May he have complete, fearless and soul-satisfying understanding of what he wants to do in his life. May he always live with honour and may he continually do good, kind things for others like he has done for us, selflessly. But most importantly may he learn to accept and be kind to himself. To do this, may he learn to know himself, better. May he find peace.
I pray He will be strengthened and nourished with all the goodness that life has to offer and at the same time have all the patience and endurance when he is called upon to take life’s disappointments head on.
may you guide and guard his fearless and strong heart.
May he always be filled with joy.
May worries never occupy his mind, only knowledge, wisdom, courage.
I thank you for bringing him into our lives. For all he has done and continues to do for us, May his days be illuminated with your grace.
I choose to believe that no matter how our fears try to twist our reality and no matter how much we try and hurt each other through words and actions, that at the core of all our confusion, pain and misunderstanding, we care very deeply about each other. From my perspective, underneath all the temper, I have seen that man, he is good, he is there and I think it’s difficult for me not to love him. But violence makes it difficult to respect him. Of course I am no angel, I have my own share of faults, they trigger the anger but that’s not an excuse to be abusive. Of course I find it difficult to stay away when your voice keeps me going. Of course I will want to make it work, whichever way I can. I also choose to believe that you don’t know what you don’t know. Didn’t need and don’t need Anything laced in rituals to know you are our family. We miss you, whenever the bell rings in a particular way, we hope it’s you. Anyway, we will continue to pray that you’re okay and are well. Hugs. Always.
You never said you were 9/11
Even though I always felt that
There was something destructive about you
I could tell
From the way you spoke about things you loved,
Such as mornings and coffee and confident women
The first time I saw you
It hit me like a lightning
That you were going to wreck me so bad
I’d be irreparable
And that, there,
Was my only dream: to be wrecked by you,
For you were such an immense force
Driven by will power and the fear of being alone
You so often talked about
You never said you were 9/11
But you knew it
I could tell from the spark in your eyes
When you chose to watch that 60s tv show all over again
Just because you grew attached to it
And it kind of gave you the feeling of home
You never feared death or loss
And that’s how I knew
You hoped no one else did;
But somehow I could tell by
The way your hands shook that day
That you were going to face your worst fears in this world:
Loneliness and despair and broken coffee machines
And crying children and tomb stones and being forgotten
You never thought 9/11 would ever occur
I must admit I envied you for that-
9/11 was always on my mind
And you were so moody
I couldn’t tell whether you’d leave me
or beg me to stay
9/11 did occur and it was worse
than anything ever happened
Because it involved you being mistaken
About such a terrifying thing
As destroying a lover.
9/11 did happen
I didn’t make it all up just to win our bet
Of who’s going to end the world
…. But you horribly did that day:
You were the plane
And I was World Trade Center
collapsing at your feet-
You tore us both apart
And that’s why you never believed in 9/11
You never believed in your goddamn self,
Only I did.
– Vlada Bunescu
you think you’ve known loss. You take pride in it. You couldn’t be more wrong. Honestly you’re lucky that your heart is still alive. You have the opportunity to have momentary exchanges now and then. You may not be part of their lives but you still get to see them grow. I wish you never know the loss that I do but sometimes I do. Maybe you wouldn’t take love for granted. You wear your bruised heart like a medal, strapped tight to your chest. One day all your youthful pride will be gone, you will realize how much time you squandered with that battered heart strapped right to your chest. And then you will want to set it free. But you will see that it has withered and died. And unfortunately maybe then, you will think of me. I know for a hard fact no one breathing yet will love you as vastly as I do. You were not born from my womb, I love you out of choice. Everyday, your whips skin deep into my skin. It stings but I’m content with the fact that I still have so much love left in me. 7 years ago, my heart died. I think I take your shit because you uncannily remind me of me. Better. I always thought I could do better. And as he lay there purple, swollen wrapped in a shroud. Half of me wanted to wake him up, praying that he would move a finger or twitch his eyelids. Half of me wanted to wrap up inside the shroud, next to him – a place I was familiar with – a place that was familiar with me – a place that was home for many years. Better? It felt and still feels like a good smack to my ignorant ego. I know for a fact I will never be loved and cherished the way that boy did. Never. When he lay there I wanted to take back all the fights we had – realizing how much time you have wasted being egoistic is ugly. youve bruised me, cut me, twisted me thrown me, spit on me. I’m still here not because I’m a loser and can only take your shit. I choose to love you, every day. Regardless of the circumstances and that’s one thing you’ll never take away from me.
“There’s only one thing worse than wanting someone, and that’s needing someone. It’s when you batter and bruise and break yourself just so that you can mould yourself into being theirs. All the while tricking yourself into believing that it’s still good and wholesome and for the best, because this is what you WANT. Compromise is good and healthy, but too much compromise and you end up betraying yourself. And the most painful part is knowing that a few months ago, when you first met them, when everything was unblemished and naturally perfect, there was no concealing the bad. There was no bad. No one had hurt the other. The question is, how many times do you forgive under the name of love?
If I saw another person in my shoes, I’d tell them to walk away, to respect themselves, to make their mother proud. But perhaps I wouldn’t know the full story if I was an outsider looking in. An outsider wouldn’t know how painfully and impossibly in love with you I am. An outsider wouldn’t know that.
I can still smell the washing powder on your jumper the first time I kissed you. I remember how hot it was in summer. When we first got to know each other. Everything buzzed slightly, as if charged with electricity. The air tasted of excitement. I’d never done this before….
…. I like being yours. Although even there I am doubtful. I feel inadequate, which I hate. It leads me to think I’ve changed. I would have spat in the face of anyone who felt inferior in some way to another person, told them they were a miracle just for being them, and if no one liked the look of them then they just shouldn’t look. Because I know we are all superb creatures.
So why do I feel constantly…lacking? Not interesting enough, not clever enough, no way NEAR beautiful enough for you, blah blah blah. It makes me angry. How can my mind possibly be so conflicted? I know that exterior beauty is a sham endorsed by capitalism and advocated by stupid people. But I also hate myself. It hurts, feels as though my brain might tear in half. I love you. I want you. I want to be yours. But I resent that. No one should want that after what you put me through. After hearing what you said. I’m scared. Scared of just how much I’m willing to sacrifice to be with you, would I know when to stop? … I’m ashamed of that fact. I die.”