—
Dear Stranger,

Three years ago I thought I was dying. I was laying in a hospital bed in Phoenix, Arizona unable to move from the waist down and was in such a great deal of pain that I was praying to a god I wasn’t so sure I believed in to let me die. The day I could walk again, I promised myself to pursue a good life, not a great one. My parents moved here with two young children from India. The only life I have known is one of an immigrant. And the free land America promised offered opportunities for my family, but at the price of facing deepest discrimination. I spent most of my life unlearning that hatred, and now I am proud to be who I am and come from where I do. When I got sick, I had been in college and put a great deal of pressure on myself to build a successful career. I didn’t want their troubles, their experiences of hatred in this country, their desire to offer their children a chance at greatness to be for naught. I wanted to deserve the pain they endured for a life here. Then, I was dying and all of that changed. I just wanted to sit across a dinner table from them one more time. I just wanted to go on the walk my mom asked me to join her on every evening. I just wanted to study at the library with my friends. Success, I realized, is ours to define.

I got better thanks to a wonderful doctor. I went back to school. I’ve had a thousand more dinners. I always go on the walk. I moved to NYC for what I thought was my dream job. I quit last week. I feel like a failure for not having a success story. I don’t feel as if I deserve the privilege or the life my parents have built for me. But today, at this wonderful project, I am reminded of true humanity. I am reminded of the promise I made myself 3 years ago. If I live, I will lead a good life, not a great one. I left my corporate soul-sucking job and I’m moving home to Phoenix. I want to teach. I want to sit across the dinner table from my parents. I want to laugh with the love of my life. I want to study with my friends. I want to go on a walk with my mother. Thank you for the reminder Brandon & strangers. 💫♥️
— …

—-
The Two-Headed Calf
“Tomorrow when the farm boys find this freak of nature, they will wrap its body in newspaper and carry it to the museum.

But tonight, he is alive and in the north field with his mother. It is a perfect summer evening, the moon rising over the orchard, the wind in the grass. And as he stares into the sky there are twice as many stars as usual.”
~ Laura Gilpin

You, reader, are like the calf. Not a freak of nature, but gifted with the ability to have your own perspective on the world—your own opinions, thoughts, feelings. You have that gift. So, take the time to notice the small things, the world alongside your existence. The leaves in the trees, the people you see walking by, the birds chirping, the clouds and endless sky that look down upon everyone.

You are a wonder, in a universe full of wonders. So be present in the moments that you have now. Your past has happened, your future is waiting, but the only thing that is sure is what is happening now. Live life in the present moment, use your perspective to take notice of the world, and be curious about perspectives beyond your own. You are loved, you are valued, you are an amazing perspective that is worth being here. Out of all of the possibilities in the universe, here you are, gifted with the ability to experience the world we share. Never take that for granted, because what a wonder it is to live.
—- …

—-
David died at the end of February and his funeral is this Saturday. No one knows I loved him. He didn’t know because I never said it. He never said he loved me either. But I think of the songs he sent me and sometimes I think love fills in unexpected places and times. It doesn’t have to last long or forever or be spoken out loud. Sometimes it just seeps into tiny pockets and away. I’ll say goodbye on Saturday, but I have a playlist of songs he sent me and that will remind me of all the times he was thinking of me enough to send a link to me so I could listen to what he was listening to.
—- …

—-
24 April, 2025
29 years old (almost)

A few weeks ago I wrote myself a note on my phone. The kind of thing that you forget about, look back upon years later and wonder how the thought crossed your mind.

“I need to stop falling in love with my friends.”

One week later, my friend got on a plane to see me before I went travelling.
We kissed. We hugged. We talked. I remembered that I had written that note.

Two weeks later I flew from Australia to the U.S. to visit some dear friends.
Three weeks later I stumbled across this place in NYC. I read every letter on the windows outside and worried that I would have to leave before I could step inside.
And now here I am, cursing at this pen that fades in and out, but marvelling at its beauty all the same. (and that maybe it’s the paper, not the pen)

I am coming to realise that we should not be afraid of love. A first time in this country you’d think I’d have a favourite place or attraction. Things to see, bucket list items to tick.
But the most incredible thing has been remembering why I have fallen in love with my friends. Hugs so tight we don’t want to let go. Late night cups of tea. Singing together while cooking dinner. Dancing. Napping on their couch because it feels so safe and so much like home. To share a few weeks of life recharging in each other’s company.

That note came to mind again.
This world is ever changing. We make new friends. New friends become old friends. Old friends move towns, or states, or countries. Sometimes they come back. Sometimes we join them. Sometimes we drift apart. Sometimes we break each other’s hearts. But we keep loving anyway.

Don’t be afraid of falling in love with your friends.

Don’t be afraid to tell them you love them.

It may take you to the other side of the world. It may make you wish you could simultaneously be back home. I guarantee it will make you wish that the small, mundane moments will last forever.

Don’t be afraid to tell them you love them.
You may just build a home away from home.
You may just realise that you are worthy of love too.

I hope that I may continue to fall in love with my friends. …

“You who read this, whoever you are, I wish you this moment to feel peaceful in, a moment of ease, of gentleness.

I rushed through so much, worries so often nearly overwhelming me, and now, looking back, it is all those slower moments, the tiny ones when I had enough calm inside, when love bloomed—those mattered, and I remember. Those are the moments that made my life mine.

At 61 I see the world is shifting. We are in a moment when being kind and standing up for love is now an act of resistance. Soon love will be a rebellious act. There is so much to be afraid of, but I am too old to be afraid. I know the way out of fear, and I will extend it to you:

Sink into this moment—this one right now. Notice the soft lights, the kind people or person sharing this space. In your mind, wish them well. Say quietly, “May you be happy. May you be comfortable, and at peace.” And say that to yourself, too. ♥”
— …

—
March 2025

I think about my dad a lot. He left me when I was 7, and the last time I saw/spoke to him was my 9th birthday. I recently turned 21. I still think about him even after all these years. My mom hates him. She tells me stories about him now, terrible ones. I still think about him even though he did all that. I heard he was looking for me recently. He got kicked out of his house by his new wife in California and came back here, in New York. I knew he was only here because he spent all his money gambling and needed financial support. I still think about him even though he just wants me for money. I’m scared that I’ll turn out like him. I look exactly like him, so I feel like I’m halfway there already sometimes. I don’t know how I feel about him. Love? Hate? Frustration? Anger? Grief? Sadness? So many emotions out there, yet none can describe my feelings.

I think about my two half-siblings, from my dad’s side. I knew nothing about him or them until I was 18. I guess he remarried and had two children. I only know that they exist and that they are younger than me. When he tried to reach out, I saw his profile picture was one of them. I hope he treated them well when he was there. I pity them for having to meet the same fate as me. He couldn’t be a father to me, and now he can’t be a father to them. History repeats itself, I guess.

Dad, do you think about me still too?
— …

—
{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.
—- …