at 10:36 am, january 11, 2023

tweets: a series of short thoughts each under 280 characters jotted down sporadically over a period of time

dec 28, at 1:24 pm: the dead live on through memories.

feb 28, at 6:18pm: all the important conversations happen at mealtime.

dec 31, at 9:28 am: 21 years of age, but i still do not think i do enough. 2023; new year, new me, new year new me, new year, new me-- or so i'd like to believe.

                  9:32 am: it's been raining all week, all day. as a result, i am trapped within my own
                  brain again.

                  9:34 am: reflections on who am i, what am i, what will i do. i just want to go to sleep.

                  9:38 am: can't have a moment of relaxation without overthinking. overfeeling.

jan 1, at 11:20 pm: people who are good with words are a menace to society.

jan 9, at 8:36 pm: youth is like the springtime of my life.

at 9:23 pm, saturday october 21, 2023

my little neighborhood

i’ll never forget the way the late afternoon rays through the train windows were cast,
as familiar white fences and overpasses i never set foot upon hurtled past.
those endless train rides spent looking out the windows with my earbuds plugged in
made me feel like a main character at last.

my neighbor who looked up every day from his backyard of overgrown lawn
as his old dog sat in the backdoor entryway to look on;
searching the skies for a person, or perhaps a long lost memory.

on the abandoned (during the weekends) elementary school grounds,
i often laid on the cold concrete over the running track etchings without a sound,
reflecting on pasts,
muddling over presents,
and imagining futures with people no longer around.

i remember on the walks home on these streets past the local filipino joint,
the ube colored sky watched as i fought against the san franciscan winds
(my bangs: 0, the wind: 1 point).

in the ghost of the now closed supermarket with it’s forever blinking ‘open’ sign,
it was here once upon a time that a little girl danced
through its corridors of vermicelli, black bean sauce, chocopies, and shaoxing wine.

these moments on pause feel like a figment of my imagination;
but perhaps one day i’ll stand on those quiet streets once more
to bring their stillness back in motion.

written while listening to:
why do you love me? - cocteau twins

at 10:43 am, monday may 20, 2024

a collection of silly thoughts

life is too short to not be enjoying things!
life is too short to not
      wear pretty clothes
      buy cute things
      move to where i want to live
      do the useless things i want to do
      lay around doing nothing for hours when i feel like it
      live the way i want to live

there are so many people in my life that i’ve known for only short amounts of time that end up not in my life anymore, like a trace of memory lingering in the wind... but their impact on me at that moment of time in my life is worthy of my love. they will always be a part of me in the smallest of ways, even if it is a fleeting glimpse of remembrance from time to time. i’ll always remember the love, as sunny days feel a bit warmer thanks to you. (thank you for being a part of my life!)

i feel a bit sad that you’re no longer there where i usually find you. sorry that i wasn’t a bigger presence in your life. maybe in another universe i could be your everything. only time will heal this heartbreak, i know it. but just for today, i’ll hurt a little, as a reminder that you exist.

at 6:10 pm, june 8, 2024

we had a saying back in the village

one cannot know one’s own strength without first journeying far and wide.
weirdly enough, most of us don’t really know ourselves. not until we’re forced to act. same for everyone...

when you start accepting your own weakness... is that when you can start sensing weakness in others?

it’s true... we aren’t friends. but what we have comes close to friendship. i believe that.
      is that even okay for an executioner?
i still bear in mind our respective positions. and i do not mean to excuse your crimes, whatever they may be. but we’ve touched upon something here.
executioners are human too. connections we make lead to genuine feelings. in the short yet rich time we’ve spent together, we’ve cut deep to expose our hearts... extracted them... and felt them. through feeling like that, we observe that samurai are no different from convicts. we are made up of blood and flesh and bone and a great desire to live.
      it’s no different from a dissection.
      your analogy’s heading into risky territory.
so i say, for the first and last time... from the bottom of my own heart, i wish for a safe return for all of us. though you will not hear that from me again.

- fuchi yamada asaemon, jigokuraku (hell's paradise)

at 2:41 pm, june 24, 2024

hong kong, your neon lit streets embrace me like a soul searching for it’s way back home

at 6:10 pm, june 8, 2024

distant memory

after talking with a friend today, i was sudden hit with a huge wave of nostalgia. and a sudden feeling of distance (with people). i suddenly felt like i’ve been living in a bubble, the way i’ve been. which makes sense, for where i am physically. but listening to other peoples’ lives, and reminiscencing on memories i used to have with others, and moments that will not happen again... i realize that there are so many memories that i will never be able to relive. and something about that makes me incredibly sad... to think that are moments that we can remember every detail about because of how important and impactful they were to us, but to never be able to be repeated. i guess that’s why people make movies/films, to relive certain moments that can not be relived through again. and hearing about how others lived, made me reflect on how i’ve been living my life. i realize that i have been content with living a very simple life, with a minimal amount of people and interactions in my life, and that has felt like a bubble all of a sudden. am i missing out on things in life? on people in life? i suddenly remember the vibrancy of my life back in undergrad, and suddenly remember the moments, the people, everything. it’s crazy to think that some moments were my last with certain people, to think that there are people that i saw almost every day but will now never see again simply because we are not fated to be around forever in each others’ lives. something about that is just so crazy, to think that there are so many people in my life that i will never see again. is it crazy to want to see people again, even if their impact was miniscule? what do i need to do to relive those moments again, in those specific places... i am suddenly hit with a sadness that can not be recuperated. i realize that the only option to cure this nostalgia is to make new memories and live in the present. meet new people to heal the pain, new moments to band-aid. only then can i live on without looking back.

i really miss the love, the hugs, the memories. i feel grateful that i was able to experience all these, really. i think i’ll carry this love i have in me for an eternity.

i realize that i am not good at keeping up with friends. i find it difficult to constantly keep up or text friends, and am more of someone who has lots of stories to share when i see them once in a while. sometimes i wish i was better at keeping up with people often, but i want to think that there is a magic to seeing people once a year, because catching up with these friends feels like opening a non-physical time capsule.

i hope that i’ve been able to leave something meaningful to everyone i have ever crossed paths with. whether a friendship that will last for the rest of our lives, a place where we had a conversation, a certain media that reminds me of them because i said i liked it, a piece of clothing that’s similar to what i wore, a song recommendation.

i realize that i desire connection, and not just any connection. connections that are soul-baring, earth-quaking, history-writing, that leave me stripped vulnerable.

written while listening to:
ame - macaroom
pride - datfootdive

at 11:59 pm, july 10, 2024

motorcycle.

i won't ever forget when i rode on the back of a motorcycle for the first time.
afterparty, you offered to take me home.
it had just rained so the seats were wet.
the cold winds numbed my face and combed my hair,
but your warmth as i leaned in with my arms around your waist kept me grounded.
through these familiar streets and into the quiet but bustling night,
in that moment i felt infinite.

at 10:15 pm, august 8, 2024

itchy.

it's august, the approaching sunset of the summer.

i drown the early morning sounds of my parents arguing downstairs in the living room with the low background buzz of the tv.

mother nags me to not wear green this month because in my culture, august is the month when the ghosts of the dead roam among the living.

the humid air sticks to my skin. i am desperate for change.

the mosquito bites on my legs are especially itchy this year; however, i can no longer tell if this uncontrollable itch are from them or inside my brain.