I have conquered my metaphorical mountain. I kept telling myself I can do it. It was hard. It felt emotionally, spiritually and physically excruciating at times, and I did it. I asked myself, when I conquer this mountain, have a congruent past and the tools to live with PTSD, is that when I will feel […]
I have broken my own bones, splintered them and placed them into bags, dozens of bags of me, and I have thrown them from the windows of speeding cars in hope that you will find me after the crash, somewhere where the good girls would never go, littered between back alleys in the dark parts, […]
Thoughts on the choices she made in her own life, translated…
Drew back the curtains, the full golden sunlight illuminated the entire room, the moistures in the air evaporated, the dusts all, vanished too. This is a day, fitting for cleaning, I’d, found a nylon blue backpack that’s been forgotten for a long time from the forgotten corner of my closet, like, I’d, discovered, an old friend. This was a most-often-used backpack from ten years ago, for someone who’d cleaned often, its existence may have been due to not willing to let it get thrown out, and, slowly, become, forgotten.
During the time when I’d used this backpack most often, it was when my son, Hong was about one or two. I’d often taken him to the park close by our home, or to dine out at restaurants. The backpack’s contents, were mostly, his. Hong has a pale complexion, and big eyes, very bright looking, and, as we went out, there would be younger girls who’d asked me excitedly, “He’s so very cute, can I hold him?”, and, at that moment, or seeing the moment his face lit up, it was, the most beautiful moments during that period of our lives together.
But, most of the times, I’d always felt, there was that light, invisible drape that’s slowly, suffocating me. Or maybe, I’d, felt, lonely? During that period when there’s NO internet, the life of a full-time mother, without FB, to share my proudest moments with others of my son, when I felt pent up, I couldn’t reach out to my girlfriends on LINE. Plus, the first few years of living with a huge family, of constantly getting negated, suppressing my own emotions too long, setting up my own nuclear family, the joys didn’t last long enough, I’d become, aloof, and cold, didn’t want to enlarge my social circles either.
I’d spent my days like this for about six months, once, I’d taken Hong to the shopping mall where I had worked before, I’d bumped into my former colleague, Huei-Ru, the two of us started up like old friends, and, as we were, going to classes for advertising, on the special occasions, we’d both, worked our overtimes together, and, as a small manager, I’d had endless meetings, endless proposals to write; and after work, I’d often, taken the info packets home, to continue working on them, and, as I recalled that, I can feel my shoulders growing heavier and heavier.
“I envy you, not working right now, just staying at home and take care of your son, I’d needed to pick up my child at the nanny’s”, she’d felt bad, and I, silent. As mothers, in my mind, Huei-Ru, who still works hard in the workforce, looked so radiant, and I can’t help, but miss my self back then, such a contradictory feeling. From before when I had to work, I’d, envied those who didn’t, how they were able to, just stroll with leisure at the malls, with their young children, they looked happy, and confident. At that precise moment, I’d become, confused, and asked myself, “Isn’t this the kind of life you’d always wanted to live? What, are you missing out on?”, I’d become, lost, in my thoughts.
Whether it be the working class with the fashionable accessories, or the practical bags that moms have for the children’s sakes; getting too busy that I wanted to scream, or too lonely that I can’t breathe, aren’t all of it, our own, choices? In a few more years, when my son’s older, I may choose, to return to the workforce, what sort of trials, will I be, faced with then? I don’t know yet, and, it didn’t matter, I will keep on going, with all the choices I’ll be making for myself. But before then, why don’t I, just, relax, and live! At least, give my son, a smiling mom. Over a dozen years ago, that, was what that blue backpack had, told me.
Through the windows of memories, I’d looked backwards, that day, the sun is bright and shiny, just like today, the leaves, with the golden rays, swaying, in the wind, danced, with full confidence, underneath the blue skies.
So, this, is looking back at the choices in life you’d made, you’d, quit your job, to start a family, leaving behind the success, the achievements at work, and you’d felt, a bit, awful, about leaving all that glory behind, but, you’d, thought harder, and realized, that what you have right now, is not so bad, and, it’s your choice, and so, you felt, you needed to, take responsibilities for what you’d selected in your life, being a mom, to your young son, at least, for now!
That’s IT! I’d, HAD it with your L-I-E-S!
Another lie out of you, I will NEVER believe, I’d believed you, for too god DAMN long (at the expenses of ME!) already, and, it’s time, that I KNOCKED myself, OUT of this high-chair that I’d, sat in, for all these years on end.
yup, it’s, exactly like that! Not my photo.
Another lie out of you, how long, can you, keep this up? I’d, wanted to test that “theory” of mine, which was why, I hadn’t, BUSTED your stories Y-E-T? And, I just, keep on, waiting for the day, you finally, TOLD me the truth, and yet, you just, keep on assuming (which makes you into??? Yeah, uh, we should ALL get THAT by now, shouldn’t we?) that I don’t know…
Another lie out of you, I won’t have it, I’m already, checked out, auf wiedersehen, adios, adieu, addio, sayonara, do svidaniya, au revoir, see ya, wouldn’t wanna BE ya!
There will, NEVER be, another L-I-E out of you, because, you don’t exist in MY god DAMN world, and I still reside here, in this, big, ol’ world of mine, with me, myself, and I, and the “three of us”, are still, very much in L-O-V-E, feel free to see this as a Narcissistic RELAPSE if you will………
like this…not my picture…
Reflections of loneliness, translated…
Your Too Lonely, My Dear Jack
The World is So Vast, Yet, You’re, without a Place to Rest
Being Selfish, Getting Drunk, Playing Pranks: What Huge Errors Did You Make?
That There’s No Place for You in This World
despite how the light glowed on the inside, there’s, still that “hint” of loneliness…not my photo
You’re Too Lonely, Let Me Accompany You———
You’re Too Lonely, Allow Me to Accompany You———
Cut Open My Skull, Take Out My Flesh
Pierce Through My Skin, Allow the Light to Glow from Within
If You Don’t Mind, Allow Me to Accompany You
Allow Me, to be that Shimmering Light for You, in the Midst of Chaos
You Will Forever Be Young, While I Die Slowly
The Bugs Will Take Over, I Will Slowly, Rot Away………
If You Wear that Look of Disgust, I Won’t Blame You
look how the light glowed from within…not my photo…
After All, I’m Not Even, as Worth as an Old Pair of Shoes, Can’t
Help You Travel Down this Hard Road Easier
You Didn’t Do Anything Wrong, Dearest Jack
Loneliness, is Your Regret that’s, Closest to Any Form of Errors
It’s Okay, No Need to Look Back
Even as, this Desolate Plain Was So Filled by Loneliness
Without Even a Smallest Weed, You Still Have Me
Grinning Ear to Ear
Seeing You Off
There’s, that hint of loneliness in this one, and, the jack-o-lantern might be a persona of the poet, how he’d, felt at times in her/his life, when everybody misunderstands her/him, and, it hurts, to feel, all alone in the world, but the poet refused to desert Jack, which was a form of her/himself.
Sometimes I feel that positivity is overrated. I get it. That’s what everyone says. That’s even what I tell myself on the good days. But on the bad days, positivity really is when you smile long enough to convince yourself (and everyone else) of the absense of pain.
On the growth of a woman, finally, realizing, that what her hair represented, over the span of so many years in her younger life, translated…
short…not my phoot…
Looking at the mirrors, it’d, dawned on her, how easy, the answer was.
Her hair was so black, so full, but, up until she was two, her head was still bald, it wasn’t until her mother rubbed her head with ginger water, did her hair start growing, becoming everybody’s envy. In kindergarten, her mother had, braided her hair differently every single day, and she’d, gotten on the school bus, like a peacock strutting. Her mother didn’t have the chance to be treated like this. Once she’d gone to visit her maternal grandmother’s for a few days, her grandmother swiftly, put a bowel over her head, then, swoosh, off went her long hair; as her mother mentioned it, she’d told her, how heart wrenching she’d felt, that her grandmother severed that dream of being a princess that her mother had once, that’s never gotten fulfilled.
long…not my photo still
But, it was, just a dream, living life as a princess, the first time her father brought her mother home, her paternal grandmother commented, “So short, what can she do?”, her mother, small framed, in her mother-in-law who owned huge chunks of land, couldn’t even help out in the fields, and, may not be reproductive enough. At that time, those words became, like a CURSE, that’s plagued her mother’s life—her mother became, quite capable, of everything.
The very first child her mother had shortly after she married was she, a girl. Once her grandmother gave some puddings to her older uncle’s sons, but ignored her, who’d held her hands out. Her mother carried her up, and after that, every time, she’d bought her puddings, it seemed like she was making up for something, her mother told her, “Whatever you want, mom will get you.”
In the elementary school years, there wasn’t any time to do the extricate braids, and her mother often tied her hair up into two bundles that stood straight by her ears, and as she did her hair, she’d whispered, “You must work hard, to prove it to others, you can’t be beaten by boys.”, and, her eyes followed her hair that’s, braided upward, and, she’d felt, that she’s the story book character, with the large years. Does her mother want her to be a princess or a strong woman?
braided…not my photo…
They couldn’t have long hair in middle school, her mother would put the hair band on her, insisted that she showed her forehead, that her hair shouldn’t block her face, but unfortunately, she never had the eyes, nose, ears, and mouth that fitted to her mother’s proud features. But, her hair was always, fitting to her mother’s expectations, and, no boys ever caught up with her grades either. In high school, she’d started growing her hair long again but this time, the adolescent’s hair became, the rebellious shape, she’d used her long hair, to keep her face hidden, so she can, sleep in class. The teacher in the G.T. classes woke her up, “you keep falling asleep, I’ll CUT your hair off, and make a wig out of it.” The whole class burst out laughing, this hair, not only was it used, as a cover as she fell asleep, she’d not really cared, like those light that hadn’t begun to shine through on her talents yet.
As she got into college, for the very first time, she’d, trimmed her hair up to above the ears, and proclaimed her hair as her own. But later, her lover said that ponytail looked better on her, she’d grown it long again; as she started working, she’d permed it to curls, so she’d looked more mature. As she could no longer stand how her hair seemed to please everybody else, she’d, cut it off completely. As she got married and had children, she didn’t have the patience, to blow dry her long hair, and didn’t have the mind to keep her short hair long, so she’d always, grow it long, then, cut it short, and wait for it to get longer again, she’d posted her various dos onto FB, asked her friends to pick out the most fitting on for her, and, the conclusion she received was, “They all looked great, a woman’s hair needs the variations of short and long, and, having a good stylist, there’s, no, ugly period for it to grow longer again!” So, long or short, it didn’t matter, she’d not needed to put up with the period of it growing back again, like undoing a curse, she’d felt, that fishbone that’s, stuck inside the throat, slid down as she swallowed.
Her hair is thick, easy for the different hair styles, because it grows fast and is healthy, in the couple of years, she’d had many do’s. Her hair had been, waiting so long, for this moment, wait until she finally understood, that she was, more than blessed. She looked into the mirror, don’t know if she was telling her mother or her self, “You are, good enough!”
so many to choose from, how, will we pick??? Not my chart…
So, growing up, her mother overcompensated for their statuses by making a huge deal out of her hair, and, when this woman was able to break free from it, she took control over her hair (which was a metaphor of her own life!), and, tried many dos, and, in the end, she’d, realized, that it wasn’t the hair that she was trying to see, that it was, her self that she was, becoming.