I find myself swearing before a judge, with witnesses. My right hand is splinted and raised to the sky as I swear my words are truth.

“Did he hurt you?”

No, but there were times I was so uncomfortable I could not sleep. He’s hurt me more than shallow man.


“He won’t hurt you again.”

I know this, but this sentence doesn’t sit well in my stomach. Fifty feet is a long ways away but I can still feel fear from fifty feet away.

They give me a list of numbers to memorize. Each one of them linked to an individual who could save me if I’m scared.
I’ve received more text messages today than I have in my entire life. People are worried about me, for me.

“You did the right thing, move on with your life.”

When did I get to the point of self-loathing so much that I let this torture last for months? Where was my self respect? I feel like a cracked shell with my innards seeping out slowly. Exposing me to the world, my true feelings and insecurities.

“Fifty feet,”

The number and distance doesn’t comfort me.

“What are your concerns with this arrangement?”

“The guilt. The guilt of letting it go on for far too long. The damage I gave myself to tolerate this.”

“You’ve learned though, right?”

I learned, yes, that there are other people just as sick as the shallow man.

“The main thing is, he didn’t hurt you. He won’t, not anymore.”

Splints and bandages

I find myself staring at a television screen, cradling my dominant hand. I’ve been in pain for a week and I’ve finally deemed it necessary to fight the pain.

They splint my finger up real well and I walk back to work attempting to make the best of my day despite the fact I now cannot write.

Hurtful words

Unfortunately, I have a problem with being tactless and unable to filter out my words before they leave my mind. I understand this is stuff that I will have to learn and grow into its just sometimes I don’t intentionally mean to hurt anybody, it just happens.

Unfortunately it happened to one of my closest friends. And unfortunately there is no sarcasm speech on the internet. There’s just my mind, and my words. Which are often too hurtful than not.

Aside from the fact we both now know our deficiencies with each other throughout the interaction, it still hurts nonetheless. Its humbling as well, to know that you’re not perfect or will ever be perfect.

A little fairy tale

Once upon a time…

There was a dark-eyed dreamer who drew her dreams on her notebook papers in class. Everything about her was dark – dark skin, dark hair and she hated it. She hated it solely because her heart was filled with light that would not shine through the darkness.

Now there was…

A bright-eyed boy who wrote letters in class. He believed in love, world peace, but most importantly happiness. He hated the darkness; he always believed that life would let light shine through.

She did find…

One of his letters on the ground. She are up his words, pulled the hair out of her face and smiled. Maybe with the letters guidance her darkness would go away -forever. Oh how she dreamed that she would change.

He did watch…

Her from afar and thought that she – even with her darkness – was the most beautiful girl in the world when she smiled. But he vowed to never let her know he existed until she found him herself. He left letters everyday, watching her darkness fade away and the light in her heart shine through.


I am now nineteen and I’ve flown around the world and done things many people only dream of. I’ve managed to make people laugh, cry, smile, and get frustrated. I myself have found myself in those situations. In the past few months I’ve done a lot of growing up, realized what pain was, and held onto those I cared about. They held me up when I needed it the most.

The past few months have been a complete struggle for me. There was no moment where I never asked myself if I should quit now and leave, go back to who I was. There were moments where I pretended I was okay but I really wasn’t. I kept telling myself that people prayed for me and knew I could do it but I kept falling down and struggled to get back up. People helped me up, but I kept getting scared and forgetting my own strength. But despite the fear I smiled and found humor in the situation.

“Mem, you are resilient and that will be your greatest ally in your life.” Says a man I truly respect on the last day I was there. The changes are now set forth, and suddenly I feel lighthearted and stronger.

In my moment of weakness I found myself. I found humor in any situation that was given to me and spread it like an infection in an environment that tended to crush souls. Humor doesn’t transfer well on paper, but, at least it sticks in memory forever.

It never mattered who I was or where I came from, what I wanted to be or what I ended up doing. I’m living, breathing and supported by friends and family.

I’m now nineteen years old, still wondering about my future but now feel secure enough to let God lead me. I have a better understanding of myself and I’m still learning. My life and possibilities now seem so endless.

Lost in darkness

Oftentimes I find myself in a precarious situation; walking home in the dark with few lights to guide me. I’ve read the story of the bong cheon dong ghost (warning, not for the faint hearted) and walking at night scares me.

I wear a rosary bracelet on my left arm – a nun gave it to me as a debutante gift, I start saying prayers as I find my way back home. I’m not a fully believer of ghosts existing; but I don’t entirely doubt it, I won’t be surprised or angry if I see one unless it attacks me or something. I find comfort in my prayers and continue the dark trek home.

Walking and getting lost in the darkness is really something that I dislike – but I don’t necessarily condone. It brings me to a higher awareness and even though I’m continually assailed with comments such as “God doesn’t exist.” And my mind conforms to human “righteousness” taking this walk reminds me that although the human mind is flawed, as God made it, there is something there, always.

I remember to thank my guardian angel and God for getting me home safe, my eyes large and reflective at the church across the street being the only street light in my immediate area. I finish my rosary and walk back into my house where I’m questioned about my calmness in the darkness from the light of an increasing more violent society.

This post was written in response to the shooting and murders in Connecticut and China respectively. Reading the tragic stories in the news gives me a perspective of how lucky I am and how much I need for remember that I was given a second chance at life.