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14. 2022 Oct, Midnights (3am Edition)

I don’t know what to tell you. Well, I do, but with you words are so hard to form. If I could think of one word to describe you, it would be adamant. Always adamant, you are, only adamant when I can’t stand you.

I think it’s always been this way — my adamant urge to know and hope and try and mend, and your adamant refusal to feed into any of that. You are silent and stoic in my memory, in a way which made me want to punt holes into my pillow. In a way which made me realise that my voice means nothing. That maybe I mean nothing in your world. That you are so strong, and self contained, that you are only your own person, and you refuse to be anything more.

I think I��m sinking back into one of those depressed states. Where happiness feels like a butterfly and I’m just sad, sad, sad. And I feel so alone. But I don’t think I can go to you because you aren’t telling me if you’re annoyed at me or pissed at me, or whatever. In this week I feel like I’ve somehow lost touch with everyone I love and some part of me is telling me that it’s all my fault.

You make me feel like a child. This stupid, petty, immature child, always asking for something impossible, always bitching about something insignificant. I listened to taylor swift that night and I felt this disgusting feeling that I was just everything wrong with me and everything that’s wronged me. But I also miss you, in ways that I don’t understand. I want you out of my life but constantly watching. I want to stop mattering to me but I need something that matters. I want to forget how those loaded silences feel but whenever I close my eyes I see yours again, wavering, lingering, flitting away eventually.

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13. 2022 Oct, Mother

today i sent my mom off to a business trip to Japan and i cried. it’s kinda weird because i have a famously turbulent relationship with my mom and her business trip is only gonna be 5 days long but before she left she smoothed my hair back like she always would and god i wondered where else i would ever feel that kind of love. she told me that she would buy me stuff, and hair accessories in particular, because she got me this hair pin and i wore it just to send her off (i want to say that, in honest, I don’t like it that much. But I can’t bear to say that because I do, I do and because my mother gave it to me, I do.) she told me maybe i shouldn’t go to america for uni because she’ll miss me. i couldn’t say a word or look in her eyes as i cried. i thought about how the seat next to me in the study room’s gonna be empty for five days. i thought all these silly things, like what if the unthinkable happened, what if this, what if that. i guess the connection between a mother and daughter is truly special. plath was wrong — asian mothers are not like eely tentacles. they are tigers and then they are confidantes. they have so much capacity to love it’s insane. my mother told me (some variation of this in chinese) that she loves me truly and i only recently realised what a privilege that is.

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Natalie Shapero

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Uehara Konen - Waves

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12. 2022 Jan, letter to my love

Darling, I’ve been trying to forget you for years now. Let’s pretend that, This life is a soliloquy. You are the song that I never sang. You are the late nights, the birdsong The smell of the beach when everything goes dark You are a stale carseat. I was there, because My parents didn’t own a car. That night, I was full of apologies. You told me to shut up and put your hand next to mine. Your breath was warm against my neck.

Let’s pretend that, I forget you and it’s alright. It’s alright to be just A fraction of yourself.  Let’s pretend that the broken thing is whole. At some point of time you held me in your hands and I decided that I want you forever. You laughed and Two of your teeth jutted out, like a vampire? And You kicked me but in a playful way And it was Saturday. It was Saturday. Saturday, Like popcorn. Saturday, and you put your head in my lap And we took pictures, the two of us, You with your jutted teeth and double chin, Me with my fingers in your hair, all tangled together, Let’s pretend that I forget that. Did you forget that? I don’t know. Maybe you did. Because sometimes when you walk past me you Skirt your gaze and pretend you don’t see me. But I guess it’s on me because I started doing it first. It’s on me because I started forgetting first.

Last night, I dreamed of you. It was a good dream. I felt warm, the blankets all Tangled around my legs, the room glowed orange. I dreamed that you were there, right next to me.  In the dream you didn’t say anything. It was all me. You were smiling, smiling hard, your eyes crinkled like Crescent moons, but you have braces now, And you’re taller than me. You were there with me, Under the blankets, you were trying to kick me off the bed. Get out of here, because I love you. You just laughed, and laughed. I laughed too. It was rare because, I haven’t felt this in a long time. It’s good to put the pieces back together. It feels special.  It feels real.

Let’s stop pretending that this is poetry because Really, darling, I just want to hold you again. I want to tell you things. I want to feel your breath against my skin, I want my hands In your hair, I want your crescent moon smile, I want maybe much more than that. Why do we keep pretending? Isn’t it stupid? Isn’t it sad? That night, I texted you again. I was doing well. I sounded Sane and alright and normal. I hope you read it. The last Time I texted you you took three months to respond. Do you love me? Did you love me? I don’t think you loved me the same way I loved you. Or maybe it was the same, but both of us were too afraid  To call it what it was. Both of us were too afraid to Let it go on, being itself. Both of us pretended and pretended And three years later, I dreamt of you, and God is cruel, Isn’t he? Call the cops, honey. I love you.  I’m sorry.

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11. 2022 Jan, limerence

I think I know this feeling better than ever —

The way your sadness sat at the bottom of my throat, heavy, a dead star. You’re like a bird, all limbs and bones and thin fingers. I want to protect you, cup you in my hands, shield you from everything, safe in my palms. The first time they fucked you over I closed my eyes and pretended to forget, closed my eyes for months and forgot you. Came back, forgot you again. This time, I went knocking on your door full of apologies, and you told me all your secrets, secrets that had nothing to do with me, as if it’s okay, as if you forgive me now. You never told me about your sadness but I found it out. I didn’t know what to do because I don’t know what you want.

The second time they fucked you over I didn’t close my eyes and I felt the burn — it’s fucking weird, isn’t it, I’ve known you for six years but only talked to you for three, but your heartbreak is half mine. I want to tell you that it’s okay, but it’s not okay, and I don’t want to coddle you because you hate it, I don’t want to seem like I’m trying to do something I’m so hopelessly bad at with you. I guess, I don’t want you to know that I care so much? Or, I don’t want you to find out the wrong way. 

I know I’ll never taste sadness the way you do, all the time, and you know that too. Maybe that’s why there’s some sort of distance between us. I want you to know that you exist in a way that matters. I want you to know that life is gonna screw you up in a million ways and it’s so horrible, the way things are, but I want to share this pain with you, as much as I can? As much as you’d like me to? 

I just think it’s weird between us because... I can’t fix you? Is that why? I want to make things better but there’s no hope here, no desperation, you’ll gladly sink yourself into the void and you’ll gladly burn. You hate it, but you do. Only one person can reach you, but it’s not me, but I don’t even know if they try. Who’s gonna pick up the pieces of you? Who’s gonna clean out the ashes? Who will the holding the gauze, who will be the one whispering, where are their hands, who am I?

I don’t know what you want. I want it to be me for some weird fucking reason, but I know it’s not, so I’m just sitting here, my hands folded across my chest, legs swinging, eyes on the floor.

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10. 2021 Dec, Fish Out of Water

BJ: Kelsey, in this terrifying world, all we have are the connections that we make.

—Bojack Horseman, Bojack Horseman, S4E12

Something about this episode in particular resonated with me.

I’ve always had an affinity for oceans. Their vast emptiness. The way the water gurgles gently and leaves its faint traces all over you, your skin and hair, the way the sand crumbles under your feet and dipping your legs into the sea at sunset. The ocean — it sounds like loud, sonorous bells, bellowing slowly and harmoniously. It sounds like jazz, the bright kind, maracas clicking peacefully, slow trumpet, it tastes like aloneness, I think the ocean is where you can truly reconcile with yourself. It isn’t where you live. The ocean is a sort of remembrance of your own identity, of sadness and solitude, but also of love, and the beauty of the world around us all.

I don’t think I will ever forget the Riau Islands, or Houseki no Kuni, or their vast beauty. I remember it all, the smell of shrimp, the crinkled fingers cracking into thin shells, savoury juices squirting out, the lone swing in the middle of the sea, the ropes frayed, the bolts rusted. The sand. The sun. The bright, blue beauty. The boardwalk with the fairy lights. Nighttimes, when the sea would glow gently with moonlight. The ocean waves lapping over each other like sleeping sirens. The darkness. The endlessness. The sadness. How hollow I felt back then.

The ocean isn’t life. It will never be. It’s an image of perfect beauty — the threshold between oneself and others. It’s love, reimagined. It’s worth. The ocean is where you find yourself. Whereas, life is life. And that is all it is.

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9. 2021 Dec, Dream

The day before yesterday, I accidentally fell asleep at 11, so the next day I woke up at 5.40am and rushed all my work and when I was done I took another nap. It was 9am, and I slept till 10. I dreamt of you, in that short one hour.

It was a cold morning and I’d just bathed (since I forgot to bathe the night before, oops) so I’d gotten all comfortable underneath my blanket and when I slept I saw you. I dreamt that you were underneath the sheets with me. I’d forgotten what you’d been like, you, with your playful, evil, mischeivous eyes and your toothy smile, and the way you’d fuck with me all the time and the many, many reasons why I’d loved you.

You’re not the same anymore. You’re more quiet. I’ve forgotten your smile. Do you have braces now? I can’t recall. But I remember you again. Years ago, I’d dismissed that memory of you as distant and unimportant because we’d gotten so far apart. But now that I see you again, albeit in some weird dream, it all comes flooding back, how happy I was back then, how you were my favourite person, how I thought you’d be my person forever.

And in my dream, you were my favourite person again. You were in the sheets with me. You were being your old self again. I loved that part of you, yknow? You were kicking around and I was trying to get you out of bed so I can sleep but you knew it’s all a ruse and that I loved you and your company. That’s the only part I remember, vividly. Everything else in the dream I’d forgotten. Something about a playroom. Windows. It was like we were in a dollhouse. Everything was brightly coloured, the walls and windows and your smile. But that’s all that I know.

How frail they are, memories. The dream I had just a day ago has slipped through my fingers ever so easily. The you who was constantly beside me, years ago, the you I cherished so much, gone now.

I don’t know if I made this up, but I remember that during the farewell party last year, after we’d made up, you were being all feisty again, you would kick me and hit me and all that. But more restrained. I liked it. You weren’t as naughty, but you’d matured, and I thought you’d gotten better. Like, as a person. And when I think back on it I really just forget all the bad shit that happened and I like you now. I wanna be close again. And I don’t know what to do with that and I can’t tell if these feelings are just nostalgia but I miss you, so, so much.

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8. 2021 Dec, Bojack Horseman

PC: I got into the business because I love stories. They comfort us, they inspire us, they create a context for how we experience the world. But also, you have to be careful, because if you spend a lot of time with stories, you start to believe that life is just stories, and it’s not. Life is life, and that’s so sad, because there’s so little time and... what are we doing with it? 

—Princess Carolyn, Bojack Hoseman, S4E12

I realised lately that I don’t really yearn for a girlfriend anymore, or a boyfriend, or anything. I used to really want one. I thought it could solve all my problems. Isn’t it the same for all of us? Thinking that having someone to hold at night would make it all better. I realised that it won’t. Well... I guess I’ve always sort of known. After all, life is simply the illusion of reality we create in our head — you can trace whatever we think and feel down to exact, empirical calculations, but in the end, we are beings defined by our subjective experiences. TLDR: nothing is real, fundamental change starts with our own selves.

This weekend, I got sucked into genshin hell and my sleep schedule went out the window, and shit transpired, my mom got pissed at me and said a lot of stuff and I said a lot of stuff and in the end I was just really sad. And hopeless. It’s a pretty dark feeling. And every time I feel that way I go to the little playground near my house and sit there and watch the sky and think. Whenever this happens, I end up isolating myself and leaving all my friends behind and I feel horrible for doing that but I also feel like sometimes nobody would be able to solve my problems but myself, and life is always gonna be dreary and sad and unexciting and I’m always going to be defined by my trauma and it’s nothing like the stories, that are full of excitement and emotion and it’s just this. And to be fair, I don’t think I’d love being in a story either. I don’t know. It’s probably a me problem.

I guess what I’m trying to say is that happiness feels so far away? And when I feel unhappy, sometimes I just think that no one will be able to reach me. And I have to process it by myself. And it sucks having to do that but it’s not like I’ve got any other option. And I want to be happy and for my life to be full of adventure and I realise I am happy when I observe other people’s lives but it wouldn’t be the same as what I would imagine to be genuine happiness. And if happiness is so far away and sadness is an alone thing, I feel like I don’t really need a “lover” anymore, I just need myself. I don’t want to be alone, I’ve just lost my desire for having someone who’s My Own, someone who knows me inside out and comforts me and whatever. 

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7. 2021 Nov, Champagne Problem

Back then, I really thought I almost made it.

These afternoons dripped with Taylor Swift. I was never a big TS fan, but her sound, heavy with hope, and guitar dripping like soft honey, it all reminded me of you. This steady, silent, unreal person, suddenly in my life, god, what the hell am I supposed to do now?

And it’s so funny because they made us go to a museum for god’s sake, then an aquarium, then we all biked together in an absolutely beautiful forest and skipped stones across the ocean. You’d scooped up a handful, and passed one to me. I slipped it, secretly, into my pocket, and watched you from behind. 

On the second day, I woke up late, and during lunch you caught me unawares — you told me, “you don’t know how worried I was”, and I was like fuck, fuck, of course I wouldn’t know, of course not, you thought about me? Fuck. In the museum we’d look at each other. I still don’t know what those looks meant, but they were steady, and I liked them, secretly. You’d always sit on my left side. I thought you looked really nice. You had nice hands and arms and a strong nose and chin, but the wonderful thing was your steadiness, when I dove into the eddies of your eyes, I felt like this calm was made specially, only for me. You were always there, standing and watching. I didn’t know how I felt, I still don’t, but I thought you were pretty and I liked you. When we went home together, I had you all for myself, and you weren’t particularly fun but you’d gawk and guffaw at my quips and you’d look at me like I mattered and I couldn’t not smile. I messed with you and challenged you to find my account and you tried and you couldn’t but I just thought, wow, he wants to know me? At the very end of the day, you passed the mic to me and told me “I know you like this kind of shit”. You told me that... you wanted to get to know me better? You cycled next to me, enveloped in sunlight, ocean air, pseudo-autumn breeze.

It was all so stereotypical. The places we went. The things you said to me. I thought I’d die every time I looked at you. I’m still too embarrassed to go back to the pictures we took. 

I didn’t like you that much. In fact, I’m still pretty confused about love and friendship and sexuality and I couldn’t believe that I found a dude attractive, yet again! But this time, I was sure that I didn’t feel so much and I wasn’t fantasising and I was taking you in for the real you. I think I was wrong. I don’t think I know you for real. I was also wrong about not feeling much — sure, you were just the image of a Potential Lover in my head, but I really thought I might’ve had a chance and learning that I didn’t was the part that hurt the most.

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6. 2021 Nov, Coney Island

Went to Coney Island for a school trip. It was really beautiful. We biked for a few hours and the road was wonderfully bumpy and we saw lots of the ocean. There were 4 “checkpoints”, and at each points we could see a little bit of the ocean.

My favourite checkpoint was the third or the fourth one — I forgot which, isn’t it bizarre how we can just let go of memories so easily? — but it was one of them, and there was this little pond-ish thing with little fishes, separate from the ocean, obviously man-made. There were little rectangular boulders in the middle of the pond, and we could hop onto them to get to the other side with all the trees and stuff. It was really cute. The whole pond was shrouded by these tall trees, whose leafs were dense enough to give us this cool shade, but also light(?) enough to let little bits of sunlight peek through. It was really beautiful. The water shone and shimmered.

It was such a stereotypical beautiful afternoon — we rode on a bumpy dirt road amidst forests. It looked so Taylor-Swift-esque — with all the large coniferous trees and gentle sunlight and warm air. We blasted All Too Well (tmv) while biking. And at some point we got to I think the edge of a hill and we could see the ocean. Everything was really perfect. 

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5. thoughts on nostalgia

anyways i started thinking really hard about all these memories after a conversation with [froend] and everything came flooding back. i think i really love oceans and the night and the feeling of solitude (BUT LIKE THE GOOD KIND) that comes with these things. and the specific feelings attached to these places. each one of them feel like a different song and it’s just so specific and i can’t always quite Feel it correctly but sometimes it’s there. the memories at these places weren’t always the best but looking back, theh always feel so lovely and magical! Big Nostalgia Times. anyways i have a whole pinterest board for ocean pictures and the song i would attribute this nostalgia to is je te lasserai de mots by patrick watson LISTEN NOW

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4. 2019 shanghai

1. laundry room/ hallway over the course the trip id gotten myself acquainted with this Lovely Place where i could be alone with myrhoifjts amidst all the chaos. i’d also call JX and FD here. the hallway near the staff rooms too. it was super dark and super cold and i’d have my 棉裤 and green flannel and slippers on and sometimes i’d just sit in the corner and think and it was really nice having a dark little place where i can just be alone 2. amphitheater/ basketball court there’s this one night where i just sat in the basketball court at night with friends and they were playing basketball and i was just watching. there were like 2 really tall bright lights and i was just sitting on the pavement. everythinf was nice and cold after that i relocated to the amphitheater, cos at that point of time the friends were going on a night tour of the school but i decided that i wanted to just sit there. and it was like a super big circle and i sat at the very top and i could see everything down there. at some of time i heard someone call my name but couldn’t locate the voice 3. piano on the very last day, my roommates and i went to the piano near what i think would be the chinese equivalent of the general office and she played a bunch of songs, including billie eilish covers, and it was super good bc she’s a diploma. and after like 10 minutes, this guy from upstairs started waving at us and came down to admire her playing the piano. he was young but looked kinda ragged cos his moustache is like overgrown. he knew we could understand chinese but still spoke to us in english, and he talked to us about how much he loved piano and how his favourite piece was a somg from bojack horseman, and told us to watch it, but then took it back cause we’re too young, and then he tried to show us the song and played it on the piano from memory. he was cool. i thought of a whole backstory for him. i’m watching bojack horseman now, but i don’t remember what exactly was the song he mentioned. i kind of miss him. i think we could’ve been good friends

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3. 2019 obs

IDH PIC OF THIS ONE BUT obs!! it was like day 4, and we’d just kayaked 7 hours onto a shady ass island and everyone was sunburnt and needed to change so after we put our stuff down, we trudged our way to the toilet and passed by a ton of tourists with their barbecues and lawn chairs and we were struggling getting to the toilet cause it was so deep into the forest and the road was so bumpy and full of twigs and during our walk our watch finally properly bonded, and we talked about how shitty it was having to kayak for so long and how tan we’re gonna become when we get back and when we finally reached the toilet everyone was just super happy and we washed our hands and faces and changed and whatnot. then we went back and it was already dark—literally pitch black. and the toilet was bustling with lots of other people and all the yellow lights were lit up and when we walked back we could barely see each other or find our way but we did eventually. after all that, our instructor?? gathered all of us onto a picnic mat. and the great thing was that our tents were right in front of the ocean. like we could see it so clearly. the whole ocean, the moon, the city lights on the island across us. and we could hear all the ocean sounds, the waves and stuff (and not the fake stuff you get from youtube!) and then we did some bonding and shared about our feelings but during the whole time i really wanted to cry cause i was thinking about how lovely it would be to share the ocean view with someone i really loved but instead i’m with all these strangers whose lives i knew so little about. but it was also really nice that despite this, we all kinda cared for each other. anyways, the ocean was really sexy. everything was dark and it was the only source of light. i think this is when i realised that i have a real affinity for oceans and their beauty and endlessness

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2. 2019 boarding

Night At Boarding!!!! another core memory. the most distinct one i have is rushing chemisery at like 2am and everything was so dark and you can hear all sorts of very cute summer sounds like crickets chirping and rustling leaves. i was sitting at the place outside our room, it was like a pretty big space, and i was alone, and suffering cos of chem but everything around me felt so quiet and magical and like i had it all to myself cos everyone else was in their rooms. and the air was nice and cold too. and the memory is also flecked with traces of What Boarding Felt Like: YC's GODDAMNED alarm in the morning, ukulele, mxmtoon, the show we watched together — the puppycat thing? 出前一丁 ramen which we really struggled to not spill on the journey between the pantry and our room, weekends where the whole canteen would be empty, watching kimetsu no yaiba, waking up to the room semi-lit with light filtering through the curtains and to two other real human beings next to me (how do I describe it? it is ever so wonderful to realise that the person next to you is there — she is there, and she is warm, and soft, and living and breathing, her existence is real and her form is heavy with the weight of being alive. it felt surreal to me. human warmth and flesh and breath going in and out and chest rising up and down), breakfasts and bread and butter and milo. i really can’t describe what boarding felt like but the feeling was so poignant just now. to be fair it wasn’t a very smooth ride but the memory is so lovely, looking back at it

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1. 2017 riau islands

the one picture i have to remember the trip. it was 6.35pm and the boardwalk was all lit up and pretty and at the time i was feeling super awkward bc the whole trip was sponsored by my brother’s lion dance troupe and everyone was there and i knew nobody and i was still super angsty over AT but i feel like this is such a special memory i will never get over. and such a specific feeling. in the day we would just screw around in the ocean and there was this huge (but dysfunctional) swing in the water and it was really pretty and you could see the horizon and everything. we'd splash around all day and the water would be really clear and salty. there was no one but us. we'd also turn over the little rocks near the coast, hoping to find crabs or octopi, and once I think my dad almost slipped but he didn't. and the sun was bright but gentle, and everything felt illuminated by a faint glow. then at night we’d gather at the dinner table and listen to the sea's sounds and the ocean was dark and pretty and shimmery with all the moonlight and stars and everything felt so big and open and silent and Weirdly Safe. we'd crack open prawns and our fingers would get all oily and everything smelled rich and pungent and earthy. and after that we'd walk back to our rooms, and the water glowed blue and white and orange. once, it was midnight, and the room was dark and empty and I just sat there reading houseki no kuni — this manga about gems and socrates and existence and love. its use of negative space is fascinating and honestly magnificent — the wide expanses of black colluding with the empty white canvas struck a terrible silence, and was so beautiful. I felt it that night. the largeness of that emptiness. i was alone in my room, everything was dark, and my mind made up parallels between my story and the one I'm reading. something like, a small person stuck in a big place. it’s so hard to describe. like i was alone but it still felt really nice and comfortable. i think the memory has pretty much slipped away entirely bjt i still have a few traces of what it felt like to be there. it was really nice. like paradise.