Tw: mentions of rpe, sxual *ssault, *buse

Falling…
I never realize it is happening
Until the butterflies in my stomach turn to whirlpools
Until I wake up and realize that I’m on yet another roller coaster
It is as though I am walking towards an open door that leads to peace
But it closes on me as soon as I reach for the doorknob

Falling…
I see it in the palaces made of words in fairy tales
I see it in the flashes of images on a blank screen that light up a dark room
Why does falling in those places always end in a happily ever after?
Why do those images and palaces look so different…
From when I fall?

Falling…
Why does it look like hidden smiles, forehead kisses, and long hugs in the rain on the screen
While I watch my own kingdom be invaded by conquerors who only see me as a prize
Why do the words say that it daring, exciting….or even like the warmth of a comforting fireplace
But every time I fall, I feel the glass shards pierce my palms and my knees…
As spears of grief pierce my heart as I see how far I’ve fallen and what could’ve been…
The realization of how pieces of me will always remain in shards, even if they are glued together
Why do I see the magical spells conjoin the sparkle of love struck eyes
While my falling feels like the shackles of a cursed cycle of losing myself
Where my mirror on the wall erases everything and recreates a perfect illusion for another

Falling…
I hear it in the guitar strings and the chords of love songs
It sings of midnight dances in every note, synchronized hearts in every beat
Why does it sound so different from what I hear?
Why does mine sound like ignored protests and whispered pleas of “do not hurt me”
Or like silent teardrops running down one’s cheek
Why does mine sound like the unheard gasps that are muffled by pillows at 12 AM?

Falling…
The fairy tales, the screen, the songs…all mention that falling smells like roses
Well, I guess that is the one thing that is true…
For one only seeks rose petals for their beauty and their sweet smell,
But they always forget that even with the most beautiful things, there are thorns too

Having an episode…is realizing that you are a disaster
Realizing the existence of the tsunami that you hold back
With your glass walls and hearing them crack
But you have to hold everything in anyways
Or else the bloodshed committed by your hands will be unforgivable
It is having people screaming that you are lovable
But rejecting every single word
Because they do not understand just how much of a monster you are

Having an episode…is realizing that you are destruction
It is seeing hugs, cuddles and kisses in the streets
Dreaming of wholesome dates in coffee shops and stargazing on roof tops
Hearing the words “I love you, I love you too” in movie scripts and love songs
Knowing that you could never have that
Because the love of others can bloom like blossoms in the spring
But yours spreads like English Ivy and thorns that suffocates everything in its path
It’s better to suffocate yourself instead…why attempt to make blossoms for others when someone else’s heart can do it so much better than yours?

Having an episode…is realizing that it is happening again
Seeing yourself in the mirror turn morph someone else
Somehow your world never spins around you
But your world is pulled in by the gravity of others
Somehow the self you are supposed to be spirals into a nebula of mirrors where your reflection is filled with twisted obsessions
It’s to the point where the self you are supposed to be no longer exists

Having an episode…is bolting every time someone glances at an exit sign
Because without them, who are you supposed to be?
If they leave, your world is gone…you are gone
Without them, there is no you
No…you leave first…you need to let them go
Because if you exit first, there is no way you can see them exit
It is splitting a person in two, into day and night
They are both god and demon
The pinnacle of perfection and the lowest of the disgraceful
Their presence is the sun and I am icarus
Their absence is the moon where I am a lone wolf longing for it’s cool warmth

Having an episode…is realizing that no matter what, you are always a puppet
Everything you do, every step you take, every emotion you feel, is all for them
It does not matter how free you feel, no matter what, there will always be shackles on your wrist
It’s funny how the home I feel the safest is filled with chains and bars
It’s knowing that no matter what, there is no way to escape this sentence
There will always be a master, a puppeteer…it does not matter whether they see you as a person or an object at their disposal
You are bound to them and you can’t leave

Episodes…
It is only premier after premier
Pilot episode after pilot episode
Until the screen shatters and the wires are severed, there will be no finale

In Taiwan, I seem to fit in
I can speak the language, the green mountains feel like home
The city lights of Taipei are warm, the white sand in bai sha wan glistens under the sea foam
Cold Mango shaved ice refreshes me in the humid summer heat,
While pork rice and egg cake from street vendors are my comfort foods
It feels like a place where I belong, a place I can call home

But the kids in summer camps always ask me where I’m from
Why I have an accent, why I can’t read the store signs
While I may look like all the kids in the summer camp
I still do not belong

In America, I go through ordinary days
I can read street signs, and I don’t have an accent
I can actually write words and sentences on my assignments
I know each street I drive by on my way to school
I do the cupid shuffle in high school parties, my eyes shine with the fireworks on July 4th
This also feels like a place I belong, a place I can call home

But while my footsteps walk this land everyday, I do not belong
Because no one can pronounce my real name, and my food “looks strange”
No matter how American I feel,
I still do not belong

Stuck in two worlds, between two boxes
I’m the purple between the blue and red,where do I belong?
I can’t pick a side, I am not one or the other,

But being purple tells me that I belong…
That I do not have to choose, my heart belongs to these two homes:
The sweet potato-shaped island, with green mountains and city lights
And the land where my friends aren’t far away, where I spend my everydays

A path of white lilies leads up to a small wooden building
The grass scented summer breeze welcomes guests through the open window
Hot spring smoke greets the white clouds in the clear blue sky
Fresh fruit and small cups of warm milk tea on the table
A gray tabby stretches its back and yawns on the window sill
Yang Ming Mountain beckons contentment within me, and puts all anxieties to sleep

Middle school, was heading out to recess after my international day presentation,
And having some older boys slap the Chinese drama mask design sewn on my qi pao
Watching them run away high fiving each other and wondering,
Why were they laughing? What was so funny?

Middle school, was filled with the questions that people asked,
“Where are you from? No, where are you REALLY from?”
Apparently “Maryland” was not the correct answer
They want to know the ancient path of my ancestry that is imprinted into my DNA
The Taiwanese, or was it Thai? blood that flows through my veins
Why do I bother with repeating myself over and over?
When my  words of
“My parents are from Taiwan but I was born in America”
And “no it’s not Thailand it’s Taiwan”
Just fell upon deaf ears and closed minds

Middle school, was the kids sitting across from me at the 7th grade table
Sniffing the air and wrinkling their noses
As the smell of my mother’s homemade spicy tofu and cabbage over brown rice
Escaped my thermos
Should I have eaten somewhere else? Maybe it’s better if I’m not around  

At every turn, I had to explain my existence
A cruel reminder that, though I was born in America, I was not “American” enough
Differences pointed out everywhere, a reminder of where I am “really” from

But many questions later, my insecurity gone
I am proud of who I am, the strong person I’ve become
Though others may have questions, I no longer doubt
That I am Taiwanese American, and I deserve respect and love

Your liveliness sweetens the way the dragon fruit you grow sweetens the tongue
Your smile lights up the room the way those fireflies you caught for your grandchildren did
Your laugh dances the way a summer breeze makes the leaves on the ba la tree dance

You forgave all our mistakes
You always wiped away our tears
You always made sure everyone is feeling okay
You stood by our side for all these years

Though you are 15 hours away
I still hope to see you someday
In your crop garden, standing by the bubbling stream
Instead of being on a small phone screen

But for now I will try to…
Be the dragon fruit that sweetens everyday lives
Lighten up the room the way your fireflies did
Laugh the way the summer breeze makes the leaves dance

Try to let bad moments go
And replace tears with hugs
The way you did when we were young
I will try to be a shelter, stand by love’s side
The way you were my haven, the way you stood by mine
I will try to…
Live the way you taught me how to live
Like a dragon fruit, like fireflies, and like summer breezes

Daydreaming at the pink clouds during a sunrise through my window
Gazing at the reflections of neighborhood life in the lake
Hearing the whisper of the summer breeze
Smelling the sweetness of pine tree sap
You seem to be there in each of these moments

That gray plastic cassette tape
The old ‘80s Chinese music, with muted wooden beats
I can almost hear your soft, honey voice humming along to the melody

But as all pink sunrise clouds turn white
And all songs in cassette tapes end
Sadly our time is short, we have to say goodbye

It all ended with the text I received during lunch
My friends’ laughter echoing through the fourth floor hall
But the world seemed silent, time seemed to stop
As I processed the news that you are gone, all feelings were numb

An ocean away
It’s such a shame,
I was never there to say goodbye
Or even an “I love you” one last time

While the whole world moved at the speed of light
You taught me to slow down and notice the hidden joys of life
While the cold world was a fierce competition
You showed me that the cold world can be warmed with kind hearts and patience
So while you may be gone and the world seems cruel,
You are still here with me, reminding me to take life gratefully