When I’m really nervous, I start picking at the skin on my lips and hope it will heal over before--
Before nothing
Nothing will happen
When I’m really nervous, I play with the ends of my hair and wonder if--
If I’ll ever wake up from this nightmare where someone lo--
Looks at me like I’m an actual person
When I’m really nervous--
I take a deep breath and whisper get over yourself

Writing about my Mother and Father never seemed like it would be an easy feat
But so far this summer has been all about
Self Discovery and I guess
it would be wise to know your roots before you explore the Tree

I don't know much about my roots except that
They're Korean
My Father was 10 years older than my Mother
I was not their first child

I call them Mother and Father because those words are cold, bitter, distant, cordial
"Mom" feels warm, like fresh baked chocolate chip cookies (Grandma's famous recipe, of course)
"Dad" tastes like the sly, goofy smile as he says "So what did I buy you today?"

I've always dreamed of the day when I stand opposite my Mother
I even scripted out the words I'd say to her
First, Anger
Then, Confusion
Why, Mother?
Why?
Lastly,
Forgiveness
Because even though she "abandoned" me,
She did give me life.

My Father, well
I never really thought about him
This Father's Day, though?
I did.

I have nothing to say about him, except that I imagined he was, perhaps, a businessman.
I wonder if he loved my Mother

Why are you writing about these two people you've only ever met once in your life?
Even that statement smells of uncertainty.
Why would you waste your tears on these ugly human beings?
Accept the fact that you'll never know.

No.

I refuse to accept the truth.
Let me be hurt by their doings but
I know I was not a mistake

Love is jumping into the void knowing no one will be there to catch you and taking that risk anyways
I needed answers and maybe one day I'll get them but for now I am content with what I have.

I have Love, as twisted as it seems,
I will always have Love because Love
is what they gave me

When the ink flows from the tip of my pen onto paper,
it really is a
Majestic sight
My thoughts come alive via
scrawled script in
Blue Ink

Dear Teacher,
I am not your "Inspiration" nor am I your "Motivation"
Do not use me as an "Example"
They hate me enough already
I do not need to talk to you after class, I am doing just fine
Bs aren't acceptable?
I'm sorry I couldn't complete your assignment
I was mentally ill that day.
No, don't give me an A when I didn't work for it
That's cheating
Me
Out of life
Yes I can handle it
I'm not as Weak as you think I am
Dear Teacher
I know I made you cry at graduation
You didn't think I'd be able to do it
I told you
I could handle it.

I have a secret
That I can't tell anyone
Because I let Fear
****** me
Fear swallowed me whole as the What If's became louder and louder in my ears
Fear looked so charming in that sweat-stained t-shirt
Fear had eyes that I'll never forget
Fear closed my eyes and whispered in that husky voice that made me weak in the knees
"They will judge you"
I have a secret
That I will never tell anyone
Because my secret
Belongs to Fear now.

She was
A word artist, delicately stringing letters together on a long beaded necklace of a poem
She was
An escape artist, writing to numb herself of the pain that incessantly stabbed her in places that should not feel,
Her heart, her mind, her body was corrupted...
She was
an Artist
Who felt more than the World should have allowed her to Feel
She carried the weight of the World on her shoulders, every day becoming weaker instead of Stronger
She was
an Artist
Who couldn't put the pen down

By the way she opens herself up to others,
You would never know how much she's gone through
Selflessness and a desire that turned into an urge

By the way she's always making sure everyone else is okay first,
You would never know she's struggling to keep herself above water
Maybe she's helping herself by helping others

She's always telling me
To take care of myself first before I worry about others
I am top priority

I wonder if she takes her own advice