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Page 100

I’m used to wanting—to longing, to hunger,

I’m used to my heart clawing its way out of my chest and up my throat.

I’m used to seeing my heart run after what it wants and kill it self trying,

I’m used to drowning in want and dying of hunger,

I’m used to not having enough of you.

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Page 99

You make my heart feel like it’s too big to fit in my rib cage.

You make me feel like every breath i take is too short.

You make my life be so bright i find it hard to stay under a shade.

You make me fee like I’m able to fit in the small hole of your heart and find contentment.

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Page 98

Ever since her parents had abandoned her and dumped her to her grandmas house two years ago, to the arms of her frail but strong willed grandma, she thought to herself ‘I love my grandma’.

Contrary to her life before, Shua now lived in the province, there were more trees than there were buildings, more homes than there were stores. Not to mention Shua now had lots of playmates, elementary school was difficult in the city when everyone was too busy showing off what their parents had bought them, or what they did in the holidays.

Here shua was happily playing with all her classmates, no one lesser nor higher than one another. Or so that should’ve been it but there was this boy in her class and she didn’t like him much.

He would always pick on Shua for no reason, and shua always told the teacher, on some days even crying to him only for the teacher to say that his father was the mayor and they couldn’t do anything.

Shua hated him, and after a particular day where the boy cut of her hair making it be uneven, she cried home to her grandma, squealing and wailing holding her chopped hair.

Shua held her grandma’s hand as they both walked to the school the next day, her grandma had given her a haircut herself and Shua smiled widely upon seeing it. Truly her grandma was amazing in all aspects. Shua pecked her grandmas cheeks as her grandma told her to go to her class.

Shua read the text on the door her grandma was infront of it said ‘principal’ but shua didn’t know what that word meant, shua happily waved goodbye to her equally happy grandma.

Shua went home that day and didn’t see her grandma, she called out but no one answered, shua started crying and accidentally fell asleep from exhaustion. When she opened her eyes she saw her grandma over her, but it was dark outside by that point and shua couldn’t see her grandma’s face.

Her grandma’s touch was soft so she eventually went back to sleep.

When shua went to school the next day the boy didn’t bother her anymore, even going as far as avoiding looking at her, and avoiding her physically. When shua was walking home she saw the boy and his parents in front of a store so she went near.

“It was there…right in front of me and it had huge teeth and these bloodshot wings…its tongue was really long and it was reaching out to me” the boy cried in her mothers arms and went.

“hush” said the mother, shua saw in both of their eyes that neither of them believed him. Shua walked pass them when the father then held her hand “Its you isn’t it? the girl who reported my son” the father shouted at shua with bloodshot eyes.

Shua who was nothing but just a mere child cried and wailed trying to get her arm off from the fathers hold “let go of me!” she screamed only for him to tighten his hold “GRANDMA!” she screamed and like magic her grandma was beside her all at once.

“Let go of her” her grandma said, and the father did but not without spitting and being aggressive “tell your sensitive niece that they were just playing, why report it when they were just having fun�� the father sneered but the mother having now just gotten back ushered her husband to calm down.

Shua went behind her grandma and cried while holding her grandmas pants didn’t know what happened only that her grandma held her hand and they walked away, Shua looked back with teary blurred eyes and didn’t see anyone in front of the store.

She looked back at her grandma and her grandma just smiled at her and patted her head “anytime you have trouble, just call for me”. Shua loved her grandma.

Shua had trouble sleeping that night, hearing something outside her window, but she ignored it as her grandma told her to ‘just close your eyes, it will always go away’. It usually did but it hasn’t this night and shua was nearly close to just going out there herself when her door opened and in came her grandma.

Though her grandma was short, frail, old and weak. Her grandma was brave and strong willed. Shua always loved her grandma.

Shua closed her eyes when she heard the door open and just listened out for the knocking, then she heard it stop. she opened her eyes to see her grandma looking out the window.

her grandma went to her and patted her head “You can go to bed now”.

Truly, Shua loved her grandma.

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Page 97

“Melting in your mouth”

In the dark alleyway her hands trembled in their hold of the others hair, She could barely see—the alleyway hidden from the city lights. She can hear people talk but the breaths of the person Infront of her are more captivating.

Cara bites her lips shut as she finds the noises make a home in her mouth, The same way the person in front of her seemed to.

Ailin was beautiful, All in her entirety— Cara didn’t want to die an early death, But Ailin always looked hot smoking a cigarette.

The light of the fire illuminating her face, And she would have this look on her face as the cigarette lit. She’d look at it intensely, Not unlikely to how the other is looking at her now.

The taste of alcohol burns in her mouth, And she knows Ailin tastes it with how she bites Cara’s lips.

This was supposed to be fleeting, A one time thing, Detached. Something to move on from her boyfriend, Trying something new after heartbreak.

Yet as she holds on the others shirt, She finds that she can’t let go. The other breathes into her mouth, She tastes it—smoke, She closes her eyes and leans.

She feels Ailins breath on her neck— “Don’t go back to him” Cara hears “Don’t leave me” she feels Ailin bite and knows that the other has drawn blood.

And Cara pulled her hair, Pulled her up and kissed her, Desperate, fueled with a feeing she has yet to name. All she knows is that it burns in her gut, A sickening feeing as she’s trapped between the wall and Ailin

This was between her and Ailin— Between the two shops in this rundown city. Just them.

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Page 96

When your eyes meet mine i don't know what to do, Only that I’d do anything but look away. Your eyes—so expressively clear, But i never really know what your looks mean, only that they make me feel whole.

In some ways when you look at me, i feel bare, like you see me past everything, like somehow you know me even above all the things i haven’t told you.

Sometimes i find myself staring at my ceiling— thinking of you, A haunting, devastating, desperate thought of you. And think of your eyes.

when you look at me sometimes i feel the ache to rip apart my chest, show you my heart and how it beats for you, show all of who i am to you, and hope that you like it.

Hope that when i give it to you, you find that it’s more than enough. more of me, for you.

I hope that you want all of me, even when I don’t have much to offer other than myself— So truly I hope you like my heart, it is the only thing i can give you, to show you just how much you mean to me.

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Page 95

If before screams echoed in this house, Not it is smoke that engulfs it. I would rather not die in the presence of either.

The screams hurt my ears, And the smoke blocks my nose. I find that i prefer if it could block my eyes instead.

So that when i am hurt, I do not have to see your eyes tearing, Your hands shaking.

If you hurt me please do so without mercy, I cannot find it in me to hate you otherwise.

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Page 94

You live in the spaces between my breaths, In the beats of my heart, In the blood running in my veins.

You kissed me in the dark, Where no one could see, But somehow i still knew it was you.

Maybe it was because you’ve kissed me so many times i remember how your lips feel on mine, Maybe its the way no one else would do it but you, Maybe it was because you’ve smiled so widely at me when the lights came back, all giddy like a kid given candy.

My hands will tremble every time i remember how i held you, And my eyes will shake every time i open them and you are no where in sight.

Grief is a fickle thing yet clings to me like im its life line. I find it harder to move forward— When even though, Even though theres nothing left of you in this room, Everything reminds me of you.

How can i save myself from my love for you, When it used to be the only thing keeping me alive. Tell me my dear pilot, how can i look at the skies now— Knowing they were the only thing you longed to touch.

Yet your hands still held me, In ways i cannot bring myself to let anyone else do.

I find it quite funny—quite cruel, That now i cannot board a plane. Because anytime i do i fear all i think about is how it could be you flying it.

I fear that i will see you again, I fear that i will not know what to say, I fear my eyes will tell you how the past eight years have been without you, I fear they will tell you that I’ve loved you unconditionally.

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Page 93

On the hard days— no matter how hard i try to catch it Sleep seems to run away from me; On those days I try harder not to think of you.

And yet even when i escape the grip of reality, In my dreams there you stay, Your figure unchanged; Your figure beautiful.

I never realized i memorized every single detail of your face, Until i couldn’t see you anymore, No matter how many days passed by i still remember your face.

I find that sometimes its easier to fall asleep on those days— Only if i focus on the fact that I at the very least, told you i loved you.

I love you.

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Page 92

My sister is human, That i was always able to distinguish— unlike my parents which took me years to realize — In the way she made mistakes the same as I, And get scolded by our parents just the same.

from a young age i could look at her and realize, she has flaws, she has something going on, something is wrong, but i never really knew what they were.

we loved each other, maybe not consistently, but we loved each other, and in a house full of anger that was all i needed.

there will always be times we don’t get each other, because we are different people, and while we love each other, sometimes it doesn’t translate well with our love.

in our bad days i find it easy to blame our mother, in the slightly less bad days i find it easy to blame myself.

My sister is not perfect, neither am i.

i find it strange that i should be comforted by that, but in my quiet moments i find that i'm not. being human has never been easy: and seeing my sister go through things, cry and get hurt—like humans do.

i find it easy to look up at the sky and wish that my sister is not human, or at the very least—let her love freely, let her dream, let her live the way she wants.

With our place in life, higher dreams are hard to achieve but easy to wish. i wish for my sister to stop hurting, and in turn so will i.

i love my sister. and i know i might not be the best sibling either, i do hope she finds it in herself to be kinder. for me and for herself.

life has not been kind to her, neither have our parents, i find that sometimes when things get hard, that being kind to her is all i can offer her.

and on those days i find it hard to take all her harshness in my hands, but at the very least, i will not let her hear me scream at her, unlike my father, unlike my mother.

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Page 91

My sister my not be the best person in the world, but my sister cares about me, and maybe i am selfish, because that's all i really need.

my sister is not soft, and in many ways i wish she was, maybe just in her words, maybe just in her eyes.

but i'm glad even though my sister is not the best sister out there, she cares for me enough to ask. maybe she isn’t there for me, but im glad—even though i can be unbearable, she still sometimes find it in herself to look at me softy.

And that is enough for me.

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Page 90

ever since my mom left—my dad has taken her place, as the angry person in the house. I don’t know why I give his anger more grace than I gave my mothers.

in some way i understand that there will always be someone angry in our household. be it because of my mom or anyone else, i understand that anger will just be part of us.

but i still hope in some way i could go to my mom and explain, things will never be the same again, not because you left, but because things were never destined to stay the same.

To tell her “i understand you are angry”. tell her “that does not mean you take it out on your kids” to tell her “we are just trying our best to live in an way that still makes us feel human”

I am sorry for the way things are, the expenses too much, but i hope she finds it in herself to see that being angry will not to anything, i don’t know what will help, but i know anger hasn’t fixed this family’s problems. and i know she'll bring up money, and to that i say i dont know how to help.

in turn i too wish i could look to my father, or maybe tell him, a room away, something between us.

My mothers anger made me ashamed. My fathers anger makes me scared.

I wish i could tell him, you will never understand anything we tell you. not because we are dumb, not because we are hard headed and just do what we want, but because he never truly will. in some way i wish i could say it’s because no one will ever truly get anyone else, but no—my father doesn’t and will never understand because he refuses to, He will ask me something then tell me “But why do that when?” why ask me what to do when somewhere in your mind, you've already chosen what is the best thing to do?

tell him “you are hurting, in ways i will never understand” Tell him “i hope you find it in yourself to look at where your fists lie” Tell him “i hope you realize by yourself your words hurt no matter the volume they are said in”

Anger will always be part of this family, I have not made my peace with that yet, i have not found it in myself to look past their anger, and not judge what they do with their anger.

In some way i think that's my way of being mad.

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Page 89

You cannot blame her for being lost, Not when you took her hand walked. Then walked and walked, You did not tell her where you where going.

You cannot blame her for asking, “Where are we going?” You cannot look at her with your eyes judging, All she wanted were answers.

She trusted you enough to let you hold her hand, to let you lead her somewhere, To let you take her away.

You cannot lead someone somewhere, not tell them anything and expect submission.

Your voice a tone that should not be used, You hand hurtful in its hold, Your gaze glaring where it should not.

You should not hold someone, And not expect them to ask you to be kind.

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Page 88

everything about my mother is loud, be it the way she carries herself, the way she talks, or her anger.

My mother is loud— I think its because she doesn’t think she'd be heard otherwise.

maybe in someway she is right, her screams that echoed around the house. in which most days it is the only thing you'll hear.

would it be cruel of me to say that my mothers anger is who she was to me, she was a loving mother, it would be even more cruel of me not to acknowledge that.

my mother—no matter how angry, held us in her arms as lovingly as she could. she did not raise us perfectly, and i will not be mad at that.

she did nothing wrong raising us: even if she asks herself that sometimes, only that she raised us thinking we were her.

I've found out recently that I got my mothers loudness, when in her absence I was the loud one, not in my screams, not in my anger, not in my presence.

I don’t know how to see my mother now, when I can barely see her presence, but smell her in the way my father smokes. not that she ever smoked, but knowing that my father did because of her.

but I know that now I cannot view her the same way I did years ago, I find that the anger I used to feel has now diminished into an ache. the anger that used to boil, now barely has any heat.

I find it cruel that I have to make an effort to make myself hold her in a soft light, i love my mother, it just unfortunately took me years to realize that.

that the standard I'd held my mother was the same standard she held me. unfortunately it seems as though neither of us could reach one another. if in my father i see myself. in my mother i hear myself.

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Page 87

My father smokes and I find that I can’t be mad. my father is very strong, but i think he has a lot of weaknesses— of which i can't and I won't blame or judge him for them.

I often forget that my father used to be just like me, in a sense that he used to be a kid, and in a way he still is.

no one knows what will happen in the future, no one knows what to do with things they aren’t used to. I cannot blame him for finding comfort where he is used to, even if they are in the form of lit cigarettes early in the morning or late at night.

this is his first time alive, I don’t think I can find it in myself to look at him, and tell him his anger is not earned.

I don’t know how to tell someone so clearly loving, that the love they have has hurt people dear to them. I don’t know how to look in his eyes and tell him, that not everything you think is great is good for us.

I don’t know how to explain to someone who is hurting— that just because you are bleeding doesn’t give you the right to make me bleed in turn.

my father is strong, but my father is also human, this is his first time living, this is his first time having a heart. I don’t know how to tell him that the way he holds his heart— is different than how I hold mine.

never the less I cannot find it in myself to look at him and not see myself.

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Page 86

The light that seeps in between the trees are, enough for me to see the words in the book. The sunlight bright in its own right, Lighting up every blooming flower.

The wind or lack thereof, stills the leaves into quiet lull, letting the birds singing to be heard.

the flowers so bright under the sun, takes up space where color lacks. The brightness of the petals – No smaller than a coin – Catches my eyes in a way that makes it stand out from everything else.

The wind now present makes the leaves ring out a tune, seemingly one only I know. The clouds ever so faint with their softness– has now clouded the sky shielding me from the brightness of the sun.

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Page 85

The next thing I knew I couldn’t take my eyes off of you, even when knowing how different we are– even when knowing we’ll never see eye to eye.

It made me admire you more, The candidness of you, Your voice so assured in its own.

You were confident in yourself– In ways I’ve never seen in anyone else. In ways I wish I was.

You knew what you wanted, and you did what you could to get it. I don’t know how no one else saw you shine, but in a way I’m glad only I had my eyes on you.

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Page 84

This feeling in my chest that was slowly going away, It came back at the mere sight of your name next to mine. I don’t hate it–I know that cause it only happens when I’m with you, Only that I’m unsure of what to do with them.

Strange thing it is, What we’re doing are things I’ve always wanted to do with you, Things I’ve already done before but with other people.

Yet when you look at me: Your eyes so clear, unclouded– Your hands shaking as you try to reach out to me, Your hair soft and messy from the wind. My steps start to feel lighter, I feel more seen.

Your laugh hasn’t changed one bit, Strange when I had though I’d already forgotten about it. I see you smile and my heart starts pounding in my chest.

How beautiful you are, and you aren’t even mine. How beautiful you are.