Every summer, the sweet smell of jasmines in bloom mingle with the cool night air. In that scent carries bittersweet memories of years past, when all we worried about was what would happen tomorrow.
Food tastes so much better when you're sharing...
When I am alone and eating, it is just to fill me up and stay alive. Not necessarily healthy, but enough to be alive. With friends, I taste the food. The laughs and conversations add so much flavor. I look forward to eating. It becomes something I look forward to, rather than a chore I must do.
It's not about dying.
It’s about relieving ourselves of the heavy emotions. It’s about punishing ourselves. It’s about physical pain. It’s about control. It was never about dying.
Are dreams so shallow that they can be taken away...
This weekend was a beautiful weekend. It was warm and sunny and breezy. I wore a bright coral sun dress and a white cream shawl. I stood in vivid green grass, little white flowers popping up and embracing their first sun. I was surrounded by people I loved, in front of a slab of granite. Upon that granite was a portrait of an elderly man, captured and frozen from a time when he was vibrant,...
I can't bring myself to tell the truth.
The truth is so much easier when I’m writing it down. The truth is, I’ve lost interest in lots of things. Drawing and photography. The drive to keep moving forward. I still remember all my hopes and dreams, I just don’t seem to care about them anymore. The truth is, I still want to hurt myself. It’s the only thing I can think about when I feel like this. When for...
When I first heard that some people were anorexic because they felt it was the only way regain control of their lives, I didn’t get it. If you keep telling me to eat, I won’t eat. Until I said those words in a moment of frustration and anger. I felt like I had control of the situation. It felt wonderful. And the days when I didn’t eat because I had no time or just forgot. I...
Where are you running? Away. From what? My problems. At least, temporarily. That’s what I tell myself. I run for the feeling afterwards. The soreness in my legs, The burn in my chest. I run without a phone, without music Into the night. I want to feel something. Anything. Anything is better than nothing.
I'm looking for happiness.
If I run more, I lose more weight. I’ll be happier. If I eat less, I’ll not gain weight. I’ll be happier. In the end, it’s all just a lie. I’ll never be happy. Because happiness is perfection.
Today I am not happy. And I don’t know why.
When I was little, my nights were consistently filled nightmares of losing my parents. They were always present, but never accessible. I can run towards them with all my might but I never got any closer. As I’ve grown, the nightmares faded. That is not to say that scary things don’t happen in my dreams because they still do. Fingers about to be chopped off, my own death and revival...
It’s something I have to do, for myself. No matter how tiring or painful it is, this backup of emotions have to go. Despite how easy it is to lie to myself, to pretend nothing happened, or to keep everything inside again, it’s not good. When they come out, they will come out in the form of tears and barely coherent words. What you do, as the therapist, is to take that mess and turn...
Does everyone feel the same things I do but hide it better? Can endure it better? Or maybe aren’t weak like I am? Is there a secret to surviving all of this? Can I know it?[[MORE]] I asked my counselor and I’ve already forgotten the whole session. I also discovered things about myself. I’ve kept so much inside that I don’t know how it is to feel anymore. I’m...
I remember why I can’t do them. My sugar crashes. Then I crash. But how do I starve away these emotions?
Having all these feelings come out all at once, processing them after such a long time, is so very tiring.
The clouds float softly over the dusk skies. Slowly, slowly, slowly. Our lives are just blinks in time. They mean nothing in this great picture.
What I wish for.
The tears I’ve shed and will be shedding hold bits and pieces of emotions, memories, and experiences. Like wringing a wet towel dry, I will let go of this weight and finally stand in the sun. Not as a “normal” person, but as a better version of myself.
I promised that I would help myself.
If not, just for a little understanding of why I am the way I am.
Shopping is my all-cure.
The money spent is well worth the ease in emotional anguish. Even if only temporary. Until I can calm down and be rational, no matter how irrational the other person is.
Only I had died in that car accident. I want to just off myself so my parents can adopt a third world kid who would be much more grateful for this life. Moving forward is just so hard right now.
this is bs if I get a scratch on my car it has to be because it was my fault. not because someone else driving my car did it.
We face the truth often in our daily lives. We just refuse to look at it.
Why can’t I tell you that I’m happy for you?
I hate group projects where
The person who took charge is not actually taking charge. 1) Ignored the group for weeks. All members in the dark while she was doing her own thing. 2) Did the whole project herself without input. Which is fine, except, I now have no idea what I’m supposed to present. 3) “I can’t work on it anymore!” Fine, but no one asked you to do the whole thing. God I hate my...
Cigarette smoke (again).
I’m not a smoker myself. I probably never will be. But if I catch a whiff of smoke on a cold, wintery day, I will breath deep and smile.
I'm glad (not)
that my roommate is spending time with her crush. But why in my living room, watching an anime, and being loud? Midterms have started, everything is due and there is absolutely no consideration for that.
grew up thinking my town was safe, for all the graffiti and unkempt houses scattered throughout the neighborhoods. Every day, the neighborhood kids played after school to sun down. There was no fear of strangers, no fear of dangers beyond our little street. As we grew up and friends moved away for reality to move in, I realized that my neighborhood is a bubble. A hard to find cul-de-sac on...
Bisou. Dear ______,
Before you left, I had something to tell you. Something that changed me, my views on guys and relationships. But, well, I never got to tell you. Now that you’re back, everything’s different. You and I are different. Our relationship is different. But I’m writing this to the past you, and to the strangers out there. The stranger you once were to me. Maybe I’m over...
I imagine every drop on the palm of my hand. Freezing cold needles straight from the clouds above. Each drop sending a jolt from skin, to muscle, to bone until it is carried through the veins to the heart.
I’m being eaten alive. One of 50+ people who have been through our apartment this past month or so bought in fleas.
I love you so so much.
I will support you though everything with a smile. I will be happy for you whatever you decide. Even when I’m crying inside.
I always assume someone over the internet is decent looking.
As much as I want my own happiness, I want you to have yours too. Love.
For everything I’ve cracked and broken, I’m glad you still value the remnants of our relationship.
I could remember how it felt to hug my grampie. I wish I had hugged him before he died.
Cigarettes and beer.
The smell of cigarettes and beer embeds itself within memories of a past long gone. Thanksgiving pasts, where mother and my aunties were in the kitchen baking the turkey and making food. My father and my uncles in the garage playing darts. As kids, we ran around the house and played games. From time to time, we would wander into the garage. The room full of smoke, laughter, jokes. As I...
#1. All the times my parents were almost killed before their time. #2. After being in school for all your life, in a few months, you will no longer. A.K.A., growing up. #2.1. Having to kill your own spiders and cockroaches.
I don't want to see you.
Because I’m afraid. Of the memories that linger after so long. Faded, yellowed, sun bleached, happy memories kept in a dusty box under my bed. Right under where I sleep, yet pushed back so far I cannot reach them. They threatened to be found, uncovered at any time. It has been a long time my heart ached for you at night. It is a horrible feeling, holding back and letting you...
We are strangers
because we have never met and will never meet. But we are not strangers because we shared secrets and laughs. And because of a lack of understanding, the difference in cultures, we misunderstood the word “strangers”. And because of that, we really are.
She smiled, yes. But it was such a very sad smile.
We may have met only once, but the love I see from the people who loved you is overwhelming. To see this girl - 21 years young - pass, reminds us all that life can be cut short suddenly. The only thing we can do is to live life to the fullest and to celebrate life itself. When our time comes whether it be the next second or in a thousand years, regret nothing and rejoice all we have experienced.
I didn’t know this girl well, but we talked in high school. We both ran together in PhysEd. We connected through that insignificant moment. But we were never even acquaintances. On her Facebook wall, just a few days ago, she craved cheeseballs. Then, yesterday, she was gone. Extinguished. No longer existing on this earth. What is left, on her wall, are daily insignificant thoughts. I...
It’s been more than a year. A year for us to become strangers. I thought my feelings would be different: conflicted, passionate, overwhelming. And they are different: calm, reassured, content. A year over thousands of miles away on a different continent. I found myself missing you less and less until the flame that once burned fiercely is now a warm flicker in dying embers. A...
So like, today,
Let me paint a picture with words the best I can. I sat under a tree reading a mystery murder. I usually don’t do this, but I had gone to early office hours to clear up some projects. It was a nice, warm and sunny day. Cool breeze. Very peaceful (the clubs selling boba and KBBQ were further down) and students, hopeful students, parents were around looking at the campus. A guy came...
If you chose,
I think, I would feel a lot better if the next S/O after me were prettier, smarter, nicer, and just better than me in general. You know, to force me to become better. But then again, all this is pretty subjective.
across a scar. It feels funny.
A little scratch. A small one. A little punishment for the mistake I’ve made. Another for the mistakes I will make. One more, just because.
Nothing is wrong nothing is wrong nothing is wrong nothing is wrong nothing is wrong nothing is wrong nothing is wrong nothing is wrong nothing is wrong nothing is wrong nothing is wrong nothing is wrong nothing is wrong nothing is wrong nothing is wrong nothing is wrong nothing is wrong nothing is wrong nothing is wrong nothing is wrong nothing is wrong nothing is wrong nothing is wrong nothing...