Thus, I Despair

sad poetry

I despair in the face of thinking these thoughts, and feeling those feelings which invoke [or else mimic] the very same spirits which are known to make me despair…

At least by those few who care enough to know more of me than just my weary smile and burdensome comicality.

Therefore, I live in a limbo of halves and nothings: half musings, or none at all, half sentiments, or none at all, halves and nothings where there are these thoughts, and those feelings, with true agony to be experienced, known, felt, endured

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The Shirt I Wore On the Morning I Started Seeing the Thestrals

indie author blog

I know it’s technically just a shirt; I completely understand that.

Yet, it’s also so much more than that.

At least, I think it is…

It was actually brand new the first [and perhaps last] time I wore it. The gorgeous thing arrived in the mail just days before I hopped the kind of midnight flight you usually only book at the last minute in the case of a family emergency.

The blouse wasn’t anything spectacular in itself back then, but I also knew the moment I saw and held it for the first time that it would fit me perfectly…

And, sure enough, that soft t-shirt blouse looked pretty great when I put it on for the first time just hours after reaching my destination. It was as if that top was made for me.

However, what I didn’t realize as I nonchalantly slipped into my new shirt that morning is that I was actually in the process of greeting a day I‘ll never forget for the rest of my life.

Here’s the thing:

Within [about] an hour of putting on that top for the first time (9:30 A.M. or so), I watched my grandmother die before my very eyes (10:27 A.M., to be exact), held her lifeless hands in my own for as long as I possibly could, did what I could not to cry over her corpse, and whispered all the things I never got a chance to tell her during the final years of her life in the hopes her spirit would hear me before departing that room. It was in that t-shirt [which I actually selected for that visit in the hopes she’d have liked it on another day many years ago when she could’ve still appreciated it] that I kissed her wrinkled forehead, stroked her stark white hair, gripped her withered hands as she’d always done mine, and touched her for the last time.

That was the blouse that I had on as my grandmother passed away upon her actual deathbed, just feet away from me. In that, it’ll be marked in my mind forevermore as a shirt unlike all the others I own.

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The Chronicles of Pluto, the Goddess of Death: The Princess of the Underworld (Part III)

hades satire

There’s nothing better than being a Daddy’s girl… Especially when your Daddy is your own, personal superhero, as well as Hades, the legendary King of the Underworld…


I wouldn’t say I was exactly estranged from my mother and half-siblings by the time the “Summer of Mango,” [as I eventually came to know it] had finally faded into a series of fond memories.  Regardless, I wouldn’t say I was an active member of our family’s flock back then either.

Nevertheless, there was one entity concerned with my biological roots who I was still very much in touch with around that time.  We’d always been on good terms; yet, shortly after my first bloody encounter with the Deluxxe family (in which I left the mother slain in order to redeem the honor of our own family’s matriarch [and my own, dignity, of course]), our rate of correspondence ascended to a new level altogether.

My father, Hades, was very impressed by my display of initiative, skill, and honor, as well as my inclination towards gore.  The King of the Underworld also went by Pluto; as my namesake, he’d done a pretty splendid job of becoming involved in my life from afar, especially with his intensive, demanding, and rigorous position as the sole Commander of Hell.

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On Thestrals and Death

harry potter
Original piece written on July 1st, 2019.

I can finally see the thestrals.

Even though I was an avid lover of the Harry Potter series throughout my early childhood and teenage years, I never gave thestrals, the characters they concerned, nor the implications of their attributes much serious thought…

That is, until today, when I watched my grandmother pass away before my very eyes.

thestral gifFor those of you who are unfamiliar with thestrals, they are fictional, mythical creatures from the Harry Potter book [and movie] series, first introduced in Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix.  J.K. Rowling wrote them such that a person can only see them once they’ve watched someone else die.

These creatures are portrayed as being “spooky” and “grotesque” in aesthetic, yet kind and gentle in nature.  More importantly, Rowling conceptualized “the thestral” with the intent of it existing as a living, breathing, beautiful, and mythological symbol of Death.

Despite the fact that I’ve had my issues with her in recent years (both with her behavior as an author and a human being), even I have to acknowledge that she accomplished something pretty spectacular here with her invention of the thestrals.

You see, I realize now that with a few clever flicks of her quill, J.K. Rowling fashioned a species whose magic and importance extends beyond the pages of her books, and deep into the real world of her readers.

In the same way her fictional characters could only see thestrals after witnessing Death firsthand, Rowling’s readers can only truly understand them after experiencing that same, painful phenomenon. 

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Baby Vamp Officially Goes Metaphysical

medium blog

My religion and spirituality are very dear to me.

They’ve helped forged my best and most redeeming qualities, and they’ve been there for me during the darkest periods of my life.  I strongly believe they will continue to provide me support and guidance as I trek upon the path which lays ahead in my current birth.

medium blogRegardless, I never spoke much about these topics; they were suppressed beneath several, matted layers of disbelief and fear

That is, until quite recently.

Don’t get me wrong: my reservations were never because I lack confidence in Prabhu/God, but rather, because I struggle to have faith in myself.

I’ve grappled for a long time with my supposed spiritual capabilities… More so, the question of whether I actually have them.

No matter how much proof God gave me that they exist, I always found ways to cloud, deny, and avoid the larger truth I didn’t want to face.

I only ever wanted God.  Nevertheless, I also received a set of mystical abilities which refuse to let me elude them.

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The Chronicles of Pluto, the Goddess of Death: The Drag King Duels (Part I)

indie author

Once upon a time, back when I was still a baby duck, my mother was a drag king.  She was actually the most famous one in our pond. I was so proud to be her daughter…

Until the day she was challenged to a duel and fell under the sword of fellow drag king, Duxx Deluxxe.

Just like that, I was suddenly more ashamed than I had ever been of anything in my life.

Our noble family name was ruined. How could we ever look the other ducks in the eye?! Even the geese were mocking us, led by that awful, moronic Mother Goose…

My mother settled for being second-best after her defeat, but I wouldn’t accept that fate for us.  Thus, I made the necessary arrangements, and proceeded to do what had to be done for both my family and myself.

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An Oath of Vengeance

kill bill

This morning, I opened my dry, puffy eyes, recalled everything that happened over the past few days, allowed the pain of it all to slowly consume me, and then…

And then, I made a promise to myself.

I swore to build my entire financial empire upon the disrespect, aggression, insecurity, violence, objectification, abuse, degradation, invalidation, and toxicity that men use to keep us, as women, down and raise themselves up.  

I’m going to turn all my trauma into hard cash, and I’m going to use the very system which oppresses me to do it. 

kill bill

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Here’s why Rupi Kaur gets ALL my X’s and O’s

Poetry Blog

Honestly, I think this blog post is LONG overdue. 

Being a first-generation, Indian-American, twenty-something-year-old woman [and poet/author] myself, it’s probably at least a little odd that my affinity for Rupi Kaur’s poetry is little known by my friends, family, and followers.

rupi kaurLike me, Rupi Kaur is a first-generation, Indian-Canadian (not Indian-American, but still very similar), twenty-something-year-old woman [and poet].

This isn’t exactly a “concoction” a girl like myself, who didn’t know any other writers [or even about the #WritingCommunity] until just a few months ago], saw every day…. Or, any day, really [outside of myself].

In fact, I still don’t.

We’re minorities in more ways than one and, in that, I absolutely knew I had to check out Rupi’s poetry when she dropped her first book, Milk and honey.

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New Book Release: Armageddon

dystopian poetry

Isn’t it intriguing how the word “humanity” is used to describe virtue, and yet, human beings are notorious for ultimately destroying just about everything we touch? 

Exhibit A: Mother Earth.

Exhibit B: Each other.

There’s no denying it — human beings are curious creatures.  For a species which perpetually glorifies goodness, we tend to do an awful lot of crooked things.  Still, the question remains: are human beings plagued by evil, or are we actually the plague in ourselves?  

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