“The worst part is, you never get used to it. No matter how many times you get hurt, the pain never numbs. The fifth or tenth heartbreak will hurt just as much as the first. The only thing you can do is try your best to prevent yourself from getting hurt.”—
you think you’re going to love this boy forever. when it’s precisely 3:47am and it doesn’t seem like you’re going to sleep any time soon. when your pillow is soaked and you’re hitting repeat on that song for the last time, you swear, you’ve sworn for the past hour. when you’re walking down the street, and you think you hear his name, and you whip around, eyes flashing, desperate for a look, terrified to be caught looking so distraught. you think you’ll remember all the details until the end of time, like the way he looked at you when you saw the sun rise together for the first time, or how it felt when he breathed your name like a song.
and yet one day, some day, the day you thought would never come, you slowly start to lose him for good. suddenly you can’t remember how it felt to hold his hand, and hearing his name only causes a slight pause. more days pass and you can’t remember how he made you feel any more. you can look at him and smile, like he didn’t break your heart and leave the pieces.
you forget the exact color of his eyes.
you think you’re going to love this boy forever, but forever only lasts as long as you let it. forever is now, and before, but not later. later is a realm where he doesn’t exist, is a realm where a different forever resides.
it’s a place where you can’t remember the curve of his smile.
I lost track of what was important, my family, my future. I need to realize that I can have fun, but I need to make sure I’m putting the time and effort into the career I want and the life I want to lead.
It’s been tough, but I need to start putting my life first.
Inspired to work harder, because hard work does pay off.
Inspired to change things up, because I need to start making sure I’m not fucking not only myself over, but the people that depend on me and love me, the people I love.
I usually would end up posting about my experiences, but recently I’ve gotten too busy/not in the mood—I ended up only posting when my heart was in flutters or in pieces or when I was frustrated to the end of this world where I would only post vague vague complaints…
I’m done with that!
That was not how I meant to run this blog,
that was not how I meant to display my college experience,
that was not how I meant to act.
Of course, I’m going to have to wait until after finals, but…
I’m excited to share my experiences, if you’re willing to listen!
“I wanted so badly to lie down next to her on the couch, to wrap my arms around her and sleep. Not fuck, like in those movies. Not even have sex. Just sleep together in the most innocent sense of the phrase. But I lacked the courage and she had a boyfriend and I was gawky and she was gorgeous and I was hopelessly boring and she was endlessly fascinating. So I walked back to my room and collapsed on the bottom bunk, thinking that if people were rain, I was drizzle and she was hurricane.”—John Green
And what if we all weren't passionate, but just brainwashed? That everything we believed in was soaked up from someone else in the same situation, and for us to just use that expression, to use that excuse, to say that we finally believed in something because it was one thing we could seem to agree on... to say we were passionate. I always thought it was something we could be gifted with... but what if it's a burden we want to be socially acceptable instead? College has taught me a lot. Good and bad.
And before you ask me why I'm not getting more involved next year,
Look at yourselves. This is ridiculous. For something that should be friendly competition, this feud has gone too far. Seeing the personal backlashes, the verbal rips, the scrutiny of every last word and every last action, from the present to their fucking past;
We’re not in high school anymore.
Why it is that I have to be the one to tell you to fucking grow up.
They say you can avoid drama in college. And that’s just by leaving those who get enveloped within in. And that’s why I’m leaving.
I’ve decided to meet more people. If it ends up meaning you all are going to hate me later…
So be it. And when you look through my old photos, my old blogs, and my old personal memories…
One of the biggest struggles about this in the next coming years will be the misconceptions it will bring on me and who I am associated with. But I believe that you all have proven to me that you are well worth that effort.
Live life to the fullest. Explore. Experience. Express. Find yourself, accept yourself, be yourself. Find that group that will support you no matter what, and pick you up no matter where you fall down. And then live. Love. Take risks. Break yourself, build yourself, become yourself. Be yourself.
I think I’m really finding myself in college. Thanks.
I hated recess façade of forced laughter and 11-yr-old cooties concealed a decade of self-hate the asphalt was a battlefield for relevance and I was always the last one left fighting for my dignity dusty and beaten like the basketballs the schools used to give us
“What was your name again? Nan? Naan like the bread?” “Yeah,” I said because I wanted to save myself further embarrassment from pronouncing my real name
I hated group projects opportunity for excuses and “I’ll do it laters” bullshit the same kid who ignored me at recess came begging me for help because glasses and a harry potter haircut in Vietnamese translated to straight a’s in english but not to jump shots on the court
I still did all the work because I wanted to save myself the embarrassment of being the asian who failed a test
I should have let you fail that group project because maybe then you would feel heavy from the dust that settled on my shoulders waiting to be picked last in recess heavy from the nametags you threw around my neck when I was eating lunch by myself at school
“are you chinese?” “can you play the piano or the violin?” I love my Chinese brothers and sisters but Asians are not just different shades of burnt cut from the same loaf my parents kneaded me with ingredients only found in Mekong Delta Saigon Bun Bo Hue
I can’t run as fast as you or jump as high as you but put on my dusty nametags and let’s see how high you can jump