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[lira-starlights]

Haunted

I'm haunted by the past and future tonight, with the present nowhere in sight. The present is probably out drinking, numbing out the reality until the inevitable passing out.

The past taunts me of my mistakes, my upbringing, and my emotions. "You can't ever change, and you'll forever be stuck in this transient space of comfortable discontentment".

The future shakes me by the shoulders and screams at me: "You might regret this. You might end up even more lonely, lost, unhappy and confused, biting back the tears of wasted time".

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Alien

I feel like an alien in disguise. I am. . . so fundamentally different, immature, stupid, naive, anti-social, awkward. Why the fuck am I like this?

I naively hope that next semester will be different. Maybe I'm just a spoiled, ungrateful brat (definitely this, though) who catastrophizes and complains about everything. Still sucks to feel this empty and isolated, though.

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Everything feels so wrong but I don't want to leave.

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Late Night Drives

Close your eyes, and hear the whisper of the gossamer winds. It's midnight. No one is around, and the whir of your car engine seems out of place, like a ripple on still water. It is pitch dark. The halo-like glow of the headlights is your only guide to navigate the winding forest roads.

Peer out the car window, and breathe in. Feel the icy air pierce your lungs. Smell the wild scent of evergreen trees that overcasts the road with intimidating shadows. The wind caresses your face, and you're hit with the realization that you're free in this exact moment. Scream, laugh, cry, smile, no one--except perhaps the owls or moose hiding behind the wilderness--will hear or care. You are basking in the alone-ness; not loneliness, that's a whole another emotion you constantly feel gnawing at your soul but this one is a distinct and beautiful feeling. It's like the distinction between sleep as escapism and sleep after a long, productive day.

Breathe out. A puff of white smoke escapes from your mouth. It's like smoking a cigarette, except you're only blowing out a piece of yourself. One breath out, and the stress and confusing emotions leave you, bit by bit.

Look up. Really look up, craning your neck as much as the seat belt allows. In the sky are countless twinkling lights. For a second, a childlike giddiness and wonder take over you. "There's stars…!" You exclaim. Growing up in light-polluted Tokyo, stars seem like something from a fairy tale, alongside unicorns, secret libraries, love and true happiness. The moon too, is out, in its full, round glory. Unmoving, it wanly radiates a soft hazy light. Your heart roars with raw emotions as the moon watches, silently.

It feels fucking magical. So you take a mental snapshot of the moment, saving it as a sanctuary for the future days.

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10 Years From Now

10 years from now, where will I be?

Will I be wearing a crumpled suit, the top button open, looking wistfully out the window? "Me 10 years ago had it easy". I'll sigh, then eye the infinite amount of tabs open on my laptop. Google Calendar will be on the top page, and I will brace myself for tomorrow's events, half-heartedly color-coded. Sleep, which was my only escape, really, shaved away to a few hours, I'll live with the same old burning question that nagged me 10 years before: "What the hell am I living for? Why am I so fucking unhappy?"

Or will I rush home in a suit, but greeted by a man, a man of my dreams, kissing me softly on the cheek? He'll give a small smile, and presents me with homemade dinner. I eat as I quietly recount my day, hear him talk, smile. Relax for a bit reading or watching something, feeling safe and loved and ready for the next day.

You can tell from my writing though. I don't really believe that. Somehow, I feel like the person I am doesn't really deserve that. And that I can ever have something like that. Because why the hell would you fall in love with me? Broken, selfish, lazy, emotionally unstable, and boring.

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Sleep is the epitome of escapism.

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Purity

A line of schoolgirls, with pristine knee-high socks and identical red backpacks. An intricate, bespoke, virgin white wedding dress. A child, eyes clear like flowing spring water, giving a toothless smile without an ounce of fear, doubt, or darkness. A fluffy white dog rolling leisurely around the grass, the damp smell of spring wafting from its fur. A symphony, only of major chords and heavenly harps. Pure. Innocent. Wholesome.

Subconsciously, or perhaps consciously, I've always been drawn to innocence. To have purity--not in the religious sense, per se--a sense of childishness, a sense of naivety is something I've always worked hard to do. Be the "good kid". Alcohol? Hell no. Relationships and sex? Uh, nope. Bunking school? No thanks. Pulling all-nighters and messing around with friends? Why would you do that? I shielded my heart from whatever seemed "too adult" or "not pure". I wanted to be, and wanted to stay, a child: a blind sheep, with no responsibilities and no darkness.

But now I stand at the crossroads. After I step in one direction, there's no turning back. Relationships. It seems. . .too daunting and too serious at times. To be co-existing with another person. To want someone (and be wanted) that way. To intermingle with their families, their friends, their hobbies, their values. To trust them, without ever fully knowing them. Am I acting without thinking again? Am I ready for this? Will my parents and friends judge me?

It is a difficult thing, to have another person in the picture. Hell, I never really had a friend in a picture in my whole life. Now, for the first time in my life, I have someone's heart in my hands. And I'm just. so. afraid.

It feels as if mixing black paint with the vivid, primary colors that decorated my elementary school years. Life is murkier. There are tinges of darkness. It is no longer possible to label the colors easily, just as I have done in kindergarten. Oh, to be back in those days, to be able to label everything so confidently in my squiggly handwriting: Red, blue, yellow, angry, sad, happy.

But if I go back in my shell, if I run, if I hide, if I cower in fear. . . would I ever be able to live my life?

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Heartbeat

*Repost from my WordPress page*

“There goes my heart beating, and you are the reason”-Calum Scott

This is a city of broken memories and those long-lasting hourglasses that children stare at, mesmerized.

It is a mirage of the hazy, rosy days and the tomb of us. Us. A word that feels so foreign in my mouth.

“Ah, perdóneme”. I mumble, bumping into a rough, navy duffle coat. The smooth r sounds of Spanish feels rusty. My tongue like an ancient machine creaking without oil, and I cannot erase the traces of American English that feels more natural to me now.

My rain boots gently step on the puddles reflecting the soft, ambient fairy lights, as if slowly crushing the countless dreams of miracles and happy endings. Splash, splash, splash. With every step, my boots are grinding and grinding my dreams into pieces. I look up. Behind the foggy curtain of rain, stands the Sagrada Familia with its history and glory. Instantly, I am taken back to the warm, sunny days of 2005. Enveloping me in an embrace, he took me on a tour of the majestic of the building. Like mellow jazz music, he smoothly whispered the age-old secrets hidden in an artwork crafted over history. The stained glass glowed red, orange, yellow, violet, cyan as he kissed me softly behind the ears. The light surrounded us like a halo, refracting, reflecting, and spotlighting on us. “I will never let you go”. A sacred promise made in a sacred place.

Now I stand, in front of Sagrada Familia, the stained glass extinguished by the depth of the night. This church towers over all of Barcelona; did it see the door slams, venom-dipped letters, and the tears on the wine-red carpet? Did it feel the ground shudder with betrayal and surrender? Or did it get fooled by the façade of his tight embraces, sickly pink bouquets of roses, and the smiles of a “sweet, affectionate boyfriend”?

I was overreacting, they said. He just had a bad temper, they said. I was not being considerate, they said. I don’t know if they are right. All I know is that the second I found myself wiping blood off my cheek, I disappeared, wheels of the suitcase getting stuck on weeds as I dragged it painfully throughout the dead of the night.  

But the world, after all this, still tries to make my heart beat. I still see him on the taxi, legs crossed in a well-ironed suit. See him shopping for mushrooms in the striped stalls in the Farmer’s Market, good-naturedly discussing menu plans. Hear him laughing with friends at a bar. Smell his cologne from the crowded A train.

Every time I see traces of him in New York, LA, Chicago, I whip around, hands out, mouth opening before I see him flip around and... it’s not him.

Now, in this city, it is worse. For every corner, every cobblestone, a memory: his tenor voice teasing me softly. Despite unfamiliar shops and fast-paced Spanish that I cannot comprehend, Barcelona is exactly as I have remembered. 15 years on, and I still am the naïve girl I was back then.

Though the Sagrada Familia is familiar from far away, up close, I see the white-blue star on the Virgin Mary tower, constructed just a few months ago. The star, so close to the sky and beyond, glitters fondly as it surveys the historical city. Then: the hazy glow blinks for a millisecond, so short that I think it was a trick of my eye. Perhaps, it was. Jetlagged and sleep-deprived, maybe it’s a sign to go to bed. But, it just might be a motherly nod for understanding, strength and remembrance. Holding this interpretation to my heart, I nod back at the Sagrada Familia, eyes never leaving its beauty.

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The "What Ifs"

I'm drowning in the tempting liquor of "what ifs" tonight. As couples kiss under the mistletoe, as the fairy lights twinkle under the slumbering moon, as muted Christmas jingles travel through the chilly streets, I am alone at home, whispering: "What if".

What if I tried to reach out?

What if I moved to a different country, anonymous, and started over?

What if I wasn't depressed?

What if I tried, for once, to be truly happy?

But that's the beauty of the "what ifs". Because I never put them into action. I reminisce about the past, and I dream about the future while letting the present go by endlessly, ceaselessly. With every passing minute, I'm drunk with lost possibilities.

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Where is the boy who reads all the books in the library so that I can notice his name on the library cards??? Where is my Seiji Amasawa??!!??

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“My Sister, the Serial Killer”- Book Review

Wow, it’s been SO long since I posted on this book blog. I really built bad habits. . . I’ll try to update more because I’ve read some amazing books!

Imagine knowing someone who is a serial killer. Now imagine that’s your sister. And you are called by her to clean the mess of the crime scene. *shudders*

Korede is a nurse who’s sister, Ayoola is a serial killer. Ayoola is the classic beautiful girl who’s love by everyone with many admirers. For the third time, Ayoola stabs her boyfriends out of “self-defense”, and summons Korede to deal with it. Korede, being a nurse, cleans methodologically using bleach and meticulously erases the evidence of the murder scene.

But when Ayoola starts flirting with Tade, a handsome doctor who Korede likes, will things start to change?

“My Sister, the Serial Killer” had an engaging plotline, and had so much potential. The first line “Ayoola summons me with these words—Korede, I killed him” was so gripping. It was short, concise and a fast read. But I was honestly disappointed with the ending because Korede didn’t show much development, and it wasn’t the “mystery/thriller” I was expecting.

Overall, I think my judgement of the book is a bit biased, because I had imagined the plot to be completely different. However, I read this in just one day, so it’s definitely good if you have spare time!

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Me rereading books for my exams for the 10000th time. . . (´；ω；`)

It’s been a while since I’ve posted. . . There has been a ton of tests. But I’m almost done! Gonna post tons of book reviews in the summer ✨

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32 Synonyms for Yellow

Amber

Banana

Blonde

Brass

Butterscotch

Canary

Chartreuse

Citrine

Corn

Cream

Daffodil

Dahlia

Dijon

Ecru

Flaxen

Gold

Honey

Lemon

Marigold

Marzipan

Medallion

Mustard

Ochre

Saffron

Sap

Solidago

Straw

Tansy

Tiger's Eye

Topaz

Xanthos

Yarrow

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AHHHH I'm so excited about my book mug that just arrived!!

I took photos of the spines of some of my favorite/most influential books (and a bonus sketchbook, because why not), edited out the background, and used the custom photo mug from shutterfly to print it! I had seen similar mugs for sale, but they had books I hadn't read or didn't like. I really wanted one just for me where I could talk about every mug on the list.

From left to right, the books are:

Check, Please! Book 1 by Ngozi Ukazu

Vegan Virgin Valentine by Carolyn Mackler

Red, White, and Royal Blue by Casey McQuiston

Heartstopper Volume 1 by Alice Oseman

The Prince and the Dressmaker by Jen Wang

Charming as a Verb by Ben Philippe

Writing Magic by Gail Carson Levine

My sketchbook

Late to the Party by Kelly Quindlen

Take a Hint, Dani Brown by Talia Hibbert

Snapdragon by Kat Leyh

Fangirl by Rainbow Rowell

The Life Changing Magic of Tidying Up by Marie Kondo

The Gentleman's Guide to Vice and Virtue by Mackenzi Lee

Tweet Cute by Emma Lord

Check, Please! Book 2 by Ngozi Ukazu

Ghosts by Raina Telgemeier

They Both Die at the End by Adam Silvera

Carry On by Rainbow Rowell

This is Not My Hat by Jon Klassen

Nimona by Noelle Stevenson

I recommend all these books, they hold such a special place in my heart.

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2020 Wrap Up!

Hi everyone, hope you’re enjoying your holidays! I can’t believe it’s almost the end of 2020. So, before 2020 ends, here are my top 5 reads of this year (and some honorable mentions)!

1. “The Night Circus”- This is now one of my favorite fantasy stories. The circus was so magical and enchanting, I yearned to be part of it.

2. “The Midnight Library”- Combined with beautiful prose and an important message about life, the Midnight Library made me want to stop regretting about my actions, and live in the moment.

3. “The Starless Sea”- Another work by Erin Morgenstern! Quite different from “The Night Circus”, but still magical (filled with painted doors and hidden libraries)! The plot is so unique, I was blown away.

4. “Becoming”- This autobiography by Michelle Obama was so inspiring, and made me realize once again how she is such a passionate, kind, and beautiful human being.

5. “The 7 1/2 Deaths of Evelyn Hardcastle”- This is a thriller that completely blew me away! The plot of the main character having to embody different characters to find the murder was something new. I didn’t expect the plot twist at the end, either. 

Now some honorable mentions!

“With the Fire on High”- Besides the touching storyline, the descriptions of the food alone made me so hungry!

“Daisy Jones and the Six”- Because of Reid’s amazing writing, the characters were vibrant, and seemed so real. 

“The Goldfinch”/”The Secret History”- These are a bit conflicting. I didn’t love it, but both left me thinking for a very long time. Also, the fact that I read “The Goldfinch” (around 800 pages!) in 2 days shows there was something about that book. 

“Again, Again”- Similar to “The Midnight Library”, it made me reflect on life. 

What were everyone’s favorite books of the year? Let me know!

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“The Midnight Library”- Book Review

‘Between life and death there is a library’- Sylvia Path

And so the book begins. When Nora Seed gave up on life, and decides to die, she unexpectedly finds herself in a library. But this is not just any library. All the books contain endless possibilities and different versions of her life. A life where she became an Olympic swimmer? A band member? Didn’t break up? All of these lives exists. As she experiences a plethora of the “could-have-beens” she learns an important lesson about what life is really about.

I’ve been a fan of Matt Haig, since I’ve read “How To Stop Time”, but this is definitely his favorite work. Similar to what I’ve written in my “Again, Again” review, I think we all have moments where we want to redo something. We contemplate how our life would have been so different, and perhaps happier and successful if we did something differently.

But what I’ve learned from this book is this: There is no perfect life. Even if you lived the perfect versions of your life, you’ll still have desires, sadness and most importantly, regrets. I think the key reason why this book is so good is because of how it deals with the concept of regret.

I recommend this book to anyone from the bottom of my heart.

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“The Night Circus”- Book Review

“The circus arrives without warning. No announcements precede it. It is simply there, when yesterday it was not.”- The Night Circus

This book just simply blew me away. It’s beautiful and magical, and definitely one of my favorites.

Le Cirque des Rêves is a magical circus that only opens at night. It completely dazzles the customers with impossible illusions, contortion and magic. But the circus is not what it seems. The circus is actually a location for a competition between two young magicians, Celia and Marco. They have trained all their lives for this competition, and although they don’t know what it’s about completely, they put in their very best efforts. However, as they start falling in love, the question is: What is going to be the fate of these two magicians and the circus?

I absolutely adore this book. The prose is so beautiful and lyrical, I was immediately transported to the circus. I felt like I was actually at the circus from hearing about the magical tents and amazing food, and I could feel my heart beating from the excitement. I was also invested in all the characters; they were so vibrant and special. Although this book is pretty long (my copy was around 500 pages), I didn’t want it to end. This is a spectacular book that you should definitely read.