Life As I Know It

While on the hospital I heard the most amazing story that touched my heart. Though indescribably heart breaking it reminds you that life will write itself and that ending you thought you had every right to write will be written for you… There they stood. Both angry over petty things. Over the choice of words of others. In complete disregard of what they both were feeling. She didn’t care for his explination. She was just tired and the argument pushed her over the edge. “Just leave okay! I don’t want to ever see you again! Just leave!” She screamed angrily. He looked at her with disbelief, but his pride stopped him from saying anything else. He slammed the door behind me. Mumbling anger in his words as he got in his car and drove off. She spent the rest of the afternoon spewing over everything that was said. Convinced that her pride was at stake here she convinced herself that she was right. She went through the house spilling all his contents of their relationship in the middle of her ...

S ometimes when I lay in bed all I can hear is the tick-tock of the clock. As if reminding me that life goes on. That no matter what I faced that day the world kept turning. It’s a bitter-sweet feeling. The other day as I was going through a photo box a recent picture of me fell out. Just plain old me on it, a close up of my face, my face with a few bruises and tubes. I searched the girls eyes, the girl that was staring at me. I tore my own picture and threw it in the trash… She disgusted me. I went and laid down on my bed, closing my eyes, trying to clear my mind. But all I could think about was that girl torn into tiny fragments with nothing to do but sit and wait to be made whole again. At that moment I knew the answer to my prayers. I got up, grabbed the trashcan and poured its contents onto the floor in front of me. I grabbed a piece of paper and some glue, laid it in front of me and poured the fragments on it. I was determined to put it back together. I knew it wasn’t somethi...

A heart attack is when blood vessels that supply blood to the heart are blocked, preventing enough oxygen from getting to the heart. Classic symptoms include sudden chest pain, shortness of breath, palpitations, sweating, and anxiety, along with fatigue. I had one at the age of 20. My heat stopped. My breath stopped. My thoughts stopped. My life stopped. And the sound of the machine read a flat line. Doctors scurried and nurses swung instruments and in matter of minutes electricity shook my body till a jolt finally woke me. After I felt weak and faint. I don’t remember being able to stay conscious. The next few days were a blur, just visions of a few seconds when I’d open my eyes and see a different family member or friend near my bedside. It was then I learned the truth in my grandmothers words Morir es facil. Vivir eso toma esfuerzo. Dying was easy, living was hard. Living takes guts, perseverance, strength, courage, and  determination. You can’t possibly know where y...

Her name was Arjumand Banu Begum when she would catch the eye of young prince Khurram in a way that would shape an entire empire’s history for all eternity. His name would change to “Shah Jahan” when he became the Mughal Emperor in the year 1628, after the death of his father Emperor Jahangir. The name “Shah Jahan” comes from Persian meaning “King of the World.” He called her Mumtaz Mahal, “jewel of the palace.” A Jewel he would lose when she experienced an untimely death while giving birth to their 14th child. Heartbroken, the emperor employed over 20,000 workers and 1000 elephants for two decades in order to build a fitting monument to the depth of their love. The Monument that is now known as The Taj Mahal. Shah Jahan, the king of the world, would later be imprisoned by his own son, with his only view through the barred window of his prison being that of the great monument to his long lost wife. Till this day it stands as a symbol of eternal love. Epic Love Stories. Now I...

 “I have been an intermezzo in his life…” I say biting my lip. And she nods because she understands. It’s her story. And her heart skips a beat, and a tear falls, and the sky in the darkest shade of gray agrees with a downpour of its own rain. And we sit and watch an old 1939 movie with a story that jumps from the screen. The story portrayed is that of a concert pianist and the affair he begins with his accompanist. A story so raw, of a love so meticulously built upon the unhappiness of others. Ingrid Bergman portrays Anita, a young, naïve soul, who falls in love desperately with out a care in the world. And Leslie Howard, as Holgar Brandt, a man so talented in his craft who cant resist putting everything on the line, even his family, to fall passionately and foolishly in love with someone else. Anita soon finds that living in the shadows of their love is not enough. That living in a far away place cut off from the world, or pretending that the past doesn’t exist, will not stop...

After a lifetime of searching what every girl really wants is to ride off into the sunset in the arms of the man she loves. Love is a series of fairy tales all wrapped into one. But how you write your’s is entirely up to you. Sleeping Beauty literally bleeds when touching the end of a spindle. Though long protected by those around her doom is eminent. So on a tower she waits in deep sleep for true loves first kiss , with out knowledge of the war waging for her outside. Philip has to battle an army of villains, followed by a dangerous road, and challenge a larger than life dragon before he ever gets to see his maiden. And when he does they both know they are exactly where they belong. And it gets me thinking how sometimes life hands us terrible plots where our heart literally bleeds and our lives are crushed. After certain blows most of us wish there was a tower we could lie in and hide in. And never have to see the world and know of its heartbreak. But then if we live life in hiding,...

I stood in front of the mirror and looked at all sides of the dress. A perfect (color non-existing-other-than-in-weddings) bridesmaid dress. A chiffon, one shoulder piece that I wont regret in wearing, when on the corner of my eye I observed a soon-to-be-bride stepping up to the platform, where she proceeded to twirl, mesmerized, while her company ooed and awed. I smiled at my mom and said “always a bridesmaid never a bride”. She looked at me puzzled partly because she doesn’t understand English and because if she did I’m pretty sure she’d give me the same look. Till I was 15 I had this innocent notion of love. I seriously believed you'd meet someone, you'd fall in love, and everything would end in a happy ending. After one too many fairy tales you begin to believe that love flourishes out of thin air and background music. That you casually bump into someone at your favorite coffee shop. Your coffee spills, and you both kneel down to clean, apologizing, both look up at the ...