I met up with my supervisor to fill out paperwork for a summer position at the university. I was shown around the office, shook hands with a couple of coworkers, and guided to my cubicle, replete with a laptop and a distant view of the ocean and mountains, all the while stammering in awe (how strange it all is, really!).

Thus, another generic white-collar office girl is born.



Je sais que je te laisse tomber, mais tu me manque, tu me tellement manque, notre folie à deux.

Je peut écrire tout ça en anglais ou chinois, mais je veux tromper moi-même que tu ne peux pas lire ce que j’écrit.



Seulement en français que je peux râler comme un enfant.

Avec le passage du temps, je vais t’oublier; surtout une autre nom et un autre visage dans mes livres d’histoire.

En fin, c’est moi qui est fou et solitaire.

I went to kendo practice with a knot in my heart. Bruises, on my hipbone, thigh, beneath my ribs. I wanted to bolt from the violence and claustrophobia then and there.

I lay still and silent while he fumbled with buttons. So much pain. We curled into each other. He gnashed his teeth in his sleep. It began to rain sometime during the night, a cacophony across the rickety rooftops.

I don’t seem to feel anything anymore.

They found Elisa’s body in a water tank this morning. A friend sent a link over Facebook. My heart sank as soon as I glimpsed the headline.

I’ve been curled up in bed with a faint gnawing sensation in the pit of my stomach all afternoon, as if my insides were being corroded. How often does someone we’ve encountered in real life meet a terrible end such as this?


“I was in the winter of my life, and the men I met along the road were my only summer.
At night I fell asleep with visions of myself, dancing and laughing and crying with them.
Three years down the line of being on an endless world tour, and my memories of them were the only things that sustained me, and my only real happy times.
I once had dreams of becoming a beautiful poet, but upon an unfortunate series of events saw those dreams dashed and divided like a million stars in the night sky that I wished on over and over again, sparkling and broken.
But I didn’t really mind because I knew that it takes getting everything you ever wanted, and then losing it to know what true freedom is.
When the people I used to know found out what I had been doing, how I’d been living, they asked me why – but there’s no use in talking to people who have a home.
They have no idea what it’s like to seek safety in other people – for home to be wherever you lay your head.
I was always an unusual girl.
My mother told me I had a chameleon soul, no moral compass pointing due north, no fixed personality; just an inner indecisiveness that was as wide and as wavering as the ocean…
And if I said I didn’t plan for it to turn out this way I’d be lying…
I belonged to no one, who belonged to everyone.
Who had nothing, who wanted everything, with a fire for every experience and an obsession for freedom that terrified me to the point that I couldn’t even talk about it, and pushed me to a nomadic point of madness that both dazzled and dizzied me.

Every night I used to pray that I’d find my people, and finally I did.
We had nothing to lose, nothing to gain, nothing we desired anymore, except to make our lives into a work of art.
Live fast. Die young. Be wild. And have fun.
My motto is the same as ever:
‘I believe in the kindness of strangers. And when I’m at war with myself I ride, I just ride.’
Who are you?
Are you in touch with all of your darkest fantasies?
Have you created a life for yourself where you can experience them?
I have.

I am fucking crazy.
But I am free.”


昨天, 漫不經心地走在再熟悉不過的商場裡, 聽著”How to Disappear Completely” by Radiohead – 剎間, 靈魂彷彿從傷痕累累的軀體裡飛了出去.

心, 終究結了冰.

也許, 這一生, 永不會再用身心一併去愛一個人.

一切人間喜怒哀樂, 從此斷緣.

I was hired by a tutoring agency today. Half of me is jumping for joy, and the other half is terrified that things would somehow be botched once more like last time.

It’s like someone has confiscated my rose-coloured glasses, and all I have left are vast pools of cynicism and skepticism, and a sort of dreaded anticipation for everything to fall apart, like they always tend to.

Fate has been playing a cruel trick on me lately. One too many.

It’s excruciatingly difficult not to be disheartened by it all. To invest so much time and effort into one hobby, to settle down to an ever-so-comforting group of familiar faces, and to turn away from it all through mishap after mishap.

I will restrain myself from any expletives here, but to quote a dear friend, you truly are the type of guy one finds (or hopes to find) drowned facedown in a sewer one day.

After all, who will miss you when you’re gone?

What a surreal, Murakami-esque birthday it’s been, laden with surprises of all sorts.


July 2018
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