Category Archives: Empirical

The Obsession with Perfection

It’s 2010. I’m in high school and there’s a website called “FormSpring”, a place where people can anonymously submit thoughts, questions, or in my case, rude remarks about my physical appearance.

Pig nose. Volcano face. People asking me if I was a boy because I didn’t have much cleavage (and I still don’t!). I don’t consider myself someone who was bullied in high school because I know there are others who have had it worse and but looking back, it’s insane how these comments have stuck with me longer than most of my high school friends.

While the Internet was a damaging place for my self-esteem, it was also a place full of research. So, in high school, I looked up all the ways I could clear up my skin and then spend my $20 monthly allowance on skincare products and makeup so that I wouldn’t be called a pizza face. This was just one of many times where I did something for the sake of other people’s opinions, a habit I have not yet quit. I remember a moment when my cousin and I were looking at ourselves in the mirror, and my cousin told me that pretty girls weren’t smart and that smart girls were ugly. I looked at my reflection and thought, “I must be ugly.”

It was a strange time when former First Lady, Michelle Obama, was called a “gorilla”, even though she’s one of the smartest women out there and incredibly influential. I say strange because I had felt conflicted with myself – thinking absurd thoughts that perhaps I was ugly because I was smart, that I should give up my mind for some physical beauty if a genie ever appeared, and other unrealistic thoughts because I craved for the same attention that my pretty friends got from now-irrelevant high school boys.

Fast forward to now, eight years later, there’s Instagram, Tumblr, and tons of other websites where beautiful women are scattered and always on display – picture perfect with clear skin, amazing bodies, hair done by the gods, and flawless makeup. Both media and society are over saturated with pretty girls everywhere, creating this pressure and standard to be flawless and perfect. But there is something odd about this obsession with perfection. It appears to be never-ending.

The pressure also seems to have layers. “Oh, once I have clear skin, I’ll work on growing out my hair, but at the same time, let me go to the gym and get my body looking like this, and then I’ll get this done and then I’ll do this”—but when does it ever end?! There’s always weight loss commercials, new skincare products, new makeup products, new clothes, new shoes, new teas, new this, new that – advertisements that set the standard of how I should look and that I should buy it as soon as possible. Of course, I’m human, I feel this pressure to be pretty, so I’ve succumbed and have spent many, many paychecks on makeup and clothes, and embarrassingly enough, I even got myself into debt trying to keep up with everything and everyone.

Now, I’m a young adult, but I still struggle with my appearance and some days, I feel more insecure than I was when I was a teenager. But overall, I have more good hair days than bad, and I would say that I am more confident than I was in high school, as I’ve learned quite a bit about makeup from YouTube, but hey, I’m not saying I look like Beyoncé. To be frank, in recent years, the compliments I’ve received about my appearance definitely stroked my ego – an experience I never felt in high school – and I grew accustomed to knowing and feeling that I was less ugly. But, makeup has its limits and I can’t wear it 24/7.

For example, last year, in 2017, when I went into my now former job to pick up my paycheck, I had just gotten out of the gym so picture me sweaty, probably a little stinky, with no ounce of makeup on, and hair tied. So, when my old coworker said, “Whoa, you look so different,” I was taken back.

She wasn’t wrong. But after the recent years of being complimented and called “beautiful”, I wondered if my ego was actually fragile and I wasn’t as strong as I had thought myself to be. Of course, she shouldn’t have said that, but, a year later, I’ve realized that life isn’t a game of fairness and kind words so there will be many, many things people will say and do and the only thing I can control is my reaction. I don’t hate her for what she said, I actually thank her for saying that because it’s catapulted into this thought-provoking post, and as an aspiring writer, anyone who makes me write is someone I appreciate.

And if you’ve gotten this far, thank you! I appreciate each person who reads my content. Truly, I do. As I’ve rambled about my high school insecurities, most of them I’ve managed to “fix” with makeup and skincare, I found myself in a new situation I can’t conceal quite so easily. For most of my adolescent years and in my college years as well, I have always been skinny. Thin with ribs showing. Thighs that never rubbed together. Size 25 in jeans.

But with my lifestyle choices the past two years, I found myself at the heaviest I’ve ever been, with stretchmarks in places I had never seen before, clothes I had for years not fitting, constantly deleting photos because I couldn’t believe what I saw nor did I recognize myself, but perhaps the thing I struggled with the most and continue to struggle with are the unwarranted comments made by anyone and everyone.

I get it. I don’t look the same as before and I’m not bashing anyone, but this whole experience of being called various things from my family, friends, and others was new and is still new for me. So new that I have not managed my emotions well and to be quite honest, I cried in the bathroom of my work place last night. I was overwhelmed thinking of how much I’ve had to take in. All the comments about my weight gain, my body, and whatever else had accumulated and finally came out in the form of tears. I forgot I was human and the façade I had put up by making fun of myself had cracked and so did I. It was inevitable and it was time. I’m not invincible. I let the tears and pain run out and I woke up feeling a little bit tougher and little bit wiser.

I’ve learned an incredible lesson here, one I wouldn’t have learned if my body never changed, and for this wisdom and strength, I thank my body and I vow to be more kind to my body, because I haven’t been lately. Hating myself and hating my body is a dangerous path that leads nowhere good and I want to walk proud of what I have now.

While I begin on this journey for a healthier me, I also want to work on a new obsession. I don’t want to be constantly worrying about how I look that I forget how I act and treat others. Even though I have no control of other people’s opinions about me, I would hope that when others think of me, they disregard my physical appearance and think about how I made them feel and if I was a good friend. And it’s easy to say, “I hope they say good things about me,” but there comes a time when hope and faith doesn’t cut it and actions speak louder than words.

Nothing in life worth having ever comes easy and if I want people to think of me as an honest friend, someone who has a lot of integrity, and a woman of her word, then I have to be truthful, I have to mean what I say and say what I mean, and be there when I promise to be there. Material things such as long hair, cute clothes, and whatever else are superficial and attainable. But good friends can’t be bought and I’ve always said that if I want good friends, I myself must be a good friend. Beauty eventually fades but having heart and integrity will always be in style. And that is a trend I’ll be following forever.

Thank you for reading.

—

This is a post I wrote and posted in a few hours, which is lighting fast compared to my previous posts that take months to write and proofread, so it’s not as strong and powerful as I’d like it to be, but I wanted to share this personal post on my website because being vulnerable is important.  And if you’d like to cringe at my original post, you can find it here.

Also, today is September 9th, which means it is my friend, Andrew H’s birthday! Thank you for loving me no matter what size I am. You are kinder to me than I am to myself. Happy birthday, Andrew. No matter the distance, I value our friendship and I thank you for being my friend. You deserve the best today and forever.

Liquor & Lies

The color of crimson coated the garment you wore in the evening I saw you. False innocence was the scent of your perfume that night before it all fell apart. The aroma was sly, it passed by me swiftly, and I wondered if my senses had swindled me. Doubts swirled around my mind, I teetered on trusting you, but then I remembered that the game of playing the victim is a game where no one wins. I lost my respect for you and you lost your credibility. Everyone has flaws– some are out of our control, but some are made by choice. Your flaw? Lying.

Dishonesty is what I cannot accept and your constant lies tore me away from you. With each lie you spewed, the chances of us ever being friends again became slimmer. Now, the chance of us reuniting is thinner than a spider’s silk. With the web of lies you’ve spun, I found myself just hanging on a thread of hope that maybe you could change and we could salvage what is left of our friendship. But second chances are next to impossible to grasp, like a whisper in the wind dancing in the ever flowing air.

Perhaps you never listened or perhaps, it’s my own fault for never telling you how much I detest liars and I revere honesty above anything else. Am I to blame for assuming that you’d know that lying isn’t fair in any friendship? As the months passed and the seasons changed, I grew tired of being disappointed by your lies, like an autumn leaf loses its vibrancy and life as the cold and bitter winter strikes. You were just another friend who was not meant to be my friend. This cycle of losing friends has made me wonder, “Is it me?” The unpredictable occurrence of losing a friend is an art I’ll never comprehend.

Every human is a living piece of art and I had painted this picture of you with soft trusting colors of lighthearted pastels and rays of yellows and light blues, a budding friendship between us had been planted and I wanted us to bloom. But, I questioned if my vision was hazy and not fully the truth. When I took off my rose-tinted glasses, I saw the latent lies that had been hiding between the lines. You were a magician but the magic wore off and I no longer believed you. The tricks you had up your sleeve had no effect and the game of smoke and mirrors was a game you could no longer play.

And when there is smoke, there is fire. It may have been that I had mistaken your warmth for something gentle and comforting, but you were a coal that was going to burn me to the bone if I had not let you go. No amount of liquor would allow me to accept your lies back into my life. I burn bridges not for the destruction and dismay, but for the light and the new pathway it creates. It becomes easier to see that certain routes with certain people are not journeys to take, but to steer clear of and forget. I’m certainly no saint for we are all sinners in this world but my version of forgiveness is letting you go and I pray for your growth and prosperity.

Perhaps, from the ashes of our friendship, you will rise from the cinders as a phoenix: brilliant, resilient, and revering honesty as much as I do. I’ll watch you fly and hear about the stories of how high you soar but I will not be flying with you. Your journey is one I am no longer aligned with – our paths crossed for a moment in time but this time, you will go east and I north, a fate with a guarantee of never crossing paths again.

The Moment I Knew

Before I left to college, I deleted all of our pictures so that both my laptop and I could let go of the megabytes and memories. I wiped it clean to feel some sense of a new start without you. I had more space on my laptop for new memories with new people and the space between you and me became apparent, only to me, selfishly I will admit. We continued to talk but you never knew I had erased most of our memories from the digital space. I was undeserving of your loyalty but deep inside, my soul sought a new perfection. A new piece to the ever-changing puzzle of my persona and I knew I was going to change, for my piece was destined to be too small to fit into your space and yours too big for my future.

The moment I left whatever was left of us, it was a moment long overdue. But, I was a coward to not let you know how I had been feeling. I robbed you of the truth and the respect you deserved and now, there is no proper payback for how I wronged you. You were ghosted and now, evil spirits have arrived. I left a storm for you alone to get past while I abandoned you, leaving you in the past.

Confusion, betrayal, and anger are all mixed in the air and you try to find an answer in a room full of questions. White lies and wrongful whispers from the wind make their way to you and you hear scattered pieces of the truth from everyone but me.

I admit, I deserve the reputation I have because I didn’t give you an ounce of honesty. When it comes to love, there are responsibilities one must commit to and I left you on your own to figure out the mystery of what went wrong. But, you’re right, all I do is run away from my problems. It’s an embarrassing solution and not one I pretend to have never practiced. What I did was nothing new to you but it meant a new start for me.

I disconnected from you because I no longer felt a connection – the lively spark that once ran wild in our laughter and loud nights ran out. Light turned into gloom. I couldn’t find you in the dark. Despite the fact that there was so much life in the nonchalant and naive conversations we had years ago, I couldn’t live in the past anymore to find solace with your current actions and behavior. I closed the book on the story of us with no way of allowing anyone, not you and not I, to read between the lines of blank pages.

Now, we’re on adventures without each other, making history in different books in separate libraries and lives. I lacked the confidence to let you know I was leaving, and in some twisted fashion, I can only say that I have enough confidence, right now, to let you know that I won’t be coming back.

I know you feel the same.

The moment I knew, I was 17. That moment never left, even years later.
It wasn’t until I was 22 I was certain we were over.
23, I see that the storm hasn’t settled and the cloud of rain continues to reigns over your head. I’m not asking for forgiveness, I know I don’t deserve it. I just hope the best for you.

Why Are You Angry?

Looking back on 2017, I am unimpressed. Majority of it has to do with myself and of course, the tragic events that occurred across the world that was out of my control. Disappointment barely scratches the surface of the reflection I have of last year. Self reflection is like trying to swim in murky water because I really don’t know where I’m headed. Am I going to dive into a dark and cold space of hating myself and not finding any treasures or does the water clear up because I realize that it’s all about positive perspective?

On the first day of 2018, I asked one of my friends, CT, what she was going to be working on this year. She mentioned inner happiness and fueling her creative soul. I noted that I need to work on my anger issues and my temper. Even typing out the word “temper” shocks me because most of my life, I rarely got angry and never described myself as someone with anger issues. But in college, I found myself lashing out at others, unable to handle this alien emotion of “anger”, and never focused on repairing the situation, only putting a band-aid on a wound that needed to be dissected deeply in order to be understood.

Therapy is expensive and until I have the proper answers from professionals, I can only assume and guess what is triggering my anger. I would love to put the blame on my stepdad, but to what extent can I point the finger at him and for how much longer? Not taking responsibility for my mistakes and episodes means I’ll continue to run amok, not caring about repercussions, even though I see the damage. Labelling myself as somewhat of a villain is justified because in my perspective, I know what I’m doing, I know it’s not right, but I do it anyway. I believe that humans are various shades of evil and good, but my behavior has been reckless and red with anger.

I could blame it on stress and explain that my bouts of anger is a form of letting out excessive negative energy. But what makes my stress unique and an excuse to be nasty to others? There is no excuse. Being cruel to myself is one thing, but being cruel to others is another. So this year, I will work on being kinder, less impulsive, and less reactive. My friend, CT, said not everything deserves a reaction and I shouldn’t waste my time and energy on every incident that upsets me. While I believe life is short and I shouldn’t refrain myself from speaking upon issues I feel passionate about… at the same time, life is too short to be spending it angry at the world.

“Anger is a manifestation of a deeper issue… and that, for me, is based on insecurity, self-esteem and loneliness.” – Naomi Campbell

“Speak when you are angry – and you’ll make the best speech you’ll ever regret.” – Laurence J. Peter

“For every minute you remain angry, you give up sixty seconds of peace of mind.” – Ralph Waldo Emerson

Let’s Reflect: 2017

Wow.

That’s all I can say, sarcastically and literally. 2017… was not what I expected it to be. And this shall be a raw post – so no massive editing and no overthinking over many weeks and months on a post. I will post this as is. So expect many grammar AND spelling mistakes and a tangent from my usual choice of “fancy” words, hah. 2017 went by so fast and furious but not in the way I wanted it to be. Setting expectations for myself that I didn’t meet – and being the hardest critic I know – I know that no one was more disappointed in myself than, well, myself.

In the Spring, I was enrolled in community college, but out of anxiety, I dropped the class and fell into a depression. I will be honest, as I should be, as we all should be, I wanted to die. I wanted to not be alive. I wanted to see black. I felt so much darkness and it almost consumed me to death. Moving back home was one of the reasons why I wasn’t as happy as I used to be in Southern California, seeing my stepdad constantly, and not finding a full-time job really hurt my self-esteem and made me question my self-worth. I judged myself in such a harsh manner that I mentally could not handle it. I hated myself. If anyone in 2017 said they hated me, trust me, I hate myself enough for the both of us. Maybe three times more.

I honestly did not want to write a reflection post for 2017. Why? Because I felt – at the time – that I had nothing remarkable to comment on. I still don’t have a full-time job, I’m more insecure than ever with my body and self-esteem, and not meeting the goals I set for myself. But after hearing about a certain YouTuber’s video in the Suicide Forest of Japan, this thought ran across my mind: my little sisters saved me from myself, my depression, and they made me want to live.

Moving back home wasn’t glamorous nor was it the funnest thing that ever occured in my life. I felt like the amount of friends I had diminished and I felt incredibly alone. In SoCal, I wasn’t alone. At least, I didn’t feel alone. In Sacramento, feeling alone was an emotion I feared and hated. Why? because it got to me. Because I believed it. Because i wwasn’t strong enough to power through and keep myself positive. But those times I felt alone – 90% of it was when I was alone in my room, in my bed, before I fell asleep, so it was the devilishly perfect recipe for the loneliness to hit and hurt me.

But what made me not want to be dead was the times my little sisters unconciously made me feel alive. Whenever they cracked a joke, I laughed and felt a spark I hadn’t in a while. When they said something cute or drew me something, I felt… appreciated and noticed. That kept me pushing. I wanted to spoil and thank my little sisters and I couldn’t do that if I committed suicide. My little sisters are my role models. They are smarter than me, taller than me, and have better skin than me, hahaha. And to be their big sister, to have that responsibility, it made me feel like I had a purpose. Before I moved home, my little sisters didn’t really get along with each other and they seemed like strangers. I noticed how everyone had dinner at different times and in different spaces of our house. Now, we all eat dinner together and laugh together. My little sister, Lucy, surprisingly sits in the back of my car with my other two little sisters when we go to Target or get boba.

So. So what if I haven’t landed the full-time job with health benefits and a 401k that I’ve been covetting and chasing ever since I graduated college? So what if I’ve gained 20 unhealthy pounds and feel insecure about my body? So what. SO WHAT. It wouldn’t even matter if i had a full-time job if I was depressed and about to kill myself. I’ve been depressed many times before when I was skinny. So what is this random, unprofessional, not put together post all about? 2017 had a lot of down falls, negativity, and not so fun times that I could dwell on. But that is NOT what this blog, website, track of my written word, whatever this is, is about. This is about GROWTH. This is about looking at the POSITIVES. In 2017, I didn’t give into the darkness. In 2017, my mom and I went to the gym together for the first time ever. In 2017, I made new friends. In 2017, I didn’t dip into my savings account at all. In 2017, I chose to live. And I hope I continue to do so in 2018. and 2019. and so on. Because life is worth living. And I have my little sisters to thank for that and so much more.

So to Lucy, Lily, and Lina – I love you. Happy New Year, everyone!

Are You Comfortable?

Screen Shot 2017-07-09 at 11.46.13 PM

During my first year of college, I disconnected myself from a toxic relationship and to say it was facile and fast would be a lie. I contemplated my decision and often went back and forth – I almost did not go through with my decision – but thankfully, I did. Granted, it was not a graceful gesture nor was I pleasant and polite in the process. But, when is it ever a cozy experience abandoning an area we deem comfortable?

Of course – I must digress – there are specific situations where being comfortable is more than ideal, such as being comfortable with one’s body and looks. I apologize for the tangent, but being comfortable with my physical appearance is an item I still struggle with and often find myself far less than comfortable with how I look. So, in this instance, being comfortable is the goal.

But, when does the state of comfort become a hinderance? In situations where comfort leads to being lethargic, it’s a limitation we might not often notice. Comfort can be damaging and preventing us from achieving more.

I thought about this while driving and even more dangerously, I wrote down the lines while driving. In stagnant and nearing dead end relationships, comfort is like sleeping while being entangled by silk sheets, surrounded by lush softness and satisfaction. But, when we wake up from the hazy dream, we realize there are no silk sheets but rather a snake strangling us in bed. Stiff with no positive movement is how I would describe past friendships I have let go for the betterment of all involved.

As I typed this, I asked myself the question, “Are you comfortable?”

At first, I answered, “Yes.” Then, I changed my mind and said, “No.” I suppose for certain aspects of my life, I am quite comfortable and in other areas, I am not comfortable at all. However, that answer is terribly vague and does no justice for my goal of being vulnerable. Therefore, that answer is unacceptable. To provide a proper answer, I will divulge and divide my thoughts into categories.

❖ Friendships ❖

I am both comfortable and uncomfortable. I would say that I am content with the quality friends I have in my life but I will frankly admit I do miss my old friends and wish they could forgive me. But to accept what is done, I often remind myself that I dug my own grave and now have to tend the flowers at the site of what once was a beautiful friendship. On the other side of the spectrum, making new friends is exciting and scary at the same time. Being vulnerable, having to build trust, sharing laughter and secrets, all these acts slowly build a bond and while it’s been fun, I still have my worries and self-destructive habits to work on. Being vulnerable is uncomfortable but I truly believe that with risk comes reward.

“Friendship is always a sweet responsibility, never an opportunity.” – Khalil Gibran

“Friendship is the only cement that will ever hold the world together.” – Woodrow T. Wilson

❖ Forgiveness ❖

On the topic of forgiveness, it’s an area I have not found my way around and often wish I had the light my friends have to be able to get through this unknown territory. I remember one night, years ago, I submitted a Reddit post saying that I’ll eventually forgive my stepdad but now, I am not so sure. The concept of forgiving my stepdad seemed plausible when I was over 400 miles away from him, but now that I’m less than 40 feet away from him, the possibility of forgiveness seems impossible. But the concept of forgiveness seems one sided if I wish that my former friends could forgive me but I can’t seem to forgive others. It’s selfish and not what I want to be in this harsh world. Perhaps, I can forgive others in my own manner: slowly, but surely.

“Anger is an acid that can do more harm to the vessel in which it is stored than to anything on which it is poured.” – Mark Twain

“Anger makes you smaller, while forgiveness forces you to grow beyond what you were.” – Cherie Carter-Scott

“When you hold resentment toward another, you are bound to that person or condition by an emotional link that is stronger than steel. Forgiveness is the only way to dissolve that link and get free.” – Katherine Ponder

“A life lived without forgiveness is a life lived in the past.”
— Asa Don Brown

The Act of Ossification

ossification

It’s officially been one year since I’ve moved back home. Before this anniversary, there have been more than several moments where I am struck with an uncomfortable thought. It’s the realization of how I haven’t softened and if anything, I’ve remained rigid and restricted. I’ve reflected on the past several months about the woman I aspire to be – the person I am working myself to become – just to realize I am nowhere close.

To put it simply, I feel that I am regressing. Unknowingly, the cold suit of armor I had not asked to wear has been reapplied on me. I’ve been on guard, two fold, and though I feel protected with my weapons, I cannot deny the feeling of loneliness.

I must state this – I do not fear being alone and independent. I fear only when the capacity to handle the feeling of being lonely reaches its limit and I am left with anger, tears, regret, and fear.

Fear of the darkness consuming me and the forbidden thoughts appear. Fear of allowing those menacing thoughts to be my reality.

I forget I am human and not a steel mechanical robot. Perhaps, in another life, I will be less fearful and more forgiving.

If there was a genie to grant me one wish, I would wish to be softer. I wish I could let people in and trust them, too. I wish I would stop running away from potential friends and lovers. Being vulnerable brings about numerous fears and the stakes are high. Being vulnerable continues to be the task at hand – a task I find myself attempting but failing.

But, being vulnerable is the epitome of the human experience. Being vulnerable means taking chances, making mistakes, but also making memories and creating relationships that fill our souls. I constantly sway on this pendulum of going back and forth with vulnerability. Curious, I’ll take one step out, and with the flashbacks of my past of being hurt and wronged, I take that same step back.

In the realm of wizardry and wonder, I could become fearless and take every risk without fear with simply a spell and the flick of a wand.

However, this is the real world, and in the real world, there are no mystical genies. There is no potion I can ingest to eradicate all the walls I’ve built. But, however, perhaps the magic of it all is that I don’t need a genie, spells, or any type of sorcery. No witchcraft is needed and I also don’t need to wait for my next life to be who I wish to be. I often forget that we, as individuals, have the power to do so much without the help of anyone or anything. I may have a cold suit of armor on but it is not my skin, it’s merely a shield and a removable one at that.

Thank you for reading.

* I also wanted to wish my dear friend, Andrew Scott H., a happy birthday. Thank you for allowing me to be in your life and thank you for staying in my life. You’ve seen me at my most embarrassingly vulnerable moments and have never loved me less. Being vulnerable with you is easy and never a regret. Happy birthday, my old friend.

Dear Dad(s),


I often wonder when we would meet, if ever.
I wish we never ever met.

I hate you for not being there for me all these days.
I hate you for being there in all the wrong ways.

I wish you never left. I wish you stayed. I’ll admit that I see you as the knight who never was the hero — the person who could have saved me from the dragon — but I suppose you were another battle I had to fight. This fairytale I write of you being the alternative ending to my distorted reality — I hold onto this false hope — but perhaps you are a dragon, too. Your missing presence adds to my story and my strength. I made cards for a father who would never hold and cherish the papers. I write letters that will never be seen or held, as I to you. 
I wish you left me alone. You stayed far too long. You are overdue company — a guest who’s stayed unrightfully for ages in my abode. You were a false knight in shining armor. You concealed your malicious scales — silver I confused for your suit of armor — and revealed yourself to be a grotesque dragon. A witch casted a spell which turned you sadistic and now I’m another girl who’s a proven statistic. I wish there were potions for us both to be cured — me of your toxic touch, and you of your morbid mind.

Because of you, I live life questioning if I’ll ever find you. If I could, I’d ask you how you had the audacity to leave a woman you loved and a child you brought into this world. My childhood curiosity remains an enigma to this moment and time. The answer may sting and my eyes might swell but I’ve built myself to be a warrior, not a worrier.
Because of you, I live life in fear because I know there are men like you. Even if I could, I wouldn’t ask you how you had the audacity to rob a child of her innocence and destroy her childhood. There are no justifiable reasons to excuse your abominable behavior. You stained my soul when you tarnished my body with your corrupt touch.

I wish you taught me how to ride a bike — all my friends learned from their fathers. Maybe you taught my half-siblings in Canada. 
I wish you never taught me to triple check that my bedroom door is locked at night. Maybe I’ll keep this habit forever.

I wish you were here to show me all the good there is in this world.
I wish you had never shown me what sins exist in this world.

To you both: Some lessons in life are learned in the most undesirable ways. I value learning and wisdom, so in this twisted manner, I have to thank you two. Thank you for teaching me the disappointing lesson that we should never have expectations for anyone, not even our own parents. I do not need a father or a father figure in my life. Thank you for not being there and thank you for not doing what was right, because I’ve learned to be tenacious and I doubled my ferocity to be what you could not.

Sincerely Not Your Daughter,
Lynn Ly

Author’s Note: This post is an old Tumblr post I’ve revamped. Unfortunately, I was unable to find the original post. It could possibly be deleted or is lost in my archives. The italicized lines are for my biological father and non-italicized are for my stepfather. This is a personal post for me but I felt it was necessary to be vulnerable and honest with my emotions and thoughts. I hope you enjoy and as always, thank you for reading.

dear