I don't even know what to say.  All I can think about is how he didn't pull through and how he's not understanding how much I need him right now.  It doesn't make him any less of a good boyfriend.  This is a learning process.

Mix

Some things.   I'm not dead.

I just want to cry over everything but the worst pain is not being able to.  Not being able to sleep, cry, or focus.  I want for myself to blindly take opportunities as they come but my rationale always overrides.  When they say depression hurts, they really mean everywhere.  This pain extends even to my toes.

Snorkel

I got accepted to my first choice school: St. John's University.  Queens Campus.  It's going to be exciting the next couple of weeks as I wait to hear about my financial packages and scholarships.  I think I'm really going to do it.  I think I'm ready for my grand adventure.
The last three years since graduating high school has been amazing.  I've learned so much and have grown in so many directions.  I feel less like a tree and more like ivy.  I can feel all parts of me taking up giant walls and engulfing as much of everything as I can.  New York seems like it's too much for me-- too big of a city, too many people, too little familiar things, etc.  It also seems like the perfect fit.  It's close enough to home that I can be back with just one 2-hour bus ride.  It's close enough that I can still teach dance, and volunteer.  I can visit the people I'll miss with the freedom to come and go as I please.
I think what I'm looking for most is space to grow.  Staying with my parents until getting my undergrad had been the plan, but ever since I got that acceptance call from St. John's I feel like the sky's the limit.  If I can get into St. John's, I can do anything.  I can stand in crowded New York trains, over come my social anxieties.  I can go to school, move out, and grow up now.
I can do all of this now.
Right now.
I don't think I'm ready.
It's like diving into a pool knowing I can't swim.
Now.

In hindsight

It's always funny to look back on the things you're unwilling to admit happened.  I always believed that love was supposed to be tumultuous.  Love was supposed to hurt you, and burn you so good you craved it.  In reality, in the moment of love I am living now, I've learned that love is supposed to enlighten you.  Love is supposed to make you smile and it should never burn you.  It should make you warm.

But I will never denied that I loved him.  I will never deny that the pain of loving someone you cannot have is addicting, and that I am a recovering addict.  He was in my past, and he is as apart of me as he was those years ago.  I have learned my lesson, and I have found something worth holding onto.

“Be mine again?” He asked, arms circled around my waist. I had to crane my neck to look him straight in the eyes. My hands clasped lightly around his neck. I could feel the dark skin on my palm, the curls on my fingertips. Heat, engulfing me everywhere we touched. Ice formed in my chest.
“Let me love you.”
His fingers played at my sides, skimming my sweater, the fabric barely brushing my skin. His knees knocked with mine as we swayed to the music we had composed together during our time. His foot brushed mine, and his knee parted mine. I started letting go, moving my hands from his neck and my feet back. I rested my arms on his biceps, the muscles moving where I touched. I could see the uncertainty in his movements. The sharp intake of breath giving him away.
“I choose you.”
I laughed. Questioned him, joked about our situation, and rolled my eyes. Inside I was melting into him, giving pieces of my heart to him. Outside, I was pushing him away and breaking his heart. I wanted it, couldn’t handle it, didn’t need it, wasn’t ready. The cons outweighed the pros. He was more dangerous than he was safe. In his arms, I would break myself. I would burn and melt. I would suffocate by engulfing myself in him.
“I want you.”
Words every girl wants to hear. I’m just like every girl, but the difference is I walked away. I broke both of our hearts. I made us into lost loves. He will always be someone I care deeply for, but being together would never work out. We could never be one. I wouldn’t allow it.

Princess

Life has gotten so busy and I worry about the future more.  What will real college be like?  Will I be able to be surrounded by so many people?  Or will I drop out again and run to salvation with the rejected?

Too much time spent worrying over things that by the time I'm riled up, someone else comes home or it's time to go to work.  We struggle with sneaking time in together.  Being intimate, I knew already, is difficult.  Especially in a house with such thin walls and open doors.  Where are the locks?  Hidden to keep things out.

I guy I almost dated used to call me a princess.  This is probably the only reason we never dated.  I hate the word and what it connotes.  Things are not simply handed to me.  There is no one to tie my corset up or to give me my schedule each morning.  I am a hardworking individual who deserves to be spoil, and spoil others in return.  I still struggle with how people perceive me.
Yes, my family lives in a rich neighborhood.  Yes, we go to the best doctors.  Yes, we code switch so gracefully no one notices.  Yes, we are brown leaders in our community.  No, we are not better than you.  We also work factory jobs, under the table work on weekends.  Paying the electricity bill hurts my pocket as much as it does yours.  If not more so.

Dread

Sometimes I wish I could be the person my sister needs the most but I know that I can't be that person.  I want to be more "Asian," but what does that even mean?  I want my eyes to be small and not so wide.  I want my skin to be flawless and pale, my lips small and pink.  I used to stand in the shower and scrub at my skin with whitening soaps from Cambodia.  My mom would make me slather on creams that smelled like vinegar.  I wanted to bleach the brownness out of me.  Sometimes I still want to.  I find myself scrubbing at my face too hard, trying to erase the bits of me that I don't identify with being "Asian."
I think the hardest thing for me is not knowing where I fit in.  My sister has her place among old memories of punk bands, livejournal, and now zines and cats.  My cousins have their place.  I always feel like I'm stuck in between everything.  Have I half-assed all of my personality?  Have I spent so much time trying to fit in with either my sister or my cousins that I missed out on the opportunities to fit into my own nook?  I probably spent too much time in the shower, hot water pouring, scrubbing at my legs.  Willing them to turn white.  "How can I be Asian if my hair is so curly?  If my skin is so brown?  If no one believes me when I correct them?"
I want to be beautiful and understanding.  But I am stubborn and brown.  A muddy brown.  A brown that I sometimes hate so much, but most of the time I never notice.  I've learned to be angry.  Angry at everything. Freckles, straight hair, and thin lips.
I wonder how I have survived for so long.
My sister's boyfriend loves her so, and I wonder if I'll ever find someone that will understand me the way he understands her.  They fit so well together, and I pray with every last bit of me that sorta believes somethings happen because someone else says so that they will stay together forever.  I want to believe that love is real, and I want so much for my sister to experience real love.  I want someone to love her because I cannot.  Not with the resentment I have, or the stubbornness I associate with her.  I cannot love her the way someone unrelated by DNA and blood can.  I want for her an eternity of happiness.  I would much rather suffer and lose everything I have if it means that she'll finally be happy.  Anxiety-free.  No more tears.  No more fear.  Just ice cream and crooked teeth.