(In retrospect after months of therapy, I know this was written in a dark time and it now reads much more like a letter to myself but take it how you will.) A Letter to Whoever May Come in the Future You , you are late. I have felt your ache for as long as I can remember. Felt you brush over my skin in the depths of my sleep. I have told you about the moon, the birds, the lakes, and the trees. Felt you in the warmth of the sun, the cold in the night. I told everyone about you

I saw two green apples buoying in the sea and it made me so happy. (I still think about them.)

(Rewritten from 8/24/2017 journal entry) I agreed to have lunch with a new colleague, and we decided to go to a dingy basement 茶餐廳 (cha chaan teng) on 昭隆街 (Chiu Lung Street). We had to 搭枱 (share a table) given that it was right smack during peak lunch hour. Across from us sat this unassuming family of three — a couple in business casual and a small girl with such a memorable doll face, tanned skin and large watery lake-like eyes. She only stood as tall as a fire hydrant and h

A book is just a book. I hugged it at the airport. I set it on top of my pillow. I promised to custody it, cried sideways on it, left a mark, and felt immensely guilty for ruining it. I wrapped it in my favorite shirt, and carried it around like a child. I perched it on the windowsill so it could soak up some sun and vit d. A therapy session is just 60 mins. "I'll always be everything you needed me to be." A promise spoken like a threat. "Thankfully therapists have really goo

Teachers I would like to think we take parts of people with us forever. Women. Mom taught me what family really meant, the harvest of discipline and hard work. They taught me to look up at the moon, how to write, and to emote, how to read people like a sixth sense. They taught me the magic of Ghibli and the sorcery of a cat's trust. They taught me to always wear my seatbelt, taught me what affairs looked like and what a trauma bond fe

the profundity and absurdity of the therapeutic frame

I'm afraid of so many things. Sometimes it's debilitating. Sometimes it's gentle but ever-present, nudging me to retreat. I'm afraid of wearing bathing suits, afraid of calling a waiter over wrong, afraid of reading texts too soon or too slow, afraid of ordering the wrong thing at restaurants, afraid of making a mistake at work, afraid of being alone, afraid of not being alone, afraid of living, afraid of death. Some days a single step feels like wading through mud. Today mig

hi lou, i didn’t have the heart to tell you — if it weren’t for the prospect of tiny junip, my future daughter, i’m not sure i’d want to stay here very long. an unfair amount of tethering to project onto someone who doesn’t exist yet. equal parts awe and feces, as they say. thank you for telling me your sons helped you find yourself — the way they see you, i think i see you a little like that too. i have felt alone for as long as i can remember. this season more than most. i

I feel a globe the size of a golf ball in my chest. It's on my right, above my breasts and beneath my collar bone. It sometimes hollows and reverberates when I feel a specific type of pain. The pain of an unrequited or simply unfulfilled love. A desire to see a lover oceans away. The three words "I miss you" seem to capture the dull ache quite well. The ache can be described as a sour clench, a pang of craving for something or someone unattainable. It starts from the globe, t

(Another fragment written in the same dark season.) How You Make Me Feel Being vulnerable is easy for me, I can easily describe all the multitudes of sadness that I feel and name why. I’ve been triggered by babies and children lately, I see their tiny teacup faces and I think about yours and how they’ll never be mine or how I might never have any. I envision your happy Sundays where you take your stroller on a quiet walk by the pier with him. It breaks my heart again and agai

For the Stressed Boy Dear Ho, I don't think I ever told you that I think about the Spotify Jam — in bed, in the dark, on the phone — or the long-distance calls all through the Seoul trip. I don't think I ever told you how shaken I was after January 1st, 2025, but you cabbed over to keep me company. Mostly, I'll never forget that one big group dinner at the now-closed Tokyo Lima. I was being moody, and I saw — for a split second — an emotion on your face. An emotion I dare no

dear lou, i hope you're having a good holiday. i went to a "healing hearts" session by the new normal charity and sat in a room full of strangers in different stages of their heartbreak and healing journey. i listened intently, grounded myself with breathing, and stayed detached whilst simultaneously empathizing with their pain. i have a new found appreciation for what you do for me every week and a new found pride in finding inner peace with your help. i told you i think ill

Hope is the most corrupt and yet the most exquisite concept that exists on this plane. The Hope that a scorned love will heal, the Hope that a lover who fell out of love will return. The Hope that a missing person will be found after 48 hours, show up on your doorstep safe and sound. The Hope that a terminally-ill loved one will survive. The Hope that assets lost will rise in value again. The Hope that a lost or stolen item of personal value will be found. We pray, yearn and