My Dear

My dear, I can see it in your eyes

The way your head droops and vision fades

The flinch of your fingers

Shrinking away from touch

The hollow smiles and haunted perceptions

The second life

My dear, I do not know the inner workings of your mind

The way your heart beats when you see something

You love

The soft touch of your hand and the

Flutter of your eyelashes as you sleep

The quiet hums you make with the music when you think

No one is listening

My dear, I do not know your soul

I do not know how much it aches to be seen

To be loved

I do not know the hurt you go through

I do not know your pain

I do not know the tears you shed, only

That you shed them

But my dear, I want you to believe

That you can do this

That you are stronger than this

That although words may pierce your heart and break your skin

They can never, will never, be enough to

Take away your life

To put your soul to waste

My dear, you need to believe

That although inside your pretty head no one


The truth is, you are a beacon of hope

To those struggling to go on

You are an emblem of strength

For those faltering

My dear, I want you to know that

You are a survivor

They have pushed you down

Penetrated your innocence and

Corrupted your body

They have stripped away your skin

And exposed your virgin heart

My dear, I am telling you that

You are a survivor

You fall and you fight

You will come back just as strong

Twice as strong

Three, four, five times

You will stand up and you will win

My dear, we are all broken people

Sew your splintered heart together and

Nurture your fragmented dreams into something greater


Shelter your vulnerable soul

Don’t listen to the voices in your head

Believe in yourself

Trust in yourself

Know you can do this

You are a survivor

You are a survivor, my dear


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Paper Faith

I apologize if this poem makes no sense- it doesn’t really make sense to me neither. I started this on a whim, two simple words that became one sentence, that became the ending, that eventually blossomed into the very first line. I wrote the poem first, and then I went in and added a prayer in between the lines. I decided that “paper faith” should be taken more literally, and should show the crumbling of a person on the inside while still seemingly normal on the outside. That really is the purpose of this piece. That people aren’t who they show, that millions of people out there are drowning within themselves without a way out, without a soul who knows. I’m here to tell you that I see you, and I love you, and I accept you. 


Paper Faith 

“Our Heavenly Father”

Another day, another week

Another life of waste


“I thank You for all You have done”

Words flow out of mouths without process

Without love

“I thank You for Your son, Jesus Christ”

Kaleidoscope views of dreams and screwed up dreams of colors and

Colors painted over cracked lives, faded faces, blurred tears on

Old pictures

“I thank You for giving me life”

Forgotten stories bound between the lines of


Of false hopes and boy meets girl and happily ever afters

“I thank You for the plans You have for me”

But what about-

The truth?

“I thank You for keeping promises”

In this world there are no happily ever afters

Boy meets girl

Encounters and absences and empty space and

“I thank You for the trials I go through”

Boy leaves girl

Filled with damp eyes and bleeding wrists

Again and again

Over and over

Sugar-coated repetition

“I thank You, thank You, very much”

In this bitter place humanity hides

And cheeks blush with sour slaps

“I thank You for Your kindness”

Sharpened knife twists into iron hearts

Makes them flow, souls ebbing away

Inches further, puncturing the center of the universe

“I thank You for loving me, always”

Last breaths, in and out

Inconsiderate and selfish


“I thank You for saving me”

Last breaths

Glinting pupils of hatred, seconds of recognition

In and

Free after all these years



And our little lives dissolve, built on blocks of

Paper faith



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I am a victim of your words

Cutting blades of letters strung into pain

Hanging in strands of saliva from the base of your mouth to the cleft of your chin

To the unshaven cheek

I am a victim of your flesh

Gathering strength flung across my skin

Cherry marks of blood and stings like bees

Alcohol breath and dizzy eyes 

Smears of salt and discarded tissues 

I am a victim of your love

Spoken thoughts in the dark

Whisper of hands flowing

Languid movements and hushed volume

Piercing eyes melting stone statues into

Lava hearts

A fiery conjoining of two people, two souls

Two spirits


I am a victim of your love

Joyful wastes and sweet nothings 

Promises full of unfailing 

Lies, lies

Needles of pain, fresh

Holes of innocence forced from my


Stripped down to raw sin

But…I want you

I am a victim of your love

I need you

I am a victim of your flesh

I love you

I am a victim of your words 



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Please, this might be cliche, but please don’t judge a book by its cover. Don’t judge a person by his/her appearance. I know this is near impossible, but please, try and reserve any type of judgement until a real, meaningful encounter. I know that not even I have the capability of doing this, as judging is the first thing we do when we see something new or unusual or even refreshing, whether consciously or subconsciously. But I’m urging you to please limit these preconceived notions of someone or something before you fully know and understand them. If your parents are divorced or you are divorced, please don’t look at a married couple and be jealous, or allow thoughts of that kind to race through your mind. More times than not, those envied families will have problems and concerns of their own. They will not be the perfect couple, and their joyful facade may be hiding something deeper. The same goes for the other way around. Please don’t let your mind wander about how “horrible” the divorced are, or how “terrible” their life must be. Don’t think they’re a bad individual for having done what they’ve done. Everyone has their own life, everyone has their own secrets, and everyone has their own reasons. Just because someone else’s doesn’t match with yours does not justify you thinking of them any differently. 

I apologize because I realize now that this post does not really have that much to do with judgement, and I did not actually have anything new to add about this topic. I just reiterated what I thought very important. Maximize acceptance, minimize prejudice. 



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Requiem for a Dream

I just finished watching Requiem for a Dream for the first time in like three months. I have to say that this is definitely my favorite film of all time. For those of you who think it’s just about how drugs are bad and and how they’ll ruin your life, it’s not. It’s so much more. It’s a story within a story within a story within a story, and it starts with love. Love between boy and girl, mother and son, friend and friend. It’s about a mother’s love for television and a red dress, that naivete in thinking she’ll be okay, she’ll be fine, in thinking she can go back in time and beautify herself once more for the sake of the stage. It’s about three friends who think they can run their own lives without being at risk, who are caught in the midst of love and passion and lust and futures that are achievable, and yet that they fail to achieve. And it’s also about drugs and how four dreams collapse and disappear, yes. But when you watch this movie, please don’t just think drugs, think of deteriorating love and immature love and the construction and destruction of beautiful creatures and the building and falling of hopes and wishes. Think of that ending scene between Marion and Harry, that love that still remained, no matter how worn out and frayed it was. Think of Sara and Harry up on stage, finally, living out her dream in that lovely red dress. Remember all the heartbreaking, emotional, moving moments you lived with those four characters.


Every time you watch Requiem for a Dream it should be another devastating and beautiful experience. 



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Upside Down

Not the happiest poem, just a warning in advance. It might not make that much sense since my poems usually don’t flow the best, but for some of you it will strike a chord, and will resonate with understanding and familiarity, and that’s what I love about writing. This poem is called Upside Down because someone I know from a distance once called me his upside down girl, and it struck me deep inside, much like how I hope this strikes you.


Sometimes when I feel bad

I take a hit

Or I take a sip

Maybe I take a pill, too

Doctors say that’s not healthy

They say to smile when I wake up

Then I can smile through breakfast and

Smile through school

And at the end of the day

I should count up my smiles

And add it up to joy

But right now I’m standing

And cars are stopped in front of me

People are outside, yelling

I think they’re yelling at me

I don’t really know because I’m not feeling so well

A little bit down

Or a little bit sad

Maybe a little bit depressed, too

The railing isn’t really wide enough

That’s okay

I feel a bit drowsy

That’s probably from this morning

I guess doctors didn’t think of it the other way around

But I tried

I think I took too many hits

Or too many sips

Maybe too many pills last night

Fell into bed with an empty mind

Upside down

And this morning

I woke up and I remembered

I smiled

And it was too late to realize



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Nine Reasons being Asian is Awesome


This is just too funny to pass up.

Originally posted on HarsH ReaLiTy:

1) I can walk to the park and start swinging my arms around and claim it is some form of martial arts when it isn’t and people will join in.

2) My eyes are so small I don’t really need shades. I buy them anyways because they make me look badass.

3) If I am ever lost in the woods I can create a fire with the chopsticks I always have with me.

4) I throw my hands at people like I am throwing a fireball and people actually get scared. Thank you Hollywood.

5) If someone has a problem with their cell phone I can normally take it, look at it for a few minutes, tell them they need a new one, and still look smart.

6) When people ask me math questions they believe me when I quickly say an answer, any answer, and hopefully they don’t realize…

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