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Soft boy.

I can see it in your eyes now. A hardness. A coldness. A gate between you and your heart. I’d never thought I’d be able to see in someone, but your eyes were always so expressive. 


Big brown eyes turning into almonds when you smiled… 


Soft brown eyes that reflected the way you saw the world… What did you see?


Bright brown eyes filled with lust and love… 


Do you remember the night (day?) we stayed up until sunrise? You asked me if I wanted to go to the rooftop and watch the sunrise. I said “no, not this time.” I wish I had said yes. I wish I trusted my gut because it told me to go, but I was tired (I’m always tired these days too) so I just layed in bed. In my head I thought - there will be another one - but I was wrong. I should have trusted my gut when it told me to go. Savor the moment, let it soak into my bones so I can carry those memories with me when I’m gone. To remember what it felt like to be wrapped in love and fall asleep in peace.The days were already counting down since the moment we met in November. I should have trusted my gut. I should have said yes and stayed up till sunrise. I should have said… I love you. 


I cannot. There is no time. 時間就是金錢. 


I said “... to make more money.”


    He said “..why not just make enough?”


I thought… how much is enough when you’ve been taught to always want more?


Someone once called me selfish.     

Me? Selfish? After everything we’ve been through… 

He said all Americans were selfish. 


But 爸, wasn’t coming to America supposed to make me a better person? You and 媽 gave up so much and persevered all these years just so I could be here. So I can call myself an American. So we could all become Americans because America is good. American is the goal. 


But 媽, I became selfish. All this individualism, this free thinking, this outspokenness… has made me selfish. I follow my dreams. I think for myself. I care about what I want to do and accomplish in my life. Not even your Chinese values could save me. 

American is what I am. Selfish is what they see. 

And I agree. Maybe I am selfish. All these I‘s when it should be we.

How do I start learning more we and unlearning the I


Trapped you. In your head. 

In another world that only you had access to. You spoke a language I didn’t understand. 

You were always counting. Punching numbers into your trusty o’ calculator - The one that ran on solar with the buttons that made the loud clicking noise. 





What numbers were you running through your calculator? Was it how much you needed to charge per square foot in order to provide for us? Was it how many stocks you could buy in order to earn enough dividends to pay for our college tuition? 


Do you remember how during bedtime, you would trace numbers in my palm when I fell asleep beside you. The bedside lamp would still be on long after I closed my eyes. So uniquely you. I found comfort in that. 


Until money made you bitter. Where is it?

Until money made you stressed. There’s not enough.

Until money made you paranoid. I need it. 


Now you have all the money in the world. 

Stowed away in investments. 

Safely stored in banks. 



You're still bitter. 

You're still stressed.

You’re still paranoid. 


What’s the fucking point?



What happens 







how do we communicate 

when you're not hearing me? 








In my memory, I’ve always been the one leaving - going somewhere. 

Moving states. Moving countries. Moving to. Moving back.  

Always somewhere 

and never looking back. I was constantly moving. 

Forward. Towards. 

Onto bigger

Onto better. 

Because isn’t that what I’m suppose to be doing? Finding new adventures, seeking the unkown, “growing”?  

Until one year, the leaving got really fucking hard 


I had set roots 

I had created a community for myself 

I was nourished. Flourishing.


I thought I was prepared to leave.

I thought I was ready to let go. 

because I finally got to live the life I wanted to lead. 

I told myself time was up. 

And I wonder… why I was in such a hurry to turn to the next chapter?

Take a break 


But how, when production is survival? 

Make this. 

Think about that. 

Be productive. 


Taking a break is a privilege. For those who have enough security to do so. I’ll be dead by the time I reach that point.

Body used



down by exhaustion.

Body slowly



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