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·jaemi (JEH-mee) · you're all hot, i'm not ·i write too much cos i'm a whiney emo boy ·燦爛たる paeonia this work is licensed under a creative commons attribution-noderivs 3.0 unported licence.  % of sorrow gone

[evanescent-almond]

my hands shook as i typed out this letter.

[evanescent-almond]

summed up:

i wanted you to be the robin to my ted and cos i’m a wallflower that would do anything for you, i’m often still stuck in your head so you wanted me to be the charlie to your sam somewhere in between how i met your moms, love, and fam ending up like charlotte sometimes characters michael and lori an important piece of your private life, but still just another story for you to tell only your closest friends when you’re drunk or too sleepy, so i guess it all depends on how sober and how conscious you’ll stay weekly. over these next few years of our youth. i’ll take a floor seat to know if you’ll want less of me. but i’m pretty sure it’ll be more, see? even if you’d rather it not be. you kinda still love me in between the confusion of the middle and the relief of the end; becoming more aged yet more grounded and more free.

[evanescent-almond]

recently, i’ve been feeling like the protagonist from charlotte sometimes. how many moments will i give you peppered with deep existential realizations, cafe ventures, and laughter that rings through you warmer than florida summer nights? i’ve been trying to figure out what will happen in the future, but i’m pretty sure my parents have overdone that, ruining it for me as of late. they worry about my own future more than enough. i don’t think they look forward to theirs, because every turn they make they crash into semis and compact cars. my mother cries some nights when she thinks i’m resting, and i know she’s scared about which day is gonna throw her a 16 wheel from out of her blind spot. i don’t know how to comfort her because i’m not even a licensed driver. but enough about automobiles. i’m almost 19, and everyone i i used to know has disappeared. some of them are now out of state, others are at different schools. some of them attend my college; they look the same, but their souls must have transferred with those of others. they are not the same people. i guess i’d be a hypocrite if i spoke of that negatively. 3 years ago, i hated myself. 2 years ago, i wasn’t enough of a person for myself to hate. a year ago, i took a walk during the dark and early am of morning and found a dead body on the side of the road, one of someone who had been neglected for a long time. the rotting corpse gave me feelings of nostalgia, joy, and relief. i occupied that body, went home, took a lengthy shower, and looked at myself in the mirror. i had to adjust to the new acquirement of my former bones, but it didn’t take long. kinda like riding a bike... it was a few weeks ago that i was reminded of you. i don’t know what it was. so many things remind me of you;  honestly speaking, i think my old feelings for you just like finding excuses to resurface. i’ve gone through so much since we last spent time together. do you remember that? before you switched schools, we hung out a bit and you told me of the dream you had that i was in. you were trapped in your dream, overcrowded with people who wanted to talk really loud, who wanted to bump into you deliberately. you almost wept, feeling the sorrow sink into your heart. but then, i arrived, beckoned you to an open little diner. we got a table and you sat down with me. i talked to you about life, asked how yours was going, etc. all the voices dissipated as soon as i smiled, and as soon as i began to speak to you. you felt loved, and God knew that my love reached your soul even as it was recharging, during your nightly rest. then you woke up. flash forward to today. i still care about you so fuckin much. i’m sick. it’s ridiculous. and you’re with him, and that’s okay. i’m actually not jealous or angry, and i’m okay. 6 girls have tried to date me in the past 2 months but i still have feelings only for you and that’s okay. it’s all okay. you’re one of my best friends, our connection can withstand the test of time-bombs set to 0, i don’t know if you’ll be happy with who you’re with, but God knows best, He gave me His word you’ll be where you need to, and it’s okay. it’s all okay. i might get signed to a label for performing the music you inspired, i might tour with lolawolf in a year or 2 if things go well. i have music flowing from my mouth, love enrapturing my attitude, and pain to overcome caused by a father that showed me exactly what not to do when it comes to love. i don’t want to be around him anymore, i’m worried about making it out there in the world, and it’s okay. i wouldn’t be the exact same person when it comes to knowing whether or not romance exists and it’s thanks to you. i can’t use those pieces of knowledge on the person that taught them to me, but that’s okay. i’m so comforted by the One who made my breathing possible, who turned my self-harm into self-love, and who introduced me to you. and He told me it’s all gonna be okay. so don’t feel guilty, okay? don’t think this friendship is gonna be ruined by my nighttime fantasies; don’t expect me to hate your boyfriend just because i’m still falling for you. don’t try to give me pity due to me making a mess out of myself everytime we talk. just don’t worry about me. you don’t have to. really. don’t worry, okay?

[souldiggin]

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[evanescent-almond]

you wanted to spark up fireworks & stogies but i wanted to spark up a revolution.

[evanescent-almond]

as the night grew even colder, the souls of so many fellow humans came together in a single stone during that moment of quiescence. i held the warm & tiny thing in my hand, raising it to my lips while saying a prayer. i pass a couple that i often see around campus, the younger girl nudging her significant other, eyes on us as she whispers ‘hey, look at that. i think they’re in love.’

[evanescent-almond]

i couldn’t do it. i couldn’t stay strong, healthy, happy, and relentlessly kind this year. i usually love as much as i hurt but… last night, i was heavily wounded and i let that affect my soul as much as my fragile skin. see it break open like a pierced veil. look at this brimming apple within my chest that is beginning to rot, irreversible decay. witness my hands shift from open and reached out to self-embracing & shakey hesitances. ‘what do i hold?’ they ask at the same time, i shrugging. they stare at each other and ask me ‘how long do we hug for this to not feel forced?’ i wish i knew the answer to that. ‘how do we kiss each other in order to pray and really mean it?’ well, i wish i knew the answer to that as well.

[evanescent-almond]

i wrote this on the back of napkins you dried your eyes with at a thai restaurant

i’ve begun to realise how much i needed this (time spent getting to know you as a person). it saddens me to know how similar our fathers are. if either of us had 3 dollars for every time we’ve heard our mothers cry, how well off would our families have been by now? us being broke came with being broken. i want to help refurbish your heart, even when you take a break from doing it yourself. we’ll take shifts, our hands calloused by the end, our knees weak, our bones heavier than anchors found sunken into the sea floor. we were meant to meet, miel. i want to be the best friend i can be to you. all of you friends that i’ve made these past 2 years: timothius, you’re my fellow soldier. dongseng, you’re my sibling soulmate extraordinaire. panda, i hope i haven’t hurt you because you’re a passionate spirit. angelo, same for you (and i want to hang out soon as well. maybe go to another concert) & soojin, i haven’t seen you in such a long while. i hope your new boyfriend is as lovely to you as you made him out to be a year back. you’re all so far from me yet so close to the phantom of my pair of hands found in the years prior. it’s been too long since i’ve built up strength into all of you, complete with encouragement and unfaltering loyalty. and miel, i’m glad it was only four yesterdays from yesterday that you gave me a hand-hug as i stepped out of your car, my phone to my right ear & cousin on the other line. the future embedded within my palm that the middle-aged fortune-teller down on vermont told me of met yours, two lives to come entwined in a moment of friendly expression. an hour ago, i was pawing through your sent texts on my phone. scuba had just dropped me off home & i compared your messages to my journal entries, stats to field notes, love letter to diary musings. how strange we are in our unique similarities. i met you on easter day, 2012: commemorating the new beginning for yeshua’s physical presence, a new beginning for a strong friendship that i didn’t see coming. this was before i knew that your voice put mockingbirds to shame, that you have such a large heart that it gives you chest pain during some evenings, that your family situation was an ongoing war (your dad currently awol, you and your sister pow camp survivors). this was before i knew how close we would become. looking back now, the bond between you & me is proof that God answers prayers. too often, we look to the sky for signs of a miracle when God gives it to us in the form of wingless angels all the time. we come guised as poets, dreamers, friends, & taxi cab drivers (sometimes, a mixture of all four). i want to develop in these important affections and spread them to the people who are not versed in that language of care. existence is like an episodic blur of television misadventures and i don’t want tomorrow to be a rerun of last season. renew mine for another go, capture these moments with your irises of prior discontent, and keep in mind that just because it starts out bad or slow doesn’t mean it won’t become worth going through with. the people upstairs in the back have seen the script for the end, and they told me to let you know it’s beautiful, it hurts, but it’s all you ever needed.

[evanescent-almond]

a few days ago, i took my dad to a korean bbq restaurant. my dad spoke in a tone of supremacy whilst my thoughts spoke in whispers abundant: ‘this man before you has fought for you and hurt you more than you can bear. he may be the reason you oppose war so very much.’ the washing of hands in the single restroom, staring at a menu trying not to lose hope in the calm. just a young black boy with his pops on a side of town maybe too unfamiliar, both of us in socks, sandals, and dark hoodie sweaters. spicy chicken, reminiscing on how faulty our bonds are within the household. seasoned fries, sips of juice, a foray into a one-way conversation. when it came to the topic of my personality, the auditory lilt of exchanging words stopped for a good 20+seconds, my hands folded on the table as my dad stared into my irises. very seriously, he asked, ‘do you know what i see when i look at you?’ i responded only with tilting my head, as if to say ‘i don’t think so; tell me.’ he continued, ‘i see an anorexic girl: young, skinny to the bone, who looks into the mirror and thinks she’s fat.’ i soaked the words in like sponge absorbing lighter fluid. but the thing is, so many times he’s tried to point out my insecurities to me even though he helped cause them. i thought i was past this: putting some of the blame on him. yet the reason i can’t stop remembering the abuse (physical, mental, verbal) is because i’m worried that it will seep into his actions again. and because every day i see him, i’m grateful that he works to feed us and pay bills but i still cannot undo the damage he’s inflicted. how can we find the courage in forgiving others when we can’t even forgive ourselves? how can we find closure in putting the pain of the past behind us when that pain keeps on showing up in the present? how do i stop victimising myself when my mother’s talks always turn into therapy sessions, my little brothers’ childhoods reflections of my own due to the neglect i’ve managed to inherit, my father’s encouragements into arguments and his hellos into silent goodbyes? i just want to love you like i love my friends, my cousin, my heroes. rinsing my palms in the loo near the kitchen and wiping them dry, i still feel dirty. teach me how one crafts poetry books out of trees without taking an integral part of it with them. show me the miracle of mercy; the painstakingly difficult ways of healing the wound of a recently deceased spirit.

[evanescent-almond]

i'm one of the men working in a kitchen, serving strong & inspiring people their food & cleaning up their plastic waste. i pick up the phone during break & i know it's you before i even answer it. the caller id's never the same number but it always states oxnard as the location. you're still locked up in there, but i'm still locked up inside. tonight is a bit different. you open up to me as i to you. you tell me about the night you got saved: 22 january, 2015. a true grandeur tale of the girl slashing her wrists with broken glass, pepper spray in her eyes, an unwilling mindset to accomplish this graphic desire. you & the other inmates are rushed into your cells, i scribble notes with my quivering tongue. you & sabrina exorcise demons out of your spine, evil spirits from your chest, every wrongdoing from the bare wrists you hold together & dear. someone mentions my name over the microphone in the next room, followed by the laughs of adored women but i'm trying to focus on the recounting that's being held up to my ear. 'we prayed that shit out. Satan tried to attack us but i know He's with me. we used His name & His power to release that stuff from us. and i mean... i can't explain it, jemi. i swear. it's like trying to describe how water tastes, or how oxygen smells, you know?' i listen intently there in the cold night on that english ministry curb chair and i love you. it's 2004 and we're young and i love you. it's 1977 and our mothers are still sisters that live in the same house, telling each other stories of street encounters and going to catholic church every sunday, not knowing that the souls of their children have met in heaven and i'm blessed enough to be one of them and i love you even then. it's your wedding ceremony & you've grown tremendously; eyes all around watching you & some judging you, yet one pair still remains admiring & nothing but & i love you. it's the day of my death and/or yours and it's painful but i love you. throughout and despite everything (every argument, sleepover, laugh, hug, & late-night farewell phone call), i love you like crazy; like tom cruise crazy, like set your ex's house on fire right after break-up crazy. our conversation's cut short, i can't call back, and i wait all night. the am hours greet me like an unsavoury candy flavour. i can't help but cry. i can't help but yearn for my little cousin, my darling princess, my dear love.

[evanescent-almond]

you plan on becoming a global missionary/activist, helping starved little black children in africa yet you still fear the harmless black people living down your own street. please check your head & heart first; don't expect to grow in thought & passion later when you have almost none of it at all today. how are you gonna cross oceans to commit yourself to do something you can't even do in the here & now?

[evanescent-almond]

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[evanescent-almond]

13-01-2015

you remind me of someone fit to be a mother, a queen. God built you with dreams. out of them & for them, i know. your voice is almost as golden as your affections for other people. i'm glad i met you. i always wanna be your good friend, no matter what.

[electricroulette-deactivated201]

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[evanescent-almond]

there's no middle ground with me.

i'm either really giving or extremely selfish & i'm so exhausted of being the latter.

[evanescent-almond]

i don’t know whether you’re a flashback or a dream sequence, but you’re shrouded in so much darkness

[evanescent-almond]

i realised recently that seeing more of the world (continuing to exist, travelling) is a half and half experience. half of me is in awe of the beauty but my other half wants death like children desiring holiday gifts ~ because the world is so heavy and my back so weary. our fears are not all the same, but we share at least one truth throughout all of our lives: much too often, survival is a tragedy in itself.