Growing Up Halo-Halo

 I placed my self worth in the hands of someone else, and I let it break me. I was naive thinking someone could offer me part of a world I've been so desperately trying to be a part of, and that they'd dangle it just out of reach, ready to pull it back.  Left with a feeling that they set it on fire and left you scrambling to hold on to the ashes that remain, a sharp ache in its place. A foolish and futile thought that a singular individual would be the answer to your fragile and fragmented identity issues - if they just let you in and accepted you, chose you, that it would signal something. You would be enough - good enough, Filipino enough, if this one person could care about you and let you in then you would belong. You would fit. Something snapped.  I wrote that back in February and it is now May. Before running to Japan for my planned vacation, I ended up deciding to continue my time abroad.  I came to Asia seeking novelty and new experiences; firsts. Japan is so...

you’ll tell me to speak  say it with my chest  but everything comes out  dripping foreign to you  and you won’t hesitate to make it known  you unleash this imposter in me  still feeling like I’m on a tightrope  at any time my foot will slip and I’ll plunge  hit the rigid, arduous surface of inadequacy   because deep down you’ll never see me  I can see the constant questioning in your eyes  it deepens with every syllable I whisper into the dark  my voice choked by many hands that graze my soul  but dare not venture further  as if afraid to see what lies in wait there  you’ll use pinay against me as much as to praise me  a weapon of choice i have no armour to shield  and I’ll admit defeat even if only to myself  silent and with unbearable weight  I’ll sleep with it like a blanket

It's one AM and I can't sleep  Thoughts are racing, unquelled Anxiety finds solace in the words on a page By the moon and the lighting of a candle  And once my mind has been distracted enough I sink in the softness of cushions The burning of a wooden wick Attempting to send me into slumber The flickering whispers Guiding me to morning.

 I've had a lot of conversations lately that swirl around what I pathetically describe as a "reckoning".  I have talked to a few people in my life surrounding having to reflect so much on my past and childhood racial issues - this reflection stemming from my parents divorce and accompanying shame of having a white father who didn't hold space for other parts of me (us). I have these constant thoughts of if my dad hadn't done the things he did, I wouldn't have had this figurative mirror placed in front of me. Maybe I wouldn't have to work through all of this now.  Discussing how exhausting it is to always be explaining myself and who I am because it doesn't fit the person's idea of me that they've prematurely constructed. Reiterating that I am Filipino, with a period, and that's the only thing I want to need to tell someone. Perpetually just wanting it to be enough. How I feel like the ball in a game of ping pong - being tossed around from e...

 Ambiguous  I think not  Because something specific Wouldn't be their first thought They'd have to read between the lines Try to put the obscure pieces together  Assumptions are made instead  And I've known this forever  You mistook my appearance Had to backpedal your words  I'll play stupid, I'll be coy Like I didn't hear what I just heard And you'll get off clean despite your foot in your mouth  While I have to stand there and internally scream  Constantly not having any other choice Tell myself I just need to chill out and reconvene  Right  Just hit the reset button  Wait for the next time I wonder when this feeling bubbles over Of being sick of being defined  Someone come and sing to me Notes of my delusions Serenade me the tune of finality Create me an illusion  One of a life carefree My anger placed on the shelf Where I'm maybe not ambiguous But rather just myself.

SAD feels like a deep aching in my chest  Something lodged so far there's no pulling it out  Even when I try to ease my figurative hand in I can't reach it No matter how hard or loud I cry  It won't shake it, doesn't rattle it Despite how tightly I wrap my arms around my ribcage  It won't pop it out of place I recall being a sunshine girl  Such a different version of myself  And I wonder where the hell she went Where the sun went  Why is it too easy  To allow myself  To leave  Eventually the ache subsides but I know it's still in there It comes back, in the darkness of the spaces my mind preoccupies  I lay in bed grasping for warmth Hoping the layers that I cover my head with  Might save me, maybe this time  But it always finds a way between the sheets Sometimes I long for someone to pick up this weight  If merely fleetingly  Yet I ask myself  If anyone could truly lift it  Am I the cookie in the cup...