On Endings

Every January, we come together culturally and sing a song of new years and New Yous. We diet and exercise and idealize and hope. On the 1st of January we chant our mantras of new beginnings, while the night before we gorged ourselves and said goodbye to old years and Old Yous. In January when... Continue Reading →

On Self-Preservation

I need people to stop thinking I’m indestructible. I need them to realize that I bleed like everyone else, I cry like everyone else I feel like everyone else. I am not the Messiah, I am not the leader, I am not the blueprint, or the source of all things. These two breasts cannot breast-feed... Continue Reading →

On Patience

Patience is a virtue. A guru tells me that the root of my impatience is insecurity. I marvel over the thought. How interesting. This fear that if you are not chosen first you will never be chosen. This phobia of being forgotten. Instant gratification spoils romance. What happened to certainty? Knowing what you need and... Continue Reading →

On Friendship

with five friends I am five colours though, all shades of emerald green. —alexandrite & mystic topaz, from in transit matcha tea & bibimbap / sorry, Mr. Leeberman I met my first best friend, or at least the first best friend I can remember, in third grade. We hung out a few times at recess... Continue Reading →

On Memory

2 Sides to Every Story “Just right,” the yellow-haired monster said, before she swallowed the remnants of their dinner. When my mother and I argue, there are always two sides to the story we write together. I said this, she said that; I meant this, she meant that. I find it interesting how memory can... Continue Reading →

Old Love

I see you in the curves of the street On your skateboard Curly headed and hot from the heat My Parkdale prince First love, last love, lost love We meet in old places Tracing lines over memories Stamped into our skin, onto our Hearts, necks Sex, raw and passionate Unrelenting and selfish We crave each... Continue Reading →

04.17.21

Is it the vexation of being misunderstood that shakes you so? Or is it frightening to know that someone, somewhere sees you clearly?

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