10:32 | 5.17.2021

i finally figured out how to invert the colors because i prefer seeing my words, bright against the dark screen.

it feels apt, and intimate, and the most accurate display of my thoughts for me.

i set the mood in my living space as well, turning off the lights, turning on the neon.

creating the ambiance.

my mom and i just watched "the half of it" on netflix. it was a good, cute, queer lil coming of age movie that made me feel very seen, as there was a gay chinese girl and love letters involved.

i will not lie i was a lot triggered watching ellie chu woo aster flores in their small town of squahamish

it reminded me of the first person i fell in love with.

a lot of things remind me of her.

strawberries. clowns. pigs.

i think of her whenever i save an insect.

or when i drive around a tight ramp.

she crosses my mind briefly,

when i see waynes world or spongebob.

the sensual voice of kali uchis,

the bars of brockhampton.

when spanish music comes on,

and all i want is to dance in one of her cousins backyards

or smoke with her uncle.

a lot of things remind me of how i was loved,

and how i loved.

i promised her i would compile the things left unsaid, but how does one even begin to consolidate those thoughts.

those moments.

those precious memories that i will carry with me.

because love does not cease to exist

whether or not the person is in your life.

love does not fade, just because the relationship has come to an end.

my ex was convinced that if you just got rid of anything associated with people you loved who hurt you/left, that you were fine. that the definition of moving on was just purging your present of the past, and never mentioning it again. never talking about any of it. never coming to terms with the experiences.

my ex also stopped seeing their therapist because she suggested that they try to consider events from perspectives other than their own.

my ex didn't send condolences when my dad passed away.

my ex called it repulsive when i touched them in public, after they withheld sex for months and continually gaslighting me into thinking i was abusive or wrong for wanting to have sex with them.

my ex's favorite response to me volunteering information was "did i ask?"

my ex is in the past. my ex is history. my ex is part of my history.

whether or not i want to remember, it is important that where there are pleasant memories down this lane, there are also equally unpleasant, formative experiences as well.

i'd like to think the love is what shaped me.

i like to hold onto the idea that i reflect only the uplifting experiences

but i know that would be delusional to believe

i am unlearning so much

i am unlearning things i didn't think i had to

i am unlearning lessons i didn't know i attended

i am unlearning the ways in which my father blamed himself for my queerness, as if it was a defect that he caused

i am unlearning the automatic assumptions of anything

i am unlearning expectations

i am unlearning

when i freewrite, my thoughts end up like this

it feels dramatic and scattered

my thoughts, spewed haphazardly

but it also feels fitting and apt

very appropriate

why must i take it upon myself to organize what i have to share

in a way pleasing to anyone else

i will be back soon

perhaps, more structured. but probably not