Day 2: 10:02 p.m. – Things I Like

  • Days filled with memories that make me sad I didn’t appreciate them more
  • Songs that enhance moments
  • The days when my mom is in a good mood
  • Heartfelt paragraphs written by my girlfriend
  • Good, good music.

Day 1: 2:33 am

I write because I’d like to think other people want to listen. 

But more times than never, this isn’t the case.  I’ve come to learn that most people don’t have good intentions. My first year at university has also made it quite obvious to me that this is a dog-eat-dog world. 

And honestly I can’t believe I haven’t noticed it sooner. 

The point to being a nice person, is that there is absolutely no point. 

Being nice won’t get you anywhere except for that nice little feeling you get in your wittle tummy for that damn millisecond. 

You have the choice to be a protagonist or an antagonist in your story. The protagonist is the nice guy. They finish last but they sure had a great time holding the door for that cute old lady with the gold cashmere sweater and the puppy in her purse. The thing about the protagonist is that they just want to be heard. 

It’s a question of who is willing to listen. More often than not, no one really wants to. 

Keyword: unconditional


I have a vision for this summer.

I want the sun. I want my sun-kissed Sicilian tan to pay another visit. I want the ocean. I want relaxation. I want good friends. I want music and food. I want adventures and memories that will provoke some sort of future nostalgia.

I want my girlfriend with me to kiss me when I can’t handle my own thoughts and to hold my hand when it endures its daily shake.

I want to experience unconditional love in an unconditional amazing summer.


Why do we teach people that it’s okay to drift away from close friends, potential partners, even family members?

Nothing binds us together, not even blood. It’s simply unrealistic to think that any form of a relationship will prosper and last without some sort of effort.

So, in my opinion, no; it’s not okay for people to drift away and move on. Because to me, this says, “I didn’t care enough to make the effort to keep you in my life.”

Sure, you may say that life gets the best of us, people get busy, etc. But the truth of the matter is that when someone wants to do something, they do it. When someone wants to have the time for something, they make it.

Excuses are society’s instinctive go-to cane (pardon the House allusion), and it is only when one is knocked down that they realize how hard it is to get back up alone.


College forces you to have opinions.

I’ve never understood anyone who stays quiet. I’ve never understood “Switzerland” or being “on the fence.” Because if you have an opinion but you don’t share it, what’s the point? It’s not about proving yourself, standing up for your ego, or “winning”. It’s just about living a life that blesses us with the opportunities to stand up for something and be someone. At least for me, I don’t feel like anyone, and I don’t feel alive, unless I’m able to fight for something.

If you’re the same way as me, you definitely understand. You’ve definitely been called confrontational before. You’ve probably also been referred to as argumentative or outspoken. But take not that everyone who has become someone, not even in the “famous” celebrity sense, but as in someone who has made a difference, has never stayed quiet.

Take a look at Beyoncé. Study her. Watch her interviews, listen to her albums, watch her music videos and recorded live performances. Queen Bey is quiet and reserved in her interviews, and even refers to herself as shy. But compare her persona there to her aura while mid-performance (or mid-“art creation” mode), and the difference is night and day for a purpose. That purpose being to speak out, and create the difference everyone knows she has. Even if you don’t like Beyoncé, you know her. You know what she stands for even if you don’t agree with her and shame her for it.

Make a difference, and make sure the world knows who you are. Because if you don’t, then what’s the point?



I’ve learned that I can be as much of a dick as I wanna be.

Or apparently, experiencing death can repair every mistake you’ve ever made, and erases all your wrongdoings upon other people.

It may even get you a trip to Paris!

So my question is, what do I have to die, or who has to die, in order for me to get Yankees season tickets?


I will be my own color if it’s the death of me.

To die by art’s side is our destiny.

These fingers leak callous, blood, and testament.

Yet clog with inspiration, a new amendment.

(yo this is good…keep writing)

Spoken Word

A few days ago, a spoken word I watched on YouTube summed up how I could describe anxiety.

Anxiety is not the fear of living, it is the fear of not living while you have the chance.”

I Want To Be Different.

Unique. Something new.

I literally could give two fucks less about being accepted. I just want to be interesting. I want to be inspiring to myself and to others to be their own person. Everyone is their own person. It’s a matter of how or when they bring that person out of their outer shell.

Personally, I want piercings and tattoos. But that’s just the minimal level of different I want to be. It’s about expression. I want my nose ring to say “fuck you” and my tongue piercing to say “fuck off”. I want meaningful tattoos and meaningless tattoos. I want to make my body into art. I want to make my mind into art.

Watching a Halsey interview was inspiring. She is her own person. She is her own color.

I want to be my own color.

pre-calc thoughts

Your throat is coated in love

Your words are saying that I’m finally enough

Take that tongue cause it does what it wants

Fire burning inside of my lungs


The sidewalk’s cracking, the streets have flooded

My mind’s a canvas that just can’t be painted

Pull me down and keep me under

These colors have never been duller

(continue this shit!)