this is my coping mechanism.


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Things that help me feel better.

I’m not a “happy person.” So here’s a list of shit I do to make myself happy.

  1. Shower: It’s like I’m a new person when I get out.
  2. Hugs: Someone, anyone. It feels good
  3. Long runs outdoors: I just like running. Plus my running playlist is full of my two guilty pleasures, Paramore and Nikki Minaj. Shit is just so catchy and feel-good.
  4. Hit the gym: Sweating is sexy. So therefore, I feel good.
  5. Cuddling: Because my boyfriend makes me feel all warm and gay inside.
  6. Yoga: I don’t meditate, but stretching and moving through my vinyasa is so rejuvenating.
  7. Nap: I’m not sure if this makes me feel happy, but it’s a good distraction.
  8. Poetry: I always have a poem book on hand, which is always read out of order. If I like a particular poem, I book mark that page to reference to later in times when I feel like shit (also to quote on twitter). 
  9. Scented candles: I got a Vanilla Chai lit up right now.
  10. Blogging: I feel better already.
Nothing about me is “cute”

"Cute" is probably the second worst word you can call me. ("BItch" would be the first, and if you know me, you know that I don’t tolerate that shit). Anyway, being called cute is like saying, "I find you attractive, just not quite enough to be called ‘beautiful’." But it’s not like I get offended when that word is thrown at me because it’s a compliment, and I know most guys don’t think the way I do (please they’re clueless as fuck). I don’t even think most girls think the way I do to be honest. But being Asian, I relate "cute" with that whole kitschy, Hello Kitty, K-Pop culture, which I don’t identify in any way. Many dudes "dig" Asians because they’re "cute," Because of the sociology and psych classes and further research on feminism and Asian culture, I can tell you that a lot of dudes like the fact that Asian women are stereotypically weak and easy to control. I’ll be damned if anyone tells me to make them a sandwich or makes me do anything that I don’t want to do. But that’s besides the point (well, actually I guess that kind of compliments the point). But the point is, don’t call me cute.

Nothing about me is cute. 

what I look for in a guy

not in particular order

  1. a goddamn brain
  2. a high sex drive
  3. good taste in music
  4. communication skills
  5. ability to make me feel less cynical about life and people

of course I have physical preferences, but that seems secondary to this list.

Project Guatemala

Here’s a link to some shit I did.

The joy of pain

I enjoy pain. And it’s not even for some cliché reason like it makes me feel something other than sadness or to get my mind off of whatever shit is happening. That’s what literature is for, for me anyhow. It’s not like it’s a substitute for cutting myself. That was middle school years, for me at least. Pain just … feels … good. Any kind of pain really, except mental, because that shit sucks. I’m talking about physical pain.

Pain when ink is passing into and out of your skin. Pain when a needle is drawing biles of blood from your veins. Pain when the right side of your abdomen starts cramping during the fourth mile. Pain when you’re pushed up against a wall and you’re riding him in mid-air.

I’m not morbid. I swear. I’m quite sensitive to death and seeing others get hurt. Pain is such a blood-rushing feeling. No shit. But I never get tired of it. It feels different every time. Now don’t go thinking that I’m some sick masochist or something. Besides cutting myself in middle school because I believed I actually had real problems, I have never done harm to myself.

Once you enjoy pain, you pretty much become insensitive to what your body is telling you. And once you stop listening to your body, you kind of just focus on your mind. Sure it may still hurt, but you know it’s just this physical feeling that you know your body can endure. So you just deal with it and learn to love it.

vapid and mundane

22 and forgetful

i forgot what it was like

i forget

22 and miserable

maybe i never knew

whatever i did know, it’s all lost now

22 and hopeful

please, please, please

it never happens anyway

Excuse my rant. Don’t read this shit. My good gel pen ran out of ink.

I really need to learn how to stop over thinking shit. I worry too much. I look too far ahead. I’m pessimistic as fuck. I don’t trust anyone. I think the worst in people. Negative thoughts are forever evading my thought process. I get scared. Anxiety kicks in. And I lose it. I take myself out of a situation because getting hurt sounds so much worse than feeling nothing. That’s actually an accurate description to explain my normal state of emotion. Nothing. People ask me how I’m feeling. Typically it’s either “good” or “bad,” but really, I feel nothing. People often mistake my nothingness for boredom or anger. It’s neither. It’s a weird feeling to be constantly happy. I wouldn’t know how that feels like, but I bet it’s liberating as fuck. I don’t think I was born to be happy, therefore I don’t think I was born to make anyone happy. If I’m not happy then there’s no way I can keep someone else happy. (Happy is a weird word). Anyway. I’d just be a negative influence and drag that person down with my unhappiness. There are only two things right now that make me “happy.” Success and a good book. But neither of the two last long. With success always comes failure. With a good book comes a fucked up outcome, which triggers my anxiety and can sometimes project into my reality. I fucking preach about how women need to get off their man crutch and live their fucking lives for themselves. In reality, love is a fucking beautiful thing. I wish I knew how that felt. I see couples fight and get back together, fight and get back together and so on. I judge it and call it a waste of time. But you know what, they’re happy. Call it jealousy because I’m going to call it that too. 

my biggest pet peeve

When people share a news story on Facebook (or any other form of social media) that has not yet been confirmed or from an unreliable news source—or worse, both. It even bothers me even more when other idiots comment on it and the two, or more, idiots start discussing on the matter.  

Don’t just read the bold faced headline. Actually click on the link and maybe you’ll catch on to the lies and fabrication. And then read other articles about the topic and dig a bit deeper. I don’t even know why I’m even explaining how to research. Isn’t that a step in the scientific method everyone’s relearned like 10 times in life?

shitty and shitty food

after a sober night out
with empty moments
filled in with empty thoughts
we got home and kicked off our socks

i screamed his name
and asked if i could stay the night
i awoke with remorse
i debated if i should flee as he unwrapped his arm that sank heavily around my chest

he made me my favorite, banana crepes, that morning
he placed it cleanly upon a colorful, artisan ceramic plate
he served it with a glass of black coffee, just how i liked it
he slid it over to me with a devilish grin

it tasted like shit

the type of shit you’d find in one of those “all natural” cookie packages
tempting, but never living up to its word
i ate the last crumb of bullshit
and escorted myself out the door


last night on the quiet drive back home
he held my hand
and i cracked a smiled
we stumbled back home

he asked if i could stay
we made our bed as he whispered sweet thoughts
i awoke with a minor headache
he kissed my forehead

"morning babe"
i sank comfortably back into his chest
he made me a peanut butter, cream cheese sandwich later that morning
it was burnt with wheat bread crumbs scattered all over the plate

but i loved it
just how i loved the fact that he loved me back

wasted characters

Can we just stop putting “Taken by [insert gf/bf name here]<3” on Instagram? Like really? You’re going to waste those characters on someone to help you define who you are? Ok, maybe I’m looking into it too much, but fuck, there’s got to be more going on for you than your relationship.

Girls Who Read

"He prefers tits. I prefer ass."

This is awesome. 

"I’m into asians"

I have strong feelings about being objectified as a woman, but there’s this even greater disgust to the way I feel about being objectified as an Asian woman.

Asian women are stereotyped as submissive, vulnerable little sex toys. It’s like every man’s fantasy. To have an “intimate” relationship with someone who won’t talk back, but erotic and merciless in bed. 

When I hear guys say, “I’m into Asians,” it’s a major turnoff. That “compliment” that you probably hoped would work in your favor is offensive as fuck. “I’m into Asians” puts me into a category that you already have marked with labels. First of all, in no way am I this small, helpless being that you probably think I am. Second, I’m nowhere near “every man’s fantasy.”

I’m a nightmare.

i keep my headphones on for a reason

dear girls,

if you don’t want to be bothered by a meathead at the gym, simply turn your attention to CNN and discuss current news.

I swear to you he will have no idea what you’re talking about and will be turned off by your interest in shit that actually matters rather than the muscle groups you’re working on for the day. (which btw he doesn’t even care about. he’s only asking so he can tell you that he just bench pressed 300 in his last set).

mean girls

It irritates me whenever she walks into a room full of girls and says negative shit that do no favor for female progression towards equality.

Like you have no right to generalize the female population, which btw are a part of, by calling them sluts, whores, stupid, annoying, etc. Treat people as individuals and stop being an insecure judgmental mean bitch.

thin skin

sinking, sinking, sinking
this feeling
it’s anything but completing
as a whole
this hole you excavated
it’s pushing towards the very words i vowed to never say
i want to belong
to him
not to you
you left
and i was left with just the vague image of what i thought “it” was
it never was
it would never be
believe me

sinking, sinking, sinking
i am now rotting
in my own skin
it’s thinning
but i kinda like it