Confronting the abyss.

reflecting on the human condition

Well, she thought, let it pass; winter is over, winter is over.

(There are all kinds of love in the world but never the same love twice.)

Mid-March in California, the changing of the seasons. And with it, hazy skies on the forecast once more. What is it about springtime…

Just write it down.

My emotions are so cloudy I don’t know which are real. Are they mine? Or are they just vapid shells of what I want to feel? Of what I think I should feel?

I feel a special sort of empty reserved for those who know. Around…

by elesq

A quarter-life crisis, or some shit like that

Funny things, autobiographies, aren’t they? You can’t decide on a title until the story is finished. And dead people make for no good creatives.

Today, I want to think about mortality.

“People always say that you have to make the most out of this life, and I get that, but…

What do you do when words fail? When your fingers cannot will themselves to spill the emotion overflowing at the brim?

What do you do when the words come out trite, outright fucking boring?

What do you do when the person you love is not yourself?

What do you do when you feel so goddamned lonely you could scream? What do you do when screaming changes nothing?

What do you do when you’re on your last cigarette, gasping for air?

What do you do when your cry for help reads as a cry for attention?

What do you do when the life you lead is not your own? When the numbered days feel endless?

What do you do when you’re afraid?

What do you do when you want to die? What do you do when what you really want is to start living?


now playing

My mother and I in traditional Vietnamese ao dai during Lunar New Year.

week #4 | 2018

I have many stories in me to tell, but the biggest one — the narrative at my core — is one of loss.

Loss of tradition, language, identity. It is a story of assimilation, of congruence, of distance and of dissonance.

My story of being Vietnamese in America.

It’s a…

week #2 | 2018

“You know, there’s something funny about you,” my friend says.

“Oh yeah? And what’s that?”

I take a generous gulp of my Kirin and feel tomorrow morning’s regret slide down my throat. The bar buzzes with rowdy Friday night conversation and clinking glasses.

“It’s as though I can see through…

Hetty La

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