—
{Is this useless? Am I useless?}

Heyy

I’m scared to write anything. I’m scared my handwriting is shit. And I’m scared it would be seen and read, but I’m also afraid it never would.

My boyfriend told me I’m brave to write something but I think I just crave to be heard, to be seen, to be perceived. Which is so fucking weird considering it’s also the same thing I’m most afraid of — to be seen and judged, rejected.

I feel so alone and a bit pathetic.

It seems wrong to say I’ve been through a lot reading so many heartbreaking stories, but I’m trying to convince myself that mine is valid as well. I’ve been through a lot, too.

Often I feel like the people closest to me don’t see that.

{Can you see me now?}

I love my boyfriend, but I’m scared he’ll never understand me. I’m scared he’ll be done with my bullshit soon. I’m scared I’ll be done with his.

I’ve never known the feeling of being truly accepted by anyone, and I dread every reminder of it.

{No one sees me! Or do they?}

I’m scared I cannot do polyamory, and I’m scared I don’t want to go back to monogamy either. I’m scared there’s no possibility for me anymore. I hope that’s not true and I’m trying to be gentle with myself but the HEALING takes too long. If I can’t bear it anymore how could anyone else stay with me? Is my boyfriend just indifferent? Or is he really so *strong*? I know my healing has a long way to go. But I can’t spend anymore time being WOUNDED. It’s taking my life away. I have no energy to do anything else but try to exist, heal, and not GIVE UP.

For the past year, I’ve been trying to believe in love that’s infinite, and I think I can love like that, but I don’t believe anyone can love me like that. No one ever did. It’s so hard to think it can be different this time.

What do I do with myself now?
— …

—
Part 1

I had an emergency appendectomy on Monday night. I got to the ER just in time. I almost didn’t go—who goes to the ER for a stomach ache?! But if it had burst, I could have died. LISTEN TO YOUR BODY!!

YOU ARE AN AMAZING HUMAN BEING

Do what you need to do to be around for the people you love + who love you.

Part 2

I am an artist. I MUST create. It sometimes feels dumb, pointless, frivolous—I feel that way sometimes. But I’m 53 years old. Time is ticking. I finally figured out what I wanted to be when I grew up. Do I have the energy now? The courage?

I think women in their 50s are invisible, & it’s our SUPERPOWER. We don’t give a fuck anymore what people think, so we are best equipped to change the world, be artists, activists + disrupters. And when politicians are doing what they can to silence/erase people (such fearful, pathetic politicians!)— I — WE — have to be MORE of who we are. Stand for LOVE, PEACE, COMPASSION, EQUITY, GRACE.

FOR LGBTQ+, BIPOC, women, men, children, animals, immigrants + refugees, our planet. When one hurts, we ALL HURT.

The world needs YOU. BE THE LIGHT.

Part 3

The best is yet to come… ❤️
If we lose hope, we lose everything.
— …

—
The Quiet Protest

I am protesting against societal ideas of me, barriers put upon me by those who believe they get to decide how I dress, to whom I speak, how far I go in life, assigning their own interpretation of what someone like me should do, how far I should go, which doors are opened for me. From my ex-husband, to family members, friends in disguise, supervisors, systems etc.

My silent protest is me choosing to not let them win. Choosing to smile through the bullshit, soaking in all the learning opportunities that come with being in the presence of such vitriol, at times even evil. Choosing to not let them define me, to not let their attitudes harden me, nor influence me.

Silently protesting, succeeding despite of and in-spite of.

My Quiet Protest.
— …

—-
January 17, 2025

One hundred and twenty-six days ago, I made the best on-the-spot decision of my life and accepted your invitation to a goth club. I was nervous out of my mind!

I fell in love with you the moment I saw you dance in those lights. It took the whole time we were there, but I asked you to dance with me. You took my hand on our way out and didn’t let go until we got on the train. A week later, you met my friends and fit right in. Another week later, our first date! You aren’t much of an ice skater, so I was by your side the whole time, hand in hand.

We exchanged necklaces, some enamored glances, lots of smiles.

Ninety-eight days ago, we went back to the goth club (with company!). I spent the days prior planning an outfit. In your company, I didn’t even feel nervous about it. My first time publicly presenting feminine, and I was ecstatic that you were there to see it. We even went on stage and danced together, which would normally frighten me. But with you, I feel like I could do anything, like I can be myself.

I’ve never been loved so fully, so earnestly. I’m still getting used to it.

I’ve never loved so fully, so earnestly. I’m getting used to that, too.

But it’s lovely (haha). To know that someone loves me as I am, supports my passions, and wishes the best for me.

You are the reason thirteen is my favorite number.
You are the reason I have grown to love nature.
You are the reason I keep my head up high.
You are the reason I make silly jokes.
You are the reason I feel safe.
You are the reason I feel loved.

You have changed me, gently, unknowingly.
You have changed me with your love.

Thank you for loving me, darling. ♥
— …

—-
Why is it that we feel insecure? What is the point? Do flowers feel shy? Do bumblebees wonder why they’re more round than the wasp? Nature doesn’t feel ugly, it doesn’t feel stupid. I look at my friends in the same way I look at a stream: peaceful, persistent, confusing, beautiful. I look at my grand-ma the same way I would look at an oak tree: sturdy, reliable, generous. Why can’t we look at ourselves the way we look at others? I do believe that practicing seeing the beauty in everything & everyone around us helps us see the beauty in ourselves. So I hope you do more of that, and I hope I do too.

I even feel insecure writing this which is silly because you don’t know who I am. Most of life is silly anyways. It’s important not to take everything too seriously because life will give you more than enough serious things to worry about. Like all of the stories here. So don’t add more unnecessary worry to your life.

Say what you want and don’t overthink it.
Love who you want.
Eat what you want.
Be yourself & appreciate those who get it.

♡
—- …

—
I’VE NEVER SEEN MY MOTHER’S FACE.
Does she have my straight, thin dark brown hair? Is she short like me?
Is she pretty? Does she smile like me?

I’VE NEVER HEARD MY FATHER’S VOICE.
Is it deep and authoritative or soothing?
Does he tell my mother how much he loves her?
Over the years, whenever I’ve looked in the mirror, I’ve often had more questions than answers.

WHERE WAS I ACTUALLY BORN? They say I am from a small city in southern China, but I’ve heard girls were found in baskets all over the country.

WHAT TIME WAS I BORN AND IS MY BIRTHDAY MY ACTUAL BIRTHDAY?

DO I HAVE SIBLINGS WANDERING AROUND THIS ORBITING ROCK? IF SO, WHAT ARE THEIR NAMES?

WHAT TRAITS, TALENTS, AND VICES HAVE I INHERITED?

I’ve always felt different and left out because practically everyone knows the answers to these basic questions. I’ve gone 32 years without.

To you, reader who might be wondering, YES, I DO have parents, amazing parents. My adoptive parents have given me the WORLD and have NEVER treated me any different. I love my adoptive parents, my true parents, so much that I’ve lost all desire to look for my biological ones half a world away. Is this betraying my biological parents? Or is it what they would want for me?

I will never know, and I don’t know how I feel about that.
— …

—-
As I start this new year off, I have been thinking a lot about the concept of sonder. Everyone around you is living a life just as complex as yours that you know nothing about. I think that’s beautiful.

I turn 27 in 3 days and have been thinking about who I am as a person and what I want in life. When you’re young, everyone supports you and makes you feel like you can do anything, but as you get older, that goes away a little. I notice if you live your life differently than others would, they often project their fears of failure onto you. What if I’m not afraid of failing? What if I’m not afraid of the unknown? What if I want to be more than just typecast into a mold in life with a corporate job? Everyone is unique and so special in their own way, and I think we should all embrace it more. There is only one of me. I am a consultant. I am a dancer that does everything from ballet to Kyle Bulling’s ugly movement to metal music. I am a daughter, a sister, a friend, a girlfriend, an adventurous spirit, and at times, lonely. I want to be and do so many things in this one short life we get. Of course I have fears. Everyone does, but the risk of not obtaining everything I think is possible greatly outweighs them. I am intense. Some might say a little too intense sometimes and I feel very deeply. There is no joy without pain, no peace without anger, and no clarity without confusion.

I unexpectedly fell in love last year for the first time and want so badly to be loved as deeply as I love. I know I will find that one day and will continue to keep my heart open and be fully who I am. As I enter my 27th year of life, I am so excited to see who I become and continue to get to know myself. I can’t wait for all of the new experiences to come my way and will continue to live life in a way of bettering and fulfilling myself. NYC, thank you for accepting me & giving me the space to just be who I am.
—- …

[Content Note: This story reflects on the loss of a loved one to an overdose. If this is a difficult topic for you, please take care of yourself while reading.]

—-
12-26-2024
14:12 pm

I feel like a part of my body is missing.

My life-long best friend died from a fentanyl overdose last month. She was more than a best friend, she was my soulmate, and my world and plans revolved around her. And that is missing. All of it. Gone.

I curled up in a ball and screamed. I sat on my windowsill in winter, breathing in the cold air, listening to the birds wake up. My roommate held me as I listened to my friend’s husband sob through his words.

“I’m so sorry to tell you this, I’m just so sorry. She loved you so much.”

Do I need to fill this page?

Grief is indescribable. You see it in movies, and cry because you empathize. You think you understand. I can’t tell you what it feels like to lose your favorite person. You’ll feel it someday.

My heart has been ripped from my chest and shredded in front of my eyes. My gaping hole will never close, I’ll just grow around it. I will never be the same. Loss is amputation.

I’m scared of dying now. I will be bombed or stabbed or pushed onto train tracks. I will die in my sleep. I will choke.

I carry a straw in my jacket in case I have to perform my own tracheotomy.
—- …

—-
I am a proud Asian American, but I wasn’t always. My parents came to the United States when they were in their teens in search of a better life. I remember in elementary school, I would often forget my lunch and my dad would drop it off to me. He doesn’t speak English, and I would remember being embarrassed when he showed up because I already looked different; I didn’t want to be seen speaking a different language.

Fast forward, I am now 27. I got stuck in the subway the other week because of a power outage for 1 hr. The elderly lady next to me asked if I spoke Chinese. I was able to tell her what was happening and what they were saying over the intercom. I can’t imagine how scared & confused she must have been, stuck in the subway with no service and no clue as to what was going on.

It breaks my heart knowing how difficult everyday life is for non-English speakers in the U.S.

I am so happy to have been stuck on the subway seated next to the elderly lady.

I am proud to be an Asian American.
—- …

—
TODAY 12/21/24

I don’t know what to share with the world, but I decided to write a story, my story, as the universe brought me here & I believe that everything happens for a reason.

Life is a rollercoaster. Ups & downs, happiness & sadness, health & sickness… We all go through it and sometimes I ask myself, why me? Why can I not figure it out? I am in my mid-40’s, a single mom with a 15-year-old daughter. I live paycheck to paycheck, constantly chasing gigs and really having a hard time enjoying the moment & stop worrying about the future. I know it will all work out, as it always does, I just wish I had more faith, confidence & trust in myself & the ability to succeed.

I made it far, achieved a lot, but then realized that it didn’t mean anything to me. I did it for others & because it was expected from me. Then, I took a break, left my home, family, safety, and I took on a path alone. Just me & my babygirl. It’s scary & challenging and yes many couldn’t understand & weren’t supportive, but this was the best decision I’ve ever made. I did it for me, finally! Thank you.
— …

—
Today, 11/7/24, I come to the World Trade Center in search of a Sing for Hope piano! I was so excited… anxious too, but my excuse is that I’m a beginner.

As I walk through the station, I spot one; a colorful, artistic, and beautiful piano. Prior to me trying to play the piano, there’s a gentleman. A majestic melody travels through my eardrum and he plays with such grace, elegance, beauty. I start hesitating to try and even play after such a performance.

“Face your fears,” they say. If I want to play, I need to be confident in my own skill, my own hard work, my own time and practice put into playing this piece. I sit, and breathe.

DUN!!! The piano sounds so loud, but my heart beats even louder. I’m scared, I’m so scared but I continue playing anyway. The gaze of everyone surrounding me shadows behind my back. I love the piano. I really do. Whenever I play, I feel excited, so excited for my progress in becoming a great pianist.

I mess up, the sound of the wrong key pierces my ear and I cringe. I wrap up quickly and end the song. As of now, my hands still shake from the adrenaline-inducing experience, yet I’m proud.

I’m proud that I managed to come here on my own and do what I feel most passionate about as of right now.
— …

—-
11/6/24

Another election; another dark day. But on this one, I wasn’t fully pulled into the mire. I’m going to be a father…

I found out three months ago, and the news and coming reality has painted my world ever since. The call to nurture, to protect, is stronger than my rage now. The anger is there, but its power is waning.

I wish the same for the entire country: for the softer, gentler, loving side of this universe to find you as it has found me. The forces are out there, and all we can do is lean toward them — such is our nature. ♡

I don’t know what makes a man, or a better one, other than the constant trading in of darkness for light. To create more than we destroy. Our instincts make it hard, but if we could do just that, incrementally, every day, we’d have nothing to fear.

We have nothing to fear.
—- …

—-
I am scared to die. I am scared of floating in nothingness, aware that I am alone. Aware that I will be alone forever. I’m scared to lose my partner. I’m scared of the moment I know I will never touch his skin again. I’m scared of watching my body deteriorate. I’m scared of the process of saying goodbye to it. I love my body. It is my home and I’m scared that no matter how long I have with it, it will never feel like enough. I’m scared of watching my partner die.

I still don’t understand the point of living if we all just die anyway. Why do we get this one wondrous moment in time simply to watch it pass us by? I’m scared that my story is just a story of fear.

2024
—- …

—
My mom left me a voice message today, asking how I’ve been, if I’ll visit for Thanksgiving, asking to talk again soon. I don’t plan to ever call again. I don’t want to go back to that house. I don’t want to remember my own screams, the sweat, the knots in my hair, the indescribable pain & fear I felt.

I hate how much I miss them. I hate how guilty I feel for wanting to disappear from their lives. I hate that I’ll never have the family I wanted, & that I’ll never know how to truly be okay with that.

I hate that I’m not even sure if they miss me, if they really think about me, if they’re sorry, if they’re worried, if they still want me as their child.

I can never shake the feeling that I don’t know anything at all. That the love I’ve received in my life was never real.

I cut my sister off a few months ago. But I still talk about her to my new classmates & friends, it almost feels like I’m lying, as if she’s still in my life, like I’m hiding a big secret.

I feel like I’ve lost so much sometimes.

In the end, everything will turn out okay. I am working my way to happiness & the love of my friends & beautiful partner. I will always remember that despite my sadness, I am so, so lucky to have so much joy & affection in my life.
— …