If I revealed my raw self to you, peeled the makeup, stripped the cloth from my body, Bare— unfolding every crease carved in silence by time— the eternal butcher, dragging a dull blade across my skin.
Would you meet my eyes, lock them in yours, and embrace all I surrender? Or would your gaze slip, chasing youth in someone else?
Would your fingers trace the map my face has become, my eyes—Sirius at midnight— guiding you into the gorge where I’ve buried all my love?
If you leaned closer, beyond the façade of scars, you’d hear the crackle. Would you let its warmth burn through your defenses?
Yet, if you falter and turn away, my heart—a resilient pendulum, will endure stabs of every sway. With or without your love, in all that I am, I will remain.
Author’s Note: This piece took nearly a year to complete. It demanded brutal honesty, many attempts and revisions. It’s about aging, the courage to face it, and the fire of love that refuses to die—even when love itself has long been buried. For anyone who’s felt this way: this is for you. Only a few will understand.
I’ll probably tweak it again someday, but for now, this is it.
In life’s grand masquerade, I wear masks—shifting my personalities, like a chameleon’s skin, I adapt to awaiting expectations.
At work, wielding expertise and proficiency, stiff and stern— a façade of demanded service that pleases strangers.
To my parents, I forge a mask of obedience, an armor fitted since childhood, showcasing to the world their efforts.
For my children, the heaviest mask of all— painted with disciplined example, woven with warm patience, a mosaic of unconditional love.
Among friends, I wear humor—my most popular mask, highly demanded, like a jester spinning witty tales to amuse the crowd, a bright light beams through a kaleidoscope, scattering laughter across every face. This favored mask serves me well; but I shed it when alone.
If you peel off these masks, layer by layer, you’ll find my bare face at last. My eyes: mirrors of my heart, a clear, silent lake… See me.
Unbound, unguarded, unmasked—the real me. Cleansed by the rain of purity, I rediscover my forgotten contours distorted by layers of duty.
For my husband, I hide behind the thinnest mask— a dissolving mist, still he filters what he wishes to see, like a lens zooming in on a single detail, blind to the truth beneath my transparent disguise.
My masks exhaust me; like heavy chains, they weigh me down.
Yet, the ludicrous carnival endures— A hollow parade of fleeting extravagances: temporary delights and shallow possessions—soon forgotten.
Each costumed soul quietly yearns for rescue, rebelling against the imposed pretenses— all longing for gentle affection: to be seen and loved.
So, I ask you this: What mask shall I wear for you, Monsieur? Or dare to meet me unmasked, heart open, soul bare?
If you’ve read this far, you’ve glimpsed beyond my masks. Would you come closer, strip off yours— eye-to-eye, no veils between us?
Behind the ramparts of this masquerade, I stand—will you rise to find me?
Author’s Note: This poem has been on my mind for a long time. It reflects the roles we play in life—often without even realizing it. We wear masks to please others, feeding their endless demands, and in doing so, we lose ourselves. We don’t just project a false image—we surrender fragments of our identity, becoming puppets bound by the strings of others’ expectations.
From childhood, we’re trained to follow directions and meet society’s expectations, as though we must live for someone else, constantly under the lens of judgment. This disconnect creates a lack of authentic connections, yet the yearning for genuine affection stays in our hearts.
Another layer of this poem explores the tendency to seek validation through material possessions. Many hide behind fancy items and designer labels, projecting an illusion of worth. Beneath the surface, these illusions often overshadow one’s true value. Like hollow mannequins draped in overpriced clothes, they project their worth through price tags.
We’ve all worn masks at some point to fit in—it’s part of being human. Nevertheless, I think that everyone has something authentic to offer, but not everyone is willing to believe in it and embrace their uniqueness.
I have no intention of changing who I am for others, but I’ve learned to adjust my behavior when necessary—like it or not.
When does the masquerade end? Perhaps it ends when we cut the strings and dare to stand unmasked—naked, trembling in the panic of inconvenient reality, yet finally free!
Life is too short to dance to someone else’s tune!
Finally, it was my birthday last week. Birthdays have a way of sparking reflection, don’t they? This one felt particularly powerful for me. Like a wake-up call, it urged me to think deeply about the kind of life I truly want to live—and the masks I must drop. 🎭
I don’t want to think what’s right— what’s right anymore?
I’ve been doing all the right things: behaved right, got the right degree, married the right guy…
Still, I ended up in the wrong place— or the wrong end of the right place, at most.
A precise blueprint, yet wayward— disarrayed, veering off the ideal design.
I’m incomplete. Misaligned.
Isn’t that right? For me—it’s wrong.
Why is it wrong? I did all the right things?
Why then, amidst all these rights, do I feel misplaced— a lucky penny lost in a dry desert, gleaming in the sun, yet inconspicuous in the sand— Blindly chasing paths marked right or wrong.
Incongruous.
Why is it wrong, doing what feels right?
I’m tempted to do what’s wrong— forbidden, There’s a thrill in rebellion, a treasure awaiting discovery in the shadows.
But what if it’s not wrong? And perhaps even right— right for me.
So, if I do wrong things, maybe at least I’ll finally feel right.
I stare into the mirror. I see myself—those worried eyes I know so well. “What do you fear?” I ask. “I’m afraid to take this step,” she replies. “Don’t. I’ll be with you holding your hand.”
She doesn’t trust me but begins to climb. Step by slow step. I watch her go up beyond my reach. My legs tremble. My heart pounds in my ears. She reaches the highest highs, I can barely see her.
“I’m scared,” she screams as she looks down. “How will I get down?” “Jump,” I encourage her. “Impossible! I will die!” “You won’t. I will catch you,” I assure.
She hesitates. “I can’t! I’m terrified!” she cries. “Just trust me,” I whisper. “If you fall, I’ll fall… with you.”
Her quivering feet slide to the edge, I catch my breath, She plunges into the unknown. First, like a rock tossed in the wind, Then she unfolds her arms— Delicate wings, unsure they will hold her, Yet she spreads them wide in growing confidence, As feathers grow from her skin.
I hint a smile and behold her glide, A bird soaring on a gale. I extend my arms into the air. “What if I can’t do this?” I doubt myself. Terror embraces me from behind. “If you fail, I fail too,” Her mutter echoes in my heart.
She lands within me, I ripple like a drop cascading into a lake, Peacefully blending into placid waters.
Was it her or me? Who truly made it?
I stare into the mirror. I see myself—those worried eyes I know so well. “What do you fear?” she asks. “I’m scared to take this step.” “Don’t. I’ll be with you holding your hand,” she replies.
I climb with trembling legs. She will catch me, she’ll find a way— As I once did. I’ll find my wings… Just as she once found hers.
I’ve always felt drawn to full moons. My grandma used to call me a child of the night, and I guess she was right. Last night’s Hunter’s Moon felt especially mystical, barely visible through the folding LA clouds, like the closing of a chapter. We all move through phases in life—sometimes we shine brightly, and other times we retreat into stillness, reflecting. At least, some of us do.
I used to love running at night under the full moon. Its silvery glow lit up my feet and the quiet streets, and I was captivated by it. But one night, I got hit by a car, and… well, that put an end to those midnight runs. Afterward, I embraced walks with their quiet wisdom, listening to what the night had to offer instead of sweating through it. You can spot me in the neighborhood, collecting my thoughts, often sipping hot tea. It’s the closest I get to meditation. The quiet has its own way of sparking ideas, doesn’t it?
No matter where you are, take a moment to look up. You might catch a glimpse between the clouds—maybe a thought, or even an answer to something that’s been resting heavy on your heart. These are moments meant for reflection. And dream.
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?
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.
Wolverine Lily 