matches against grain

Words strike your soul

Be not afraid of this fire

For some

Call it passion

A Day of Dreams

There is no greater joy than waking up to a room filled with sunshine on a day which will not be interrupted with life’s responsibilities.

My day begins in a box of nothing, illuminated by sheer curtains and white walls. The sun is my motivation in life. I walk over to the balcony and open the double doors to a warm breeze that smells like home. I close my eyes as the sun warms my tanned skin. The life I have always imagined has arrived in the most appropriate timing. Giving myself timelines was never my thing. I knew everything would work out and to worry about when it should happen only prolonged the process.

I walk inside to begin my morning routine consisting of skin care and caffeine. I set my phone to my favourite playlist. ‘Beach Vibes’. The most appropriate name for the soundtrack to my life. I return to the balcony with a cup of black coffee and my journal. The perfect scene to document in bright pink ink. My mind has always preferred pens over keyboards.

I am reminded of the times that I dreamed of a day like this. I would be able to feel the sensations that would go along with this day. Everything is even more vibrant than I could’ve imagined it.

As you write your story, remember that the more energy you pour into negative ones, the more you will attract. I decided that it was in my best interest to write about the life I want rather than the life I had.

Indigenous in America

Throughout history people have always stuck with others who were similar to themselves. As in, tribes stuck together and often did not mingle with outsiders. Mostly for survival and being able to fend for themselves. I will acknowledge that on every continent there existed some sort of kingdom where a person may have provided in a grand way for his people or convinced them that God came to them in a dream and declared them a king. Something different was happening in Europe. They had established kingdoms with specific border lines. They were the first people in the world to have taken it that far. Imagine living in a world with no borders or customs. What chaos right? Maybe not. Imagine how peaceful it was. Sure people fought over land and resources but most likely between tribes or villages of 100-500 people, not between whole countries where death tolls reach millions such as that of the world wars. 

Into to the ‘age of exploration’, or the age of colonization. This was when the Europeans began to visit other countries and claim ‘mine.’ Cause they felt like it, why not right? As this was happening, Indigenous people everywhere were welcoming. So for example when europeans arrived in Cuba and Brazil, the indigenous people gave them gold and silver. It wasn’t that big of a deal to them but of course, the white man took it to the next level and enslaved the people to mine as much gold for him as possible to send back to the kingdom. 

As time may have it, the white man realized the Americas were a place he could establish a lot of wealth through resources. Ah, the OG American Dream. As they established colonies, they began their sugar cane heist while enslaving more indigenous people to do work they were too weak for. Indigenous people have been on this land for thousands of years so it wasn’t too easy to keep them enslaved since they knew the land so well. As this was happening, across the world in Africa were the Arab colonizers influencing a wider scale slave trade. The European colonizers saw this and of course, took a bad to another level of bad and began purchasing and kidnapping millions of African Indigenous people from their lands to bring to the Americas. The beginning of the Atlantic slave trade. 

As they realized how endless the resources were, they set up camp in the Americas. Imagine you’re just chilling, enjoying life and this dirty man comes in your house and says he’s going to eat all your food and live in your house but you can live in the basement. So yes, Indigenous people did fight back. They weren’t accustomed to fighting wars to the extent of the white man though so it was an unfair battle. Through diplomacy didn’t work either, at the meeting of the Aztec Emperor and the king’s minion, the emperor brought offerings of gold and a willingness to say, ‘fine you stay over there but mind your own business’. But as you may have guessed, mans was not reasonable nor rational. He beheaded the emperor and ordered the military to attack the kingdom. 

As Indigenous people were being murdered and wiped out by the sicknesses and violences that the white man brought with him, society was being established. Caste systems were put in place. Africans at the bottom, Indigenous, Mestizos (half white, half indigenous), europeans born in America, europeans born in Europe. I won’t doubt that there was mingling between people in the world and maybe they were prejudiced when their daughter wanted to marry outside the tribe, but why does the white man live in such extremes? 

As other European countries made their way over to establish their claims to land they ‘discovered’, borders were put in place. The French, the British, the Portuguese and the Spanish established their territories. And then proceeded to fight with each other over who gets what. Indigenous people watching like ‘how are you just gonna say you own mother earth, when mother earth owns us?’

They set up their governments, they push us to the side and give us whatever they deem to be enough. 

They force our chiefs to sign treaties that they can’t understand. 

They force us to learn their language and their ways, to follow their religion and stay to the side. 

Our children are kidnapped and forced into boarding schools where their long braids are cut to match the priests who beat them for speaking the language that surpasses time and churches. 

We are banned from ceremony and traditional practices.

We aren’t allowed to leave the reserve.

Oil companies mine our land and pollute our water. 

We protest. 

We die. 

At one point in time, Indigenous people lived harmoniously with the land and every living being within it. We honoured the land that gives us life. We never established borders or built walls. We honoured each other and understood that every living being was connected with us. Through colonization we have been forgotten. Indigenous communities everywhere are living in poverty without access to clean water on our own land. When you build pipelines on our land, we protest because we understand that water is life and by building a pipeline the future of our children will fight for survival. This extends into South America and indigenous communities in Africa and Australia and Asia. Indigenous people worldwide are living without access to basic human rights. We don’t want our land back. It never belonged to us. We want to be treated like humans.

Indigenous people now make up .08% of the population in the United States.

The F Word

Scrolling through instagram as crumbs fall in your lap that you don’t care to dust off. Your hand skims the bottom of the bowl as you throw the fleece blanket to the side so that you can speed walk to the kitchen and pick up the bag. Unravelling the bag and stuffing a handful in your mouth you’re reminded of the half eaten chip dip from the last time you binged. You return to your nest of blankets and endless pillows, bag of chips and container of dip in hand. Netflix asks you if you’re still watching.

I know it’s just a laptop but that question feels like a stab to the successful person I thought I’d’ be by now and the reality I’ve become. Resume.

But this isn’t an every day thing. I mean, I can quit this lifestyle any time I want. I can trade my slippers in for some Nikes, my robe for yoga pants and my Netflix membership for a gym membership. Someday though, not today, I’m clearly busy today. Doing what? I’m dealing with my emotions with food and distractions, it’s called self care.

And then one day, I make the decision to put my gym membership to use after binging on a large fries from McDonald’s. ‘This is the right thing to do’ I say to myself as I drag my feet towards the gym entrance. 20 minutes. Thats it and then I can go home. I walk through the locker room and pass by the scale, I squint at it and take a second to ask myself if I really want to know. Couldn’t hurt right? 198.3. Oh I still have my shoes on, duh. 198.2. Shit I say out loud as I stare into the mirror pinching the fat that had accumulated into a muffin top over the past 5 years.

Do you like not own a mirror or something? How do you just gain 40 pounds in a year and not even notice? Voice of reason. The devil on my shoulder somehow disguises itself as an angel…again. You’re right. I am so fat. I’m not leaving this gym until I remember who I am. I won’t be fat anymore. This is disgusting.

Why is it that you speak to yourself this way? You would never tell your best friend these things, would you? Don’t be so hard on yourself. Do it for the right reasons. Do it because you want to make it a part of your self care routine. Don’t make it about appearance or automatically resort to the f word. Get through one workout and see how good it feels. Do it because it makes you feel like you’re in control of your own life and destiny. Do it because you love you. You do. Don’t you?

In Progress…


I sat in the heated leather seat as I felt the crisp winter wind swiftly blow in my face. I exhale the smoke from my pipe and reflect on my life and my personality as I had done every day since I’d turned 20. 20 felt like a reward, like I had kept myself in a cage for 19 years of my life. I felt free. Free to be myself and pursue opportunities I had always dreamed of. I’m 21 now and I can’t begin to express how much that feeling has elevated me to a level I never even knew existed.

I’ve always been very passionate about my opinions and how I express myself. This has always been a fact about me. The only thing that’s changed is how openly I do this. As a kid, I had been very sure of myself, as most kids are. I knew what I wanted to do at all times, I never thought twice about what I would wear, I knew who my friends were and who they weren’t and I was very specific about my social circle. I was outspoken and quick to tell anyone who asked about my personal opinions and life. After a certain point in my life, this all changed. I remember being told, “You know don’t have to share everything with everyone, some things should not be shared.” So as a dramatic ass kid/scorpio rising, I interpreted this as; people are the enemy and information about you is their weapon. It wasn’t until recently in my life that I realized I had formed this notion in my mind.

The only reason I realized this information was because of a discussion I had with a new friend who I had barely known. We talked conspiracy theories, human rights and the lack of love in the world. As expected, the conversation progressed into my least favourite topic…relationships. I’ve been asked what happened with my exes too many times to count but this time the question gained meaning. “Honestly, we just didn’t work out, we weren’t compatible.” I replied monotonously. “Is this how we’re doing this? I can’t tell you everything I want to tell you if you can’t tell me everything” he said with a look that made me question why I never tell my truth. “Well…” I paused. “The truth is that we started out completely in love with each other and it faded into a power struggle, filled with possessive and controlling energy. I felt drained, he only listened to my feelings when I was crying or yelling and we had conflicting ways of dealing with our emotions.” I took a deep breath after flooding the conversation with my word vomit. I felt completely vulnerable to the point where I felt a lump in my throat. He looked at me with sympathy and broke down crying. He told me a story of a girl whose heart he’d broken. I advised him to call her and apologize. It seemed obvious to me he was deeply sorry for treating her the way he had. “I can’t” he said as he looked away. “Well, why not?” I questioned, genuinely interested. “I just can’t.” We sat in silence for a few moments and this was the first time it had come together.

I was baffled at how he had truly believed he couldn’t contact her. Nothing was stopping him, he had her phone number, all he had to do was dial the number or type the text message. I went home and reflected deeper on this conversation. I wondered if anyone was stopping themselves from talking to me. I had wondered if the people who had hurt me in my life had wanted to apologize but felt they couldn’t. And then I flipped the conversation back to myself. I always tell people I’m close to how I’m feeling but it never goes farther than my close friends and family. I need to share my truth. In order for the majority to think something is okay, someone has to say it. I want to encourage as many people as possible to share their truth in whatever way that may be.

I’ve thought about creating a blog of my journals for years now. But only now, as I stare into the glistening black water have I realized what I need to do. There are 7 billion humans on this planet. I’m not sure how many we’re capable of communicating with in one life time but I want to interact with as many as possible. My general disinterest in people stemmed from my belief that people were like jars and you could read the label but it’s not easy to open. Why can’t we be open jars? I have nothing bad to say so who can use my words against me? Nobody.