Kai Ying's Corner

The essayist who tries to find her place in the Tumblr corner.

[kaiyingscorner]

A Memory That Feels Like October

A meditation on October — the season that teaches us how to let go and stay gold.

According to my father, it’s simply another month in the three-part cycle of autumn.

According to my cousin, who is in love, it’s the month that touches the green leaves of trees with golden hues of affection.

And according to my friend, who still can’t forget her ex, it’s the month she wishes she could erase from the calendar — the month she crossed paths with someone who wasn’t meant to stay.

October, it seems, carries a different feeling for everyone.

And as for me? How could I describe it?

Perhaps it’s a month charged with emotion and quiet yearning; a season that feels like memory itself.

A Memory That Feels Like October

A meditation on October — the season that teaches us how to let go and stay gold.

[kaiyingscorner]

The Language of Loneliness

Maybe loneliness is a language of its own.

Lonely.

A few weeks ago, this word came up in class while we were studying its meaning in our language course. 寂寞 [jìmò], this is how you say it in Chinese, einsam in German, самотен [samoten] in Bulgarian, and solitario in Italian.

Maybe it’s because Bulgarian is my native language, but самотен feels heavier than any of the others. Even as I write it, I feel a weight settle on my chest. Funny, isn’t it?

I once read that we are emotionally attached to our mother tongue - that words carry different emotional weight depending on the language we use.

That's why some people can say "I love you" easily in English, yet struggle to say the same words in their native language.

A second language lets you detach and observe yourself from a safe distance.

The Language of Loneliness

Maybe loneliness is a language of its own.

[kaiyingscorner]

The Language of Loneliness

Maybe loneliness is a language of its own.

Lonely.

A few weeks ago, this word came up in class while we were studying its meaning in our language course. 寂寞 [jìmò], this is how you say it in Chinese, einsam in German, самотен [samoten] in Bulgarian, and solitario in Italian.

Maybe it’s because Bulgarian is my native language, but самотен feels heavier than any of the others. Even as I write it, I feel a weight settle on my chest. Funny, isn’t it?

I once read that we are emotionally attached to our mother tongue - that words carry different emotional weight depending on the language we use.

That's why some people can say "I love you" easily in English, yet struggle to say the same words in their native language.

A second language lets you detach and observe yourself from a safe distance.

The Language of Loneliness

Maybe loneliness is a language of its own.