the receiving end of obsession

i have always been a free spirit

doing whatever the fuck i want

because of my uncanny unconventionality

or at least i seemed that way to you

you were my opposite

we should have been like yin and yang

able to find balance

but no

you broke me instead

i lost myself in your competition

competition against me

what were you trying to prove?

then pushing me to the curb

 throwing shitty scraps of your time

like i was your trash can

you’re not in love

you never were

you’re obsessed

i had to be your possession

and in order to do that i had give up myself

my freedom

everything i was

thank God, you’re gone


the receiving end of obsession

a vague apology

i cannot begin to connect the dots for you

cannot create constellations of my mess of emotions and thoughts

i am not like the stars

constant and sure

there for you every night

even if hidden behind clouds of pollution

all i can do is feel sorry

sorry for what i’ve done

hadn’t done

sorry  for being the worst person

sorry for just…



a vague apology

The Girl Named Raven

Haruki Murakami inspired.

“Are you ready?” she asks. The girl named Raven sat with immaculate posture besides me at a long, empty dining table. The dark, polished wood glistened under the yellow light of the crystal chandelier. I stared at her with a sly smirk on my face.

“Why wouldn’t I be?” my tone was almost challenging, if not mocking of her doubt in me.

“You always act so strong,” her voice was laced with venomous sweetness. “But that façade always gets you into trouble, doesn’t it?”

I merely shoot a glare. The girl named Raven really did know just how to push me the wrong way.

She ran her finger around and around the rim of her glass cup filled with red wine. Her finger was dampened with the liquid substance causing the glass to ring a high note throughout the room. The girl looked like royalty sitting the way she was. Legs crossed, upper body open, and a slender hand moving liberally.

“Life is not kind, dear,” she continued to say before scoffing. “I shouldn’t be giving such trite advice to a mundane girl like you. Girls like you need to learn by themselves.

But I’m too nice.

Listen, darling. You’re not all that you think you are. You say that you know that you have no purpose in this world when in reality, you think you do. You think you were put on this Earth for a reason because it makes you something.

But you’re not obligated to be anything. You don’t serve a purpose because you shouldn’t serve anything. 

Eighteen, huh? You don’t need to go through an emancipation process or… Don’t you get it? You’re free. So don’t be bound by anything. Not even a silly purpose.”

The girl named Raven took the cup into her palm and tipped it over into her lips. She downed half the glass in a single gulp, her eyes never leaving mine.

“I’m not doubting you,” she reassured. “In fact, I believe in you so much I could make a whole religion with you as my goddess.”

She rose from her seat and she walked around the shorter end of the dining table with her wine glass. I merely listened to her heels click against the floorboard. The girl named Raven stopped right beside me and crouched down and held the half full glass in front of my face.

“So, are you ready?” she asked once more.

I took the cup from away from her fingers and downed the last bit.


The Girl Named Raven


I’ve felt it before.

The weight on top of my body that’s just shy of being overbearing. The pressure around my neck as the white woman above me seems to squeeze just a little bit tighter.

Sinking into my sheets, I wonder when this will all be over. Sinking into my sheets, I am screaming. I can so clearly hear myself, so why can’t anyone else?

The side of my head is buried into my pillow and my eyes are wide open. I can’t see the lady on top of me, but I know she’s there.

Her pitch black hair tickles the side of my cheek. If I could only move my hands I would swat it away or at scratch at the itchy spot.

Panic settles as a blur of a white dress whisps by.

A hand roughly travels up my spine and…

I am released.

All is still. Just where I left it. And the night is forgotten.



To the underclassmen who doubted the class of 2017

Now that a majority of the results are out, the Class of 2017 can finally take a breath of relief before making the most important decision of our lives so far. For the next month we will be sprawling out our applications, playing eenie-meenie-mini-mo, researching all over again to pick the best school suited for us.

But of course, being in this kind of spotlight raises the infamous haters.

Actually when I was a junior someone from the year below me actually said,

“Hey, I don’ think our grade (Class of 2018) is going to do very well with colleges.”

“Why’s that?” I asked.

“Because you’re grade is going to do really bad and worsen the impression colleges have on our grade!”

Oh yes, the underclassmen. They always have so much to talk about when decision season rolls around. Whether its about the kid that applied to Yale or about the kid that got into “the bad Washington University” (whatever the hell that means), there’s so much to say.

Well, my dear underclassmen. What do YOU really know? You’re not the one’s writing thirteen applications. You’re not the one who really knows what “ranking” means. Because ranking differs by what an individual wants. Perhaps someone really just wants a top school. Or maybe they want a top school in their major. So maybe, that’s why they went to “the bad Washington University.” 

Look, it’s growing process. And I was in your shoes once as well. I get it. It’s fun to talk about. But unless it’s someone who has their ego way too far up their ass and is basically all talk, don’t say a word. Who knows. Maybe you’ll jinx yourself.



To the underclassmen who doubted the class of 2017