writtenbytsuki

[writtenbytsuki]

moth to a flame

“Not a lot, just forever. Intertwined, sewn together.” — Adrianne Lenker

To the person I always go back to,

— You have been one of the biggest parts of my life. I’ve loved you, I’ve lost you, I found you again, but then I lost you. In the past 4 years of whatever semblance of a relationship or friendship we had, you have been so significant and you have taught me so much about both myself and the rest of the world.

Your philosophies, your love for learning, your perspective. These are just some of the things that I have always and will always find most attractive. Not because it makes you look smart, but because it’s inspiring. You have always inspired me, every time we disconnect from each other, I realize how much you’ve taught me. It’s because of you, your mindset, that I can never seem to let go of you, as much as I feel like you want me to.

You’ve always drawn me in like a moth to a flame, a magnet, just like you draw everyone else in as well. It’s almost toxic. You know the effect you have on people, you see the way they think of you, you’ve even admitted to using people to your own advantage, but that’s what makes you amazing. You aren’t afraid to voice your true thoughts to me.

From the 3 am calls, telling me about something you’ve just learned in the dead of night, to the hours of conversation you can hold telling people about the way you view the world, it’s always been genuinely you.

I will admit, I miss you. As a friend, as a lover and even just as someone to spend time with. Your energy has always been infectious. You’ve built up so much of who I am and without you, I yearn for your thoughts, for your words and for you.

Thank you so much for all the things you’ve taught me. I hope soon we’ll be able to get back to the way we were. When we’d hang out every week, talk about life and fuck around.

So to the lucifer to my lilith, you are a piece of me that I carry around forever.

[writtenbytsuki]

remembering whimsy

“Everything has beauty, but not everyone sees it.” — Confucius

The funny thing about life is that you can ever really predict what’s about to happen. Sure, you can make decisions to bring you the life you’ve always wanted, but then again when has anyone ever TRULY gotten what they desire?

For awhile life has been dull, repetitive and even just straight up shitty. Maybe it’s just me, but for the first time in a long time, I finally see how colorful life can really be. Yes, there are harder days but through those days is when I know my life is as vibrant as ever. It may sound like such a cliché, but the saying “How can there be good days without bad days,” is something that I remember once I’ve recovered from the lower days and it always reminds me that life doesn’t have to be as serious as we make it out to be.

Through remembering and appreciating how beautiful life can really be, I’ve started noticing so many amazing things I haven’t before. It has motivated me to stop caring so much about what’s on the screen and look up. Remembering the whimsy in life, how fun it can be, how accessible enjoyable things are, that’s what makes life that much more interesting to me.

Listening to music through CDs, cassettes, vinyls, it shows how sound can be beautiful in different ways. We are so used to everything being on our phones that we don’t realize how easy life is now. Taking photos of experiences, scenes, people, maybe through phones or even film cameras, polaroids or photobooths, it helps us capture that beauty we once saw and immortalize it. I’m not saying this to be quirky or different but to share how different the experiences are IF you let yourself experience it.

Life can be fucking beautiful, if you allow it to be.

[writtenbytsuki]

the girl with the tired eyes

“The eyes, chico. They never lie.” — Scarface

At first glance, she’s a ball of sunshine. She’s happy, always smiling, never letting it falter. But there’s something no one really knows. Or maybe they do.

Some would say it’s a trick of the light. Some would say maybe you’re seeing things. I know what I see when I look her in the eyes. All that sunshine disappears and I see what’s truly behind her mask.

She’s happy. But that never means she isn’t struggling. What I see is a girl that cares too much about other people and not enough about herself. She’s tired. She has spent all her life trying to please people, fit in, but what no one knows is that when she’s alone in the middle of the night, because that’s when it’s most peaceful, she finally becomes her true self.

The girl that hides behind facades fades and we’re left with someone who allows themselves to feel tired, feel negativity. She’s the girl that dreams in colors and love because it’s the only place she can escape her dull life. Maybe that’s why she hides.

Her mask was never a mask. It was her running away from her own reality, shielding herself in cloaks of light, never letting the darkness through. The girl with the tired eyes is colorful. Bright. Loving. Tired.

[writtenbytsuki]

my body is transactional

“Well fuck me gently with a chainsaw” — Heathers, 1989

Attention-whore, slut, bop, tramp, skank. These are some of the words used to describe women who tend to be on the more promiscuous side. Women who aren’t afraid to show themselves off. I get it. Women should save themselves for marriage, yearn to be a mother, but what if that is what we want and we just don’t know how to get it?

Fifteen. That’s the age I was when I realized that I could use my body to get the things I wanted. I was young, dumb, and desperately grasping at straws trying to figure out why, if I showed my body off, I would get the things I couldn’t get so easily before. I thought the men that used me, genuinely wanted connections, friendship. I thought that maybe, just maybe, people finally started to like me. But I was wrong. It was simply my body that they wanted.

Sixteen. The age I was when I started selling my body. Crazy isn’t it? A sixteen year old, a child, selling her body. Why? Maybe it was because I wasn’t getting enough attention? Was it because I needed money? Or was it simply because I was so tired of feeling insecure and not enough that I searched for validation the only way I knew for sure I would find? And I was so fucking proud of it too. I guess getting called a slut at school didn’t help. At this point in my life it felt like a status symbol. A scarlet letter ‘A’ across my chest. But I know it wasn’t.

At this same age was when I got blackmailed. For what? For talking to a stranger, seeking his validation to the point of abuse. I tried to stop it. I blocked him, I changed my passwords, I deleted everything, but everything that happens on the internet stays on the internet and that’s exactly what happened to me. He had saved every picture I sent him and started selling my pictures as if they were his own. I could’ve reported him, but what would the police do? Arrest a man across the world for saving pictures I willingly sent him? I was ashamed, afraid, and frozen. What could I have done?

But even then, I hadn’t stopped. No, I ended up feeling even more liberated to use my body to my advantage. I kissed and flirted with men for free drinks at bars, I pushed out my chest to get into places I would’ve been rejected from if I was my past self, I even made money from simply flirting with people through the phone. Sounds like I was living the life, huh? The thing is, I wasn’t. Everything that was happening has taken control of such a big part of my life that not only affects me now but the people I love around me.

All the things I went through during these times in my life has made me more insecure and validation seeking than I ever was to begin with. As much as I hate seeking this validation from strangers, it never seems to leave the back of my mind. Nagging at me, telling me I’m not good enough until the whole world thinks so. It has ruined several relationships, gotten me accused of cheating, and caused me to cheat because I felt like my lover’s validation was never enough. These parasites in my head make me hate myself ten times more than if I did before I found out that my body is simply transactional.

[writtenbytsuki]

promises we made

“Sometimes I wish I could die already so you could be the last person I love just like I promised” — something I wish I could tell him

To what I thought was my greatest love,

— Thank you for teaching me how to love. Although things didn’t end the way we oh so badly wanted, I still care for you. As much as you have tried to make me hate you with your manipulation of the people around me, I still have that love for you I once had. It may not be as strong as it once was but believe me it’s still there because a love like we had is not something so easily forgotten. In every letter I have written you, to every note I’ve jotted down about you, not once have I lied in those words.

It isn’t so easy to forget 10 months with someone I loved. It isn’t so easy to forget the things we’ve done together. It isn’t so easy to forget your favorite color, your dream car, your family, our promises. Things may change between us, things may change about us, but what we had is something that can’t be changed. I wish things had happened differently. I wish I hadn’t broken our main promise to each other. But hey, there’s no point in wishing any more.

Now all that I hope for is that you’re happy. I know you may hate me, talk shit on me, and even try to take one of my best friends away, but I couldn’t wish such things on you. You’ve made me better. You’ve helped me grow, and I will forever be thankful for that.

So to who I thought was my greatest love, thank you for the promises we made, now make some with someone else.

[writtenbytsuki]

the way women love

“I know it’s just a casual thing but I think this is the best way to end this.” — a girl i thought liked me back

i love the way she breathes when our lips are touching intertwined. when she tries to catch the breaths that i take from her in exchange for my own. i love the way she looks up at me, smiling, a look of love and hope in her eyes. when she looks at me, not knowing i’ll look right back at her with the same love and hope. i love the way her eyes shine when she finds her inner child again. the way she holds on to that wonder. i love the way she reacts to my touch, my eyes, my words. when she looks away giggling to herself, in hopes i wouldn’t catch her looking at me. when she grabs on to my hand even harder when i hold hers. when she doesn’t know what to say and blushes when i compliment her. she isn’t only beautiful, or pretty, or cute, or hot. to me, she is the embodiment of sunshine. her smile can light up a whole room and she wouldn’t even notice because for some reason, she’s focused on me. the warmth of her words, her welcoming eyes, that goddamn dimple that feels like a hug whenever she smiles, she couldn’t be more perfect.

[writtenbytsuki]

oh to be someone’s muse

muse | ‘myüz | noun definition: a source of inspiration especially : a guiding genius “The writer’s beloved wife was his muse.”

i try my hardest to be cool or interesting or different but really it’s because i know im not meant for a lasting love. i’m meant for a fleeting love, a love that you learn from, you remember. i want to be different i want to know im an unforgettable being in this vast world. i want to know that in 20 years, when we’re graying, that you see something that reminds you of me even if we haven’t been in contact since our youth. i want to be interesting enough to inspire art, to be the girl that was once in your dreams and now in your nightmares. i want to be unforgettably cool with interests that no one you’ve met has. i want to be the girl that teaches you to love your life and live it how you want because we only get one. i want to be the girl that teaches you to see color in life even though i may take it away. oh to be someone’s muse, someone’s dream, someone’s fleeting thought.

[writtenbytsuki]

judgement day

You just aren’t obsessed w me the same way anymore….smh - shitty guy #1

out of everything i’ve been told, from the ‘you’re pretty’s or the ‘you’re cools’s the ones that that stick the most, whether negatively or positively are the ones that insult me and make me feel inadequate.

some of my favorite ones, the ones that make me feel as if i’m being judged by god himself, the ones that can either motivate me or break me down are these ones. the ones listed here are from a singular person, a person who built me up then treated me like nothing in the end:

if she dies or lives, i dont care either way i wouldnt even bat an eye

all she was to me was a body

i would 100% always have picked [my enemy] over [me]

i only entertained it cus shes so easy, everyone can agree with me on that

she only gets guys cus she tries so hard, but the only guys she gets are the dudes who want an easy lay

if she didn’t sexualize herself this desperately to get horny sad men, she’d be more bitchless than me

if she was with a friend at a bar, and my homie wanna rizz up that friend, id take one for the team and talk to [me] to give him alone time. but he gotta pay me for that

if i had a car and she was on the road, id drive

she proves theres no two pretty best friends, one of them always gotta be the ugly one

theres a reason she doesnt get cat called

id only see her again if [redacted] brings her and ill be nice for [redacted] but id prefer [enemy] and i hate [enemy]

she has no trauma she just wants an excuse to be a horrible shitty person

we had a bad fight, i made a bad joke about something sensitive to him. i said sorry though. of course i did. how could i not? but none of that helped. all it did was infuriate him more, cause me more pain. acting like we didn’t spend so much time together, he didn’t even stop to think if maybe his words would get to me and how it would affect me. because, of course, the world revolves around him. in his eyes, he is god and the women in his life are nothing but a speck of dust.

this will be my first piece about the shitty men in my shitty life, if any of my exes see this, hi :) whats up? hope you’ve been well while you ended up making my life hell ♡

[writtenbytsuki]

not my body

“And then suddenly I am gripping the porcelain of my sink, stinking of sweat and vanilla, brush raking through my hair, watching it limpen like a wig, searching, clawing for breath amidst tears and snot, because it’s such a beautiful shade of red, but it’s still putting lipstick on a pig.”

I’ve always been the ugly kid, the chubby kid. I was often made fun of for being on the heavier side, but it’s okay right? It was to make me better?

It was always, “it’s okay, you’re just big boned,” or “don’t worry it’s just baby fat.” But being around people who didn’t look like me, being in ballet and having family members constantly on fad diets, saying things like “does this dress make me look fat?” never really helped.

Eventually, I got into a sport, figure skating to be exact. I’d wear oversized clothes to training, making sure I never looked fat. Too bad it required me to wear tight costumes. I spent hours at the rink, trying to run around as much as possible, lose as much weight as possible, and I did, but it wasn’t enough. 12 hours of skating only stopping to drink water and have one meal when I got home wasn’t enough. I still looked fat in my costumes, I still got made fun of. So I quit.

I was constantly trying to figure out how I could lose weight. Even after I quit training, I’d still spend hours skating, trying to make myself more attractive. I wanted to be like the girls around me, the girls I grew up watching on TV. I tried and tried, but it barely worked so I moved on.

I started going to the gym. I had a trainer, I went everyday for three hours — two for strength training and toning, and one for martial arts. That went on for years. I barely ate anything of course because I thought it would help. I was never hungry, only drank water and counted my calories. At some point I started going with my then boyfriend and it was fun I guess. I didn’t really get as good a pump as I did before, but hey, you win some, you lose some, right?

After awhile, my sessions became less frequent, my eating more, but I was unhappy. I wanted to feel good in myself again, so I started over-sexualizing myself. I started taking lewd pictures, making sure I got all the right angles. And when my ex and I broke up, he started slut-shaming and telling me I gained weight which kickstarted everything all over again.

Along with over-sexualizing myself, I started eating less again. I started flushing food down the toilet. Coming home and telling my mom I wasn’t hungry. I was hurting myself. I’d eat less than 700kcals a day, cut myself when I went over, and even tried purging.

Worst of all, I started projecting my insecurities onto others. I bullied people online, calling them fat, telling them to end their lives. I was at the mercy of people, who like me, were telling me I was fat and needed to hurt myself. I was told how to starve myself.

As much as I did all this, it never made me feel better about myself. I still felt like a pig with lipstick. Over-sexualizing myself, wearing make up, dressing in less and less clothing, it was never the solution. It caused so much more pain than I realized.

Soon enough, my parents had found out what I was doing online. I got put into therapy, I was grounded for 6 months and I wasn’t allowed to be alone. But I felt alone. I was alone with my thoughts, alone with how I felt. If I told someone, I’d probably get put in the mental hospital, so I didn’t. Instead I quietly cried myself to sleep every night and constantly looked in the mirror hating myself.

Then I got better.

Spoiler alert: I didn’t.

As much as I tried to recover, it was hard. Every time I looked in the mirror I hated myself. Every time I put clothes on I felt like cutting off my tummy. Every time I tried to love myself, I couldn’t. So I turned to every other possible way.

I started putting myself out there again. I started over-sexualizing myself again online. I started becoming the hot girl I’ve always wanted to be. At least who I thought I’ve always wanted to be.

I found validation in thirsty men online. I sold my pictures to help me feel better about myself. I became what everyone already thought I was, a slut. Not to hate on sex workers, but I was underage and did it for all the wrong reasons. I was desperate.

But soon enough, I stopped. I stopped using my body for views, likes and validation. I stopped caring about what others think. But I still hated myself. Even though I’m constantly told, “you’re so skinny already,” “you need to eat more,” “you look fine.” To me, I wasn’t, I didn’t and I don’t. I knew they were only saying it to stop me from relapsing.

Up until now, I’ll often look in the mirror, in an outfit I’ve been dying to wear and absolutely hate the way it looks on me. I nitpick every detail about myself, hate my body, cry about it and go back to oversized clothes. Even with how much I’m reassured, I don’t believe them, I never did.

Sometimes I feel like I’m not even in my own body. I dissociate, depersonalize and breakdown over the way I look, the way other people might see me. Sure, I put on this confident persona and yeah, sometimes I am confident, but more often than not, I’m thinking about whether I look good or if I look too fat. If my makeup’s still okay, if my clothes are fitting me right, if I’m standing funny. But it has never, ever felt like my own body.

[writtenbytsuki]

expectations

“Family could be a lot of things, beautiful, strong, helpful, supportive and it could also be choking. The expectations family places on you could be the burden that will ruin you.”

My whole life has been a comparison, a before and after, an expectation vs. reality. From when I was a kid to now as an adult I felt as if I would never be enough.

In my childhood, I was never the pretty one, or the popular one, or even the athletic one; that was my cousin. Never the smart one or the talented one; that was my sister. What I was, was the funny one, the fast eater, the weird one, the one that no one ever really wanted to be friends with but they had to cause they felt bad.

I’m not saying this to make anyone feel bad. It’s simply me telling you how my family’s words made me feel, not to say they didn’t call me cute or pretty. No, instead these opinions and words came out during family events indirectly. They’d tell my cousin, “wow you’re so flexible!” “you’re so skinny and tall! you should be a model.” To my sister, “wow you’re so talented when’s your next show!” “oh you know she’s in Harvard now” and to me, “you colored your hair again?” “wow you eat so fast!”

Of course, my family compared us often and berated all three of us. It was never just me, but out of all of us I knew I was the one with the least contribution to the pride of the family. They tried to be nice, compliment me as much as the others, found things I was decent at and overhyped the fuck out of it, but I knew deep down they didn’t mean it.

Since I knew I couldn’t compare, I decided to do what I could to have a label I would be happy with, no longer was I the chubby one, I was the one who lost weight. No longer was I the funny one, I was the one who was good at makeup, the artistic one. And no longer was I the weird kid, I was the intimidating one, the cool one. Yet for some reason, I still felt like I wasn’t enough for my family.

As an adult, it’s less about talent and looks now, but more about the future, careers, college. I’ve never been one for school, I’ve always hated it, being told what to do. But of course, my family, being Asian, prioritizes it a lot. One of my cousins in pre-med, one if them in pre-law and my sister having graduated from Harvard. Me on the other hand, an art student, barely passing, constantly high, covered in tattoos.

So I gave up. I stopped comparing. I stopped caring. I found myself in different ways. Although it was hard, I became comfortable in myself. Not through validation from my family, but through focusing on my mental health. Knowing that I’d never be enough for my family, I did all I could to be someone other people wanted to be around. The kind one, the understanding one. I became the one people wanted.

[writtenbytsuki]

save your heart

“Manic Pixie dream girl says I’m going to save you. Says don’t worry. You are still the lead role. This is your love story about the way I teach you to live.” — Olivia Gatwood

When it comes to relationships — friendly, familial and even romantic, I never truly learned how to maintain a healthy one. To me, romance was the end all be all. The one I needed. The one that would help me. The one that would save me from myself.

I looked for love every chance I got. I allowed myself to get hurt by men over and over and over just for the small chance that maybe I’d find the one.

They were all the same. I fell for them, they thought I was interesting enough to mess around with, they got bored, they left. It was always the same thing. Same words of “I’m not ready for a relationship,” but treated me like he was. Same actions of using me to satisfy his needs. Soon, it became a routine I’d gotten used to. Every time, I told myself “If this one doesn’t work, I’m giving up on love.” yet every time, I never did.

Romance never died for me. Of course, it was only because I was so conflicted as to whether it was real or not. On one hand, my mom and dad haven’t been together since I was a kid. But on the other, was my sister, who’s been with the same guy for over 10 years. I wanted to believe in love for my mom because of my sister.

Despite all of the pain I’ve endured, I tried to heal the pain from one man with the love and company of another. Obviously it never ended in my favor. I’ve been used, abused, bullied and ghosted. I had to learn how to save my heart.

There have been days where I constantly had to remind myself to protect my heart but that’s hard when I’ve lived wearing my heart on my sleeve. I made notes as reminders, a list to help me save myself from another heartbreak, another scar to add to my heart. Said list goes as follows:

never say “i miss you” or “i love you” first. no matter what.

don’t text them when they’re out unless they text first

do not initiate/start calls. let them start the call

remember you are not girlfriend material, you’re a transitional girl

act like you care but try not to care

do not be clingy

do not talk to their friends unless they are there

if they tell you they love you, it probably isn’t true

remember they will leave eventually

do not let them get too close. attachment will only hurt you.

you’re the girl they use to decide to see if they want a relationship or not. you are not the girl they want a relationship with. you are simply a phase.

you will never “have what they have.” you will never have anyone in love with you as much as you are with them. you don’t deserve to get married. you aren’t meant to get married or settle down. you’re meant to show up, then disappear.

to save your heart, you have to realise you are not the girl anyone loves. you’re the girl they use to see if they want to love someone back. you’re a toy. a doll. nothing. don’t feel anything.

[writtenbytsuki]

“life-long” friendships

I’ve moved schools 3 times in the span of 5 years.

Ever since I was a kid, I was told that I’d make life-long friends in high school, in college and maybe even before that. I always had my hopes up, being as me as I could be cause they’ll “love me for who I am,” right?

Soon I was in high school and as far as I knew, these people I’ve known since the first grade were the oh so coveted life-long friends I’d always dreamt of. I mean we made it through grade school, so why not? But that was short lived, I ended up being the girl people only hung out with out of pity, or boredom, or even just to feel better about themselves.

I was never invited to birthday parties, unless it was in school of course. I never got invited out. I never really felt part of anything. Then it came. The worst part of the high school experience, the bullying, the rumors.

Now in 8th grade, what I had always feared finally came true. People hated the real me. I was too weird for the Christian school I had grown to love and soon, I was alone again. After the rumors, many of which had people calling me a slut or a man-stealer, I did the only thing I knew how to do. I ran. I moved schools.

I was excited again. I thought “this is where I’ll find my life long friends.” I mean I knew a few people already, one of which was a guy I’ve known and loved since the 5th grade, someone I knew would be in my life forever. Oh how naive I was.

My excitement didn’t last for long. Of course, the first year or two that I was there, I felt loved, I had my first real boyfriend and he was someone I’d liked forever. But soon, it all had to come crashing down. Right? My life seemed too perfect. I had the perfect lover, perfect friend group, perfect personality.

Then it came. The only thing I knew would be permanent in my life, my downfall. My ex accused me of cheating, I got called a slut, a whore, a f*g, and every other name I could be called, I got hit, I got isolated and worst of all, I lost my “life-long friends.”

Once again, I ended up alone. At this point, I couldn’t take it, I thought I was the problem. Maybe my personality isn’t what they wanted. Maybe I was a slut. So I fed into it. I became more promiscuous, I became what they all wanted me to be. I came in, talking about a different guy every week, showing my male classmates my nudes, folding up my skirt, wearing more makeup than anyone else dared to. But eventually I got tired of being alone, I was all I had. I knew life-long friendships were never in the cards for me and I’d be the only permanence I had. So I left again.

At this point, all the excitement that was there left me. I knew it would all be the same. Luckily, this time I chose an art school instead of a Christian one. Unluckily, all of my time there was online because of the pandemic and I wasn’t really able to make connections with my classmates, but hey at least I didn’t have to eat alone anymore.

In my 12th grade, places were starting to open up again. I made friends with some of my school-mates, we went partying every now and then, but it was only ever just that. A party friendship. Not one where we’d check up on each other, not one where we’d hang out on our free days, but one where we’d ask if they’re free only because we wanted to drink that night. At least I wasn’t so alone anymore, right?

Then college rolls around. I gave up making life-long friends. At this point, I gave up making friends in general. Sure I went out, hung out with people I knew, called them my friends, but I knew deep down that we were both using each other. They get a place to hang out, free w**d and a pretty girl to call their friend, and I get to feel not so lonely.

I knew we weren’t friends to be friends because they only texted back when I texted first. They only reached out if they needed a place to chill at. They only talked to me if they needed something. Then again, who am I to deny company?

Eventually, I felt like I did make friends. I felt like I had the chance to have life-long friends again. I had people I was hanging out with everyday, I had to make room in my weeks to fit all my friend groups in, but slowly I started to be alone again. They got too busy for me.

“I’m busy today, but we’ll hang out soon I promise.”

I always believed them until it became too frequent. I believed them until I saw them hanging out with people they didn’t even really like too much. I believed them until I gave up.

Life-long doesn’t seem to be so long for me anymore.