note to self

The night is short. Walk, lady!

I have hands that smell like coffee,

gravity that is not strong enough to make walking too painful,

warm things or colder things to think about on this cold night,

and somewhere to be, or somewhere not to be!

3. freedom from want - Roosevelt

It's not going to be okay.

But I will live.

Because no matter how tragic the situation might be,

we are always ready to cry.

I'm giving up

LAUGHING & CRYING & WRITING & WAITING

I want

WORDS FOR EVERYTHING

come to my afterlife party

I live my life at a funeral,

writing obituaries when the death(s) is distant enough for me to talk about without crying.

I am always in mourning for recent and immediate losses while I am slowly shedding my parts away. One day I will be completely decomposed, and I'll only leave my obituary written by myself behind.

Hyuna Kim, 'dead' was a present continuous verb to her.

WHOA I just re-read this and GOD I am so melodramatic! I wish I was as half as depressed as I say I am.

sometimes I think only for you

Teakettle was sitting on the stove, holding nothing but its emptiness. The red and room temperature emptiness, the kitchen, my mom's fragile body swifting, feet and flour swifting, the hollow teakettle sitting on the stove, carrying nothing but what it should, not even a teaspoon of the mysterious air of the house when dad is no longer here and mom became glass, ready to be broken or break itself and move onto a same density, blood. Red and empty.

I thought you knew that I was staring at the teakettle.

fourth night

Loneliness is fair.

Everyone is awfully lonely.

In that, I feel a little less lonely.

We are all in this together.

Josee

Josee, the tiger and the fish is the closest movie to my heart. I feel like I'm both Josee and Tsuneo at the same time. Ever since I saw this movie 4 years ago, this is the only representation of love that I can completely and fully relate to. It makes me feel okay about being in love and falling out of love. How to appreciate, how to grieve, and how to live. This is my favorite part of the movie, I hope you guys enjoy it.

kitchen

The kitchen had an unpleasant smell-as if someone had been simmering desperation until it was thicken up into a bittersweet syrup. It reminded me of late spring, bloody streets covered in brown and muddy magnolia pedals, crushed and stepped on mercilessly. But it didn't take me too long to get used to it.

So I sat on the kitchen floor next to a chair made of four crackers. Small and pretty, but a chair that noone can sit on. I felt like a goldfish in a small bucket waiting for a winner to scoop me up with a tiny paper net at a night festival, my eyes fixed on my sides, not even allowing a glimpse of the night sky. There I was, waiting for some assurance that there is an exit. A ghost would have been fine. But only the refrigerator made a noise making ice.