Once and Always

My friend gave me back one of the books I loaned her probably about a year ago – something that personally, I haven’t even read. So I’m taking the time to finally start reading it now.

There are books that have successfully changed my life – this still remains true after all these years… after I first wrote it here. There is one book in particular, that found me at a time when I had truly lost all sense of self… So much that I turned myself into a completely different person, all to ensure that the one who was supposedly so in love with me wouldn’t leave.

But he tried to, anyway. Every single year of the four that we were together. Until one day, he tried to leave… and I let him. And when he tried coming back, I realized I would survive without him… and so I refused to let him back in. I realized that losing him was a lesser evil than losing sight of who I was.

But, admittedly, that left me broken. I had given so much of myself and he had taken so much of me that  I couldn’t wrap my head around how I was supposed to piece everything together. Looking back at it now, I still haven’t quite mapped out the journey that I took… just that it was a path that I had to walk on my own.


I am not ashamed of having been broken. It made me strong and independent, but it also made me afraid and untrusting. And I think the path of broken-ness is still something that I walk – and something that I have been walking on for more than a decade now. And today, I’ve decided that it is okay. That I’m alright with still being on that road… and I am alright with still not having been able to completely put myself together.

Perhaps it will take another decade… maybe it will take longer than that, but the act of picking up the pieces of my life is something that cannot be rushed. And I refuse to pretend that I have everything fixed and everything planned when, in truth, sometimes I find myself living one day at a time.

But I am living… not just surviving. And I’ll take the joy with the sorrow, the peace with the pain. I refuse to exist in limbo and so I will ask the difficult questions and I’ll take the answers that come my way. I will not settle. I will not be an option – not when I deserve to be a choice that someone makes everyday.

I deserve to be a choice that I make for myself every single day.

It was Joe E. Lewis who said “You only live once – but if you work it right, once is enough.” I will make sure that once is enough.

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Filed under iRead, No Man's Land


What’s the difference between an assumption and a conclusion?

An assumption is something you believe to be true, sometimes even with the absence of complete or relevant information.

A conclusion is a thought or a point reached after gathering, analyzing and considering pertinent data.

You do not get to judge a situation without understanding the story behind it. You don’t get to hear the story without asking the right questions.

So, sometimes, it might be a better idea to listen to me first, before you listen to that little voice inside your head, which might be telling a story so different from what actually happened. But without the backstory, you don’t get to judge the situation.

You do not get to judge me.

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Filed under This So-Called Life

Of Liking Halves But Loving Wholes

I’m a firm believer that you can’t just love parts of people. You can’t just love them when they’re fun to be with, or when they’re the best version of themselves. I still think loving someone – really loving someone – means that you take the good with the bad. That you love them at their best exactly the same way you love them when they’re at their worst.

But it doesn’t mean you have to agree with everything they do. Or that you’re blinded by their faults. Or, worse yet, that you sweep their faults under the rug and pretend they don’t exist.

We’re all human, and we’re all at fault at one time or another. And maybe it doesn’t make us less when we are at fault… just like it doesn’t make us better when we aren’t. Perhaps it simply makes us… different.

I do, however, feel that this truth is easier to accept when we’ve actually chosen to love someone (yes, I believe that love is a choice, and that will be the written about at some other time, in some other post). But what if it was someone that we never chose to love?

Like family.

It’s true that there are families we run from and there are families that we run to. But what about the one that is bound to us by blood? And, no matter how hard we try, we realize, for better or worse, they’re the only family we’ve got.

I recently understood a certain truth about a certain clan in my bloodline – never mind that I am bound to them by name, and not by blood – that I seem to have trouble accepting. They’re wonderful people – well-travelled, experienced, liberated, a little off-tangent, not always my cup of tea – but wonderful. And for all of our differences, I’ve been always been able to take it with grace. I’ve always been able to chalk it up to having been brought up differently… to having grown up in a different environment… to having lived a different kind of life. But now there is one thing that I seemingly cannot simply brush aside.

I realized that I didn’t like the way they treated people. The help, to be specific. Yes, they may have been the one paying for wages, but I still don’t think that gives them (or anyone paying for anyone else’s wages, for that matter) the right to treat people like they were… less. They’ve always treated me well, but sometimes I wonder if it’s because I have the same “status” – if not more so, since my father stands as the head of the family.

I didn’t like it when they treat others – particularly the ones who may be seen as inferior – differently. As if they don’t matter as much. As if they don’t deserve the same amount of respect that we ask for. With the number of demands made over the past several days, I wonder – did anyone bother asking them if they were okay? Were they able to eat well? Did they get enough sleep? How were their families since they had to spend the holidays apart?

Then again, I didn’t ask either. And maybe that makes me no better than them. And maybe that’s something that needs to change.

I love my family. I do… I just don’t like all of them all the time. And maybe, just maybe… that should be okay.

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Filed under This So-Called Life


Silence has always been a friend. But never more so than when I’ve stepped into a world only a woven tale could create.

* * *

“He had come for her. She held her gaze as she grabbed her own dagger and cut her palm, right over the scar she had given herself at Nehemia’s grave. And though she knew he could read the words on her face, she said, “To whatever end?”

He nodded, and she joined hands with him, blood to blood and soul to soul, his other arm coming up to grip her tightly. Their hands clasped between them, he whispered into her ear, “I claim you, too, Aelin Galathynius.”

– Rowan Whitethorn, Heir of Fire


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Filed under Secret Life of Bees

The Love Letter Never Written (For Me)

Press “play” and then read…


         *          *          *

If I could make it better, I would.

I would swallow the sun and kiss it straight into your mouth if it meant you’d feel warm again. I would bury green gardens deep inside your heart if it meant you would blossom there. I would pull myself apart, jagged bone and soft skin, if it meant I could find the right pieces to put you back together again.

I would, darling. I would. But I can’t. For I learned time and time again that human beings cannot be saved, or fixed or grown by others – they can only be loved. So I will love you, and I will love you well.

I will love you on the days your laughter meets your eyes, and I will love you just as much when it does not. I will love you on the days you are made of light, and I will love you just as much when the world feels like a load you have to carry upon your shoulders. I will love you through your healing, and I will love you through your hurt. I will love you through your peace, and I will love you through your pain. I will love you when you love yourself, and I will love you when you do not.

I refuse to fall in love with the idea of who you can be if I were to nip and tuck and patch and sew you into someone else. If I were to throw a blanket over the baggage in your rib cage, only focusing on the prettiest parts of you. I refuse to love you in halves. So – show me where you thrive and I will love you there. Show me where you break and I will love you there. Show me where you hope and I will love you there. Show me where you doubt and I will love you there. Show me where you hide and I will love you there. Show me your open heart, flayed and beating in its decay and its growth, and I will love it, darling.

I will love it.

Written by Bianca Sparacino
Author of Seeds Planted in Concrete and The Strength in Our Scars.

         *          *          *

Now THAT is a love letter.

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Filed under Jei Pod, This So-Called Life


For some, absence makes the heart grow fonder.

For some, out of sight, out of mind.

I guess we’ll find out which one we are.

And when you get there… I’ll be waiting.

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Filed under This So-Called Life