(Poems about Longing, Heartbreak, Freedom, Confusion and Search)

Dear daughters,

Before I was your mom, I was a schoolgirl.
Now you see me waking you up for your morning classes, pushing you to finish the homework you have to do.

But once, in my own school, I was the quiet girl,
the one who stepped aside when my name was called, the one who hide, and eat lunch alone.
Growing up, I was never an overachiever. I was never the first to be picked in class, never the leader in a group, and never someone who truly strived to become something more.

I spent most of my time reading, imagining that maybe, I could be a writer, but I never really searched for a path to make it happen.

Looking back at all the things I didn’t do, I’ve always seen myself as the second-in-command.

I was never the main character in my own story, not even in my own head.

And being the second leader, it’s a little sad.

It’s like waiting for a story to begin, without realizing I’ve been living it all along.

But even as a second leader,

I’ve kept my best friends’ secrets like treasure.

I’ve always made sure everyone was having a good time.

I’ve watched every word, ensuring nothing uncomfortable was said or done (which may have caused me social anxiety, but let’s call that a good trait).

I never lost my care for the people around me.

I went out of my way to avoid disappointing them.

I have loved.

And as I loved, my story begins.

these are days that I was feeling like missing a direction, like days goes by, after school and another school day. but, what I really want you to understand that;

a direction is not something that you can “lose” or you can “miss”.

it is a resource that is always available. the thing you have to do is just to pick it.
Sometimes, the direction isn’t the road we would choose first.
It may not even be the road we would choose at all.

But just to be able to see it,
even the slightest glimpse of it,
deep in your heart, you know where your feet are meant to lead.

The road may be bumpy,
ugly,
muddy.
It may ruin your dress.

But right there,
you’ll see the house with its porch light on.
You’ll get there.

You can run, you can walk,
but be sure to follow what your heart tells you.
The voice that feels familiar,
sometimes it can be hurtful, because it’s not what you want, what you expect.
but your heart always sense its home.

You are not losing direction.
You are not missing it.
You are searching for it.

And everybody do it.
You will be all right.

and so, finishing high school and land to the life of my 20s dating journey, I experience my biggest heartbreak, the Romeo and Juliet phases. TO BE HONEST, the heartbreak is my breakthrough, my becoming, my first climb to the hills of many almost, many uncertaintieS. The first was very memorable to me.

it was the kind of pain so fresh that pushed me toward writing it. and the habit continues, when I look at my page I got tons of poetry from a variety of feelings, occasions, and phases.

and so the young heartbreaks, led me to the discovery that I am a woman,

someone with something to offer.

But along the way, I realized that the love I had was only a side dish,

because what I was really celebrating was me.

Getting to know myself.

Embracing myself.

Fully.

At least for me, my early 20s felt like one grand party.

There were so many faces, people I met and instantly became friends with. We shared memories, laughter, and inside jokes. My early 20s were simply a sitcom, with everyone trying to deliver the best punchlines.

When I run into them now, it’s always, “Oh, how easy life was back then.” Because it truly was, chill, simple, full of time.

I went to college, studied, and still had hours to spare, just to hang out with my closest circle.

It was a never-ending party, even though we rarely hosted one.

Just gathering around a friend’s dinner table felt like a celebration, playing truth or dare, watching movies back-to-back.

If I had known how little time I’d get to enjoy their presence, I would’ve held on tighter, loved harder.

And if I ever get the chance to see them again, in the same place, with the same occasions, even the same outfits, I’d hug each one tight and say thank you.

Because we lasted. Believe me, we did.

It was a love story — a love story between me and life.

I hope you don’t find this book to create some timelines that feels prime, I want you to be relate to this piece, even in your late 30s, and yet your party is still a light up. Maybe in your 50s, that you trace back your side of the girl who dressed up hours for that party.

I hope we look at today, exactly the day you read this, is another celebration.

Hours at the office, or slow day at your home.

Wherever you are,

cheers with me.

Cheers to the truth, we lived with, 

Cheers to the time, we were given.

Cheers to the dare we walk in.