Red Alert: The Pain.

I write of the pain—the monthly subscription I never asked for but am somehow grateful for.

My stomach feels hollowed out, as if each revolution of the orb inside empties my body of its softness. A knife scrapes the walls and sometimes stabs into me. That hurts. But the repeated stabbing has a rhythm; I can concentrate in class, pretend it's red noise.

The unsynchronized stabs halt my breath. I squirm in discomfort, trying to concentrate as it drives into my ribs, stabbing at "where my honor lays."

A little higher.

Sometimes it decorates my insides with polka dots, tiny slices. I write to avoid writhing in pain. It doesn’t hurt much, I know. I don't need to lessen this pain for others to digest. I know it's not supposed to be normal.

I assume this pain is normal because I know no different. It’s only debilitating on certain days. Today is fine.

It’s all-consuming at times, and I’m not a fan of those moments. I understand the process, but I wish it were less dramatic. Slicing away flesh and blood has always been dramatic.

It signifies the loss of life. That amount of red—it kind of does, it kind of doesn’t.

War spills blood. For peace, they say.

I don’t feel at peace. If there’s a war raging in my body, it’s futile.

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Ominous Positivity: Reflecting on Korea Day

It's inevitable. The poetry and prose can only shield me from vulnerability for so long. Someone is bound to read through the poorly written literary devices and figure out the true meaning of all my works that I run away from by writing it (How presumptuous). Or no one cares. The latter is the greater possibility. I find comfort in it, no one cares. And on some days, it's despair in how no one cares. True to my character, I am going to switch the topic to another one. For today, I wish to reminisce on Korea Day and as much as I would love to say it started with me speaking Korean and having a wonderful day. It didn't. I sat on my glasses. Having a power of -6 and allegedly even more, I can't move around without my glasses as there is a possibility I will fall into a ditch, the depth perception does lessen when you can't perceive objects, it turns out. It was frustrating, the whole sitting on glasses debacle. I had never done it before. Out of character as I wou...

The Chase to Curfew.

My heart is out of my chest. It's in my throat, beating like it's struggling to stay alive. But it's more alive than ever. The curfew is at 7 PM. You know it, I know it. Everyone knows it. Especially the duos that linger at Martin Junction. Yet we all love to tease the limits of how far a body can run and make it in time. The urgency, the need, the frustration, the fulfillment. There’s something exhilarating about skirting the edge of danger. About feeling the adrenaline course through your veins as the clock ticks down. I reach out for it during exams, actively working towards it—to be sleep-deprived and see how far I can push myself and still dish out something legible. I always take that one fake quote in stride, "Edison built the electric bulb in a night," or something of that sort. It's fake for multiple reasons, the stealing allegations aside. But it brings me hope. And this hope is quite delusional when it’s not accompanied by action. You can call it pr...

Rainy Reflections.

What do I write today? I pondered for hours while doing mundane tasks. The sunlight stayed with me for a while, then it left, all alone, before the tube of electricity joined my thoughts. "Aren't you eating dinner?" asked my roommate. That's when I finally broke the silence I had condemned myself to until I wrote. I ate dinner and drank tea instead of coffee because I wanted to sleep earlier. I came back to my room, determined to write the third blog post. I couldn't give up so soon, could I? The sounds of doors and windows slamming against the walls, screeching laughter, and people running around seeped into my room. "It's cool outside, the rain, it's raining," said my roommate. I am not a huge fan of the rain. It always made me moody. I wasn't a hater either. Something in me whispered back to my roommate, "It's raining? It's raining!" I jumped up barefoot and ran out to feel the cool breeze against my face. My feet felt th...

bone crush

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