A Kawaii Memoir


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Posts tagged Prose
The Invisible Climax

I think I’m in a lot pain yet having no gain

Reaching towards the invisible climax

Only to realize it’s the illusion of what my life is

This is the reality they call corporate biz

I hate it ya know, walking on tip toes

Thinking if I’m careful I’ll be in the know

Despite the fact I’m struggling

Fabulously failing,

Dedicated dying

On an invisible climax I call success

Thursday: Lemon Tea

I’m sipping lemon tea and plotting how to get another job or come across 8 thousand dollars in spending money. How is this possible, as I bare face looking like a raccoon deity contemplate the itchiness of this wig? Its cause I have nothing but the fumes of my grandiose dreams to keep me going. The government shutdown, or as I call it Trump's Tantrum attack has me on edge on a consistent basis and people over the internet remind me of why my eyes are failing. I don’t have the time to be cool or cute, and I don’t have the energy to take care of myself anymore. So why am I living this way?

I was speaking with a co-worker on my way home about the woe of finding a vice to de-stress because its just a little too much at work. While I might not smoke, I can see its appeal. Although one drug test later and I’m put off from having that as a stressor in my life. I’ve never been good at tests. So we talk about work, it’s a mutual venting space, and I appreciate it, and honestly need it. I have to verify that the situations aren’t me being crazy but are in fact inhumane expectations with a beautiful aesthetic cover over it. At some point, I started wincing as I saw what Day it was in my work log. It was day 118, and I just felt my heart sink into the boiled contents of coffee and painkillers inside me.

It is just another experience of “shit this is my life” or “Fuck it” or “Same shit different day” type mentality and it is devastating. I started thinking about how often the “American Dream” was shoved down my adolescent throat, only to come to the conclusion that’s a sales pitch for colleges and universities to take our tuition souls. So while I’m sipping this lemon tea contemplating the sum of my life and questioning the reality of dreams ask yourself, did I add sugar or honey to my tea this afternoon.


Hollow City

WRITTEN: 01/01/2019

In my many nerd-ism attributes, I think of Bleach when I ponder over the word "hollow". I think of great giant beings with holes in their hearts consuming the spirits of those around them. That's what I feel in the big apple. A bit hollow, and the desperate need to consume everything to the point that health is irrelevant. I feel this emptiness rise from corners of my mind, and it reaches out to hold me close. A Hollow City, and I’m tourist within smiling my way through its gray ambivalence. The city is a place of opportunity, and like many a weary artist cities feel like the place to be to make your dreams a reality. In the past I wanted to live there so badly. I thought that NYC was the place that would accept my energy and have it flourish. Now when I visit I feel energy seep out of me into the metro. The love I once held for the city in my youth I suppose matured. What once was naiveté ambition became a cruel jaded reality. The truth is my experiences in the city aren’t always a joyful memory, more often then not I am left leaving the city drained and questioning the monetary decision to go there.  There is something about the gray sidewalks and haunting skyscrapers that reminds me of the intimate and negative experiences I’ve had in the city. The friends I’ve lost, the arguments, the harshness of the people. It all clings to the light I feel inside aggressively. I never want to experience a negative change or regression when I visit a place but NYC with all its lights is so dim. When people ask me about my trips to New York, I give such a pained smile that I’m reminded of what looking through glass feels like all over again. Yukijoro, the voice within me weeps. I remember the tired nights, the men I run from, and the cruel words whipping my body from strangers. I don’t understand how a place bustling with life can feel so empty. Perhaps my ramblings here don’t make sense, and that’s fine but just for a moment I wanted to write on the hollow city. 

The Golden Hour

Written: 11/26/2018 

I look like my soul is from another place, another world, a different mentality. I don't understand it, this isolation and agitation of unfamiliarity. Keep me here. I’m not sure I want to return wherever I left, whatever story I left behind. Isn't this time golden? I keep thinking to myself I am alone in the aura of my mindset, trapped in the ribbed cages of an idea of self. Trapped in a golden hour holden on to whatever sanity I find I have left.

The golden smile, its the one I gave right after I break, its a fixed position in time to remind me, that I have a star in me to do whatever it takes, i’m a golden hour. Out of time, fleeting into the twilight of Oberon and his mystery of misery

~ Jade