#im at the point where i hate this and dont believe faces or colours exist anymore

[theninjazebra]

For anon

Requests done and now closed 👍

[sadsapphicslut]

chapter one - original story (i havent come up with a title yet lol)

okay so here it is!! if anyone actually reads this i love u :) please leave feedback if u have any!! 

TWs:

death, drugs, medication, mental illness, references to sex, swearing, alcohol

wordcount: 8.2k

(also i dont think anyone will but im paranoid of people stealing my writing so obligatory dont copy/post to another site or steal my work in any other ways etc)

There were five of us; 4 boys and me. In hindsight I realize from the outside our group probably seemed a little predatory, but it was never really like that. For the most part they were like brothers to me. Of course, being the only girl in a small and isolated club of mainly older boys, things were bound to happen. We were in high school and it was summer, can you blame me? Regardless, however much I loved them, it was not quite in the way my father always assumed or my mother always warned (during our uncomfortable monthly visitations before I managed to get rid of her for good).

The months everything went down, which I often referred to only as ‘The Worst Summer of My Life’, (quite melodramatically but not without reason) were somehow still full of the best moments of my life. Moments I often find myself wishing I could repeat, as nothing has or will ever come close to the way I felt, sitting amongst my boys day after day, somehow light as the warm July breeze that blew past us. My entire body weightless, as non-existent as the time that passed us by. Despite the depression I’d found myself plunged into during the days after my only brother’s death, I truly believe I will never again be as happy as I was then. Laughter seemed to flow freely from our mouths, smiles plastered onto our faces no matter the circumstances, content to just exist. I don’t think I can ever forget the day it was raining so hard the entire city was flooded, but we walked around uptown well past the point of being absolutely drenched, our clothes dripping so heavily the security guard denied us entry into the public library. Something about that day made me feel so free, like we were invisible. Completely apathetic to the whims of the real world, somehow existing only in our twisted minds and intertwined fantasies.

Maybe if I’d had my head screwed on a little tighter, or if we’d met under different circumstances, it wouldn’t have ended the way it did. I used to go down that line of thought every night before succumbing to a fitful but heavy sleep (under the direct affect of 25mg of Quetiapine, working to counteract my Concerta and Lexapro). Those types of irrational thoughts were ones my therapist deemed as my habit for rumination. In regard to the death of my brother she called it ‘bargaining’, one of the stages of grief. I never liked it when she spoke about those stages as I’ve always felt them to be wrong. Maybe because I never quite moved on to the final one, no matter how many years pass. ‘Acceptance’, coined as the “Re-entrance to reality”. Maybe it’s different since I was never really grounded to reality in the first place. I still wake up some mornings, thinking I’ve heard his voice in the other room, ready to beguile me with tales from his day of retail work. Other times I swear I’ve walked past him on the street. Some people may relate to my experiences, with reasonings of ghosts, angels, apparitions, or insanity, among many other causes for the apparent viewing of a loved one long gone to the other side. I never shared these beliefs, but I am not one to deny. Rather, I always take these instances as an omen. A warning. I have come to this conclusion not without evidence, at least circumstantial, given the many occasions over the years – and especially that summer – where I found my hypothesis to be true. All I can say is that I am glad I’ve never been met with the same chimerical visions of my mother; one can only hope that is because she ended up where she belonged. Maybe I’ll see her there, though I hope at the very least they could keep us in separate rooms of Hell if the situation does arise.

From what I know of the others now, which is admittedly not much – majorly due to my own neglect, as opposed to theirs – they share the same prescription for rose-coloured glasses as I. We always were too engrossed with our own romanticization of nostalgia and sentiment that it clouded our view. I often think this was one of the reasons we seemed to fit so well together. Not quite like puzzle pieces, too self-absorbed to hold a candle to that analogy, more like complimentary colours. I wish it could’ve stayed the way it was. We did try, and I never found myself able to fully disentangle myself from James, nor he could to I, but for most of us we could recognize an ending when one arises. I used to find myself using the word tragedy a lot while reminiscing, but I no longer think that word is appropriate. Fate is a more fitting term in my opinion, regardless of if one believes in it or not. “(A)n inevitable and often adverse outcome, condition, or end,” as reported by Merriam Webster. I don’t think there’s a word in the entire English language more accurate in describing how everything ended up; and if there is, I am yet to find it.

  Chapter One

A Dead Brother

          I have tried to erase the day my brother died from my memory so many times I lost count decades ago. I still find the image seeping into my unconsciousness quite dreadfully on the nights I neglect to take my pills and catch myself waking up with a steady flow of tears that dampen my pillow along with the drool that always seems to pour from my sleeping mouth. The dread that pools in my stomach sometimes being heavy enough for me to lose my lunch. I frequently wonder how people managed to reassure me that it wasn’t my fault; the most painful lie I’ve ever been told and one that seemed to stream from people’s mouths as easily as the mini sandwiches laid in the living room of my brother’s wake were stuffed in. The worst part about being told it wasn’t my fault was how obviously one could tell they didn’t believe what they were saying either. His death was my fault; a fact so uncontestable I wanted to kill myself every time I was reminded of it.

           My therapist often tried to remind me that even if his death was “partially” (she always used the word partially, refusing to acknowledge the truth that his death was entirely my fault) my fault, there was nothing I could’ve done to prevent it. This was another lie I despised being told. There were a million ways I could have prevented his death or saved his life and yet, here we are, with him dead and me wishing everyday that I won’t wake up tomorrow. “Begonia,” she’d tell me – she was the only person who called me by my full name, I usually went by Nia, but a nickname felt too personal and I didn’t like her very much – “You mustn’t keep torturing yourself with these scenarios. He’s dead, and there is nothing you can do to change that. I am starting to wonder if you are going to let yourself move on. This isn’t healthy.” That was a line she liked to use a lot, “this isn’t healthy”. As if anything I do is.

           Barb, my therapist that is, liked to go over the details of my brother’s death a lot. She often called it a ‘trigger’, which is why she always seemed to want me to talk about it. “Trauma is a horrible thing, Begonia, and you must learn to move past it, process it. I can see you still haven’t managed to do that on your own, and that’s what I’m here for, to help you move on.” Barb was big on the idea of  “moving past trauma” and “learning to cope”, she often sounded like a broken record of a motivational speech. I found myself comparing her to school guidance councillors without realizing it, they were about equally as helpful (read: not helpful) in my opinion.

           Sometimes I blame my inability to forget and “move past” my brother’s death on the way Barb constantly brought it up and made me go through it. I never quite understood how that part of my therapy was supposed to help me. I asked her once, what good was it doing rehashing the worst day of my life?

           “Well, Begonia,” I hated the way she said my name, always so condescending and sour, like even the idea of me questioning her in any way was as impolite as shitting on her desk.

“You have to understand that I only want to help you. You seem to be unable to process your traumas on your own, which is why we need to go through these things. As you are aware, this PTSD,” she always left strange pauses after each letter, her slow tone grinding on my ears, “you have acquired has left you unable to function normally in daily life. I want you to get to a place where you can have a normal life (Ha!) and cope without these meetings. It’s what your brother would’ve wanted.” Barb liked to tell me what my brother would have wanted at least once every session. Putting aside the fact she knew next to nothing about him aside from the intimate details on how he died, I always thought it was an inappropriate thing to say as a psychologist specializing in grief counselling. It never particularly bothered me, I was reasonable enough to realize she was just trying to comfort me, but I never liked the phrase. “What your brother would’ve wanted.” What he would’ve wanted was to not die but we’re past that, aren’t we Barb, as you so often enjoyed telling me.  

I have always been quite averse to my diagnoses, ADHD at 14, Persistent Depressive Disorder at 15, PTSD at 16, issues with alcohol and drugs that landed me in rehab more than once. I’ve been on a concoction of different medications since I was 13, even before I was diagnosed with anything officially. Sertraline, Lexapro, Prozac, Ritalin, Concerta, Adderall, Quetiapine, Ambien, Zopiclone, a healthy mix of off brand and branded medications. Sleeping pills, antidepressants, stimulants. I can’t remember a time before monthly trips to the drug store and side effect surveys that I’m not sure if I ever told the truth on. It’s a wonder that people didn’t see a slew of addiction issues coming from a mile away.

I think I’ve always had the most contention with my PTSD diagnosis though, I hate it because I know it’s undeniably true. I wish it wasn’t because maybe that’d mean my brother was still alive, but he isn’t. And I’m left traumatized and bereaved. Sometimes it feels like it hurt me more than it ever did my mother or father. Maybe it did. I should feel selfish for saying that, but I can’t, because they didn’t have to look at him while the life left his body, praying to God for the ability to turn back time. See the moment his eyes glazed over, knowing I’d never get to hear his obnoxious laugh, or make fun of his dumb face ever again.

  ❈

             “Ray, hey listen I need you to come pick me up.”

It was a cool evening in May, the end of spring brought with it the promise of summer and the air had the familiar aroma of daffodils and petrichor. I had decided to go to a party with my friend Faun, my dad having been out at his girlfriend’s place for the weekend and me having nothing better to do. I wasn’t one for partying, but I did like to get high, so I usually just hung around with the rest of the potheads and pill junkies until someone dragged me home or I fell asleep. That night Don, a friend of a friend of a friend, had brought coke and E and we were all determined to get as fucked up as possible. Faun only ended up doing one line before running into a bedroom with some guy whose name started with an M – was it Martin or Marvin? Maybe it was Mickey – and left me sitting on the couch beside a girl who was about 1 more shot of vodka away from passing out.

I had fully intended on doing some coke, but the E seemed to be hitting harder than I was used to. I was sure my Ritalin had worn off by then but maybe I was wrong. As I stood up to get a glass of water I nearly fell over and decided to sit back down. Turning to face Don, I tapped him on the shoulder trying to get his attention.

“What was in that molly?” I was vaguely aware of the way my words were slurring, but I felt weirdly energized. I was aware my heart was beating a little too fast, but I couldn’t concentrate on anything. I knew what ecstasy felt like, this was not nearly my first time doing it, but I felt really wrong.

           “Don!” He turned to look at me and I felt uneasy. His eyes looked a little crazed – not that out of the ordinary but given the circumstances I was worried – “What the fuck did you give me?” It felt like I’d done 5 lines of coke in the last 2 minutes and I knew that E had been spiked.

           Don’s face had an unmistakable expression of guilt written on it as he leaned down and whispered in my ear, his voice shaking, “I think it was cut with meth.” Fuck. My stomach dropped. I have to get out of here. I quickly shot up from the musty couch I was sat on, carefully holding onto Don’s shoulder so I didn’t fall, my legs still feeling unsteady. I opened my phone; the screen was too bright, and I had a hard time maneuvering it as I attempted to exit the house. Clicking the green Messages icon, I sent a text to Faun – e ws cut w meth im lesving – with shaky hands and burst out the door into the fresh air. I clicked my brother’s contact and pressed call.

           It rang four times before he picked up.

           “Nia? Why are you calling me it’s like 1am?” I could tell from the smooth tone of his voice he’d been drinking. He didn’t very often but he had an appreciation for cocktails and enjoyed getting buzzed now and then. He still was a year from being legal to drink but his friends we’re all 19 and 20 and bought alcohol for him. I found him fun when he got drunk, becoming talkative and giggly, but right now I wished so badly for him to be sober.

           “Ray, hey listen I need you to come pick me up.” I was slurring, my voice a bit too pitchy to pass as anything but high. I knew he didn’t like it when I did this, but he never ratted me out. Sometimes I wish he did, maybe I never would’ve been able to go to that party in the first place.

           I could hear a door shutting on his end, I assumed he was going into a different room. “What’s wrong?” My skin was bubbling with anxiety at the prospect of having to tell him what I did.

           “Fuck, uh… I did something stupid. I’m at Emily Goguen’s, y’know up in Champlain Heights. Please pick me up.” I rarely used the word please.

“Nia, what the fuck did you do?” I almost started crying but I found my eyes to be bone dry.

“Please don’t yell.”

“Okay, really, tell me what is going on or I won’t come get you.”

“I accidentally took meth.”

“You what? What the fuck, Nia! Fuck this I’m on my way and I’m fucking telling Dad.” I cringed but I knew he was going to before I even called. The pit in my stomach grew deeper as the buzzing of my skin grew stronger. I could feel myself getting higher, everything was so clear and standing around was making me grow restless. Ray huffed on the phone and I heard him entering his car.

His tone was softer the next time he spoke. “I’ll be there in 5, just stay put, please. Do you want me to stay on the call or can I hang up?”

I felt like a child, which I was really, only 16 at the time, a whole life ahead of me. Still, I was grateful for the way he spoke to me, reminiscent of being 6 and getting a scrapped knee after falling off my pink Razor scooter. The high made me edgy, and my voice was sharp to my ears, “No, you can hang up.” I heard the click to indicate he’d done just that, and started pushing my cuticles as I waited, the task somehow greatly interesting me, and I did not realize until later I had managed to pick off all of the skin around my pointer and middle fingernails during the five-minute wait.

 Ray pulled up exactly five minutes later in his ugly, blue 2011 Ford Fiesta he’d gotten the year prior after passing his driving test. What I wouldn’t do now to smell the inside of that car once again, a distinct attar of pineapple car freshener and Old Spice deodorant mixed with stale black tea, faintly present due to his ever-growing collection of empty paper cups from various different fast foods and coffee shops.

I stumbled into the car, feeling the strong impulse to clean the space, but attempting to push it down. From the passenger side overhead mirror I could see my blown pupils and sweaty forehead, pieces of my copper red hair sticking to my face. My freckles were showing through my concealer that had mostly worn off and I wanted to cover them back up. My skin was pale from winter (and probably the drugs in my system) but my cheeks were flushed like I was drunk. My high cheekbones made my face look gaunt in the lighting, but my face was wide which balanced it out, so I didn’t look completely skeletal. Ray was looking at me, the worry apparent in his eyes, but his face was flushed as well, and I could tell he’d been drinking a bit too much to drive. I had my license as well, but it was clear I was in no condition to take over on that front, so I didn’t bother saying anything. I wish I had. There’s a lot of things I wish. I wish I hadn’t gone to that party; I wish I hadn’t taken that E; I wish I called someone else; I wish I waited it out at Emily’s; I wish I walked home; I wish I took a cab; I wish I waited for Faun; I wish I wish I wish I wish I wish.

“Are you okay?” He didn’t take his eyes off me as I shut the mirror in front of me.

“Yeah, yeah I’ll be fine. Please just take me home.”

“Is Dad there?”

“No.”

“Maybe I should take you to Mom’s.”

“No!” I’d moved out of my mom’s completely just over 6 months ago, barely seeing her once a month. It was one of the best decisions I’d ever made. She never liked me much anyways, the feeling was entirely mutual. Ray seemed to have a close bond with her for some reason despite how she treated him like shit. I never called him out though, he no longer lived with her, so I didn’t really care what their relationship was as long as she wasn’t hurting him. She did treat him significantly better than me, however, so I figured maybe he managed to forgive her the way I never could.

“Okay, but I’m staying with you until Dad gets home. I’m not gonna lie to him about this shit. Fucking meth, Nia? Seriously?”

“It was in the molly.” He sighed and started driving.

 My brain felt like it was filled with butterflies, or ants, some kind of movement that was itching at my skull. The paper cups scattered around were making me anxious and I needed to clean his car. I began picking at my nails again, but I needed to pick up those cups, you see. I turned around and started gathering the ones Ray had discarded in the back, filling up an empty plastic bag from Best Buy. I was fully switched around in my seat, nearly crawling into the backseat to reach the trash my brother had left. I felt him tap my side, I looked over at him and he started to scold me.

“Nia, stop that will you, you’re distracting me.” But I needed to finish gathering the cups. The car was dirty, and my skin was itching, the traffic lights burning my skin. I was elated and I didn’t want to listen to him, he was just trying to get in my way. I continued to lean over, not registering the swerve of the car as he looked over at me.

“Nia – ”

He turned over to push me back into my seat, his eyes leaving the road for no more than a few seconds. This time I felt the swerve as we broke into the next lane.

 This is where I have a hard time piecing together what happened. From what I was told, we ended up running directly into a 2015 Dodge Ram 2500. In case you understandably have a lack of knowledge when it comes to cars, that is a very large, sturdy, and expensive pickup truck which I would probably consider the last vehicle you’d want to charge headfirst into while going 70km per hour. I don’t recall the actual incident of hitting the truck, whether that be from the drugs, the position I was in, or hitting my head on the roof of the car, I don’t know. What I do know is that when I woke up, we were in a ditch on the side of the road, with the car flipped upside down, and my entire body was screaming at me to Get Out!

I felt blood oozing sluggishly from my head and noted some indistinct pain in my right wrist where it had scraped something pretty badly and gotten twisted, but I otherwise felt alright. I couldn’t tell if the cloudiness in my head was from a concussion or the earlier events of the night, but I figured it was probably good I was awake, regardless of how dazed I seemed.

I turned my head to the left and was greeted by a view I will never be able to forget, it having been branded to the insides of my eyelids, scorched in my mind. Ray, with his left arm twisted in spectacular fashion, reminding me of Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets, after Lockhart spells away Harry’s bones. My brother had always been squeamish with broken bones and I hoped he wasn’t aware of how his limb looked at the moment. His head was bleeding quite profusely, and I was alarmed despite how many times I’d heard in movies that headwounds bleed a lot. His eyelids were fluttering, irises appearing glassy and unfocussed. And then I saw it. A piece of glass was stuck in the left side of his neck. The windshield apparently had broken with the impact and my brother was lucky enough to get a piece lodged right in his trachea. It was thick, bright red blood –  that I could’ve sworn was sparkling in my current inebriated perspective – was gushing out the side, so heavy I could smell it, taste it, in the air. I was frozen once I realized.

Do something, do something! Put pressure on it! Call 9-1-1! My mind was screaming at me, but it was all I could do to sit and watch the blood stain his clothes. He was wearing the corduroy jacket I’d gotten him for his birthday and a white button up, the red seeped into them until it was as if they’d always been that colour. My voice was caught in my throat, but I managed to push some sound past.

“Ray?” It was weaker than a whisper but in the silence that seemed to envelope us in that car, completely independent of the outside world and sirens that could surely be heard from blocks away, I knew he would be able to hear me.

He looked up, eyes focussing slightly on me, and a tear slipped down his face, only it went the wrong way since we were still upside down. He mouthed the words “I love you”. We never said that to each other. As close as we were, our relationship had always been more comparable to that of a best friend than sibling. We weren’t overly affectionate, never hugged or said I love you, hung out for enjoyment rather than as a punishment. Most people didn’t know we were brother and sister until we pointed it out, we never really looked alike and were absent of the traditional distaste and rivalry usually present between siblings. I knew, as he looked me in the eyes and said those words, this would be the last time I’d ever see him outside of a morgue.

I sat in my seat next to him with dry eyes, wishing desperately I could cry, needing to express the feeling of utter horror and despondency that completely overtook my body and mind, but I couldn’t. Barb told me time and time again that I was in shock, there was nothing I could’ve done, but I will never be able to believe that. I still remember the moment the final tear slipped down his face. He smiled at me, pain evident in his eyes. His entire body was covered in the metallic smelling red, and I wanted to vomit. I wish I could say the crash had sobered me, but it didn’t, not really. I was still entirely in a daze as I saw his muscles relax, smiling falling from his face, eyes not quite rolling back all the way but enough to give me nightmares for the next 20 years. The life had been absorbed from his body, leaving a heavy shell. I was told afterwards this all happened within the span of 10 minutes, but it felt like years. By the time the first responders had appeared I was an old woman. Grayed hair, and arthritic bones. Mourning for the brother I’d lost oh so many years ago, when I was just a girl. I think in a way I died in that car with him, I never was really the same. But who would be? Best friend and confidant, older brother, idol, dying in front of your eyes as you do nothing, knowing for the rest of your life that his death is – was – your fault. Knowing you could’ve done something, anything really, to prevent his untimely loss of life before the paramedics arrived. If I’d been the same after that night I would have to be much more disturbed than I ever thought.

I sat in that car beside Ray’s corpse for 3 more minutes before I heard the sirens closing in around us – me. I thought I might pass out, either from the toll of what I’d just witnessed or from my concussion, but I remained upright, probably from the adrenaline. I couldn’t move so I just waited, and hoped I’d die too before anyone reached the scene. It would be much preferrable to any other outcome I could think of at the time. I could vaguely register the pain in my wrist, but I felt so numb I’m sure you could’ve shot me in the foot and I wouldn’t have blinked.

A young fireman named Walter ended up getting me out of the car. The door was smashed and stuck which meant I’d been trapped in there either way. I was happy I hadn’t bothered trying to escape as I'm terribly claustrophobic and finding out I couldn’t would have thrown me into a proper panic attack. The fireman was incredibly nice, saying reassuring things the entire time they were opening the door with the “Jaws of Life”. I ended up seeing him again in the hospital actually, or at least that’s what my father told me. He wanted to check in on me and left me some hydrangeas in a vase. I always preferred chrysanthemums but I'm not that picky when it comes to a floral arrangement.

After the door was busted open I was carried out by Walter. I was shaking and apparently babbling nonsense but in my head I was trying to tell them to save Ray. I wasn’t really aware of all that much, completely blind to the crowd of spectators that had rudely gathered to witness the violence – wasn’t it supposed to be taboo to stop at a car crash? Wondering vaguely about what happened and wishing you could get a better look as you drive past the scene.  My head wound had made me a bit incompetent and the meth in my system was really not helping the entire situation.

I was laid on a gurney and rolled onto an ambulance. I don’t remember much about the ride; the sirens, the bright lights, a paramedic named Alice who spoke softly, smoothing out my hair while the other put an oxygen mask on my face (which I wasn’t entirely cognizant enough to question though now I'm not really sure why they did it) and splinted my wrist. Alice asked me if I was on drugs and I nodded but was unable to speak when she asked me what ( I would find this a common occurrence after the accident, my voice seemingly stolen alongside Ray’s). She just nodded and said something to the other ME that I didn’t quite pick up. She asked if I could tell her my name and I shook my head. She must’ve noticed the iPhone in my pocket and grabbed it, turning to the medical ID page.

“Is your name Begonia?” I nodded, though the name sounded foreign on my ears. I liked the way Alice said it though, she had a light Spanish accent and a matronly tone that made me feel safe. I wondered if she had kids of her own; she looked young, but my own mother had me at 19 so who could say? She told me her name after complimenting mine. “Begonia is a beautiful name; I love the flowers. I’m Alice, okay? We’re gonna make sure you’re alright and take you to the hospital.” Her voice was sweet like syrup and I became sleepy as she spoke.

“No honey, you can’t fall asleep yet. Just stay awake a little bit longer and I promise you they’ll let you sleep at the hospital.”

  I don’t remember anything of the rest of the ride to the hospital. I was dropped off at the Emergency Room at the Regional, head still too foggy to allow me to recall anything before I was sitting in a white bed, in a white room, with white sheets and a light blue hospital gown on. It was morning and my father was sitting at the end of my bed in an uncomfortable plastic chair, his eyes bloodshot and moist. He’d very obviously been crying for a long time and my chest panged with guilt. I reached up to feel my head and realized there was a cast on my wrist. With my other hand I touched the cotton that covered my forehead, wincing when I felt the sting of what had to be stitches in a nasty gash. I would spend the next 5 years of my life with a variety of diverse haircuts that attempted to hide the ugly scar that served as a reminder of the worst night of my life. Even now it is still extremely obvious, but I can’t be bothered to try and hide it, I so rarely look in the mirror that it wouldn’t matter if my skin turned blue.

My dad hadn’t looked up, so I attempted to gain his attention but once again found my voice failing me. I tapped on the bed a few times before he seemed to realize and face me.

“Nia… how are you feeling?” His voice was raspy and thin. He reeked of cigarettes and stale coffee, though this wasn’t anything out of the ordinary. I remained silent as he looked at me, searching my face for something I'm not sure he found.

“Nia, I, I'm not sure how to say this to you.” Here it comes. Almost worse than watching my brother die, the confirmation. “Ray, he’s, well dead.” I saw my father’s eyes begin to tear up again as I stared straight ahead. I couldn’t feel the sobs that racked my body, nor the hot tears streaming from my eyes. I saw my dad start to move closer but sit back down when I flinched. Of course, I knew my brother was dead; I had front row seats to watching the event happen, but somehow I still didn’t believe it until the words left my father’s mouth. According to my dad, who many years later described to me how eery the whole event was, my sobs were completely silent, and I was entirely unaware of everything happening around me. This dissociation lasted the first few days after the accident, and the entirety of my hospital stay. Leaving the blissful gap in my memory I have now.

Barb told me this was my mind’s way of coping with the tragedy and stress of what happened. I was honestly just happy I had an excuse to skip some of the dreadful retelling she forced upon me.

 ❈

             The funeral was of course a depressing and solemn event. I was still yet to speak and found myself thankful for the way people gave up on trying to get me to communicate. I dressed in a black skirt with a black short sleeved button up. A dark coat thrown around my shoulders as the cast on my right hand was too big to fit through the sleeve. I looked terrible, barely a week out of hospital before I watched Ray sink into the ground. The wound on my forehead was still quite nasty, though it looked better than it did before. I tried to cover it up with my hair but was unsuccessful. I got bangs soon after.

           The matter was very traditional, taking place in a church even though none of our family was really religious. It was only the second time I'd ever been in a church, the first having been for my cousin Julie’s wedding when I was four years old. I don’t remember anything of it aside from the material of my dress itching at my neck and making me rather miserable. Of course, not nearly as miserable as I was the day of the funeral, sitting in a pew at the front of the church, listening to a priest claiming Ray would’ve wanted us to celebrate his life. I knew this not to be true; Ray was extremely dramatic and would’ve cherished the thought of everyone he’d ever spoken to moping around for weeks after his death, beside themselves with grief. He sometimes referred to himself as “Romeo” after having been broken up with by another girl he was supposedly in love with, stating he better just stab himself in the heart now if he couldn’t have her. On the rare occasion he broke up with a girlfriend, he’d lounge around, eating ice cream, pretending to not be upset and comparing his cold heart to that of Richard VIII. The concept of him being any different over his death was almost comical; Ray was nothing if not predictable.

           I sat beside my father, who sat beside my mother (it was an extremely awkward arrangement that neither I nor my father cared for) and seemed to have the idea that I could evaporate if I thought hard enough about it. Unfortunately, I did not evaporate, or even come close to it, instead finding myself exactly where I'd been the whole time. I mostly tuned out the service, only really paying attention when my father and Ray’s best friend, Jake spoke. I managed to escape the duty of having to speak that day thanks to my fragile mental state and mutism. Though I'm sure I would’ve been forced all the same if I had been able to talk in any capacity, regardless of where my head was at.

           Faun was sitting in the pew behind me, feeling quite guilty about the whole ordeal. Or friendship dissolved soon after, I think she blamed herself for taking me to the party. It didn’t bother me too much though; we were never the closest and I sometimes thought her to be extremely annoying. An endless stream of shitty boyfriends that she only acquired so she could further repress her sexuality. When we were 14 we kissed at a sleepover and she admitted she was in love with me. I felt bad for not returning the feeling and our relationship had been on rocky territory ever since. I don’t understand how she thought she was in love with me since she barely knew anything about me, but either way she never brought it up again and soon after the monsoon of boytoys had begun.

           My brother’s friends and ex-girlfriends also attended the event. I didn’t approach any of them, far too scared they’d blame me for the death of their friend. One of them, Alex, went up to me to say how sorry he was about everything that happened. He was crying quite heavily (I later found out he was the friend Ray had been drinking with and the second last person to see him alive) and I could smell alcohol on his breath. I stood there while he spoke, telling me about how great my brother was as if I was wholly unaware. Body waving side to side as he stood with his hand on the wall beside me. He offered me some bronze liquid in a flask, and I obliged, savouring the burning sensation that followed in my throat. Alex’s voice was steady and deep, reminding me of my father’s. I’m not sure how long we stood there, him spinning a fantastic web of anecdotes and stories about my brother, some entirely new to my ears. We passed the beverage back and fourth until it was empty. My head felt lighter and heavier somehow simultaneously, and I found it much easier to listen to Alex talk. Later he tried to kiss me in my bedroom during the wake. His mouth was sour, and his tongue seemed too big for his mouth. I wondered how he was able to talk so much without it getting in the way.

             We moved in procession to the cemetery after the service. The grass was a vibrant green colour, and I didn’t understand how the world kept turning after Ray’s death, for mine stopped the moment his heart failed to beat. The sky was a lovely shade of cyan-blue, with clouds so perfect they seemed animated. Pink carnations were planted near the outskirts of the yard and I could smell spring in the air; a heavy, floral aroma that never failed to comfort me. I thought it should be raining, it felt inappropriate that the weather refused to match my despair. My mind wandered as we approached the empty grave and I considered what it would be like if Ray was here beside me. He’d probably be making jokes, telling me to lighten up for a minute or my face would get stuck that way. He’d mock my silence, saying how I never managed to shut up for a minute before but suddenly I'm as proper as a nun. I'd smile, ruffling his hair to piss him off and try to refrain from laughing aloud. The absence of him only felt stronger as I imagined this scenario, so I shoved it out of my head.

           The casket was lowered into the ground, my father was a pallbearer and I often think about how he must’ve felt carrying his son’s body before watching him being buried. My mother sobbed loudly which annoyed me, it felt a bit exaggerated. I had a few tears falling from my eyes but mostly, I just felt numb. Incredibly and absolutely empty inside. To onlookers it may have seemed as though we weren’t very close, my reaction being similar to that of his ex-girlfriends’. However, this didn’t account for the loss of my voice, or the broken state I was in mentally. Maybe it was better that my reaction was rather dulled. It meant people didn’t feel the need to approach me as they did my mother. Less concerned given she was the one playing up her emotions to the point of embarrassment. My father cried, more than I but far less than my mother. He didn’t cry very often – I'd actually only seen it once prior to the whole event – and I figured he probably needed it. At this point I felt as though I'd shed enough tears to last a lifetime so Ray wouldn’t mind if I was a bit subdued in comparison. He never was a crier anyways.

           As I sprinkled soil onto his casket I imagined he was right beside me, watching, ready to criticize as usual. The dirt stained my hand, clutching the sweat and turning my skin a muddy brown colour. As I wiped the dirt on my jacket I could hear him nagging about how I better go wash my hands, what was I, a six-year-old? He was in denial about me growing up and took every chance to remind me I was still just a kid. Not that he had much on me, but I enjoyed it. I never was one to shy away from attention; at least not before. Little quirks and inside jokes between us were always some of my favourite things, the type of humour you could only get from living with someone your whole life. No matter how much his memory will fade there are some things I can’t let myself forget. His mocking tone when he’d make fun of me is one of those things. If I ever managed to let go of that sound then I must be dead as well.

           The sun beat down on my back, my skin burning in my black clothes. I wasn’t sweating yet, but most of the men around were – suit jackets aren’t exactly known for their breathability. My nose was dry and aching red, sore from how much I'd been wiping it the last couple days. Still the sweet seeping tinge of flowers and spring managed to crawl into my nose, settling underneath my skin, the buzzing from before had returned, I could feel my heartbeat loudly in my throat and had the desperate urge to just run. Instead, I just followed the rest of the party, sitting down in the passenger seat of my dad’s car. The silence that settled over us was uncomfortable and stale. He turned on the radio, Led Zeppelin filled the air around us, thankfully relieving some of the tension. I felt in my left pocket for one of the carnations I’d picked from a nearby grave earlier. The flower had begun to wilt, heat taking effect on its delicate composition. When I got home I put it in between the pages of my oldest copy of Romeo and Juliet. Ray would have found it funny if he was around to see.

The drive to my mother’s house was short and minimally awkward. We sat in silence – aside from the music – only because there was no alternative. My hand remained clutched around the dying flower in my pocket as we left the car and entered the home. Other people had already arrived, clustered in the living room, picking at tiny ham sandwiches and various desserts my mother had undoubtedly stress-baked the day before. I wasn’t hungry so I sat as far away from the food and people as humanely possible while staying in the living room, not wishing to hear my mother’s scolding about how I need to socialize more. Eventually I managed to slip away into my old bedroom, where Alex was sitting on my bed drinking a mickey of Smirnoff I assumed he swiped from my mother’s freezer. He offered it to me, and I accepted, the weird repetitive déjà vu like act, mirroring earlier and making the whole day feel like somewhat of a dream.

When I went over this part with Barb she always felt the need to emphasize that it wasn’t a dream. I knew this, obviously, which I told her every time, but she was inclined to disbelief when it came to my denial over my brother’s death. “Begonia, you must realize he’s gone. Dwelling is helping nobody, especially not you. This isn’t a healthy mindset for you to have. Always comparing living to your dreams. I want you to tell me you understand this isn’t just some dream you can wake up from.” The first time she said that to me I was thrust into a bout of wordlessness, as it struck a bit too close to home. The next time she brought it up I just told her of course, though even now I still cannot say I fully understand. How can I when all of my assumptions have been constantly disproven time and time again. How can I ever say this isn’t a dream when I'm not even sure I'm real? James always tries to reassure me, “Bee, I'm telling you, if you can feel this beat, the pulse in your wrist, your neck, your chest, you are alive,” he’ll say while pressing my hand to my wrist, but we both know it isn’t that simple.

Me and Alex made out for a few minutes until I managed to excuse myself. He was a bad kisser and tasted disgusting. I left him sitting on my old bed while I went downstairs to find my dad. He was sitting at the counter with a can of root beer, blank expression sat upon his face. When his eyes met mine he sighed, grabbing his keys out of his pocket. It was obvious neither of us wanted to be here, for numerous reasons, so we left. And if the radio stayed off as we drove home we didn’t acknowledge the silence that time. In my hand was the crumpled carnation, and for some reason it made my chest hurt. A deep ache of dread. I could feel my heartbeat, hear it over the drum of the car engine, and I crushed the flower further. I was careful not to rip it though, as if that was crossing some kind of invisible line my mind had set for me. My fingers felt waxy when I finally let go.

Back home, I opened the copy of Romeo and Juliet. I retrieved the deteriorating plant from my pocket and placed it in the center. Closing the book, I stacked it under a few dictionaries, a magazine under it so it was trapped on either side. I sat down in front of it and cried. Not the huge gasping sobs my mother seemed to fancy, nor the quiet weeping of my father. No, I cried the tears of a child who just found out their grandparents died, the soft uncomprehending grief that overcame them as they first learned what death really meant. How long forever was. My legs pulled up to my chest, hands loosely hung around knees, unable to clasp together because of my cast. I closed my eyes and I swear I could hear the sound of Ray sighing behind me, but when I opened my eyes I was alone. I went to bed, earlier than I ever had in my life, still believing it was a dream and I'd wake up like Alice after her adventures in Wonderland. But when I awoke, I was met with the slow, oozing perdure of my reality. The one which I could not wake up from, and the one where my brother was dead.

[majoraslink]

skyward sword hd review

let me first clarify that this review is solely based on a first time play through of the game, not if it is a better version of the wii one. i will be treating it as if the wii version does not exist.

when i had finished breath of the wild, i had believed that revisiting or beginning any older zelda game would be ruined for me.

im glad i was wrong.

let me explain my relationship with skyward sword. i hadnt really gotten into zelda until around 2014/2015, as the only game i had played was phantom hourglass.

by that time, there werent any home console games (that werent ports), and i didnt own a wiiu so it didnt matter. by 2017, i had gone through a couple of games at that point, mostly ocarina, majoras, phantom hourglass and link's awakening. so not much.

i had found a used copy of twilight princess for the wii at eb games, and was obsessed for it for a bit. then i wanted skyward sword, and was never able to find it until i left the country, finding it in a game stop in buffalo new york.

even when the game was in my possession, i never played it as i hadnt finished twilight princess (worse when i got my switch the same year i had found tp and abandoned it for a while), and didnt have a wii motion+.

then the hd announcement was made and i was happy but also mad because i spent a year searching for the wii version. whatever.

i wasnt able to start the hd version until a few days after its release as i was busy hungover during release weekend. then i was able to get into and spent an average of six and a half hours playing it almost every night. crazy. especially since it takes me eons to finish games, let alone zelda games.

now lets get into the game itself. i dont need to introduce i dont think, so lets talk about what i think.

first, i think this link visually is a downgrade from twilight princess link. i think its to do with his under eye bags. i appreciate that hes a lot more expressive, however.

i love zelda. this is one of few games where shes actually interesting, and shes gorgeous. really a slap in the face to twilight princess zelda, who is one of the best designs, but is as interesting as a piece of stale bread.

i can kind of understand why some might not have liked it ten years ago, skyloft a stark contrast to dark, brooding hyrule from twilight princess. personally i loved it. its okay to like colour sometimes.

im sorry for comparing it to twilight princess again, but tp starts off so slowly, my least favourite ways to begin games. skyward sword starts off quite quickly, and it isnt long before youre off to save zelda.

i cant really say much about the story, not that i didnt like it but that nothing i say will be new or innovative.

now lets address motion controls. i didnt play with them, i really cant. drift. but i found myself missing it sometimes because i occasionally found it difficult wielding my sword using a joystick, but that may be more user error.

usually im hopeless about combat in zelda, but i think over 250 hours in breath of the wild improved my ability a lot. i found it easy to grasp but not repetitive enough i hated fighting. i hate fighting because its scary.

something breath of the wild will never have on older zeldas though are dungeons. i usually find doing dungeons tedious as i find them too complicated unless i have a guide, but i was able to do 95% of all the dungeons without consulting a guide, as the puzzles were easy in a sense where i could figure it out with a bit of tinkering, and not in a "in and out of the temple in 20 minutes" way. the longest temples for me personally were the sandship (two and a half hours) the fire sancturary (two hours and twenty minutes) and the ancient cistern (two hours and twenty five minutes) ((yes i kept track)).

they were fun and the puzzles were fun to figure out. however, not every boss fight is made equal. my favourite was obviously koloktos, while scaldera was probably my least.

my least favourite part of the entire game had to be the trials, though. theyre the reason why skyward sword will not be a consistent replay for me, as they stressed me out immensely. i much greatly preferred the eldin stealth mission in which all my items are taken from me, because at least im not being hunted down and can do things at my own pace. and i just hate being chased.

the sidequests were enjoyable too, i enjoyed the little majoras mask throw back, as its my favourite game. i liked collecting gratitude crystals as well, as being able to get them all pushed me to do the side quests. i dont have one i particularly enjoyed as most of them seemed to be fetch quests.

i wish the beetle was available in every game, it helped immensely.

another part of the game i disliked was sealing the imprisoned, it was annoying and stressful and all three fights were more or less the same.

i think the thing i liked the most about this game was obviously zelink. again, zelda is so full of life, and compard to other games, they actually had a connection previous to link's saving her.

"im still your zelda."

the final boss demise is difficult, definitely refreshing after the pitiful ganon from breath of the wild. while its not particularly long, it is extremely difficult and tests your swordsmanship.

ghirahim is a fantastic villain. hes camp. hes hellbent on destroying you, and fighting him was frustrating but so satisfying.

i finished this game in an under a month, and im happy i did, but sad that its over now. after finishing it i can confirm my top ten zelda games are

1. majoras mask

2. twilight princess

3. breath of the wild

4. skyward sword

5. link's awakening

i truly enjoyed playing through it and im so happy i finally did.

[sweetestt-devottionn]

Hug Me

AN: This was inspired by a fic that i read before hope u enjoy it! sorry for any grammar mistakes english isn’t my first language, i’m open to criticism tho:)

==========

It seems like yesterday I was happy with nothing. Today, I make a wish to the moon. I told her if I can see you once again, I'll do one last dance with you to this song.

To remember you forever,

Just one last dance...

==========

Have you ever heard the word 'breathless'?

It has different meaning of its own if you put it in different use. One could describe the meaning of extreme surprise where you just froze in your spot, mouth hung agape as you look at the most precious thing in you possession in awe.

It truly was a wonderful description to appreciate such blessings.

Yet, in another meaning, one that you make sense of literally, has such a different effect, with a stark contrast between light and darkness, akin of a nightmare in the middle of a day dream.

==========

Breathless

[breth-lis]

1. without breath or breathing with difficulty; gasping; panting:

2. dead; lifeless.

==========

Everything happened so fast. One moment she was just standing there in her comfy clothes, casually washing the dishes then the next moment. She saw her lying on the floor as the plate she was holding dropped and shattered against the hard wood floor. It might be just at the spur of the moment, where she exists and everything fell apart. She was rooted to the spot, head staying on the same spot her love used to stand just moments ago. Slowly, but surely everything came rushing back, like a river current overcoming any hindrance. Her hands were shaking when she finally got control of her body.

"LISA!" She screamed then, heart gripped with the panic brewing inside her at seeing her lover so frail, surrounded with the broken glass scattered around her body. She was shaken with pity that at such a tragic misery her love was still attention's sweet centre. Painted was the tragically beautiful story of their journey, started with her world brushed with dark muddy colours.

“oh mygod ohmygod,”

Jisoo swore she never ran so fast in her life.

In the blink of an eye, she was holding her lover's head on her lap as her fingers fumbled with her phone, the trembling digits struggling to call 9-1-1.

"I need your help please... She fainted....I-" That was the last thing Lisa heard as the black spots on her vision finally swallowed her whole. When the last sigh left her lips, her body became slack.

And that,

was the night everything changed.

==========

The trip to the hospital was not one on her favourite list of trips but, at seeing her lover sudden decline of health, she wondered just how long it would take for the ambulance to reach the hospital. She sighed over and over again as she held Lisa’s hand close and kissed each of her knuckles.

She choked back a sob as her eyes welled with tears and the state Lisa was in. Oxygen mask covered her face, and somehow in the span of minutes she had only just noticed how pale and gaunt her love actually is, a drastic difference to her usually fair and healthy body. She cursed herself, hating the fact that she had failed to see the symptoms that might have had explained the ongoing situation.

“I’m sorry baby, I should have looked after you better and stayed home more, fuck I’m- I’m fucking sorry I shouldn’t have I-,” Her speech was cut off due to the sob threatening to burst out.

“pl-please just wake u-up please…”

It may seem unusual for those close to her but,

She prayed that night.

To whatever gods there are out there, she just hoped they’d listened.

When the sound of cars honking filled her hearing and the pounding of her heart reverberated throughout her body, she closed her lids tightly. Lips mouthing an inaudible prayer as tears welled in her eyes. She held her lover's hand a little tighter, yet somehow, she still refused to cry.

‘Me and my pride’ she muses.

She refrained herself to believe anything but her lover being okay again.

She had to be okay..

She just had to...

==========

The short trip to the hospital turned out to be a long one. The seconds and the minutes turned into hours as she waited outside the ER. She paced back and forth for she knew that there was something wrong, though she refused to believe it. Realising she might have to tell Chaeyoung, she steeled herself against the obvious thunderstorm and pressed call.

It doesn’t take long for the said best friend/ sister to pick up, and for some reason she felt guilty, like it was somehow her fault when the first hello filtered through the phone.

“Jisoo unnie? Are you there?”

“Umm… Chaeng, I-I’m so fucking sorry, I don’t know what just happened I-“

“Unnie? Please calm down, what happened? Is Lisa okay?”

“She-“

“She’s just been admitted to the hospital, Chaeyoung-ah…”

“WHAT?! JENNIE WE NEED TO GO NOW!”

“Chaeng- I..” She tried to say when the phone beeps, indicating the end of the call.

They came 15 minutes after she hang up their call, appearance so dishevelled some might think they’re some kind of a hobo.

“Is she okay?” Jennie asked as Chaeyoung was currently feeling too wrecked to even function.

“I- I don’t know , Jen.. One minute she was standing and the next she was suddenly on the floor unconscious.” She explained as her hands swung wildly in her manic.

Jennie said nothing but pulled Jisoo into a tight hug in which she immediately melt into, followed by Chaeyoung as the three of them relied on each other for the comfort they badly needed at the moment.

Their million questions were finally answered another hour later. In midst of her mini panic, the doctor handling Lisa's case came out of the room and approached her jittery self.

"I'm sorry...”

That was all Jisoo needed to hear to know that, she was not okay, her lover never was. She knew, Lisa knew that she didn't have much time left and yet, she still smiled and act that bubbly personality of hers. Always unyielding, always without flaw, not even once.

A gasp was heard, yet she couldn’t care less.

Jisoo pondered, just when did Lisa became such a good liar?

"I hate you so much..." She sobbed as her back slid against the white hospital wall. Its horror and constant dullness that painted her peripheral stayed unflinching. Leaving her, to fend for herself after the heart wrenching news that might just destroyed every good thing she had left in her life.

‘such a tragic life of a dreamer’’Such a pity’

I wonder Lisa,

I do wonder...

==========

Jisoo spent a restless night back at home. She laid on her side of the bed and took in the unusual coldness of her own personal sanctuary. Her stare resided on the empty right side of her bed. The golden sparks in her eyes had faded hours ago, only the remnants of it stayed. It had turned tedious brown in its departure.

She breathed deep, trying to remember her scent. Truth to be told, it had been hard for her to leave her love alone on the hospital bed, but she was not one to defy doctor's order. Though she really gave the nurses a run for their money when they need to forcefully dragged her away from her lover's limp body.

She decided then, she should have fought against their grasps harder, for Lisa was worth every struggle.

Every. Single. One.

==========

Days passed in a blur after the news. It was broadcasted on their social media accounts that they will be taking a long hiatus with the reasons unknown. It sure did cause an uproar in their fandom with their seemingly abrupt disappearance but in the end they couldn’t do anything but to accept their idols’ decision.

Realising the ticking time that was eating away her love’s life, Jisoo brought her everywhere her heart wished for. Her heart clenched every time she saw Lisa's face light up when she brought her to places she had never been before, knowing any moment now could be her last.

She smiled bitterly at that. Her time was limited and she was fucking desperate for any kind of miracle. She prayed every night, for something, anything, to happen.

Because she would give it all just for her to be okay again. That way, they would be able to do the future they had planned out together. In their future, they would be living in a 2 storey mansion with Dalgomie, Leo, Luca and 4 kids running around the house. They would grow old together, wasting their time watching the sunset every evening with a warm cup of tea.

Fate always said otherwise, because the one time she actually found someone who loved her for her. They took her away from Jisoo.

Even sometimes, love was not enough...

==========

It was another cold evening on the midst of December. The couple was snuggling on the couch just enjoying each other's warmth. Jennie and Chaeyoung were out, buying food for their dinner. No words were spoken, though the comfortable silence of the empty dorm was broken when Lisa called out to Jisoo.

"Jisoo?" Lisa asked quietly, head laying slack against Jisoo's chest.

"Hmm?" She responded, hand moving to stroke Lisa's hair gently.

"Can we sing right now?"

Her hand stilled from her movement as she looked down at her. Usually, Jisoo would have laughed at the random request but the look on Lisa's face, left her stunned. Absentmindedly, Jisoo started to sing one of her favourite song, Long Live.

It really was ironic.

"I said remember this moment

In the back of my mind...” She started, voice wavering a bit.

She was shaken out of her reverie when Lisa suddenly sat up and started pulling at her hands, urging her to stand with her.

“The time we stood with our shaking hands

The crowds in stands went wild

We were the kings and the queens

And they read off our names

The night you danced like you knew our lives

Would never be the same ..."

At this point, they were both dancing around in their apartment, not caring about what would happen in the future. Live in the now they said.

“You held your head like a hero...”

Lisa sang, voice sounding off key but none of them care anyways. She crossed her arms and posed as superman pretending to be showing her ‘spectacular biceps’ that had become bony and last muscular over the past few months. She nodded her head at Jisoo cueing at her to sing the next lines.

"On a history book page

It was the end of a decade

But the start of an age..."

Jisoo stayed quiet and instead, she only looked at her funnily. Lisa had no choice but to continue singing with a grumpy voice.

"Come on CHICHU!! I SAID ONE, TWO, THREE... SING WITH ME!!" She held out her hand between them as if to share the microphone for the both of them.

"Long live the walls we crashed through

All the kingdom lights shined just for me and you

I was screaming, "Long live all the magic we made"

And bring on all the pretenders

One day we will be remembered...”

This time Jisoo did join the fun, screaming with her lover as they belted out the lyrics. They might just sound like dying whale and the neighbours would surely filled out a noise complaint but seriously, they could careless right now. No headlines, no media, no worries. Just Jisoo and Lisa singing off key in their penthouse apartment.

"I said remember this feeling

I passed the pictures around

Of all the years that we stood there on the sidelines

Wishing for right now..."

Lisa continued as she looked at Jisoo and pulled on a funny face, successfully bringing a long overdue smile on her girlfriend's face.

"We are the kings and the queens

You traded your baseball cap for a crown..."

Jisoo gestured to Lisa's head as if to put on an imaginary crown on her. Lisa smiled at the gesture and did an over exaggerated curtsy before standing up straight to urged Jisoo to keep singing as she swayed from left to right, doing some weird dancing of her own.

"When they gave us our trophies

And we held them up for our town

And the cynics were outraged

Screaming, "This is absurd"

'Cause for a moment a band of thieves in ripped up jeans got to rule the world..."

Jisoo belted the lyrics as she knelt on the floor like a rock star. Lisa was having the time of her life as she rolled down on the floor laughing her ass off.

"Love live the wall we crashed through

All the kingdom lights shined just for me and you

I was screaming, "Long live all the magic we made"

And bring on all the pretenders..." Jisoo sang loudly.

I'm not afraid," Lisa continued with a big grin on her face.

"Long live all the mountains we move

I had the time of my life

Fighting dragons with you

I was screaming, "Long live the look on your face"

And bring on all the pretenders

One day we will be remembered

Hold on to spinning around

Confetti falls to the ground

May these memories break our fall..."

Jisoo actually sang beautifully this time, giving it her all as she pour her heart for their impromptu Lichu-karaoke session. As she opened her mouth to sing the next stanza, Lisa had already beaten her to it.

"Will you take a moment,

promise me this...

That you'll stand by me forever

But if God forbid fate should step in,

And force us into a goodbye..."

Lisa sang the lines softly to Jisoo as she put her hand over her heart as tears welled in her eyes.

"If you have children someday

When they point to the pictures,

Please tell them my name..."

Her voice cracked as she sang it, knowing the reality of it all. Jisoo rushed to comfort her but one hand motion from Lisa and another plea of "I'm okay," left her with no choice but to continue the song.

"Tell them how the crowds went wild

Tell them how I hope they shine

Long live the walls we crashed through

I had the time of my life, with you...”

Jisoo presented Lisa with a teary smile as she pointed her fingers at her. She furiously wiped her tears away, and when she belted the next line, she was determined to end this in a good note.

All smiles no frowns.

"Long, long live the walls we crashed through

All the kingdom lights shined just for me and you

And I was screaming, "long live all the magic we made"

And bring on all the pretenders

I'm not afraid..." She sang as she put on a brave face and a salute at Lisa, getting a smile out in return. Jisoo gave her a signal and they sang the last lines together.

"Singing long live all the mountains we moved

I had the time of my life

Fighting dragons with you

And long, long live the look on your face

And bring on all the pretenders

One day, we will be remembered..."

They finished the song quickly and enveloped each other in a tight embrace, tears still streaming down their faces.

"Long live us...” Jisoo whispered against her head.

"Long live you...” She added with a smile, before pressing a light kiss on Lisa’s forehead.

You will be remembered...

==========

Lisa did last longer than expected as she somehow managed to get past through her birthday and Jisoo's. Though another incident might have barraged their way at her.

On the morning after Jisoo's birthday, Lisa had stupidly fell off her bed. But that, was not the problem. It was the excruciating pain that followed after that. She swore she had never screamed so loud in her life.

Hearing her screams, Jisoo bolted upstairs towards their shared bedroom. Fingers fumbling with her phone ready to call 9-1-1.

This was giving her a sense of déjà vu. Added with the fact that in dire times like this, Jennie and Chaeng always seemed to be away at an important meeting with their management, leaving Jisoo alone to deal with a crying Lisa.

Seeing her Lisa laying helplessly on the floor, screaming her head off, Jisoo panic level accelerate to 100 real quick. She knelt down beside the whimpering girl and wafted her hand through her hair, while whispering sweet nothings to soothe her pain.

"You're gonna be okay, baby.."

You will,

You have to...

==========

"She fell the wrong way, Chaeyoung. I've said this to you a million times. Why won't you believe me?" Jisoo hissed at Chaeyoung as they walked down the hospital halls to Lisa's room. She was being prepped for immediate surgery because apparently her stupid fall could possibly cause paralysis. Stupid bed and stupid floor, she had said.

"Wow unnie , Okay I believe you, but seriously you need to chill. You're basically on fire right now.." Chaeyoung tread carefully, afraid to get Jisoo madder than she already was.

"You're dealing with this better than I ever was Chaeng. How are you okay with her dying?" She ranted, frustrated.

"I'm not, and I never will be okay with her dying, so don't even try to say that. But, do you know what makes me strong unnie? It was her wish. She personally told me that she wanted her last days to be full of smiles, not tears; not frowns. So I tried, I really tried my best every day to keep the smile on my face, to keep the happy thoughts on my head as if she wasn't dying. I had to respect her wish. I had to, unnie..." Chaeyoung confessed as she blinked rapidly to avoid the tears from falling, knowing Lisa would caught up with her act once she saw a faint tear marks on her face.

"I'm sorry Chaeyoung-ah, I-I didn't know,"

"It's okay unnie, please just trust me on this. You need to respect her wish too okay?"

"All smiles?"

"All smiles."

==========

It had not been great.

Lisa was paralysed from the waist down. But she had not reacted poorly. She had taken a moment of silence after the news, both her lover and best friends looking at her expectantly, gauging her reaction. What happened next was not expected by the both of them.

With a defeated sigh, Lisa had looked back up towards the doctor and asked a simple question.

"Can I go back home now?"

The meaning behind her words were clear, she didn't want to talk about it and it was to be expected. Yet, that split moment when she looked at Jisoo at the word 'home', really messed with Chaeyoung's emotion. She had lived, knowing that her best friend and sister had found her home. A place for her to belong, yet, it was wretched from her grasp just after she found it.

Home…

Lost.

==========

Today was the day the two brotp? finally get to hang out. Though, Jennie realised she should have done this sooner. She had immediately became fast friends with Lisa after their first meeting with each other during their trainee days. She had said, the only reason they got along so well was because their ‘stupid aegyo tendencies and annoyingly cute gummy smiles ’ cheers to Jennie for that. She knew her gummy smiles are valuable winning weapon. So to speak, with their fast growing friendship and what not, this news had truly affected Jennie deeply.

They were strolling around the central park, not a lot of people were in sight which was a plus to the both of them.

"Jennie, if you didn't stop thinking, smoke might came out of your head any time now," Lisa suddenly said, causing her to pause in her movement.

"Shut it Manoban, or do I have to hit you to do so?" Jennie clapped back at her best friend who now appeared offended. She put a dramatic hand over her chest and said.

"Really? You'll hit a cripple? WHERE ARE YOUR MORALS?"

"Where yours are?" Jennie sassed.

"Shit, let me call Satan. He has them. Along with my list of fucks I do not give."

"Oh please, SOMEONE PLEASE GET THIS GIRL SHE'S ANNOYING ME," Jennie was all but shout.

"Watch it Nini or I'll tell Chaengie about your behaviour."

"You are such a tattle-teller, you b*tch. You disgust me," Jennie said in her best Kim-Kardashian-accent as she flipped her hair to get her point across.

"My energy should not be wasted talking to you, move along please I need to get my ice cream," Lisa commanded from her wheelchair bossily.

"You're lucky you're cute or else I would've left you somewhere," Jennie complained as she grudgingly started to push the wheelchair to the ice cream shop.

==========

Miracles do happen, sadly it didn't always last.

==========

Lisa knew her time was coming, knowing she had outlived the doctor's predictions; this was bound to happen anytime soon. It was a little after the New Year. She was being woken up, with severe chest pains. She screamed which immediately woke Jisoo up.

"Lisa baby, what's wrong?" She asked soothingly, trying to keep the panic from her voice.

Jisoo didn't get an answer from Lisa except for her occasional whimpers which caused her to curl further into herself, hoping to make the pain stop.

She knew her time was coming,

But she sure as heck was not ready for it.

==========

Lisa was hooked to a ventilator that night, her lungs had failed her and she didn't expect any less. Seeing her lover so fragile against the hospital bed, Jisoo made a beeline to the chair beside the bed and held her sleeping hand tightly.

She leaned her head closer to the bed and rests it at the edge of the pillow. It might have been an uncomfortable position but she wanted to, she need, to remember her.

I don't want to forget...

Right before she continued her restless slumber, Jisoo hummed sotto voce. She sang a song very dear to her as a prayer, and God, she did hope Lisa would listen close in her slumber.

“Please stay by my side,

Please stay with me..

Please don't let go of me, the one who's holding your hand...

I love you,

I love you...

In the long silence, a sound comes, screaming

From my foolish and weak heart..."

==========

The goodbye was the hardest.

==========

Lisa was looking at Jisoo as best as she could through her half lidded eyes. She could she the hudled figures of her best friends standing on the other side of her hospital bed. God, she was so tired, and she had long accepted her fate. She stared at Jisoo with any adoration she could muster and smiled weakly.

"Why are you looking at me like that?" She suddenly said, breaking Jisoo out of her trance.

"I want to remember you."

"Don't do this to yourself baby, please"

"I- I can't Lice, please I can't forget you. I don't want you to go. I LOVE YOU! Why is that not enough?" She sobbed as she desperately cling to her hospital gown to discard any possible distance between the two of them.

"It doesn't matter if I'm not physically beside you, unnie. Please don't cry, love, I'll look after you from the sky. You won't forget me because I'm here with you. I stayed in your heart. I'll visit you in your dreams, there you can relinquish all your joys and sorrows to me. You'll remember me, just like the way my heart will call out to you in the after life..."

"I love you, Lice. I'd give it all just for one more day with you..."

"Don't dwell- on your sadness please, all smiles, okay?" Lisa had to stop in between words to catch her breath as her lungs started failing on her.

“Unnie, if it is time for me to go, can you take care of Jisoo unnie for me?”

Lisa never said it to anyone  in particular neither Jennie or Chaeyoung, but the message was clear. They responded with a tight squeeze on her arm and a teary smile.

Their last moments together were spent with Jisoo brushing the remnants of Lisa hazel brown hair, as they enjoyed the silence that sang lullabies for those in passing. It wasn’t long when the silence was broken by none other than Lisa.

"Can I get one last kiss before I go to sleep, Chu?"

“Anything for you love,” Jisoo smiled a bittersweet smile through her red eyes and puffy cheeks before leaning in as they lips met in passion.

So desperately, trying to make it a kiss, one could remember forever.

"Sing for me please, Chichu…" Lisa whispered her last wish. She moved her body a little bit as she sagged against the hospital bed, eyes fluttering close.

"Hallelujah,

You were an angel in the shape of my love

When I fell down you'll be there holding me up

Spread your wings as you go...

And when God takes you back,

He'll say, "Hallelujah, you're home."

Jisoo wait until her breathing became no more, before she stopped. With one last cold kiss to the lips, Jisoo muttered her prayer against her skin.

"In peace may you leave the shore;

In love may you find the next.

Safe passage on your travel," Jisoo finished and wipe her tears away. She leaned her face closer to Lisa's and mumbled against her lips.

"May we meet again, Lisa..."

==========

It was nothing special, another day, another time, another dawn. They recalled that time when a young Lisa Manoban swore that when she died she would do it in such honour, with lots of people crying for her.

They had laughed it off then, saying that she wasn’t even close to a hero or a president. It was a stupid dream to begin with.

Lalisa Manoban didn’t die in such great honour, she didn’t die with the sound of trumpet and manmade tears marring people’s face as they pretend to show empathy to the fallen grace.

She died, on a normal Wednesday afternoon, with 3 of the brightest stars in her life, and I guessed for her,

It was more than enough.

==========

"One last kiss to a cold lips, to seal the prayer."

==========

[radiohorizon]

5 million years later...

1.Who was the last person you held hands with? Romantically, Emily. Friendwise, Arin or Annabelle i cant remember 
2. Are you outgoing or shy? Depends on who I’m around. If I’m comfortable in the situation, I’m outgoing but if I’m not im the shyest person ever 
3. Who are you looking forward to seeing? My baby cousin whos like 3 weeks old😍 
4. Are you easy to get along with? Extremely 
5. If you were drunk would the person you like take care of you? Uh i hope so? Idk I’ve never been in the situation 
6. What kind of people are you attracted to? Kind, sarcastic assholes, who have my weird ass sense of humor and adore animals 
7. Do you think you’ll be in a relationship two months from now? I have no idea🤷🏼‍♀️ 
8. Who from the opposite gender is on your mind? My best friend. He’s going through a really hard time and I don’t know how to help him feel better 
9. Does talking about sex make you uncomfortable? Depends on the context and people I’m having the conversation with 
10. Who was the last person you had a deep conversation with? Bea. She always lets me vent tf out and always gives the greatest advice, even if I don’t wanna hear it 
11. What does the most recent text that you sent say? “Sorry bud😉” 
12. What are your 5 favorite songs right now? Missing Teeth- Vanity Theft Smokestacks- Layla Open Hands- Ingrid Michaelson Saturn- Sleeping At Last Castle- Halsey 
13. Do you like it when people play with your hair? Yesssss😍 
14. Do you believe in luck and miracles? Absofreakinglutely 
15. What good thing happened this summer? Vacation with Katie and Kristy; met Bea 
16. Would you kiss the last person you kissed again? I mean probably. We kissed and it didn’t mean anything, it was more for fun than anything else 
17. Do you think there is life on other planets? Heck yeah. Lightyears of planets and other galaxies? No way we’re here alone 
18. Do you still talk to your first crush? Yeah kinda. We aren’t that close and I don’t really care to be lmao 
19. Do you like bubble baths? Love them😍 
20. Do you like your neighbors? For the most part yes. 
21. What are you bad habits? Picking at the skin around my nails and biting my cheek with im anxious or bored; not letting go; trusting easily; eating too much; not taking care of myself; selfharm 
22. Where would you like to travel? Across the country; the dead sea; egypt; hawaii; Cancun; Australia; basically anywhere 
23. Do you have trust issues? Horrible trust issues 
24. Favorite part of your daily routine? Seeing my cat 
25. What part of your body are you most uncomfortable with? Honestly i dont know. I have issues with my stomach, back, butt, boobs, thighs, calves, wrists, arms, fingers, ankles, face, chest. Basically anywhere there is fat and/or acne and/or stretch marks and/or scars 
26. What do you do when you wake up? Go on my phone, brush my hair, brush my teeth and then whatever comes next 
27. Do you wish your skin was lighter or darker? Darker. I’m pale as shit 
28. Who are you most comfortable around? Probably Bea or Stevie 
29. Have any of your ex’s told you they regret breaking up? Yeah, 1. And then she continued to ignore me and treat me like shit so🤷🏼‍♀️ 
30. Do you ever want to get married? Yep! In my back yard with my dad as the dude who marries me and my future wife and gives me away 
31. If your hair long enough for a pony tail? Heck yeah boi 
32. Which celebrities would you have a threesome with? Ruby Rose and Mila Kunis 
33. Spell your name with your chin. Herg (Beth) 
34. Do you play sports? What sports? Dance (10 years), Cheer(2 years) and soccer (maybe 5 years) 
35. Would you rather live without TV or music? Without TV hands down 
36. Have you ever liked someone and never told them? Yeppers 
37. What do you say during awkward silences? “Uhhhhhh” or just laugh awkwardly or “why is it so quiet” 
38. Describe your dream girl/guy? 🤷🏼‍♀️ honestly just want someone that’s kind and strong willed and has a big heart and loves cats as much as me. My “type” literally doesn’t exist so 
39. What are your favorite stores to shop in? Kohls, Ross, HotTopic, Rue 21, Forever 21, Big Lots, Macy’s 
40. What do you want to do after high school? College and then Police Academy 
41. Do you believe everyone deserves a second chance? 100% but not everyone deserves a 3rd 
42. If your being extremely quiet what does it mean? I’m super upset and probably feel nauseous and shaky and am about to start crying or go into an anxiety attack or something. Or im just tired as fuck 
43. Do you smile at strangers? Yeppers 
44. Trip to outer space or bottom of the ocean? Bottom of the ocean 
45. What makes you get out of bed in the morning? Anxiety of failing school 
46. What are you paranoid about? Losing the people I love to the same issues I have dealt with 
47. Have you ever been high? Yeeep 
48. Have you ever been drunk? Noooope 
49. Have you done anything recently that you hope nobody finds out about? Not that I can think of? 
50. What was the colour of the last hoodie you wore? Red 
51. Ever wished you were someone else? Yes, a lot actually 
52. One thing you wish you could change about yourself? My body 
53. Favourite makeup brand? Lorac 
54. Favourite store? Ross or Kohls 
55. Favourite blog? Humans of New York 
56. Favourite colour? Dark Purple 
57. Favourite food? Cheeseburger or red peppers 
58. Last thing you ate? Ice cream 
59. First thing you ate this morning? Toast 
60. Ever won a competition? For what? No but I got 2 in gymnastics when i was 8😌 
61. Been suspended/expelled? For what? Nopee 
62. Been arrested? For what? Nopee 
63. Ever been in love? Yeppers and kinda scared of it happening again🤷🏼‍♀️ 
64. Tell us the story of your first kiss? First peck kiss was during my choir concert in a literal closet with my then girlfriend with a bunch of my friends circling around us so no one would see First kiss kiss was with my then crush and it was so not expected but super romantic so 
65. Are you hungry right now? Not reallg 
66. Do you like your tumblr friends more than your real friends? I dont really have tumblr friends that arent my real friends so no? 
67. Facebook or Twitter? Tweeter 
68. Twitter or Tumblr? Tumblr 
69. Are you watching tv right now? Yeah actually lol 
70. Names of your bestfriends? Katie, Kristy, Andrew, Elizabeth, Abby, Beatrice, Hailey, Kyle, Annabelle, Tyler 
71. Craving something? What? Pink Lemonade 
72. What colour are your towels? Multicolors 
72. How many pillows do you sleep with? 1 but used to sleep with 2 
73. Do you sleep with stuffed animals? Yepp. A teddy bear the twins gave me in 1st grade, a puppy from my mom when I was born, a unicorn, a kitty and a Pegasus unicorn kitty named Puck 
74. How many stuffed animals do you think you have? A shit ton 
75. Favourite animal? Monkey or cats 
76. What colour is your underwear? Olive green 
77. Chocolate or Vanilla? Chocolate and vanilla swirl 
78. Favourite ice cream flavour? Cookies and cream 
79. What colour shirt are you wearing? Black 
80. What colour pants? Black 
81. Favourite tv show? NCIS or Criminal Minds or Shameless or the OLD scoobydoo, none of that new bullshit 
82. Favourite movie? Chitty chitty band bang 
83. Mean Girls or Mean Girls 2? Mean girls 
84. Mean Girls or 21 Jump Street? Mean girls 
85. Favourite character from Mean Girls? Gretchen 
86. Favourite character from Finding Nemo? Crush 
87. First person you talked to today? Bea 
88. Last person you talked to today? Lacey 
89. Name a person you hate? No one 
90. Name a person you love? My momma 
91. Is there anyone you want to punch in the face right now? #fucktrump and this bitch at school but not gonna cause it aint worth it 
92. In a fight with someone? Nope 
93. How many sweatpants do you have? Like 3 
94. How many sweaters/hoodies do you have? About 3 that i wear, but a lot that dont fit me anymore 
95. Last movie you watched? The Remains 
96. Favourite actress? Jennifer Lawrence 
97. Favourite actor? Josh Hucherson or Gerard Butler 
98. Do you tan a lot? Not at all. Only burn so theres no point 
99. Have any pets? 2 cats and 1 puppy 
100. How are you feeling? Tired, alone, but a little happier 
101. Do you type fast? Ye but im shit at it 
102. Do you regret anything from your past? Certain things with my ex, and not starting cheer sooner but other than that no 
103. Can you spell well? HA no 
104. Do you miss anyone from your past? Yes, a few people 
105. Ever been to a bonfire party? No but i wish): 
106. Ever broken someone’s heart? Not that i know or 
107. Have you ever been on a horse? Mhm 
108. What should you be doing? Sleeping 
109. Is something irritating you right now? My wrist hurts like a bitch and this person is ignoring me like i never existed so there’s that 
110. Have you ever liked someone so much it hurt? Yepp 
111. Do you have trust issues? Lol yes 
112. Who was the last person you cried in front of? Abby 
113. What was your childhood nickname? Beth 
114. Have you ever been out of your province/state? Yeah 
115. Do you play the Wii? Not really 
116. Are you listening to music right now? No 
117. Do you like chicken noodle soup? Ew no 
118. Do you like Chinese food? Heck yeaaah😍 
119. Favourite book? Yo this is impossible to answer 
120. Are you afraid of the dark? Yeah fuck that shit but also cant sleep unless its completely dark?? 
121. Are you mean? No i dont think so 
122. Is cheating ever okay? Nope 
123. Can you keep white shoes clean? Lol no 
124. Do you believe in love at first sight? Sorta kinda 
125. Do you believe in true love? Yes 
126. Are you currently bored? Yeeeep 
127. What makes you happy? Little random things. Finding a good book, getting a compliment, shaving, random presents even if it seems little or insignificant, seeing my parents together 
128. Would you change your name? No. Ive grown to love and cherish it 
129. What your zodiac sign? Pisces 
130. Do you like subway? Not really 
131. Your bestfriend of the opposite sex likes you, what do you do? Already been through that🙄 tell them how I feel and respect their feelings 
132. Who’s the last person you had a deep conversation with? Bea 
133. Favourite lyrics right now? “Open hands are hard to hold onto anyway” 
134. Can you count to one million? No way 
135. Dumbest lie you ever told? “No mom i didnt get into your makeup or perfume!” As i had her makeup smeared on my face and i smelled like a brothel 
136. Do you sleep with your doors open or closed? Teeny bit open so my cat can get in and out but preferred closed 
137. How tall are you? A whopping 5ft 1 
138. Curly or Straight hair? On me? Straight/curly/wavy friss mess On others? Dont have a preference 
139. Brunette or Blonde? On me? Light brunette, wish i still had blonde hair 
140. Summer or Winter? Summer 
141. Night or Day? Night 
142. Favourite month? Probably may or july or October 
143. Are you a vegetarian? No but i respect everyone that is 
144. Dark, milk or white chocolate? Milk 
145. Tea or Coffee? Coffee 
146. Was today a good day? I mean it wasnt bad but nothing made it good so i guess sure? 
147. Mars or Snickers? Snickers 
148. What’s your favourite quote? Lose the battle win the war 
149. Do you believe in ghosts? Yes 
150. Get the closest book next to you, open it to page 42, what’s the first line Theres literally no books around me rn and im sad about it

@lovestream-dreams

[rhapsody-in-heaven]

An Open Letter about Racism and the Term Banana

Context

First Incident sometime last month i referred to myself as a banana and was told it was subtly racist. i *thought* i had adequately explained why it was not and why i identified as such. i had also explained that i would never actively call someone else a banana unless they also referred to themselves as such.

Second Incident it happened last night. to her defence, before i start, she was a bit drunk and i also know shes super passionate about this topic. however, i do have to say i think shes too “politically correct” sometimes to the point where she would be offended by how i view myself - but well get to that later. anyways, she was a bit drunk and we somehow came to the topic of xenophobia vs racism and that somehow spiraled into “reverse racism” and how it, in her opinion, doesnt exist, but i didnt agree. i mostly was content with letting the topic go but she really wanted to convince me otherwise. she got frustrated w me enough tho that she said something along the lines of “this is like how u call urself a banana and think its not racist and that its okay, but it is racist and its not okay” to which i yelled back “i talked to my asian american friends about this and they all tell me that you dont understand my experiences”

Open Letter

Part One - Our Conversation About Xenophobia, Racism and “Reverse Racism”

First, I want to say about the whole issue of xenophobia and “reverse racism”, maybe youre right. And certainly you believe so. Maybe white people cant experience racism. And i certainly understood your point about how its only the oppressed class or classes who could experience it. 

But I also believe that they can be oppressed in non-white dominated countries. Maybe you see it as discrimination and not racism. And that’s fine. But I do not claim to know everything that happens in the world, and so I cannot say for 100% certainty that they do not. 

Even if in a societal scale they “cannot” experience racism. Can you then say it doesnt happen on a personal level? If my moms telling me she rather me marry Chinese>Asian>White>Black, to me, that is racism not just “discrimination” or “xenophobia” (which was by ur definition a rejection of anyone whos different) why isnt it just “i rather u marry a chinese guy”? why are there tiers? 

Maybe you have a sound explaination for this. Maybe i still dont fully understand the subtle differences between the term racist, or xenophobic. Again, im more than willing to play with the idea im wrong. But its not something youre going to convince me of in a 15 minute half drunken conversation. 

Side Note: Did you know white europeans used to be enslaved by muslims? these are the stories we never hear about because being a victim at any point in time doesnt fit the narrative of white people always being on top or the narrative of whites being the “evil colonialists”.

Part Two - The Term Banana

I thought you understood me the last time we talked but I guess not because you called me racist last night. I want to preface this by saying at the time I read what articles I could find, written by asian americans about how they either accepted or rejected this term. I also went to ask my asian american friends what they thought as well.

All my friends and I identify with the term banana. There are some, in the articles I read who do reject this term. And i will reiterate that I would never call someone a banana unless they themselves do and it comes up in conversation like “im such a banana.” “lmfao its fine we can be bananas together”. 

I remember you thought it wasnt a term I should use because “i will always be asian” and i cant “make myself white”. I have never wanted to be white. I was a pretty weird kid, and I always knew i was different from others, I was always very aware of the fact that I was Asian and I was always proud of it.  My Experiences from Canada

I know for some of my friends it was a shock learning that they were different from their peers. One example i can give is the comedian Joe Wang tells this story about how his son thinks hes white and was shocked to learn he was actually “yellow”.  But for me, anytime someone asked me where i was from, I would say “China” (at this point i didnt know the difference status Hong Kong held). Now, part of this I attribute to actually being born in Hong Kong and therefore saying i was from “China” was true to me. The other part is that I never really experienced racism. Then again, maybe i did and i was just too dense to realize.  But i never had the thing where kids would go “ewww whats that stuff ur eating”. Certainly i would get weird looks sometimes, but, to me it was just like i like eating broccoli but hate carrots, u think broccoli is gross but u love carrots. I never took it as a racial thing. I even remember i brought mooncakes once for my class to try and almost no one took me up on it but the teacher. The ones who did expressed they really didnt like like w their face. But i didnt feel bad. I remember carrying the box of mooncakes back to the car and telling my mom they didnt wanna try and immediately both of us said “oh well, more for us”.  I will say when I was young, I really wanted to have blond hair and blue eyes, curly hair even. I saw a friend and thought it was so pretty. But even as i imagined myself with blond hair and blue eyes, i still saw myself w asian features not white features. A little later I started watching anime and wanted purple eyes so i can say with certainty it wasnt a me wanting to me white thing. My Experiences in Hong Kong and with My Family in General 

Growing up my parents and my family back in Hong Kong, would always call me a “gwei mui”. From wikipedia, “Gwei [xxx] is a common Cantonese slang term for Westerners. In the absence of modifiers, it refers to white people and has a history of racially deprecatory and pejorative use, although it has been argued that it has since acquired a more neutral connotation. Cantonese speakers frequently use gwailou to refer to Westerners in general use, in a non-derogatory context, although whether this type of usage is offensive (i.e., an ethnic slur) is disputed by both Cantonese and Westerners alike”. Yes, in the past this word was racially charged, but in the present, its just another way to refer to westerners. I don’t really wanna get into it right now because theres a lot more to break down, but just know that its just a common way to refer to foreigners and the term “gwei mui” specifically refers to white girls. 

I grew up like this. And I grew up knowing that it was a very neutral term for people to call westerners and I also grew up being called such. Just as it was a fact that I was a girl, or that my moms name was Elsa, I was a gwei mui. 

Hong Kong is an international city. And there are foreigners everywhere. I remember walking into a store and before I even said anything, the shop assistants would ask “oh, youre from overseas right?” “yeah, how did you know?” “oh i can just tell by the way u carry yourself”. I had a friend tell me that she could tell i grew up overseas from the way i stood waiting in line, have ppl tell me they could tell by my make up or by how i dressed.  My “Thesis” on the Matter

In Hong Kong, and in my family and my extended family I was always the “white girl”. You once said that I couldnt be white no matter what, that i would always be asian. Can you tell my family that? Can you erase the fact that I was heavily influenced by western culture? I will say again, i never wanted to be white. And to be quite honest, when you said that I couldnt be white, and that i would always be asian, I felt angry. Angry that you could even imply I would want to be white, that i would want to be anything other than asian, that you assumed to know how i was feeling. 

But you need to understand, its not about “wanting to be white”, its about “not being asian enough”. You need to understand, that it never came from white communities, it came from my parents and my family back home. 

It was never racially motivated. It was just a fact. I’m currently 25 years old, I’m 5ft5(ish), I weigh about 117lbs, I was born a girl and identiy as such, I’m from Hong Kong, I grew up in Canada and i’m a banana. 

If we were to go back to what u were trying to explain about racism and xenophobia then you could make the argument that “gwei mui” and “banana” had xenophobic roots - but to tell me its racist? because im itching to be white? i thoroughly reject that and i find it offensive.  If we were to take this stance tho, that it had xenophobic roots, and is therefore xenophobic, I would say “yes, maybe. but if im reclaiming it and seeing it as acknowledgement that I am a mesh of two different cultures, who are you to tell me its wrong?” Furthermore, i would make the argument that the n-word most definitely had racial undertones. but black ppl proudly call themselves the n-word. Why cant I call myself a banana without people telling me im being racist.  The final reason on why that statement about how i will always be asian and never white disturbs me to the core is the way that statement lumps all asians together. And maybe you didnt mean it like this or didnt even notice. But my experiences are vastly different from my cousins who grew up in Hong Kong. And yes, by the colour of my skin i will always be asian. But the experiences that make up who I am and my personality are very Canadian, very western based. And to basically overlook that, is to overlook my existence and the existence of Asian Americans.  I know you would never do this, but to basically put all Asians in one category is the same mind that would white supremacists' would tell us to “go back to our country” not acknowledging that most of us were born or at least grew up here. 

Thoughts from My Asian American Friends. Like I said, I talked to this with a lot of my asian american friends. Most of which identified w the term banana and actively call themselves one. Others who don’t, but are not offended when others identify themselves as such.  They reiterated that the term banana was never about “wanting to be white” that it was never an issue of “want”. That it never came from white communities. It came from their families back in asia. That they were “too white” or “not asian enough”. As one friend put it, “i mean in honesty we say it cause we feel like we don't totally belong to our culture, it's not saying it in means to erase our race.” another friend added “ This is true. I’ve seen posts about struggles of other Asian Americans who feel like they’re too Asian to be accepted as an American but too American to be accepted as an Asian lol”. They also said that to deny us of calling ourselves bananas is to invalidate our experiences and our existence as asian americans. That we are not the same as our counterparts who grew up in asia. That we were heavily influenced by western culture. “ Lmao did they just forget that as much as Asian blood runs in you, your whole life has been in CA? For that person to say that to you feels like she’s already making you feel invalidated for being Asian AND Canadian”. Who are others, who are not asian americans, to tell us, asian americans, how we can or cannot identify ourselves. Who are non asian americans to tell us this is racist, to say that we “want” to be white when they dont understand how we feel at all. my one friend said and i quote, “yeah I don’t think calling myself a banana is racist, like dude I’m talking about myself and how I see myself, who tf are you to say anything”.

one friend said it played into the white savior narrative. that we dont know better and that not specifically you, but that in general white ppl are getting angry for us, trying to educate us and inform us because we dont know better.  Another friend agreed that it probably started off as a negative but then ppl accepted it cuz it made sense - similar to how gweilo started off as having negative connotations but is now just neutral. She said, “banana imo is one of those words that started off as something bad but gradually (some) people accepted it and started referring themselves as banana because it makes sense lol”.  Closing Statements

I’m not trying to make you feel bad and i honestly hope i dont. But I remember you telling me it was important to have these conversations so I hope this isnt too  uncomfortable. honestly tho, i dont even know if im ever going to send this to you or if youll read it.

But I really need you to understand where this comes from and where I’m coming from. If you dont agree, I can’t really change that. But to essentially call me racist for how identify myself with the things i struggle with, is 100% not okay. To tell me I’ll always be asian and to imply i shouldnt want to be white is 110% offensive. and to lump asian americans with asians is 100% denying our experiences. to tell me how i can and cannot see myself, is also 100% not your call, its mine. And it really hurt to know after our conversation last time you still thought i was ‘wrong’ that you thought I was being racist instead of truly respecting where it comes from.  At some point you might be able to gradually convince me ‘reverse racism’ doesnt exist. but there is no way in hell, you will convince me that how I or other asian americans see ourselves is the “wrong” way to see ourselves.