( Here is my letter to you. )

Eighteen. Last night was spent in opulence at the restaurant at a hotel that overlooked a banyan tree in the courtyard, feeling like a fairy princess in my floaty yellow top. This morning, the magic was lost; all birthdays are are reminders of the numerical value of years you've been alive. Everything else was normality, and I couldn't understand ( Read more... )

The smell of garlic lingers on my fingers, a kind of acrid reminder of what I've been learning to do. I've been peeling off layers of my fingernails with the knife back that is supposed to rest on the backs of my fingers. Still, what I do seems pointless and mundane, a household task that I claim to enjoy. What I really feel like is that I'm ( Read more... )

My hair hangs around me like matted black string, and my skin is pale, covered by a sheen of cold sweat. A glance in the mirror tells me all I need to know - I look terrible. All the while, my insides heave their mutiny, alternating between excruciating pain, and an excruciating wait for pain. Kneeling faithfully at the porcelain temple, I heave ( Read more... )

Something is amiss; my internal organs are emitting sounds fit only to come from the mouth of a tiger, and there is a sickening feeling in my gut, as though some kind of strange soup is being churned inside it ( Read more... )

Sometimes I lack the proper words to speak, so I look for different ways to say them, where maybe someone might find them and believe that they are new ideas. The difficulty I face really is in living within the various niches that I create for myself, and not knowing how to compare to others. Because really, there'll always be something slightly ( Read more... )

All that reminds me that I've now graduated, is the minor sore throat I am nursing, an etched silver ring and a faded blue mark on my right hand from the bar.

日子鱗次櫛比地過 ， 物換星移。

I am putting you away, putting us away, because this just isn't me anymore.

Hesitations and confinement. I am locking myself away as I weave illusions into my head. I really do wish that I could settle for less-than-perfect.

Endurance is a trait I inherited from my mother, and I am learning.

I traipse the streets hoping for something to distract me from this melancholy, but find instead that we'll forget everything we shared, even as we struggle to remember in vain ( Read more... )