sabai dee

it’s strange because it doesn’t feel strange at all. although i couldn’t sleep and didn’t have much of an appetite the preceding days before my arrival, now that i’m back in bangkok, i feel a sense of serenity, excitement, and hunger. i told someone and she said she was jealous.

i hopped on the metro rail link from the airport. there were a few English speaking Thais who were kind enough to try to help me but i knew exactly where i was going. i appreciated this act of kindness because i know that it takes courage to assert yourself in a language that’s not native. i couldn’t help but smile. then, i transferred to the BTS, stood in sweat unbothered, and enjoyed my phone being dead so i could enjoy relying on my instincts for direction and take in my environment. i lugged my 27kg suitcase and backpacks to terminal 21, which is a mall that more than likely houses the BEST thai food court in the world. i went back to the vegetarian stall that i used to frequent and used my eyes to order food that i did indeed forget how to pronounce. i ate it all for the equivalent of $3. fresh vegetables, seasoned perfectly, without the hormones. i told someone and he said he was jealous.

i caught an uber from the mall and it was a seamless experience. i didn’t have to talk, he helped me with my luggage, and he spoke basic english. i even napped in the mazda. a solid 35 minute ride cost me less than $8. i told someone and he said he was jealous.

i arrived at a former student’s house out in the burbs. she’s old enough to be my mom and still calls me “teacher”, even though I haven’t taught her in almost a year. she was at work when my uber arrived. i was greeted by her housekeeper who helped me with my things and had a plate of refreshing watermelon ready for me to devour. i unwound myself and slept for hours, unbothered, to awake to the sounds of tropical birds and roosters. i told someone and she said she was jealous.

so i say all this to say that, it’s damn good to be back in thailand. i know what brought me back but i also, i know that no land is perfect. i can say that i know many people who are discontent and unfulfilled, questioning the motions that they’re going through. why not live like you deserve? why not seek the fulfillment that you’re craving? why not feed your health positively? why not try to create your heaven on earth? it’s more than just geography.

don’t be jealous. just live like you deserve.



I thought about you this afternoon.

I thought about how I haven’t thought about you.

I thought about how you won’t be able to say my name to me again. 

I’m thinking about you now. 

I’m thinking about if you’ve attempted to contact me because I wouldn’t know. 

I’m thinking about how much effort I don’t have to put into keeping myself from contacting you because I don’t fucking care.

I’m thinking about our sex. 

I know how to separate the two.

That famous line goes “it’s me, it’s not you”

It’s me. 

I was our sex.

You were just good at channeling. 

I cared once.

I don’t fucking care anymore.

You don’t fucking care. 

You were just good at channeling.

Now, there’s nothing to channel.

There is no longer a channel. 

I don’t fuck with you. 

father figures

i have this reoccurring dream of my dad. it escalates with intensity each time. i wish it was with pleasant imagery — him walking me down the aisle, like i had the pleasure of witnessing recently as a maid of honor. i wish it was something as simple as him giving me a warm embrace, kissing my forehead, and telling me that he knows i’m special and that my happiness is important to him. 

instead, my dream is painful, disturbing, and disruptive to my logical tranquillity. 

the sequence of nightmares have always involved him hunting me. sometimes i’m with a group of people. sometimes i’m alone. i’m always trying to avoid him. i’m usually prepared to defend myself verbally and physically. the most recent hunt was more dramatic and resonated the most. he had used every source of global surveillance possible to hunt me and he succeeded and i found myself startled in my sleep to see him sitting feet away from me. he was in disguise and speaking words to me that made me feel as though satan had possessed the man that aided in my birth. in my sleep, my father embodied every characteristic that was synonymous with the anti-christ. 

he hurt me. he cut my hand with the sharpest blade i had ever seen and i bled. 

i felt it in my sleep and it transcended.  

i awoke from this torment and didn’t know how to feel. for years, i’ve battled with where i stand on my relationship with my father. at times, i feel offensive and bold. my attitude is “fuck him. he can fuck off. he can die.” other times, i feel defensive and ready to protect myself but still very respective of the fact that he’s my father. i wish the best for him and hold on to the glimmer of hope. i’d humble my feelings in an attempt to embrace him, if that opportunity presented itself. yet, in both circumstances, i am always on guard.

my father is someone that i try to not think about. i try to feel numb towards him. i try to be indifferent. i try to be strong. i try to wish him well. i try to imagine what i’ll do when i see him again. i try to prepare myself for what he might say & do. i try to not cry when i think about him. it’s a constant battle that might not go away.

i wish my father respected me. i wish my father didn’t physically abuse me as a child. i wish my father didn’t verbally abuse me an young woman. i wish my memories of my father didn’t cause my emotions to whirl randomly. i wish there was a way to be over it but still human about it. i wish there was an end to the story while i’m still alive. 

i love him and that hurts me. 

i hate him and that hurts me.

i wish this father figure didn’t have the ability to taunt me anymore. figuratively or emotionally. i’m grateful in some way. this frustration and experience has caused me to become a complex person — someone who doesn’t tolerate bullshit; someone who values herself; someone who has struggled with identity; someone who can step outside herself to imagine the perspective of others; someone who is empathetic; someone who is apathetic; someone who’s not afraid to fight; someone who knows how to love hard.