In the stillness of the night, I sit by the glowing campfire, Embraced by an endless blanket of warm stars. I lean my head on the moon’s shoulder, And he envelops me gently with his radiance, Shielding me from the encroaching shadows of loneliness.
I stir my dreams in the cauldron of twilight, Each bubble—a wish sent on a moonbeam, Every string of steam—a spiral of hope, For your fleeting gaze to fill the hollows of my heart.
Like a Witch amidst the dancing flames, I fervently invoke the celestial light. Could I cast a spell to attract your affection? No… I can’t… I won’t bewitch your heart… I loathe cursed adoration. I shun false and deceptive masquerades.
Still, Evil sneaks in with his deceits, Haunting me with wicked lures of delusion, Invading my thoughts, polluting my consciousness. At night, when darkness closes my eyes, His demons plunge their claws into my bleeding heart.
Yet, bolted to the sacred stone of pristine sincerity, I tower tall, siding with purest honesty, Inviting blooming, genuine love. I yearn for crimson passion, an ethereal weave, And your heartfelt desire for me—rooted deeply in utter truth.
I nurture a single seed of hope that One day, a flicker of your attention Will find its way to me And ignite sincere feelings for me.
Why is love so elusive? Do the flames’ gentle flickers hold the answer? Their tender whispers enchant me, Soothing my heart as I wait for you. For I cannot erase you from my mind.
Ever wondered what happens after ‘happily ever after’ in fairy tales?
You know, the ones where the prince kisses the princess, and they ride off into the sunset? Many Disney stories wrap up with “and they lived happily ever after,” right? That dreamy finale is supposed to let our imaginations run wild with visions of an idealized future. But has anyone ever wondered what their “happy” life looked like a few years down the road? Did they have kids? Because if they did, let me tell you—that’s a whole new fairy tale waiting to unfold!
Picture Cinderella, still waking up with a smile and singing birds around her—except now, it’s after a night of zero sleep, dealing with crying babies and dodging diaper disasters. She’d probably chuck things at those birds for waking her up.
Forget those glossy Disney illustrations of her hair; in reality, Cinderella’s hair would be more like a mom’s real-life messy bun, complete with baby spit-up as an accessory. Disney should hire a real mom—those illustrations would be less pretty, but way more authentic!
Remember when Cinderella had to dash from the ball at midnight? Should we really feel sorry for her? That night, she looked stunning! Everyone talked about her beauty—when was the last time someone did that for you? Long before the kids, right? And dancing with a prince for hours? Moms today are lucky if they get a quick shuffle under the shower for one whole song! Let alone dream about parties without someone walking behind you, yelling or needing something every two minutes.
Now, let’s fast-forward a few years. Think Cinderella’s stepsisters’ demands were tough? Try competing with your kids’ non-stop requests for snacks, water (but not in that cup!), and finding their lost toys. Everyone pities Cinderella for sweeping those ashy floors—but sweeping up a mountain of crumbs and spilled cereal three times a day? No one talks about that!
We all felt for Cinderella when she had to pick out lentils from the ashes. Well… that must have been tough, actually. But what about picking up those tiny Lego pieces from every corner of the house? Don’t get me started—I think we all hate that! And stepping on one in the middle of the night on the way to the bathroom? Oh yes, I would love to see our pretty Cinderella losing it at 2 a.m. That’s a pain she couldn’t handle!
Meanwhile, where is Prince Charming in that whole mess? Let me guess, taking his 45-minute bathroom break—with his phone, of course! Or maybe he is dancing with another Cinderella? Life is unpredictable, and for some of us, more demanding.
Don’t think for a second being a rich princess is any easier. Well, maybe a bit; they have the money to afford sitters and cleaning ladies. Nevertheless, nothing releases them from the responsibility of being a mom. That’s universal. We care so much that we forget to care for ourselves. That’s the real magic of our story—life with kids is tough because we love them fiercely, and despite the chaos, we endure the pain and grow stronger every day.
In the end, our ‘happily ever after’ isn’t about idealized perfection or fairy tales. It’s about discovering love and joy amidst the mess. So, take a deep breath, keep sweeping those floors and picking up those Legos, because one day—very soon—it will be our turn to enjoy the Ball! And our kids will make sure those shoes fit so we can dance all night long!!
Dedicated to Law Students and Bar Exam Takers. You got this!! Good luck!
Law school felt like battling a monstrous beast, From day one: a torturous intellectual feast. Cases and books—an oppressive digest, The LSAT was just the appetizer for this relentless quest!
Many groaned, calling the LSAT a dread, Unaware it was a preview of sleepless nights ahead. Reading, briefing, monotonous lore, Parties a myth! All fun’s out the door!
Free time vanished, hobbies took flight, Gym and karate? All gone overnight! Constantly seated, my chair-bound plight, Gained weight! Out of shape! Now, isn’t that right?
No midterms to ease, just finals—so grand; One exam to decide if you sink or stand! Finishing 1L, stress rockets in flight, A 3-hour horse race final in the dead of night.
Graded on a curve, it’s anyone’s game, Score high, yet still, can endure the shame. Classmates as rivals, friends now in jest, Cutthroat and brutal; law school’s no rest.
Three years of torture, sleepless and grim, Reading and writing till your eyesight dims. Friends? What friends? They all disappeared!! Only on Christmas, some family cheered.
Then there’s the BAR, oh man, what a “treat,” Study till you fall off your seat! California’s the worst—tough as can be. Fail—and an attorney you may never be!
Money? You ask, was it worth all the pain? Well, lawyers ain’t rolling in endless champagne! Huge responsibility and liability too, Makes you ponder: Was this the right thing to do?
But if law is your passion; your heart’s true delight, Maybe—just maybe—it’s worth the long fight. Yet, if you dream of something else instead, Run far from law school, run fast, my friend!
The alarm clock screams: It’s 5:00 am! Why must I wake so early again? Eyes half-open, stumble out of bed, Wonderful dreams still buzzing in my head.
Coffee’s brewing, but it feels too slow, I’m up at dawn? That’s a cruel show! I yawn so wide that I could swallow the moon, Who decided to begin a day this soon?!
The world’s still asleep—quiet—missing morning thrill, Getting out of bed is surely against my will. But up I go, and greet the day with a beat, Grateful for this life and all the chaos in it.
Have you noticed that you can’t fake having a great time? Think about those photos from your happiest moments—genuine joy always shines through, right? You wouldn’t be snapping pictures if you weren’t truly enjoying yourself. Even selfies meant to show off on social media are usually taken in fantastic places or during significant events. This weekend, I experienced something that profoundly clarified this for me. As I looked at some pictures, I perceived more than just sincere smiles. I uncovered something unexpected and deeply revealing about capturing genuine happiness.
On Saturday, I went to a friend’s birthday party. For the first time in a long while, it wasn’t a kid’s party! I mean a real grown-up party! It was a small gathering of a few close friends and their children. The kids played inside a big house while the parents sat outside on the patio, overlooking the beautiful San Fernando Valley. The sun was shining brightly, and a gentle breeze carried the scent of desert flowers, making it a perfect June afternoon.
As we cracked jokes, sipped our drinks, and relaxed, we noticed the sun beginning to set. It seemed like the ideal time to watch it from the surrounding secluded rocky-desert landscape. We decided to go for a short hike around the property. The lone-standing house was at the top of a mountain with no neighbors nearby. The air was crisp, and our giggles echoed in the vast, open space. As we ventured out to watch the beautiful sunset, we climbed some rocks and snapped a lot of amazing photos. There were more jokes and lots of laughter.
Today, I looked at the photos, and surprisingly, almost all of them turned out great! Even the group photos show big smiles, lots of teeth, and glowing eyes! I was amazed by how genuinely happy everyone looked. There was no major posing; the photos captured spontaneous moments of delight. It was exceptionally wonderful! I realized that genuine happiness is unforced and naturally caught in moments of joy. It cannot be fabricated! It is evident in natural, unrehearsed expressions and interactions.
Reflecting on these moments, I recognize their preciousness. In a world where so much can feel staged and superficial, it’s the authentic experiences that truly matter. Our photos are not just images; they are memories of laughter, connection, and real fun—not meant to show off or impress anyone. They remind me that the best moments in life are often the simplest, shared with those we care about most. They allow to appreciate the value of spontaneous joy and genuine connections. Don’t let these moments slip away. Recognize and cherish them, for they serve as luminous lighthouses radiating strong and bright in our ordinary, sometimes dark days—the true highlights of our lives. Sometimes the simplest and ordinary points in time are the most amazing ones!
I hit the gym, all geared up and ready to go, With my favorite sneakers and usual glow. But as I lift weights, trying to gain strength, A dumbbell slips, despite my full-arm length.
Sweat pours down like a tropical rain, As I struggle to bench press, feeling the strain. The heavy barbell slides from the rack! Landing on my face—wham!—and my eye turns black!
Treadmill running, I trip on my lace, Flying off in an epic—yet not unusual clumsy race. People around me can’t help but stare, I just smile back, fixing my messy hair.
Yoga poses? Okay, I’ll give it a shot! But, man, balancing’s harder than I thought! Toppling over in a twisted mess, I laugh it off, ’cause surely, I can’t impress.
Despite the chaos, the slips, and the falls, I keep on going, giving it my all. For every mistake, a story to share, ‘Cause gym adventures are beyond compare!
*Did I mention I’m clumsy? 😉 These past few months have been quite unfortunate, causing many injuries. But hey, I’m back at the gym, still accident-prone, and trying to get back into shape for the summer. Though, considering it’s the end of June, I don’t think I’ll get there! 😜 In reflection, I enjoy writing about it and laughing it off. I look kinda badass cool, don’t I?
Our lives are like the rain falling from the sky, Sometimes gentle, like a whisper—an unnoticed sigh. A light rain on a warm day, no big deal, Just a kiss from the heavens—a bliss to feel.
A single drop on a leaf, a sweet graceful dance, It slides to the tip, then takes its chance. As it dives to the ground, the leaf bounces back, A tranquil scene—a peaceful act.
Yet when the rain pours, in torrents and sheets, The leaf takes the blows, withstanding the beats. It’s under attack from raindrop-heavy punches, Just like we face challenges in unpredictable bunches.
But the rain pounds harder when the storms rage, Life’s troubles cascade, taking over the whole stage. People like leaves, caught in the fray, Fighting like raindrops on a stormy day.
And then comes the hurricane, wild and free, Ripping apart the tallest tree! Life’s greatest storms, we cannot predict, They tear through our lives, leaving us kicked.
We cannot control the weather and the rain, Just like life’s joys and moments of pain. But we can stand firm, like the leaf on the tree, Bouncing back after each drop, strong and free.
Yet, rainbows emerge, vibrant and bright, Everyone points with pure delight. A promise of beauty after the rain, A reminder of joy after moments of pain.
For every storm that shakes the ground, There’s a magical rainbow waiting to be found. In the dance of the rain, in the calm and the strife, We find the essence, the beauty of life.
I know why you left me, Mom. I didn’t understand it then. How could I? I was so young, a fragile leaf tossed in a hurricane.
I still remember you standing in that dim hallway, determined to leave. I heard the hollow echo as you opened the door, but before it slammed shut, the Beast crept in, filling the emptiness with shadows.
That night, sleep eluded me. I imagined you soaring through the sky, chasing your freedom like a ravenous bird after its prey. Trapped in the darkness, I cried, motionless, a girl clenching her fists. The Beast watched me; its big, fiery eyes piercing the night. I was terrified. But nobody was there to witness my horror.
For years, I begged you to come back, but you never did; and I never tamed the Beast. It lingered, a constant reminder of the void you left behind.
Three decades have passed, and the Beast still remains. I’ve grown used to its presence, accepting that I can’t fight it. I’ve built walls around myself, so tall that only God in Heaven can see the true reflection of me.
But one day, someone will come, and the Beast will be gone. My heart knows it, awaiting the day of liberation.
I’m no longer angry at you. I’ve come to understand your struggle, though I never heard you say plainly, “I love you.” Maybe you never did. You must have had your reasons.
But I can’t carry your pain for you anymore. It crushes me. I need to let it go.
Nevertheless, I love you. I always have. My heart’s been beating with so much love that I can’t feel otherwise. I’m sorry I couldn’t make you happy, but it’s time for me to find my own peace.
I always wanted a house. It was my sweet dream, like it is for many people. In our society, a house is seen as the ultimate benchmark of success: the bigger the house, the more prosperous you are believed to be. But is that really true? Can the size and appearance of your house truly measure your wealth? We often see only the surface, valuing material accomplishments. But what if there’s more? How do we measure happiness, quality of life, or success? Perhaps we should look deeper to see the hidden dimensions of fulfillment.
For years, I dreamed of owning a house. Like a blindfolded person, I focused on it without questioning why. I never thought about the location, layout, or design. I just wanted a house. Why? Maybe because, since childhood, I heard my parents talk about building a house (they never did). I didn’t want a mansion—the bigger the house, the more mess to clean up, right? But I wanted more space from my kids, and for them to have space from each other. So, while I had a place to live, I also had a dream. Until one day, I actually thought about it.
During a recent trip to Poland, I had to spend five days in Warsaw. A relative offered us one of her houses just outside the city. It was newly built and still unoccupied. We accepted the offer.
The house was perfect. When I walked in, I could smell the polished wood floors. The hallway led to an open living room, dining room, and kitchen—a grand-royal dance floor where I could glide between the counters. Warm light spilled into the space through enormous windows. In the living room, Victorian windows with elegantly folded beige curtains overlooked the backyard. The stairs led to four bedrooms upstairs. Then there was the attic—the coziest space in the house, filled with the owner’s musical instruments and boxes of books. It was small, with slightly slanted walls to accommodate the roof, yet warm and inviting. Golden sunlight spilled into both rooms through small skylights. I immediately thought about sipping warm tea on a cold winter evening.
The next morning, I got up at dawn. The world was still asleep. I quietly made a cup of coffee and stepped outside onto the wooden deck. The air was cold, moist, and refreshing. A thin fog sat on the soft grass like a carpet out of a Shakespearean play. The sun was rising behind the hill. I took a few lazy steps and soaked my bare feet in the dew-covered grass. You don’t get that in LA. It was peaceful and quiet, but not silent. A few birds kept me company from a distance. I wished my kids were there to see it, but I didn’t want to wake them. I sat on a chair and enjoyed the magnificent morning. The cold was getting to me, but strangely, I didn’t mind. I curled my legs, hugged my knees, and had another sip of hot coffee. That was enough to keep me warm.
As I sat there, I thought about the amazing house and the gorgeous view. This was a perfect house—ideal size—just what I wanted without realizing it. I was literally living in my dream! Just a few miles away from a big city. What else could I want?
Yet something was missing. I thought of my tiny, cluttered apartment in Glendale, and morning visits to Panera. It had been many days since my last workout—I missed my gyms. I thought of my people. Instinctively, I picked up my phone and texted my friend, “Greetings from Poland.” She immediately replied, “Please, come back soon, we miss you.” My heart jumped. I hadn’t realized how close we had gotten over the past few months. I missed them too. Here I was, about 100 miles away from my parents and brother— my immediate family. Yet, I missed my friends. Pathetic, I thought. But my mother hadn’t called me in years—not once—to ask about the kids. Yet, she’s my mom, and I love her. She had a heart attack over a year ago and I had been looking forward to seeing her since. Now, when I am finally here, I couldn’t wait to go back home! I missed those tiny glimpses of my boring everyday life I disliked so much! But somehow, this is the world I have built for myself. I could do little things I enjoyed, even for a few minutes. This beautiful house I was in was far away from everything. No gym within walking distance, no coffee shop to work at, and definitely too far from friends and the beach!
A dream house is just that—a dream. It’s an illusion and distraction that blurs our present. While it’s important to have dreams and pursue them, it is far from living in the moment. My dream house was an idea I loved in my head. However, reality has both sides. Unfortunately, in our dreams, we only see the positive. And that is not real.
I still want a house, but I now see it through the prism of life, bending my perspective on its value. The dream house is just one color of the dispersed light, while the other colors represent the many aspects of life. If you focus only on one color, you miss out on the beautiful rainbow effect. So, cherish the things that truly matter and bring meaning. Make each smile count because, after all, the tiny moments make up our life, just like many colors make up the rainbow. Value those moments and remember them. After all, true prosperity is measured not by the size of our homes but by the richness of our lives and the memories we create.
In the hush of falling rain, I find my peace, A gentle rhythm that makes life’s chaos cease. While others scurry, seeking shelter from the storm, I embrace the rain, with its touch of calm.
I love raindrops kissing my hair and face, Falling softly with such grace. With my eyes closed, I listen to nature’s song, A pluvial symphony—a magical place where I belong.
I reminisce, at sixteen, my transcendent stroll, Barefoot and alone on a countryside roll. Shoes in hand, black mini-skirt on, Singing in the rain, for hours till dawn.
Skipping uphill as the rain runoff drenched my feet, Still blithe in a joyful dance to a rhythmic beat. Soaking wet, yet feeling no cold, Just the playful splash—a secret for decades untold.
So let the rain fall, let it pour, For in its harmony, my spirit soars! While others panic, fear its might, I find my solace in the rainy night.
Wolverine Lily 