I’m 21 now, I should be happy!

In my Downtown LA apartment, I pace back and forth with thoughts of future endeavors running through my brain;

I should be traveling

I should be writing

I should be writing I should be writing I should be writing.

Poetry doesn’t sell anymore what am I saying.

Maybe I should work on fiction;

yeah fiction.

Ugh, no.

I’d rather die a poet than trying to survive as a novelist.

Lately I’ve been sitting in my yoga poses, deep in contemplation.

It makes me anxious when I think of all the things I’m not doing though my whole purpose is to tell you to Be Here Now.

Instead I’m the one who’s over there, later.

As I watch the people come and go with my zine in hand, I wonder if our hearts ever meet at a point through those pages.

I think about projects I may never start, or some I have started but don’t want to finish.

It’s sad to be alone at 21 with nothing but your thoughts and a paper and pen, yet I still seem to make it work.

I imagine myself writing some column for The New Yorker or maybe even the Downtown LA Weekly; but I’ve never been that much into journalism.

If you haven’t seen yet, I’ve already released 2 poetry collections on my Wattpad since I turned the big 2-1.

One, a finished product filled with my thoughts of growing up while the other is an open journal updated frequently with random poems and writings.

I’ve been trying to find a way to get back onto the blog but with a better approach in which I can stay committed to it.

Until then, I try to write as much as possible while serving LA their weekly meals and coffee.

Cheers to 21!


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