Nov 24

music

Today, an eight year old asked me question that made me pause for a moment and think. She asked me: "Why do you like music so much?"
And honestly, I don't really know.
I guess music isn't something I like as much as it something that is part of my life. As a kid, I listened to those kid-sing-along CD's where the kids inside the speaker would sing Apples and Bananas or This Old Man. Later, I learned to play the piano, my feet dangling from the tall bench. Then, in middle school, I learned to play the violin and participate in chorus and the school musical. To me, singing is something that comforts me and cheers me up. It helps me act sassy because I'm not a sassy person. Singing is almost as natural as talking for me.

Nov 23

antagonist (make up for the 22nd)

i could present myself in the best light possible.
smile, laugh, crack jokes,
but soon my foxes tail would rise behind me
and my facade would crack like a porcelain doll's.
you would see the real me,
me,
the antagonist.
everyone knows that the villain deserves no love at all.
 
Nov 23

preppy

One of the things that I like about high school is that there are people who dress..."preppy" is the word for it I guess. I'm not against those who don't really care much about how they look (because that's me on the weekends) but in middle school, I always felt a little odd. People always semeed to be like the following when I wore anything remotely fancy to school.

Them: So what's the occaision?
Me: Uh...
Them: You don't have a race today?
Me: No. 
Them: Is it your birthday?
Me: No...mine's in February.
Them: Oh okay. Did someone die? Like your - 
Me: Okay I'm done here. *walks out of the room*  

Just kidding about the last part.  But still, I guss that people back then just didn't realize that there was this thing called "dressing nicely/put together because you felt like it." 
 
Nov 20

not schooled

i can verify trigonometric identities,

but i can’t tell if you like me or not

i can tell you who Robespierre is,

but i can’t tell you what i value in a guy

i can conjugate verbs in the preterite and imperfect,

but i can’t choose the right emojis to use when i text you

i can explain how the body makes ATP to keep itself going,

so why am i willing to die for you?
 
Nov 20

dissolving

Nov 19

random thoughts

death is everywhere,
but when it hits right next door... it makes you stop and think.

it makes you realize how your breaths are not infinite,
and how one day you'll no longer wake up to the world around you,
and see the glow of the morning sunlight.
it makes you realize how you'll never be able to see what the future is like.

there's so much you could do,
but it's up to you to spend your breaths the way you want to.
Nov 18

Part One: today, my friend and i pretended to be each other and this is what happened

One of my teachers often mixes me and another student up because we look similar. Yes, I could see how he could get us mixed up because we look somewhat similar. We both have medium length black hair (although mine is naturally lighter at the ends), we both wear black glasses, we’re about the same height, and we’re Asian.

I don’t remember who’s idea it originally was, but after he had mistaken Vina for me, one of us suggested that we switch and pretend to be each other. We wanted to see if he would notice that we had switched. Last week, while working on classwork with Vina and some other friends in another class, she suddenly said something like this to me: “We’re doing it.”

“Doing what?” I asked, confused as everyone else seemed to be in on whatever Vina was referring to.

“You know, being each other.”

“Ohh. When?”
Nov 17

what i'd wished i'd known about love (to my younger self)

dear younger self,
let's face it: you're a hopeless romantic.
no matter how much you hide it under your carpet,
woven with words, words that dismiss true love and mock couples.
you're just like the boy who hides the shards of his mother's porcelain vase
underneath her flowered carpet in the living room

dear younger self,
i see what you're doing right now.
cut it out.
if he doesn't like you back,
move. the fuck. on.
you can't control who loves you and who doesn't.

dear younger self,
you've bought in to the shiny, shimmering package,
a dream that seems almost too good to be true.
its what you've always seen and heard:
love at first sight, true love, love love love.
but what if it doesn't come?

dear younger self,
stop secretly obsessing over finding a boyfriend as fast as possible.
stop feeling pressured by photos on instagram,
or quotes written in calligraphy.
Nov 12

to my first real crush

i've been wanting to write this for some time, so here it goes...


to my first real crush,
this will not be an angsty poem filled
with me wanting you to love me back
yes, i had waited for years,
steadily by your side,
sitting at your table during all those lunches,
but i cannot control who you love.

no, first real crush,
there’s so much i have to thank you for.

i thank you for making me laugh,
even though the joke was being told to everyone
i thank you for all the days i had,
dreaming about being with you.
yes, they seem foolish yet
today, i can only smile at those memories.

i thank you for staying a friend,
not leaving me,
even after knowing that i liked you.
i thank you for not making the moments after it awkward,
but instead shipping me with someone else,
and treating me all the same as if it had never happened.

Nov 06

the dreaded treadmill

Oh treadmill,
What can  say?
I've tried many times to like you but I just can't.

Perhaps it's because I know the history behind you.
I know that your ancestor was akin to a torture device for prisoners
As they stepped closer towards death

Oh treadmill,
Perhaps its because of the constant whirring noise you make
As my feet hit you.
Or perhaps its the constant scent of rubber that never runs away.
Hah. See what I did there?

Perhaps its the monotony.
Maybe you are too steady for me, dearest treadmill.
When on a treadmill, I can never sprint across a street,
Pretending that I'm Katniss running away from someone from District 2
While drivers glare at me.
And moms taking their kids think that I'm just a crazy teenager and hope that their kids don't turn out that way.

When I'm on you,
Each moment seems to tick by slowly.

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