This month I moved into my new house for the summer and for the next school year. Slowly re-establishing a sense of self for now and for later. Continue reading
Thinking back on the moments before we first kissed — sitting on your bed side by side, like two friends, except that I was much too close to you: my collarbone pressing against your smooth shoulder blade, so close I could cup the underside of my chin over your round shoulder, but I was worried that I was already being too forward — I picture us as two person-shaped outlines overlapping, like the Venn Diagrams I learned about in elementary school. Like our conversations, we were sorting out similarities and differences. Continue reading
Glowing flowers, fluorescent sea creatures, glimmering archways — I visited the Chinese Lantern festival in Philadelphia for the first time.
when I listen to music,
I think of you.
Our boat tour made me want to quit school and become a spelunker.
We tilted our heads back to look into the jagged yawn of the cliffside, and I imagined cool shade, droplet percussion, and flurries of bats. Even the smaller crevices, barely wide enough for someone my size to slip through, intrigued me with their exclusivity and sense of mystery. I was not afraid. Continue reading
I’m looking forward to the months ahead. This summer, I’m in Philly again doing the same cell bio research as last semester. But first, my family is traveling to Italy’s Amalfi Coast for a week. I’m glad I have some down time in between to chill at my childhood home and reconnect with high school friends. Continue reading
I’ve had the longest break from WordPress I’ve ever taken since I’ve started this blog. It’s weird because even when publishing that last ominous post, I had no intentions of changing my blog activity — no little voice in my head thinking I should go on HIATUS. Yet here I am…five months later.
Looking back, there were direct, sudden causes and cumulative causes. The direct ones: I recently became an editor at my school newspaper, which has taken up most of my writing energy, as well as free time. Also, in December, I had a medium-sized emotional breakdown — all my insecurities about having a love life in college crashed down on me, pretty much. I think my feelings were short-circuited for a while. I remember a conversation in January with my roommate:
Me (flatly): I just feel super depressed.
K: Like, depressed depressed?
Me: Not sure if it’s long-term, depressed depressed. I guess I’ll let you know.
Luckily, I did feel better by the time February started, and I’ve actually had one of my favorite semesters at Penn so far. (But the way I feel emotions has changed, thus my coping methods — writing — have changed, too.) Continue reading
a public and personal letter in the case that i die young
I’m not suicidal, but this is the letter I want people to read if I die young. Continue reading
- Biked to a cute Java cafe to study. Constantly falling in love with the city
- I went to my first concert of the semester to see ODESZA. Such a concert restores your belief that electronic artists too have tremendous talent.
- Did well in Physics! Not so well in Chemistry.
- I participated in elections for my school newspaper and will be a recruitment editor next year!
- Donated blood.
- Started a studygram (study instagram)
- I saw my favorite stand-up comedian, Mike Birbiglia!!
Even though she didn’t like Vronsky, even though she knew she should be happy for them, there was a visceral reaction within her that rebelled against being “replaced,” that demanded to be wanted. But didn’t she know better than this? Hadn’t her whole life solidified her understanding that no human being belongs to another, that everyone has the right to demote others for happiness? Why couldn’t she internalize what she so strongly believed in?
And she eventually realized that her rational philosophy to let people live without revolving around her was thwarted by her voracious addiction for attention and validation, as if she had a bottomless deficit to fill. And this selfishness, when it came down to it, was due to her insecurities, the lifelong feeling that she was a misfit accident that needed to be “approved,” that she was undeserving of love. She had the knowledge to free people from her idealizations; her infirmities caused her to grab on tighter, still, like a reflex.
And while she did not think that all people who are kind also have to be secure, she knew this for herself, at least: she needed to love herself to be fair. She needed to love herself in order to be a good person. Continue reading