To My Wonderful Followers:

Everything from my blog has been transferred over, as you will notice, and therefore nothing will change with my writing style or what I post on my blog.

There has been a very big change in my life. Some pages have turned and I have opened a new chapter.

Writing has always been such a huge part of my life, and to share my writing with you all is such a wonderful experience. My blogs, as well as writing in general, have been a big part of my life and I hope to keep it that way.

I ask you all to follow me to my new address (

Every comment and every like I get from you touches my heart because it lets me know my writing is get out there and my ideas are getting heard, somewhere by someone. It’s an amazing sensation.

Thank you, for following my blog(s), for reading my writing, for putting out the time to leave a comment, for letting me know my writing reached you.

I hope for the same support and encouragement as I continue this blog on the new address. Please continue to follow me!

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What do you do when a million thoughts run through your mind but not a single word makes it out of your mouth? What do you do when all you yearn for is to be understood, to be loved, to be wanted?

I stare at the blank screen in front of me and know that I can fill it with words, but when I look into his eyes I can’t manage to make a sound. I look down to the keys on my keyboard and know which ones to hit to make the sentence flow, but when I’m sitting in front of him the blank wooden table is all I know. I hear my thoughts and I know there are a million things that I want to say, but when it comes time to…express myself…I get stuck on what words I want to say.

I stumble over my tongue. I choke on my words. I can’t…

I feel the tears fall from my eyes, more than I ever have felt before. I feel the pain grow in my heart, the pain that is aching in my chest. I curl up in a ball and hug the thing blanket close to my chest, and feel my body shake. I open text messages, but don’t know what to type. I open up my list of contacts wanting to call someone, but don’t know what to say. Where do I go from here?

I stare up at the ceiling from my bed. I feel how heavy my heart it. I want to say something. I know I want to say a lot. I’m trapped between not knowing where to start and not knowing what to say at all.

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Dear M…

I know you parted from your family at such a young age in search of a better life in the States. I know you had to go through a very devastating heart break when your relatives that brought you over treated you less than they should have. I know you were very poor. I know you had a hard childhood.

I know it broke your heart when the letters you wrote to your mother back home weren’t getting sent, but read instead. I know it broke you to find out the relatives, the only family you had around you, deceived you. I know it tore you apart when you were forced to drop out of college and give up your dream career. I know it hurts when you look back in time.

I can only imagine how hard it was learning English and being surrounded by this foreign land. I can only imagine how it felt trying to make the right friends. I can only imagine what it was like for you trying to survive with such distance between the people you called family. I can only imagine how much it hurt when you discovered your siblings, your relatives back home, disliked you just because you were the one and only to cross the seas. I can only imagine the pain you went through.

I know it hurts you when you feel limited by things you can’t control. I know it pains you when you get used. I know it angers you when you get mistreated, and I know uncomfortable it is to pretend like you don’t care.

I know you must have trust issues. I know life has been hard on you. But, please, one day realize that not everyone is going to mistreat you, not everyone has bad intensions, not everyone only cares about their personal benefits, not everyone is heartless. How can I make you see that just like how you raised two good-hearted girls, others can raise many good-hearted children? How can I make you see that just like not everyone has a good heart, not everyone has a bad heart?

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A Beginning

When you’re so stressed you become restless and end up not sleeping,
When you are so caught up in what you need to do that you finally manage a full day with your hair tied up,
When you are so out of it and obviously overwhelmed that your classmates check up on you, while still knowing to leave you be,
When you are so on edge that you can’t remember how many times you ran your hand through your hair and sighed tiredly,
When you become agitated to the point that you can’t seem to find the correct keys on the keyboard,

When you’re so down in the dumps you end up typing a letter to yourself in attempt to give yourself a little more strength,
When you’re insanely tired to the point that you struggle to get out of bed in the morning,
When you’re out of energy to the point that the action of getting food prepared and ready to eat seems to drain you even before you can take a single bite,
When you’re out of it and end up staring at a blank word document for over an hour with complete nonsense running through your head,
When you can’t manage to hold a single conversation because all that you want to do is curl up in someone’s arms and take another nap,

When you can’t shake that gut feeling that tells you something is going to go down,
When you are restless at night worrying about what is going to take place in the morning, or even the next day,
When you can’t seem to ignore the thoughts that keep flashing in your mind about an event that you aren’t sure will even take place,
When you constantly get these “pushes” into a certain direction that you don’t know whether or not you should listen to,
When you get doubts about your instincts even though they have been awkwardly precise,

When you figure out that you typed up a blog post but are not confident about the particular direction you had in mind for it…that’s awkward…


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Present. Past. Future.

She looks around her and examines her own life. What a mess everything seems to be. Disappointment is clear in her eyes when thoughts of how her parents would yell at what a disgrace she’s become.

She glances at her messy desk. It’s been several hours but nothing had been done yet. She has to study this, review that, catch up on a few things, and get ahead on a lot. She has to organize her calendar, fix some gaps so she has time to go take care of herself. She drinks several pills every day but in her head she asks, “What’s the point?” because none of them seem to help.

Physically she has to remain so strong. Her body is getting weak and weaker by the day. She doesn’t know what is left to do, or what new techniques there are to say “Hey…let’s try this”. She is close to giving up on fixing herself because it seems like she’ll live with pain her entire life. And, sometimes, she’s okay with that.

Mentally and emotionally, she has to go on through life alone. Her parents don’t really give any support. She hides in her room and cries, frustrated and lost and doesn’t know why she can’t get anything right.

She looks back at her past life, all the years that already went by, and can’t help but shake her head. She’s made so many stupid mistakes. She fell into traps and barely got away. There were so many times she had to plead for one more chance at life.

Flashbacks seep into her head, and suddenly she remembers the feel of the razor along her skin. She remembers how helpless she had been, having to deal with everything on her own. And on her own, again, she had been. She suddenly remembers the scars on her skin from when she didn’t want to live. She brushes her fingers along the scars.

She remembers the times her mom had yelled “No one is going to accept you now. Look at what you’ve done”. She scratches at her skin, remembering all the times she hated how she looked to the point she wanted to cut her skin off to start new again. But she can’t.

The scars on her body are symbols of all the pain and suffering she’s been through. She can’t hide them but have to learn to accept her past.

She looks to the future and can’t tell why, all she sees is darkness now. There’s nothing there where light can be. She’s made so many mistakes in her life. All she knows is she will never cease to fail to be the daughter her parents had always wanted.

She looks around at her own life, in present time, and has to force herself to think, “Hey, at least I’m trying”. After a lifetime of bottling her emotions, feelings of being a failure and being a disappointment continue to try to seep out to her mind. She fights herself and fights the feelings of not being good enough every single day. She pushes them back into the bottle that longs to be opened someday. But, not today.

She has to keep pushing. She has to keep trying. She can’t give up. And, deep down inside, she knows there’s a reason why.

She just needs to keep trying. She needs to keep trying to forgive herself…and, with time, maybe she’ll realize what the reason actually was that pushed her to never give up.

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Listen to Me

Don’t listen to me when I’m flustered because when my emotions flood my head and everything gets overwhelming, not everything comes out right. Don’t listen to the things I say when I’m in a panic to find the right words because they might not always express my heart and mind all that great. Don’t listen to the words I say in desperation because I simply cannot find the right words to say not that they don’t exist…just not at that time and place.

When you search in my eyes for some kind of clue, I am searching my heart for the right words. When you fight me and ask me questions trying to reach through to me, I am hearing you but I might not have the most perfect sentence to say. When you plead me to tell you what it is I think, it is not that I am not trying but I cannot find the right words to say.

There are things you wish I’d tell you, and those things might as well be the exact thing I wish you’d understand. But if not for the human’s lack of power to read the mind, I wouldn’t be standing here and we wouldn’t be fighting…and we’d be fine.

Sometimes I wish you could see things from my eyes, because maybe then you would understand and comprehend how things effect me. Sometimes I wish you could feel my heart, because it breaks every time you blame me simply because you have no one else nearby. Sometimes I wish you could hear my thoughts, because the courage that is required to speak the truth that makes my eyes cry is always lacking at the wrong times.

Don’t listen to me when I am tired of the tears in my eyes, because that might be the same time I am tired of trying to get you to understand. Don’t listen to me when I feel helpless, because I might also feel the need to keep my world the same because at least I could handle the pain. Don’t listen to me but watch me and try to understand, because my words might deceive you and block you from both my mind and heart.

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Tear Off the Mask

She walked through life numbed by the pains from only the first few years of her lifetime. She got pushed and shoved into directions that her parents wanted her to walk. She followed, after some fighting and after hours and hours of being yelled at. If her parents wanted her to walk left, she walked left. If she was told to shut up, she didn’t dare speak. Sometimes she would look at the true direction she wanted to walk with sorrow but she knew she had to fight the urge to run the other way. She had to listen. She had to be a good little daughter.

For her parents,
She turned off her emotions because she was never allowed to cry, to whine, to express any kind of negative feelings.
She put on the pink frilly dresses and spun in circles all cutesy because that gave her parents the attention for having such a cute daughter.
She helped out and did her best to comply because that gave her parents the recognition for having such a well-behaved child.
She smiled when she wanted to cry. She obeyed when she was exhausted. She listened when she wasn’t being heard.

When she grew up,
She volunteered where she was told because it lead to the field her parents wanted her to be in.
She avoided any hobbies or likings that wasn’t fit for a girl in her parents’ eyes.
She never went out with friends because, to her parents, friends weren’t anything important.
She studied and studied and studied, and that was all she ever did.

She hid her emotions because she would be called weak. She hid her struggles because she would be called a failure. She hid her true self because she would be told she wasn’t fit to be a daughter.

She changed herself to fit this image she had to be because it would be a disgrace to her parents if she was anything else.
She went towards a field she disliked because she thought maybe, just maybe her parents would finally be proud.
She pushed her body and mind beyond limits she never knew existed because she was never taught when enough was enough.
She cried herself to sleep each and every night, not knowing the source(s) of all her pains.

She spent years and years trying to become someone her parents would finally look at…and, in the process, she neglected herself in more ways than one. She started losing herself, her true self, in this image her parents drilled into her mind.

She kept friendships that were only using her because she didn’t know where else she would feel like she belonged.
She kept friendships that were toxic because she didn’t understand what healthy was.
She jumped into relationships not knowing what it truly meant for another person to care about her and what the best for her.
She jumped into relationships thinking she finally found someone when, in reality, what she found was abuse.

She trapped herself in a mindset that would only continue to go down. She suffocated from how much darkness was around her in clouding her mind.

But now?

She’s growing up. She’s finding her own way through life. And she’s finding out that she is going to do fine as the person she is.

She will learn what emotions are. She will learn what friendship is. She will learn what’s healthy and what isn’t. She will learn as she goes.

She is going to try piece by piece to remove the mask she hid behind. She is going to try one day at a time to heal the scars and wounds that are still bleeding. She is going to try little by little to un-bottle the emotions she spent years trying to hide.

Wish her luck. Give her your support.


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Onward Ho!

There have been so many battles I’ve had to face in my (almost) 2 decades of life. There have been many that were right there, out in the open, while others were battles I fought in silence. There were the ones I always knew I would win, and then those in which I couldn’t see the light at the end of the tunnel. There are the battles I walked away from without a scratch, but there are also the wars that left me scarred for life. How many battles have I fought? I lost count.

There are the battles I fought and won, and then those I lost and had to pick up the pieces afterwards. There are the ones I continued for years, and those I simply walked away from. There are the ones I am still fighting today, and ones that continue only in my mind. How many are there? I ask this, what is the point of counting?

From the battles between love and hate, to the wars between good and evil, the fighting never seems to stop. My artistic side fights the battles between resistance and passion, between logic and emotion, between love and war. The student in me fights the battles between procrastination and productivity, and that seems to be more than enough to handle. The side of me that remembers I’m a daughter fights the battles between being herself and living up to the impossible standards of both society and her parents, between the negativity she always had to deal with and the positivity that she still hopes to be. Each and every part of me has its own battles to face. Each and every single battle is exhausting and draining. How do I do it? Well, we all do.

We all have our own battles that we face each and every day of our lives. Whether it be the push and pull towards love and logic, or the passion flaming in your heart and the logical pathway your parents wish upon you, or the forces of good and evil which lie within you…each and every battle is as exhausting as the next. We all fight the battles between living up to society’s standards and being true to oneself, between logic and emotion, and between procrastination and productivity but there are also the wars we must win within.

I fight myself every single day to believe what my mother says about my lack of beauty or what my friends and boyfriend say about my beauty. I fight myself every single day to trust what my sister and mother always made me feel or what my test scores say about my intelligence when I try my best.

I wonder every day if I’m being a good daughter (which I often answer with ‘no’). I question my path in life whenever I get the chance and wonder if I’m doing this “right” (which I often leave unanswered…or with ‘no’). I’m still fighting these battles. I have yet to win them and answer these question with YES.

But there are battles I have won.
Am I strong? YES. You can see that in the surgeries I have faced and…everything I’ve been through.
Am I a good friend? YES. You can see that in how much effort I put into every single friendship I get the chance to bond with.

There are so many battles and wars I have been through, and countless more that I will have to face in this lifetime. There are ones I will raise my sword at ready to fight, and the ones I will simply walk away from. Why? I get to choose my fights.

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A Timeline of All Sorts

Here I am, sitting in my father’s black robe in front of my two monitors, struggling with the emotions I refuse to bottle up [like I have for almost the past 2 decades], in pain because my new pain medicine seems to be hurting me more than helping. I always say, if someone wants to get to know me the best route to take is through my writing. It’s where I’ve learned to open myself and express myself.

If you want to get to know me, read this:

I’m a college student finishing her first year at community college, somewhere her family never wanted her to be. It was always a top UC that they expected me to end up. If you asked, why? Here’s the answer: I wasn’t good enough. I hadn’t been prepared to be at a university.

Here’s a brief timeline of my life that brought me to where I am today:

It was bashed in my head at a very, very young age that I couldn’t show my true emotions, that I needed to constantly where a mask, that it was a requirement to be who my parents wanted me to be in order to receive affection of any kind. Before I got into kindergarten or the first grade, I perfected the persona of a daughter my parents wanted to have.

By second grade, I had no friends but I knew what fake friends were. I knew how it felt to be bullied and laughed at. I also learned that I couldn’t talk to my parents about anything.

Going into middle school, I moved houses and therefore moved schools for the third time. Unlike my sister, I jumped at the chance to leave the school I was at. I thought I was saved, because everyone who bullied me wouldn’t be in my life anymore. I finally was getting away from that pain.

The same summer that we moved houses, I went through my second open heart surgery. I survived off of pain medications for about a month after being in the ICU. I soon learned what it felt like to have people treat you with caution, sometimes making it feel like your limitations were disabilities. I hated that feeling, and I came to hate it more when it continued even after I healed and got the ‘OK’ from my doctors. I despised that feeling.

In seventh grade, I realized that the teasing would not end, the laughing at would not stop…basically, the bullying had followed me to a new school [to a certain extent]. I learned where I could hide during the breaks you were supposed to go and “hang out with friends”.

In eighth grade, I got a glimpse of what a true friend could be. His name was Carlos. He made it seem like I could actually talk to him because he actually cared about me. But that diminished after I made one wrong move of developing feelings for the boy.

Going into high school, I was lost once again. Everyone had their groups and everyone had their friends. I went back to hiding in the journalism room whenever I could. I hated wandering the campus like a lost duck after I learned the friends I thought I had from middle school were simply using me to their own advantage. The journalism room became where I met one of my favorite teachers of all time. We called him Mr. Hill. It was only after his encouragement that I found my passion for photography, that I came out of my shell. I got more involved with school. I went to events, I ventured the campus with a purpose instead of like a lost puppy, and I developed some confidence in myself.

Too bad that was also the year I got involved with some of the wrong people. Though I had my interest in photography at the time, I still wanted a group of friends I belonged in. I had people I talked to here and there but no one who I knew would have my back. The vulnerability of this mindset encouraged me to basically take up the first group that offered acceptance. And it was from there that I learned what true betrayal and abandonment felt like.

I quickly learned what depression was and how it felt to cut. I knew depression wasn’t a new feeling to me, but I finally learned was it was called and how to describe what I was experiencing. My parents and sister were very scared for me. News quickly spread and I was the disappointment and the embarrassment of the family. I was taken to a lot of places to “cure my depression” just like some people try to “cure homosexuality”. This angered me because no one listened to me yet everyone seemed to have an answer.

I was soon transferred to a new high school, one my sister had just graduated from, one that my old elementary school “friends” were. Great. I started over again with hatred in my heart and anger flooding through my body. I was a lost duck once again. That’s when I met Peter. He took me under his wing and made the effort to be my friend.

Fast forward, Peter is my best friend and I have a little group I seem to fit in with. But I also had one of my old elementary friends hating my guts. To her, I got along with her boyfriend at the time way too well. (Her boyfriend was also one of Peter’s closest friends). I thought I was doing her a favor to try to get along with her friends. I thought wrong. She hated me.

And from then one out, through the rest of sophomore year to my senior year, countless of problems came up in my group of friends that finally stopped changing junior year.

Ahh, yes, junior year. This is when my mother decided her temple was more important than her family. This is when I stopped praying. This is when I shut out my portion of my life because it was just too painful for me to even think I was anything like my mother. The constant arguments (aka screaming matches) between my mother and father broke my heart. I won’t even go into details.

Fast forward, I’m graduating high school the same year my sister graduates from UC Irvine. All the attention goes to her. She’s the one who accomplished so so so much by graduating. She had honors. She had tassels. She had awards. She was graduating a year before she was supposed to, making her two years younger than the rest of her class. And in all of that excitement, I seemed to have been forgotten.

As much as I wanted to keep my friends close, I became more and more excited to finally go to school closer to home. Santiago Canyon College. The drive would be 20 minutes (with traffic) versus the 1 hour and 15 minutes (with moderate traffic) I dealt with everyday going to high school. My first weeks went by very slowly and very chaotically. The transition from high school to college wasn’t as hard as they said but it definitely wasn’t a breeze either. Most of the semester went by without a single friend at my side. The friends I once had in high school slowly drifted off with little to no attempts to mending the gap. I tried and tried to keep this family of friends a part of my life, but failed one by one.

Jump to my second semester of college, I developed a group of friends in my chemistry sequence that is slowly blending into my math sequence as well. I know they have my back. I know I have friends in that group. But through everything I have been through with “friends”, I still have a hard time letting my guard down and trusting any one fully. But as I am struggling with something new in life, I am learning who are my true friends and who are simply “friends”. I am also getting reminded of what I pushed away my junior year in high school. I had started to miss what I used to have, but the reflection of my mother I see in that belief scare me away from accepting it back into my life.

Today, as I am writing this post, I am still struggling to accept that portion of me back into my life. But I am also realizing that, slowly, what I once pushed away and denied myself had already begun to seep back into my heart, into my life.

Maybe this post wasn’t brief. Maybe it wasn’t very detailed. But that kind of sums up who I am and where I am with my life.

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It’s been a while since I’ve seen you. You’ve changed a little appearance wise, but I don’t believe your heart has changed at all even.

Even though it’s been almost a year since I paid attention, I can see that your heart hasn’t changed. You’re still the same person. You’re still the same person I thought I loved so so so much. You’re still the same person I feel a connection to. You’re still…you.

I couldn’t believe that you were there when I met you again. I couldn’t believe we were face to face once again. I had remembered the days that I wished, and dreamed, for this to happen. For us to go back to how we were, for things to be okay again, for everything to simply go back to the time before everything felt like hell.

But now that I was facing you and I saw that you were basically the same person still, I knew for sure that I didn’t want you in my life anymore. The cold atmosphere, the mysterious vibe, the nonchalant attitude…everything.

I felt my heart try to reach out to you, help you, heal you, be there for you. But I felt every other part of me pull myself back. My guard went up and I could not get myself to relax when you were around. The amount of pain you put me through, the amount of hurt you made me endure reminded me that I should not let my guard down when it came to you.

As much as I think I want to still be friends and have you as a part of my life, still today, I do not think that would be the wisest decision. I don’t trust you anymore, not the same way I used to. I don’t have faith in you, not like I used to. I don’t believe in you, not in the ways I used to.

I won’t push you away. I do want you in my life, but I have accepted that things will never be the same again. That’s okay. I don’t want things to be the same. I don’t want to relive the amount of hurt and pain I felt with the amount of betrayal and abandonment I felt from your actions. I deserve better than that.

If you had changed, if you had grew up a little, if you had changed a little for the better, maybe there would have been a real chance of us having a healthy relationship as friends. If you wanted a friendship as much as I did, maybe we would have a chance to still remain in each other’s lives in a positive manner.

But things are different and you are the same.

It was odd seeing you again after all this time, to be honest. I thought I would be happy, excited to see you and spend some time with you. But when we came face to face, all I felt was my guard going up and my insecurities telling me I wasn’t safe.

I’m sorry. My heart tries to reach out to you. And I will listen, like I always do. But there is little chance that things will be okay ever again.

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