Language(s)
one two three four five six seven eight nine Finally I know which language I think in.
The Nineteenth Year
Prologue Not everyone goes through this. It could be quite a distorting experience, rooting half of your life in one country, and settling in another. You would always imagine, what if? What if I left earlier? What if I stayed? Will life turn out to be different? The illusion that people often get when they…
Face
A secret is sometimes a prima-donna. It revels in its understated performance: it doesn’t find power in volume. Rather, it finds its power in the silence. ex.) In middle school, where you would lean into your friend’s ear and tell them who you had a crush on with a quietness that was almost sacred. It…
Intersextionality: Culture and Intimacy
“Don’t let boys ruin your life. School should come first. Girls who play with boys are shameful,” my mom said to me when I was in middle school. I would hear these words frequently years later, especially when she was mad at my dad, and each time, the harsh connotations of the statement would be…
Love is a $ sign
“More, more, MORE!” whines the voice inside your head Your id’s become your identity, instant gratification thy middle name. Every vein pulsating with greed Lusting evermore for the latest, the coolest, the best For thy passion of the day, the hour, the minute, the second. Satiation is the scapegoat; Disguise consumerism as self-care As you…
Today
Hot cup of cocoa caressed by clammy palms You lie warm and content in the embrace of your old blanket Cocooned by alternating layers of fur and nostalgia Soaking in the crimson sunrise A gentle rain trickles down from the sky Flirting with your flimsy window-panes Tapping in tune to the sashay of the palm…