This is why this site exists. Why I exist.

“Go into yourself. Find out the reason that commands you to write; see whether it has spread its roots into the very depths of your heart; confess to yourself whether you would have to die if you were forbidden to write. This most of all: ask yourself in the most silent hour of your night: must I write? Dig into yourself for a deep answer. And if this answer rings out in assent, if you meet this solemn questions with a strong, simple, “I must,” then build your life in accordance with this necessity; your whole life, even into its humblest and most indifferent hour, must become a sign and witness to this impulse. Then come close to Nature. Then, as if no one had ever tried before, try to say what you see and feel and love and lose […]

“write about what your everyday life offers you; describe your sorrows and desires, the thoughts that pass through your mind and your belief in some kind of beauty–describe all these with heartfelt, silent, humble sincerity and, when you express yourself, use the Things around you, the images from your dreams, and the objects that you remember. If your everyday life seems poor, don’t blame it; blame yourself; admit to yourself that you are not enough of a poet to call forth its riches; because for the creator there is no poverty and no poor, indifferent place[…]

“Try to raise up the sunken feelings of this enormous past; your personality will grow stronger, your solitude will expand and become a place where you can live in the twilight, where the noise of other people passes by, far in the distance. — And if out of this turning-within, out of this immersion in your own world, poems come, then you will not think of asking anyone whether they are good or not.”

— Rainer Maria Rilke, Letters to a Young Poet


If you’ve come here, welcome! … This is my life. Here are my writings:

with what could be.

To a fault, and at the detriment to my relationships, I am in love with the idea of something often more than the thing itself.

It’s always been my battle. Up until this last relationship I thought I had fully internalized and worked through this attribute in me.

But the words she used to break up with me really illuminated how much work I still had to do – that I really needed to keep working at loving someone, seeing someone, where they are. That I really need to stop feeling like I have to “fix” everything.

It’s a sobering thought that I was in love only with the potential of what she could be. The truth is that she is a very sweet girl. Deep. Thoughtful. Relatable through mutual suffering. She knew that I get excited about the idea of stuff and I turn that into reality, the problem being it wasn’t a reality she is ready for. She was reluctant to share her heart and inner workings because I continue to take things way farther than where she is comfortable. I have to see that in me and change that in the future. It is why the space we have now is so critical to regroup, separately, and figure out how we will relate with each other in the future, likely just as friends.

It’s important for me to figure myself out. How to recognize my patterns, recognize the pressure, recognize my fears with the present moments, and stop looking so far ahead that I miss the beauty of what is being created. I have to own up to this trait. I never want to put my significant other through this again. I can’t move forward in dating and romantic relationships if I don’t develop a sensitivity to this. I do believe that where we’re at is what is best, as much as it hurts to admit. We need space. We need healing. We need the comfort and joy of others. We need this moment apart.

Space is the greatest gift I can give.

love and growth.

I had a post 7 years ago that described a notion of valentine’s day being an everyday thing rather than be relegated to a single day. I found it here. I was single then, haha. But I’m also single now.

A year ago, I remember her sharing with me that she had difficulty with Valentine’s Days after the fact… I was in Hawaii at the time, and I remember wanting to be there with her so badly on that day. I looked up plane tickets just for a round trip. The fare exceeded my bank account. So I got more creative and just leveraged technology instead.

I wondered that day last year. She was uncharacteristically silent on a day where love was encouraged by culture. It didn’t bother me, it didn’t hurt me, my go-to response was empathy and wonderment.

Today, I can’t talk to her nor encourage her anymore. It would betray the space. So I did the only thing I knew what I could do to support and encourage her without violating that space – I prayed. I prayed that she would find comfort and joy and strength, that she would work through whatever she is going through with strength. But also… this morning I’ve prayed a prayer for her that genuinely surprised me. In praying for her health, happiness, and future, I found myself feeling prompted to pray that she would find someone that would love her and communicate love exactly the way she was designed to feel it. I prayed for the man that would one day treasure her heart for life, that this man would not shy away from the battles and growth that will develop the character needed to sustain her heart. I prayed that they would click together, partner together, fight and make up in a way that strengthened their resolve, their commitments. That he would treasure her scar tissue the same way I did, covering each one with the assurance that he would not leave because of them. I prayed that God would give her someone that would blow me out of the water, and I would have no choice but to look up to him.

And to my surprise and astonishment, I prayed it without tears.

One memory I had recalled when I woke up this morning was a conversation that we had on the phone one day in October. I remember being frustrated with a lot of people and feeling disrespected, and after sharing there was a pause, and she asked me to “please never ever lose patience with her ever.”

Recalling that memory made me sad… I was prepared to never leave her. but I was also able to release that moment to Jesus in forgiveness and exercise gratitude in that moment. it was amazing to think that we even shared a moment so vulnerable and beautiful.

After all, I never thought in 2016 that my year of Patience, my theme for that year, would have been exercised and grown in the context of a relationship. It was so sudden – we met on Christmas Eve and started dating on New Years, and were an official couple by the end of January. When we shared our story with others, it sounded straight out of a movie. It felt blessed, and others celebrated our story. She had even journaled right before we met that she wanted a relationship. I suppose it eventually made me prideful, and my identity got wrapped up in it

Similarly, I never thought that in 2017 that my year of Growth, my current theme for the year, would be in the context of singleness. It’s frustrating how God listens sometimes… He hears us and then proceeds to give us what we want, putting us in the most nutrient-rich soil for the very thing we ask Him for. Last year He knew that the most fertile place for me to learn Patience would be in this relationship. This year He knows that the most fertile place for me to learn Growth would be in my singleness. And throughout this process I get to exercise the belief that God is good.

Frustrating as it may be, however, He can give and take away… but His love and motivations never change. He is always good, no matter what we have, or no longer have.

I’m starting to think that maybe this is the season where my Patience grows even more. I intend to keep my promise to her, I will “never ever lose patience with her ever.” This doesn’t mean I will wait for a romantic relationship to bloom again. In all health that can’t be my motivation; it just means that one day I will be her friend. One day I will get to support her, be in the audience, watch her in movies and plays, and though my role in her life has changed, it doesn’t mean that the job of being a good, constant person in her life goes out the door. I had always promised her a friendship. I had always promised her that I wasn’t going anywhere. And I had promised her patience. I can still be all these things as a friend. They don’t just exist in a romantic sense. I mean, I can still help produce her play if the offer still stands. I can still participate in her dreams and help them become a reality much in the same way I do that for my friends and their dreams.

Ultimately, this is the way that I love to live. I love the process of becoming strong. I love knowing intimately the things that I have been given, and I love treasuring them when I have them. I love choosing gratitude. I love praying. I love others. Now, I am learning to love myself.

More uncomfortably, after I finished praying, I felt a prompting to pray for myself. I prayed for healing. I prayed for wisdom. I prayed for strength. More patience. I prayed that God would keep giving me opportunities to grow. And I prayed (and this is where the tears started coming in) that I would find myself with a lifelong someone where our relationship looked like health, kindness, gratitude, and strength. I prayed that I would be given someone who understood me, supported me, and that there would be an undeniable chemistry. And in turn, I would be given an opportunity to build a life that supported and encouraged her realizing her deepest passions and dreams. I want a relationship that makes God attractive to others through our lifelong creative competition of trying to outdo one another. Through the tears I surrendered to the promise and faith that God does hear me and is preparing me and her to be each other’s best encouragement.

It’s not to say that this Valentine’s Day isn’t tough – because it is. I miss her with an unfathomable deepness. There aren’t words for it. But also, it’s tough because I still has so much love left to give. So many date ideas. A long list she never knew I kept of things I wanted to do together. And I’m becoming more aware that my creativity love tank doesn’t really deplete… frustratingly, I’m still generating tons of ideas and gifts and no longer have a recipient. But it’s okay… this is who I am, who I want to be, who I like being.

okay.

I thought about leaving a tulip in her car door.

I thought about a gift card or an “anonymous” letter from a “secret admirer.”

I thought of leaving her a note that showed value toward her. Maybe a random gas card.

But that means I wouldn’t be respecting her.

Nor would I be respecting myself or the space.

It’s interesting me more and more as I discover myself through this space… my needs. my deal breakers. often there is such a fantasy about what is romance, built up over time, over experience, over stories and books, films. after processing and talking it through with other people and friends, I’m becoming more and more aware of what my needs were this whole time, what wasn’t being met, what I should be looking for later on when I’m fully healed and ready to get back out there.

The timing sucks, but in the grand scheme of things, it’s always better sooner rather than later. I am resting in the fact that I tried my best, I was myself, and that’s all you can really do in a relationship: give your all. relationships are precious because it’s so rare to find someone you’re willing to work your ass off and suffer for, and do it mutually. to partner with life, cheer each other on, and make the best of every situation.

I hope and pray that tomorrow, during Valentine’s Day, people will embrace who they are with, what they have, take a deep breath, and be thankful. it’s a gift to spend a Valentine’s Day with a loved one. We never got to officially experience one. but it’s okay.

I have no regrets. I am so thankful. it was a beautiful relationship. And it’s okay if things don’t work out. Things will be okay.

I will be okay.

67 Degrees.

I’ll never forget the feeling of that frigid air.

It was right before 9pm when I walked out of that door and heard it close behind me. That was the second time. The first time was botched because as the door stayed open, her french bulldog made a break for it… begrudgingly I broke our intimate and possibly last ever embrace and chased him down the street making sure this dog was okay. Yes I wanted him safe and in my arms, returned back to her safely, but to be honest I wanted to be running for that dog forever, I wanted him to never stop, because I did not want to have to return to her and finally say goodbye.

But I caught him, returned him, and we hugged again, this time indoors, tears streaming from her face and warming my shoulder with an affection I hadn’t felt from her in weeks; tears streaming down my face and into her hair whose scent I can still recall on demand. I hugged her for as long as I felt allowed, pressing her into me as if to keep our promises and future from slipping through.

But I had to let go. It’s what she wanted.

I turned the knob and walked out. Normally, I would turn around at the last second, steal one more kiss, sneak in one more “I love you” and walk away fuzzy. I didn’t turn around this time. And I heard the door close.

And I felt that frigid air.

I couldn’t move — in fact I stayed. I sat down in their outdoor sofa, leaned my head back, and looked at the stars. It was such a clear night. Thoughts of us emerged. Things we’ve said. Futures we spoke about. All of that now an offering to the Creator of the Universe, the only source of hope I had left. Rivers of tears kept flowing.

I sat there for probably 45 minutes, leaving only because her roommate was walking up to the front door.

I couldn’t believe we were no longer together.

I am such a packrat. I keep everything. It’s cute when you’re in a relationship, and fodder for amazing moments to look back and be grateful. But it’s hard to look at it when it’s over. I don’t want to throw any of it away… but I can’t go into my room without stopping to look at it and then be overwhelmed by grief to the point where I have to hit the floor and sob. A year and a week. All summed up into one jar of ticket stubs and receipts.

Now as I write this, we would have been coming home from a play in Ventura. In this reality, I came home from watching the Lego Batman movie with my roommates, and she is out at Santa Monica Pier with her roommates. The loneliness must be mutual, and I am thankful for our respective friends.

But God, do I miss her.

She was my love. She still currently is. Letting go of her is climbing up to be the hardest thing I have ever done. Respecting her desire to end the relationship and to respect her request for me to stop pursuing her is the single greatest act of humanity I am trying to do. Her future happiness and success have been my sincerest prayers and the only ones that I ever want to have God answer. She was everything to me. And she’s gone.

It doesn’t feel fair. I treated her so well. I respected her body, her wishes, her desires. I was innocent in how I treated her. However, at least I had the opportunity to treat her that way. There have been plenty who may have tried but blew it. I had tried before with previous relationships and I blew it. At least I had the opportunity to treasure her. I didn’t leave regretting that I should have kissed more passionately the days before, because I treated every kiss that way. I didn’t leave anything unsaid, because I said how much I loved her every chance I could.

I loved her. And being able to love her was God’s greatest gift to me so far. I hurt this deeply because it reflects that love I never held back in giving.

I pray  one day soon to have the courage to love deeply again.

Breaking up, together.

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It is pretty crazy how collectively as a group there is some serious battles going on in the relationships realm of people’s lives.

Today is the toughest so far (only day three), but there is a sort of comfort in knowing that I am not alone. The ironic part of a breakup is that even though the relationship fell apart, you are not alone in that brokenness; we are both in that same space, and while we’re healing separately, it’s being done in unison, traveling at different speeds but nonetheless toward a shared hope that we find in Jesus. So there is still unity.

I am finding comfort as I discover more about my value. Strength that I find through prayer I am happy to share with her. She no longer needs to be explicitly encouraged by me in the fact I pray for her, she just gets to feel the fruit of it. Conversely I believe that I get through my days without her in large part due to her prayers for me. So we are still relational toward each other, but on paper and officially we are no longer a couple.

I already know there are no shortcuts to the healing, only coverups and distraction. Me not fully going through this process will rob my future girlfriend of the best parts of me that will only emerge through this perseverance. My hope can only be in Jesus and the future He has for me, alone. To think that we may get back together in the future will only undermine the process. She has always needed the space that this boundary is now forcing me to give her.

I desire for her to be her best self at the end of this struggle. The world needs her, her story, her triumph, her future.

She is persistent, mighty, fierce, independent, inspiring, and a beautiful human – reasons why I loved her in the first place. She will always remain these things in my mind, and I need to be ready to accept a life that has moved on without me. I hope I get there one day. My comfort is that though separate, currently and in this moment, we are in this still, together.

That is enough for me.

I will never be mad at her.

I will never resent her.

I will refuse bitterness.

I will exercise gratitude.

I will pray for the God of the universe to pull her closer to His wonder, and that even though she no longer wanted to be pulled by me, that she will one day embrace God’s pull on her.

I have never loved God more than now, and it is because of the way I had been taught to love her. I hope on hope on hope that I don’t change this posture.