A Kawaii Memoir


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We see Ourselves in Shadows

WRITTEN: 04/03/18

Why is it that we see ourselves in shadows? A version of our existence that extends itself before us. It's not just light, and tricks that follow us, but the memory of our presence in this time and place. It is the reminder that here in this moment you are living, and no matter what shadows encase us we exist.

So we see ourselves in our shadows, whether it is the moment we step outside or in the space where we stand. We see ourselves when we sit and when we grieve. We see ourselves among others and alone. No matter where we are, our shadows are there, an afterthought to the time and space we choose to exist in.

A reminder of the life we lead. An afterimage to the existence of the person we were meant to be.


~ Jade

Like Tired Roses

 Written 02/26/18 

I am tired. All my roses have died, but I remember their petals and essence along my body. I remember the color like I remember their memories. The sensation of their heat on my worn hands lingers over my violin strings. The glass that held cupid's love, is filled with lukewarm attentions and murky messages. So you see,I am tired of love that comes in the form of dying flowers. I cling to their form, seeking the eternal. I cling to their form lusting for the immortal.

How I miss these roses, those delicate petals, the ones that carcassed like fairies on my skin and danced like sin in my bathwater. While I desire the truth, for why my love in you inspires. I would much rather feel that you love yourself more than you love a woman like me. I’m that woman who smiles at flowers, and kisses the thorns away, bleeding in loyalty, treating that soul like royalty. I am the garden, I am your home, one day you’ll realize the tears that built this place were not created alone. The tears that built who I am, came from the memories of tired blood-red roses. 


- Jade 🌹 

Unwoven (2017)

Written 10/17/17

Unveiling the tapestry of my life,

It’s an unfinished piece,

A poetic pause

Woven into each scene is a truth

acknowledged solely by me,

The truth of who I am,

Where I came from,

How I am finally free,

The truth in the threads

Is it fate, dipped red

That coils around my soul

A fate to be cast out,

To see what cannot be seen

The life of a hung queen

With little to no mercy 

It’s a picture not many see

Often displeasing and abandoned 

Lost in the dust of society

A tale of no propriety

I wasn’t woven in beautiful threads

The truth is often left unread

What I am is stunning 

A tapestry of cosmic majesty



My Deity Called Pride (2017)

Written 09/29/17

Ranking the seven deadly sins, I realized my first was Pride. Followed by wrath, then lust... but the others, afflictions rarely encountered came after. The most important, the biggest sin of sins, was mine. Pride. I had an idea of myself that lingered in contempt and prestige. I belittled those who challenged my presence, and smiled to those who complimented it. 

Pride, was the warden of a prison i wanted to be in. Day in, day out I was at the feet of a cruel beautiful idea. I worshiped the visage of Pride that reflected only myself. 

That I rose in pride meant that I would fall with it. I crept up into a place that led to a void. A pit so deep, that nothing would survive the eventual wreck. Pride will never save you when you need it. 

Pride isn’t there to wipe your tears when your father threatens your mother. Pride isn’t giving excuses for his drug abuse. Pride isnt around to protect you from assault. Pride isn’t there to stop the violence of your thoughts. Pride isn’t there to keep you safe when he calls. Pride isn’t there when all those folk who complimented your beautiful body are no where to be seen. Pride isn’t there when the contents of a bottle carress your throat. Pride isn’t Here! 

Where are you Pride? Why did you leave? 

This body is weary, this mind is broken, all these wishes for your blessings are forsaken. Pride comes before the fall, but after you fell who do you call? 

Wrath? Lust? Greed? Envy? Gluttony? Or Sloth? 

Who is next on my list of deities to consider while I cope with a perpetuating list of issues that pride had me hide. All to abide in today’s society with a smile on my face and a sneer in every mirror. Oh Pride, my ride, my moon and tide... how you’ve forsaken me. Still I clutch to the strings of a long torn robe, wondering when my god comes back and fixes this mess. This mess I call me.