that bird I saw that couldn’t find a spot in the tree you know the one that inspired this little poem/ blurb 

June 6 2015

I saw a pigeon

struggle to fly into a tree

it kept trying

again

and

again

but it couldn’t find its footing

it would plummet in embarrassment

so it flew farther

and much harder than it thought it would ever have to

and it took the scenic route

and it flew back home

to safety

and comfort

it flew where it was wanted and loved

and the tree would still be there

when the wind settled down

and the branches were ready

When I run 

 December 2015

When I run

I don’t run for anything

I don’t run to a location

I am running

Running from you

And any ideas of you

And from the thoughts I have

Mindless

Tortuous

Thoughts

Overthinking and insanity

I run from myself

Yet I always seem to be too slow

western

May 2 2017

My psychologist said I look “Westernized”… like I know what means

Did she mean I look white? I wasn’t wearing a bindi or a saree so I must not be Indian?

And my optometrist said he could tell I wasn’t white from looking at the pigment in the back of my eyes… he said he wanted to ask my heritage and would have never guessed what I told him

He said I look “yellow like him”… I didn’t know what that meant since he was Greek.

I don’t get what it’s supposed to mean when people (adults) tell me things about myself and my race

Am I meant to be complimented when people say that “my mix is so interesting”

I don’t get it

My optometrist also said that everybody is mixed now and that none of them are really that interesting

I try to play along with these conversations but in reality its just a routine part of my day

It feels like when people ask me about my mix (aka where my parents are from), theyre really asking why am I not more white looking? Why am I not more brown looking? Why am I here? Why should they be interested in my existence on the MOST superficial and basic aspects of my existence?

Being mixed has shaped my entire view on the world (naturally) because I don’t really belong in any nice neat box to check off

So when one of the first things I get asked by strangers/ doctors/ anyone is about my racial mix, then it kinda makes you feel like shit

Like my value is in this answer and that I better make it interesting

ur the poem, take care to edit it when you need

when ur sad you’re meant to make art

and write poetry that lights to way

or shows the darkness to others

or just releases all your emotions into a beautiful and tangible being

but sometimes when your sad the best thing you can do it keep quiet

don’t validate it

just make a doctors appointment

tell them the truth

go see some more doctors

talk to your friends about your feelings

apologise for being so distant

and try to feel love and happiness again while you get better

sometimes when your sad you’re depressed

and sometimes when your depressed

you just gotta make yourself into art

and create your own beauty and light in yourself

people can’t touch it or see it or read it the same

but it feels better and it feels right

rambling thoughts .2

everything i think is a ramble

i remember another thought

and i think i’m so smart so i have to include it

even if it doesn’t flow or connect

i guess i’m finding my voice

‘wow that’s really smart write that’

that’s what i just thought writing this

so new and cool and everyone will want to read it

then you can make content good enough so you can post the link to it on your instagram

instagram is so cool its so original

oh brother 

now this is a ramble

i can’t fucking post this

i feel like i’ve been thrown for a loop

going on social media throws me in a daze of self doubt and near hatred

what do i do with my life and when will it be worthy of a post on my instagram?

i’m trying to be original and these rambles are my notes to a future self

or as evidence of my growth when i someday become a big famous writer

pretty proud, pretty sad

i wrote a poem when i was 12 and i was pretty proud of myself

i’m still proud of those words

so edgy and relevant

about race and war culture and the effects of how teens lose themselves in peer pressure

i read it in front of the whole grade

that’s a pretty big deal ya know

i think it was called pretty robots or something

i liked the one on race and war better but my teacher liked that one

i can’t find the poems tho

lost on a computer we chucked about 5 years ago

i guess that means i can just brag about how edgy i am and not have to prove it

or show anyone something that is probably shit

i still write poems and i still don’t show anyone

i just tell people they’re really good and deep and meaningful

but really they’re just sad and i cry whenever i read them

why am i so sad?

anyway, I’m a pretty good poet

i’ll have to show you sometime