It's Nice talking

If there is one lesson life pressed into me early, it is this:  we arrive with hands already closed. If you think I stand without another path, look closer. I have been gathering quietly, piece by piece, thread by thread. The stillness is not peace. It is time disguised, the careful shaping of defenses. You may trust in your mastery of the game, but I have been moving long before the board was set, winning in places you never thought to look. Because when the hour reveals itself, I will not wait to be saved. I have always known I am the only one who can. I am ready to burn in the game I choose to play.  If there is a cost, I have counted it. If there is an end, I have faced it. What rises from it will still be mine. So stand firm in what have stirred. Even silence can become something that burns.

I'm quite lucky to come across art exhibitions whenever I travel.  When we were in Fukuoka in 2023, an exhibit was featured at the Fukuoka Art Museum. They encouraged people to write or draw anything related to the sea. So, I wrote a poem called "I am scared of the sea."  During a recent trip to Taiwan with my family, we went to the Chiang Kai-Shek Memorial Hall. It was around 3 to 4 o'clock in the afternoon, and I could already feel the exhaustion from all the walking we had done. I got curious about a building a few meters away from the memorial hall itself and asked my niece if she wanted to check out what was inside. It was Taipei's National Theater, and inside was an exhibition called "A Love Letter to Myself." Sure, I have written hundreds of letters to many people, and yet I've never really written one to myself. There, I wrote a love letter to myself. And for a moment, I was just there, thinking about what I wanted to tell myself, things that...

My mind has been a mess lately. I’m grateful someone invited me to watch a Pyromusical Competition. It gave me a chance to take my mind off things, even if just for a while.  One moment that really stayed with me was when the United Kingdom’s Pyrotex Fireworx used  Zombie by The Cranberries as its music.  The sound and intensity of it somehow echoed how I’ve been feeling recently. But it also reminded me of Lang Leav's words: 106 Wonder The first thing you sent me were fireworks. Sparks of light and color over a bridge to nowhere. I was already in love when we met that summer; I belonged to someone else. To make room for you, I had to ask the world for permission, but every answer was a dead end. But who am I to blame them for telling me what I already knew? So, I danced around you like a storm, white light against the cool black sky, like strobe lights flickering on and off. I said we could be something, you and me. I said so much and meant it, but never proved it to ...

I was listening to Travis Atreo. He sang, “Every second I'd count in the day and I'd pray them away. All the doubts that I thought were wrong.”   I moved away for a bit and wrote down my thoughts before I forget.  The song perfectly fits the feeling I want to feel when I finally find the courage to let go. The sunrise, the sunset, the warmth, the cold. All the irony that came with this.  None of it matters now. I was still happy.  As Travis Atreo said, “so I'll thank God for everything you were to me.”  Thank you. May you not easily forget the memories we will never tell. 

"Two questions: What is your name? Can I please have your phone number?" "Abbey. And I thought you'd never ask." Does anyone else know this song by Joey Fatone from the 2001 film, "On The Line"? The movie was... yes. But the song! Still bummed this isn’t on Spotify yet. I watched the film, but this song has been stuck in my head ever since. The romantic in me is just squealing. "Nothing is certain, this I know. Wherever we're headed, I'm ready to go." ♡♡♡

So listen, because this is what I need to say. You took what you wanted, treated me as something to shape and use, pulled the worst from places in me I did not know could darken. Again and again, you proved that the whispers about you were not whispers at all, but truths with sharp edges. Selfish. You move through the world like it belongs to you alone, grasping, bending, taking, morals twisted into whatever form lets you sleep at night. You do as you please, leave wreckage like footprints, and call it living. And I— I carry a hatred that hums in my bones, heavy and constant as breath, as blood, as the only honest thing left in me. Still, I will not curse you. I will not ask the world to be kinder than you were. I only wish you the future that fits you, cut precisely to your measure, stitched for a man exactly as you are. And know this— I hate you with everything that I am.