To My First Love

Dear My Main Man,

I write to you because out of every helping hand I have received in this world yours is the one with the most impact. You receive the least amount of credit and praise for the things you do. You’ve always stood back and let me shine or run in the rain knowing I always get caught up in a storm. You’re always stepping in when I call for you knowing you can’t be more than a few feet away ready to comfort me in your arms as you have been doing for years. It’s time that light radiates on who you are and the love that you have shown me. This letter has been written over and over in my head, on this page and many scraps of papers for years. Sometimes angry and spiteful, but most times with love and appreciation. As time went on it became more of a thank you and love letter. Either way you were a learning experience.

You know what lights me up with love and joy is seeing your face when I walk into any room at any given time. I don’t even mean in a celebrity status type of appreciation and love because that would be demeaning. No, it’s much more deeper than that. It’s the way your whole face lights up when you see my smile and your reaction to my giggles the minute I say hi. I’ve seen it many times even when you’re furious at me where you don’t even know what to do. Did you ever imagine a tiny 5’2” woman having that much power over your heart that you handed over 20 years ago?

In our culture, men don’t wish and pray for a woman or girl to come into their lives but you prayed for me. Most daughters are the replicate of their mother but I think I was a different package due to your prayers. Even my brothers say that I am the female version of you with all the good and bad. Growing up I don’t even think you expressed love towards my mother the way you loved me. Mother always says I can get you to jump off of a building if I wanted you to and make it seem like a good idea. It’s hard to accept anything less from a man when you have treated me as if I’m an ethereal creature from the heavens. Even on birthdays where you would leave to work early morning, I remember waking up with teddy bears, balloons and my favorite foods.

Thank you for helping me fall in love with being alive. Helping me pick flowers and read books and understand that life is so much more than a man. Thank you for understanding that I am different. Thank you for being patient as I broke and still breaking cultural barriers. Thank you for telling me that we are in America, a new generation where there is no difference in men and women and no one should ever tell me otherwise. I know it’s hard to have a crazy, stubborn, free-spirited and feminist as a daughter. I know that you are still learning but thank you for accepting that. I know I’ve put you through hell and all you do is sigh when I’m up to my next adventure but thank you for always loving me the same no matter what.

Fathers teach daughters many lessons about what it means to truly love and experience this life. One of the most critical moments are the ones where you can portray to young eyes beaming up at you the notion of how I should be treated. You are not perfect but even with the bad you have taught me lessons and molded me. Dependable and trustworthy father figures are a scarcity today so for those of us blessed enough to be graced, we feel the strength of that presence. You watched me get my heart broken, my first accident and the many times I’ve fell. Just to tell me to get up and move on with life because life doesn’t wait for us. Those images engraved into our memory and transferred into the heart as we grow into young women. We learn to love the way we were loved by you. You hold so much more power than you imagined as a man in his early twenties holding a small baby girl looking up with big hopeful brown eyes. I have expectations because that’s where you set the bar and anything lower than that you look at me questioning if I forgot that I am a mythical being.

You are the first man I have ever loved. You are the example of love from a male figure. You held me, played with me, supported me and let me grow. You gave me all I could have ever needed because you gave me a father’s love. By giving me or not giving me certain things you have taught me what love is and also what it isn’t. You showed me that it’s important to be strong, humble, classy and taught me to love myself enough to reach for any star I lay my eyes on.

One day you’ll walk me down the aisle to another man, chosen in the image of how you taught and want me to be loved. When I let go of your arm I hope you know that my heart is molded in the shape you have loved me. I hope you know that I’m never really letting go because daughters are always their daddy’s princesses no matter what. Thank you for holding my hand as I took my first steps as I plan to hold yours when you need my help to walk. I know that in my heart there is no love like the first love, and a part of me will always belong to you whether its because of the blood we share or the piece of your heart that you gave me 25 years ago.


Your Little Princess
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A Clean Slate: What Ramadan Means To Me

In a world full of chaos and noise, we forget to take time to self-reflect and instead continue our lives like robots. We have our careers, family and friends with some time to indulge in our social life as well but we never really sit down to focus on what is going on with ourselves. Ramadan to me means a lot of things besides serving God and spiritually connecting with him on a different level. This month gives me time out of my busy schedule to reflect on the love, people, and my surroundings. It is the month I take to appreciate all that this world has to offer as well as using it as my clean, blank slate.

One of the biggest things about Ramadan is fasting to understand the difficulties people who are not as fortunate as me have to suffer every day. How can I complain about my grumbling stomach and parched throat while I’m sitting comfortably in my air conditioned mid-rise in an affluent part of Houston when there are Syrian children fasting through the fear that they may not even see the end of day? It pulls me back to realize all that I am so blessed with  which not only includes food, the roof over my head, my material belongings but those I dearly love in my life. My family who only lives 15-20 minutes away from me and my friends who have been my support system through it all and continue to love and help me sail through the rough waters. I’m not sure how I got so lucky but I will make sure to thank God a little more this month for all his blessings.

Another thing I start to think about during Ramadan is all this time I have to spend and how I’d like to start contributing towards people who need it. It is the month I feel compelled more than ever to donate and volunteer to those who need it more than me. I can spend an hour watching a tv show or I can give that time to a local organization to help the less fortunate.

Ramadan to me is how I repent for all my sins. I know you’re probably laughing but we all sin in different ways and this is month is how I ask for forgiveness as well as forgiving those who have wronged me. This month is my blank slate to God, to myself and to my life. I like to reflect on who I am, who I’d like to be and how I can better myself. I’m not even talking about in religious terms but as a person because at the end of the day that is the foundation of it all. How can you follow rules, regulations and any religious practices regardless of who you pray to if your heart and soul are as black as coal? I use this month as a journey for myself to heal, to mend and to become a better me with the help of God.

Approximately 1.6 billion Muslims around the world exercise their religious duties by taking part in the holy month but I’d like to think that our spiritual goals and journey are different. My goals and journey for this month may not be the same as the person sitting next to me and that is something we all have to respect and love. I find it highly disrespectful when other Muslim’s pick on others by calling them “part time believers” or judging them for their choices. That is not what this month is about. It is not how you think your fast is more accepted than someone who leads a different life than yours. It discourages people from fasting even if they just fast a couple of days out of the month because what if this was the Ramadan that they turned their life around but it didn’t happen because of your nasty remarks? What if this was the last Ramadan they will ever see but they didn’t repent because you wanted to make fun of them for attempting to better themselves? With your fasting, prayers and charity don’t forget that we are to encourage others and their spiritual journey. Our path to God and how we serve him differs on each person  and if we are to unify we need to start being more understanding of that. We all come from different walks of life and have different experiences so you never really know what someone is going through.

Ramadan to me is about my journey to better myself, reflection, healing, repentance and to spiritually come closer to my creator. I hope your journey is as successful as I hope mine will be.

Ramadan Mubarak from my loved ones and I to yours.


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In The Darkness, Look For Stars

I’m not sure how or why I always end up here. It’s 4 in the morning and it’s another sleepless night where I end up on my porch talking to the moon about you. As I look up at the beautiful night sky covered in stars I wonder if you’re looking up thinking of me too. Do I bother your thoughts disrupting your sleep as much as you do mine? Its nights like these that are the hardest. The ones where your absence hits my heart causing this pain I’ve never felt before. You know, the one where your heart is throbbing, your tears are slowly falling down your face and the only comfort are the soft winds slowly brushing away my hair.

As I’m sitting here, I can’t help but close my eyes and picture the last time they laid their gaze on you. When you looked at me with your hopeful eyes before I walked away breaking every piece of my heart I had, I almost second-guessed my decision. I quickly open them as the gush of tears keeps falling but your face won’t go away. You always loved to bother me at nights and I guess your memory wants to continue that routine. I’ve tried everything to escape you. I’ve tried putting a bandage over every wound, over every scar with anything I could think of but you always bleed through. I go out and force myself to be around crowds in hopes that your face will disappear. Instead I find myself in a room full of people and I still look for your smile gesturing me to come to you. Crowds never help because it’s just a bunch of empty faces I don’t know and I can’t help but to always look for yours. Distractions are truly overrated. They don’t help instead they make me miss you more and our life together. I miss the little things that people never think about like how you used to be half asleep but still opened your eyes every morning to watch me get ready. I miss coming home to you and talking about my day even if they were a whole bunch of nothings. I find myself lying down at nights looking over at where you used to lay wondering about what I would talk to you about if you were here.

I finally get the courage to get up and go inside so I can force myself to escape you and finally go to sleep but we all know that isn’t going to happen, is it? That would be too easy, too perfect and you would never let me have that. As I crawl into bed, particularly on my “side” I look over to where you used to lay and stare at me. How you would smile at me blabbering about every possible thought that ran my head as I laid next to you and stroked the stubble on your face. But tonight like many nights like this, I’ll just see you in my dreams. Its nights like these that are the most difficult. The nights where I miss your touch, as you pull me closer to hold me before I drift off in my dream world. The times you’d play with my hair as I spoke complete nonsense in my sleepiness. Do you think of me the way I think of you? Do you wonder how I sleep at night like I wonder how you sleep without me? Do you feel the emptiness as you lay in bed feeling as if the whole world has abandoned you? Is there a cold stillness like in the winter nights that seeps in to your bones as your only company for the night?

We humans are such strange creatures. We are always attracted and addicted to what sucks the soul  out of us slowly eating away all the edges of life in us. I find myself constantly grabbing my phone and going to your contact. I just stare at your name at least twice an hour but never mustering the courage to call. Telling myself it’s not a good idea. You’re probably wondering how I stop myself, well sometimes I don’t. Sometimes I call and you don’t pick up which gives me relief because we all know the dark spiral I’d fall down if I were to hear your voice. Do you do this on purpose? During day it’s easy to keep myself distracted but it’s like you know at night I miss your warmth and you pop in my thoughts. You were always the night owl and now your memories haunt me towards your old habits. Even the drive home knowing I no longer come home to you chokes me up before I even walk through the doors. My mind is constantly racing and here I am watching TV shows we used to watch together late at night finding any escape I can find so I don’t think of you.

Being alone is tougher than people put it out to be. It’s weird not coming home to your smile, or you talking to me about our plans for dinner or the upcoming weekend. It’s upsetting when I think about how I’m sick laying in bed and you’re not here to hand me a Kleenex or run to me every time I cough or sneeze. You know I always try to find any ray of light in the darkness but it took me awhile to find any light in this barren home without you. But in this loneliness I have been finding parts of myself I buried years ago because it was all consumed by you. In the silence, I was thrown in an uncomfortable state of mind I had never faced but there she was waiting for me as if she knew this whole time I would come. The me I never knew because I never had the opportunity. The me that I am discovering everyday in this barren heart. The me that you don’t have and does not have your imprint all over it. It’s in my loneliness that I am coming to terms with who I am and finding what serves me the most. This peace that comes over you like the satisfaction you receive at the end of a long, difficult journey.

I get it, you don’t want to be alone but is laying next to any body that will lay next to you really fill that void. We are so used to using others, in most cases as broken as us to heal all the cracks and wounds someone else has left. I know you have a hole in your heart that you are looking to fill regardless of who and what your doing to fill it. Does that truly work or do you find yourself lying at night wondering where they are and what they’re doing?   No one said it was going to be easy or a smooth journey but it’s one we all must take in order to get to the place we should be. Using others to avoid issues, emotions and a solution to a problem you don’t want to face yourself is a temporary solution. I know you feel fine today but what if a few months down the line you find yourself sitting up at night and all the wounds you’ve covered tear open forcing you to feel every emotion you’ve hidden with the warmth of a body? Find the strength to open your wounds, pull out the core of the pain that is holding you in your past and make peace with them.

It’s in the dark, unbearable silence that we learn to find the light in order for us to heal to our hearts content. Look for your ray of light because that is the only way your journey of healing can begin.


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Dear Everyone: My Culture is NOT A Costume

From a recent writing piece of mine that got published in Brown Girl Magazine, I was attacked for my blonde hair. The assumptions of my own South Asian sisters accusing me of trying to be white because to them I didn’t look “brown” enough. With the negativity there were many of you who were supportive, kind and spoke up against those wrongful accusations. How can you throw my experiences, my feelings and my writing away because I do not look brown enough for you? I didn’t always have good skin and blonde hair. Like many girls in the pre-Instagram and iPhone era I went through an awkward ugly duckling stage. Do you want to know the worst part of my experience? I grew up in Richardson, Texas. I was the only South Asian in my entire school. Try explaining being brown, let alone Bengali to people and not only white people but even the Hispanics as to what my ethnicity was if they bothered to ask, which in most cases they didn’t because I was labeled the Indian girl.

Growing up in Richardson was hard but it shaped me into who I am today. In my piece earlier I talked about struggling with my identity like many of us with different ethnicities growing up in the U.S. but it’s even harder when you’re attending a school, let alone living in a city that is not diverse. Some of you may wonder why I didn’t label this “Dear White People” but guess what; it wasn’t a white boy that asked me if Indians were against shaving their body hair but a Hispanic. So this piece isn’t for just the white people but for all the ethnicities that refused to educate themselves on my ethnicity and now walk around wearing bindi’s because it’s all about their third eye.

I’m all about reform and people mending their ways but you can’t tell me its not a bit amusing to see the girl that thought Indian food smelled weird, ranting on social media how her thaali plate is so “cool” as she’s using it as an Insta worthy shot. Too bad my culture wasn’t fun and cool for everyone growing up. My South Asian culture is not a costume for you to wear, try on or even rebrand to whatever label comes to mind. It’s not cool that everyone thought my mom looked strange wearing a salwar kameez but now it’s “boho chic” to wear a salwar kameez so now it’s deemed as “colorful” and so “ethnic”. The same kids that thought my traditional clothing was weird, that my food smelled funny and assumed my culture was barbaric is now walking around wearing bindis, matha pattis (headpieces), sari’s and raving about how their life has changed after throwing some turmeric in their latte.

Please understand there is a line between appreciation and appropriation. I love people embracing and learning about other cultures but don’t put a bindi in the middle of your forehead and then claim to understand the brown culture as a whole. Meditating in Shavasana and attending your local yoga class does not connect you with the experiences that I went through as a South Asian in America. Going to India, throwing colors around during Holi is not the gateway for you to “find yourself.” Don’t ask me if I know the only other brown person you know because this might be alarming but I don’t know every brown person that walks this earth. OMG, I know, shocker! The South Asian culture is not a prop, costume or your ticket to prove that you are cultured. If you are curious then research about it than throwing on traditional garments and attending a festival.

I was extremely lucky to have Elena, my amazing childhood best friend who always accepted who I am. She was European so I was blessed to learn about the Bulgarian culture, as she was always open to learn about the Bengali way of life. I’m sure I survived most of Richardson, if not all if she wasn’t there smiling and always being so loving and kind. I always tell her I know she really loves me because she stuck through my ugly duckling phase.

As for the brown girls who think I am not brown enough well I went through the same experiences you did regardless of what my hair and facial features look like right now. I didn’t even grow up in a diverse community like many of you did. Many times I find myself not fitting in with other brown girls because I am looked at as being “too white.” Isn’t that the funniest thing? I like to think it’s both a blessing and a curse and I’m okay with that.


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The Light in Me, Honors the Light in You

“The meaning of our self is not to be found in its separateness from God and others, but in the ceaseless realization of yoga, of union.”
-Rabindranath Tagore

I remember meditating at the end of my practice in Ardha Padmasana (Half Lotus) at the age of 15 as the Indian yoga guru talked about the benefits of this pose and how it improves my circulation and blood flow in the pelvis. Yoga was not a trendy fad and the thing to do as much as it is now. Yoga has entered the American mainstream as a fad from health clubs to corporations. It has turned more meditation and self-practice to a superficial spin on things and an obsession over the “hippie/boho” lifestyle. In reality, taking things I have grown up with, changed the name and made it into a business. It’s become a competition of poses, a thing to do and associated with Lululemon which don’t get me wrong I have NOTHING against but that’s not what yoga is about.

I started practicing yoga with the intention of more than the physicality benefits but as a gateway to myself and spiritual inner being. The practice is intended for more than being tone because if that were the case than why not just go to the gym? Being a person of color and of South Asian roots, specifically a brown woman, I like to pay respect to the fact that yoga was created and practiced for much more than an imitation of postures. It is more about finding peace and even myself on the mat than showing off my crow pose in class. Don’t take this a stab at fellow yogis either. I love seeing posts of their accomplishments in the many poses and how far they have come. It is all about how you approach it.

My practice is not about achieving a certain pose or becoming more flexible. It is about creating a space where I was once stuck in. To unveil and strip layers of protection I’ve built around my heart because I have trouble dealing with emotions. It’s taking all my stress, anger, heartache and releasing it on the mat to welcome light, love and peace. When I am on the mat I appreciate my body and become aware of the noise that my mind creates. It helps me make peace with who I am and to love myself in all my forms. I have found so much peace and parts on myself on that mat than anywhere else in the world. I am less concerned about what brand yoga pants I put on or how cool I look in Vrschikasana (Scorpion) but more so about who I become at the end of my practice.

You are probably wondering how it is has affected me besides toning my body but I use it in my daily life. It has taught me to breathe better and when I am stuck in Houston traffic and a driver cuts me off for no reason I have used what I learned in my practice to not get angry over it. I have learned that when people give us negative energy and bad vibes to not soak any of that in and understand that it is their struggle for inner peace that causes them to act in such a way. We look for peace, love, serenity, truth, life, beauty everywhere. We travel to the different corners of this world looking for ourselves and we don’t realize that what you need is already within us. You just have to allow yourself to look and accept it. There are so many moments and scenarios we can change just realizing that we can control our reactions and journey.

The next time you walk into a yoga class; think more about how to find yourself and all the things you seek from the outside world and less about achieving a headstand. Close your eyes, imagine the best version of you and let go of any parts of yourself that doesn’t believe it.

Until then, the light in me honors the light in you.


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Chicks Dig Cars Too

You know being blonde is fun and different. It did not change my life drastically as many people assume but a negative thing that comes with it is people assume I’m a bimbo. I’m pretty sure looking at me you wouldn’t guess that I’m a total nerd and I love books and I admire intellectuals. Last night at the Helfman Alfa Giulia Launch Event as I strolled in my royal blue pant suit, I’m sure everyone assumed I was just another woman there to attend a social event much less admire the cars.

As someone who grew up with brothers and a father who loves cars I’ve gained knowledge and interest beyond just recognizing brands. No, I do not look at a Mercedes and not know the difference between a CLA and an E Class. Yes, I understand what AMG means. Over the years, I have really got to know the different vehicles, parts, body styles, wraps, and etc. I’ve developed an appreciation beyond “I like Mercedes.”

Unfortunately due to transit issues the 2018 Giulia sport sedan did not make it in time for the event but that doesn’t mean I didn’t take the opportunity to admire the beauty around me. I personally love the detail even down the stitching that this brand incorporates into their beauties.

Although I don’t claim to be an expert, I love learning about cars and educating myself beyond brand recognition. I like knowing that the 2018 Alfa Romeo Giulia has 505 horse power with a V6 engine and delivers a satisfying growl (which is why I love cars so much) and 3.8 second 0-60 m.p.h. Yeah, I bet you didn’t think that was going to roll off my tongue, or err page.

I ended my night with having dinner for charity at State Fare which by the way is so amazing. I love the details in their decor and the vibes which there is a sign in the front when you walk in that says “Good Vibes Only, Please.” The dinner was to support Dining Out for Life which is an annual dining fundraising event that raises money for AIDS service organizations across the country. This is another reason why I love Houston. I went from a luxury car revealing event to a charity dinner.

So when you see me at the Lamborghini Festival in October, don’t assume I’m just there to flip my blonde hair and look pretty but come up to me and admire the beauty of cars with me.


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Confessions of a Culinary Connoisseur

Most people look at me and assume I like to slap on the title of a foodie to add flair in my bio. I often receive comments asking if I’ve eaten lately or if I eat at all. FYI you can be skinny and still enjoy food. The secret is working out, eating healthy but allowing yourself to be spoiled without over indulging. I like to think I’m like the French. I enjoy food but I can’t consume Texas size portions. I am a passionate eater of everything from gourmet grilled-cheese sandwiches to 12-course tasting menus. Believe it or not but I am always the person in my social circles to pick out where we are eating. I’m not sure if it’s because my friends trust my opinion or they know how picky I am about where we are going.

Food has become a social currency with name-dropping the top chefs, new restaurants and cookbooks to compete with one another as much as people do with fashion. It’s more of have you tried that new, “insert super cool, trendy restaurant name” instead of “are you on the waitlist for the Supreme x Louis Vuitton ?” I know what you’re thinking, that you can only find me at places like Uchi, Steak 48 or Underbelly. As much as I love fine dining I love hiding away in Chinatown in hidden gems like Mein Restaurant or Haveli  in Little India.

Houston in my opinion has become a foodie heaven. One of my favorite things about Houston is how the diversity of the city is expressed through food. I love how all these places put their soul and culture in their food allowing us to travel anywhere from Peru, France, Singapore to India with every bite.  How amazing is it that I can wake up to an amazing brunch at Backstreet Café, to a Malaysian lunch at Banana Leaf, coffee break at Agora’s, then a Colombian dinner at Mi Pueblito and ending it with dessert and cocktails at Toulouse? If you think that’s amazing I haven’t even gotten started.

Last night I was able to be in foodie heaven at Culture Map’s Tastemaker Awards. I tried everything from an amazing Lamb Keema Taco at Fusion Taco, Le Colonial’s “Goi Ga” to Liberty Kitchen’s “Dreamsicle Dragon Kisses” (orange and vanilla flavored meringue kisses freeze dried in liquid nitrogen) which was heaven on earth. To top it off, my absolute favorite coffee brand, illy had a coffee bar.  There was so much more amazing offerings and few that were so good I didn’t even get the opportunity to try. Overall it was an amazing event with great food, drinks and very cool environment given it was being held at the Asia Society Texas Center.

I work out so I can enjoy the finer things in life but mainly so I can stuff my face with all the culinary havens this wonderful city has to offer. Hope everyone is enjoying the world through food as much as I am.


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শুভ নববর্ষ, Shubho Noboborsho (Happy Bengali New Year)

Shubho Noboborsho to all my Bengalis and Happy Bengali New Year to everyone!!  How awesome is it that we get another New Year’s? It’s like getting another chance to start over. So if you haven’t been good about keeping your resolutions this is your opportunity to start fresh at least that’s what I’m doing.

Pohela Boishakh or Bangla Noboborsho (Bengali New Year) all refers to the same festival. Let’s break down the name “Pohela Boishakh” for all my non-Bengali speakers. In Bengali, Pohela means “first” and Noboborsho means New Year. It is also the beginning of spring for us. April 14 is celebrated in a grand manner in Bangladesh, West Bengal and Bengali communities all over the globe.  Some believe the holiday is a result of the Bengali calendar established by Mughal emperor Akbar in the 15th century while others say that it is linked to the harvest festival of Baisakhi. Regardless, this holiday is not focused on religion but it is more about celebrating a new beginning.

The New Year isn’t just about mishti (Bengali sweets) or dressing up in white and red with a red bindi to adorn my face but it’s my way of welcoming a new beginning. This year I have set goals and resolutions for myself. I don’t mean making a goal of losing weight or anything like that but more about making this year about me. No, not in a selfish, fudge the world kind of way but more about really searching for who I am and discovering parts of me I don’t know. This year is about giving up my life as I know it to get a new one and letting go of everything I’m clinging on to that is not quite serving me. It’s about searching for what happiness means to me and what I truly want. It’s about letting go of all bad energy from the previous year, taking them as life lessons and grasping onto positive vibes that will strengthen me as a person. I find it so fortunate that I get a second chance, another New Year to welcome the beginning of anything I want and need. Oh and of course a lot of mishti.

I wish everyone a year full of love, good vibes, bigger goals, adventure, more happiness, less pain, strength, laughter and being more focused that ever on whatever you feel serves you best. Also, don’t forget to try some Bengali delicacies while you’re at it!


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To My Star Crossed Love

Would you believe me if I told you I stared at my laptop screen for over 30 minutes contemplating where to start? I had one of those nights where you choose to make my thoughts, and my mind your home even if I didn’t invite you. I hope you know my memory loves you. It asks about you all the time and every time I let my mind wander, it always comes back to you. You have a habit of doing that, creeping in on nights when I’m alone with my thoughts. Never during the day when the sun is out and I feel like I can conquer the world. No, that would be too easy, right? Everywhere I go I am reminded of you. I see you in every coffee shop, pizza place, and even the local bagel place. If I don’t find you, I  find myself looking for you in every restaurant, bar and place full of faces. If I have to I search to find solace in souls you have once touched so maybe I can reconnect with the familiarity of you. Somehow I find my lips reciting your poems over and over again. One for every mood, occasion, outfit and situation.

As I’m sitting here writing this love letter to you, I can’t help but to miss you. I miss your  warmth, the kind that touches your skin and makes you feel like you’re the safest place in the world. The funny thing is, you like giving me that illusion, of feeling safe part. Sometimes you get so cold and yet here I thought I was the ice queen. I’m not talking about a cold that makes you shiver. I’m talking about the one where the wind hits you and reaches your bones. The kind that takes the comfort out of your lungs and leaves you feeling alone and barren. You’re probably asking why I always end up at your doorstep but I think you know the answer. What I love most about you is the ability to lose myself in you over and over, and still never know the way. Maybe it’s the wildness in me! No matter what, you always feel like a place I’ve never been before. We have a natural connection, the kind that doesn’t demand me to prove my worth and allows me to be me without question. My soul recognizes a feeling of home in you even if it is always temporary.

Those eyes of yours could swallow stars, galaxies and universes. What hope did I ever have? Your light gives me a feeling I’ve never felt before with anyone else. I love the sense of adventure you spark in me. You remind me that I am just one person in this universe, and keep me close to the pavement when my heads are high in the clouds. At the same time, you give me this confidence, this feeling that I am my own character in a book. You point out the attention I get as soon as I walk into a room. Maybe that’s why we get along so great. We know how to capture hearts, minds and attention for any soul we touch. We have love for people from all over the world and the stories they like to tell. We understand that people will not always love us. They will judge the fine lines that make up who we are. That is okay. Not everyone is meant to love or understand.

You’re not perfect but is anyone? As much as every fiber of my being loves you, you have disappointed me many times. Left me driving around for hours trying to figure out a place to stay still for a couple of hours. I can’t live with you; you don’t give me any space to roam freely in my own home. On top of it you ask for more and more leaving my pockets and heart empty. The only time I’d get air to breathe is if I stepped out, but I eventually have to come lay my head on a pillow, right? Sometimes you even make me feel like you don’t have time for me. You’re too busy in your own world to stop and talk to me even if it’s just small talk. You hate small talk, I know but I’m from the south it’s almost mandatory. You find it strange, my southern ways and I find your Yankee ways just as weird. You like doing that, giving me the illusion of something better. That things will work out and I can find a home in you, but we all know you’ve changed me. I am not the same girl you met but I don’t need to explain to you what edges are torn and what corners are bent. You were there and you made your decisions!

Your response to me telling you how you have let me down is always the same. I am always the one with one foot out the door and leaving you behind. I am always the one ready to leave with my clothes in a suitcase to jet off whenever I see any sign of unhappiness. You tell me I don’t put enough effort but let’s be honest, we wouldn’t work out. I don’t see a future with you. I don’t see the house with kids and dog. It’s just not possible with us. Being with you brings too much uncertainty. The future is never quite clear and I am too scared to live my days away wondering if we’ll work out. You are full of possibilities but I would have to make many sacrifices of my own that I don’t know if I’m ready to make. I don’t know if I can sacrifice myself, my comfort and who I am to be with you.

I love you but I can’t be with you no matter how bad I want it to work.
You are my star-crossed lover,
New York and I’ll always love you.


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Good Girls Love Bad Boys

As you grow older you learn more about yourself. Everything from what you like, what you don’t like, what ticks you off, weird quirks, good and bad habits. Well something I feel like most women have a common bad habit: falling for the bad boy or the man with (excuse my French) asshole tendencies. Don’t be fooled, my foolish heart fell prey to the bad boy syndrome but unfortunately some women never escape it.

Bad boys are like wild cards, they don’t value you, rarely shows up emotionally, the guy you’re unsure of, and can’t let him know your true feelings because it may drive him away or give him the upper hand. Like a drug you find yourself sitting there waiting on a text and unable to resist him and others like him, again and again. I do want to point out that bad boys have evolved in the adult world. So maybe he doesn’t do ALL those things I’ve listed but if you find yourself confused as hell as to what’s going on in your love life well isn’t it all the same? If someone is wasting your time, not 100% committed and taking you on an emotional roller coaster isn’t that a bad thing? We find the “bad-boy” types sexy and exciting. That is, until their impulsiveness, selfish ways and disregard for anyone gets us hurt or in trouble.

Stop treating men like your pet project or holding onto that fantasy that you are the one to change a bad boy. Here’s a secret, men know what their intentions are for a woman within the first interaction/date, for the most part at least. They have a pretty good idea if you are the one they want to change their asshole ways for within the first few dates. Don’t get your panties in a bunch and go off on me because I know everyone’s situation is different but I’m not talking about exceptions here. Why not find guys that are bad in good ways? For example, find someone who is adventurous, spontaneous or likes extreme sports. They don’t need to break your heart to keep you interested.

Something I’ve heard women say is “Well, apparently I just love assholes, I can’t do nice guys.” Maybe it’s not that you don’t like nice guys but you’re used to someone who doesn’t treat you right. You’re so used to someone not treating you like the queen you are that in your head you’ve started to blame yourself for someone else’s actions. Stop telling yourself that. You don’t like assholes. What you need to stop doing is letting guys treat you like a peasant which results in  wondering why you’re sitting alone on a Saturday night staring out your window questioning how you got your heart tied up. Stop making excuses or settling! If you want a guy to hold the door for you, pull your chair out before you sit, open your car door, then go get that because guys like that exist. There are better ways to find excitement (hobbies, sports, creative pursuits, travel) than having to deal with someone hurting you ten times over.

There’s a difference between good and boring. Good guys can be fun and thrilling as much as a bad boy but the difference is that a good guy will actually be there physically, mentally and emotionally. You don’t want a bad boy. What you want is a man who will break someone’s face for you but also make you breakfast in bed. Why choose the darkness when there is so much light around you?

So find someone who is home and an adventure all at once and stop selling yourself short.


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