When Shi Jinghui first opens the doors to the room, a boy shoves past him, storming out of it.

He considers going after Yue Yunqi, but thinks better of it. Xiu Lihua sits on the bed, covered in bandages.

“He’s upset,” Shi Jinghui starts, gentle.

“He’ll come around,” Xiu Lihua answers, stretching her limbs mildly. With a wince, she adds, “He can’t stay mad at me for long, ha, this weekend is my b—...well, he can’t stay mad at me forever.”

Shi Jinghui frowns. He crosses the room to where the drawers are, pulling one open to wordlessly rummage through the ointments.

“You can’t keep doing this,” he says.

She looks away. “I don’t know what you mean.”

“Yes, you do, Xiu Lihua,” Shi Jinghui presses, insistent, shutting the drawer. “This is by no means the first time I’ve treated you because you decided someone else’s life was more important than yours, do you know that? Or does every moment you decide to be a human shield just meld together because they’re so common?”

Xiu Lihua whips around at that, indignant. “I don’t—you have no idea what you’re talking about, Shi Jinghui—”

“I think I have a fairly good one, and enough to have a theory, maybe, that—”

″—I’ve done everything I can to stay alive this long—”

″—that you think it’s acceptable,” Shi Jinghui finishes, somber, “because you think they won’t care in the end, anyways.”

Xiu Lihua stiffens. She says nothing.

“I’m right, aren’t I?” he continues, mildly opening the ointment jar. “Ren Liufang, Qian Guozhi, Zhang Yuting, Yue Yunqi. You cared for them so much at some point, and when everything fell apart, you thought they’d never felt the same. And from there, I think—you decided that no one could ever feel the same, either. Who would care about you, right?”

Xiu Lihua’s hands balls into fists in her sheets. She stares down at them in lieu of a response.

“You’re wrong,” Shi Jinghui sits down on the bed next to her, letting out a breath. “You’re wrong, Xiu-guniang, and I say that as a friend. You can’t keep nearly dying for people that you love, and then deciding that you’re...a burden to them before they can get the chance to say that they don’t care about you.” He pauses, laying a gentle hand on hers. “You decide yourself that they don’t care about you because you don’t want to give them the chance to. But people do, Xiu Lihua. Is it so hard to believe that there’s at least one person in this world that loves you enough to ask you to stay?”

Xiu Lihua’s deathly still at that, but—her hands shake ever so slightly. After a long few moments of silence, she answers, giving a small, mirthless laugh, “It’s not like anyone ever has.”

Shi Jinghui sighs, pushing aside the jar, then turns to face her properly. He opens his arms, head tilting in question. She scoots forward, then meets him in an embrace.

“It’s bad luck to be crying the week before your birthday,” he says, patting her back consolingly as she hiccups quietly.

“Sorry,” she mumbles, watery. “You didn’t even say much, and I’m...”

He hums. “As a physician, people tend to react the most when I’ve pressed closest to the wound. We just pressed...really close to the wound, is all.”

″Yeah,” Xiu Lihua answers, laughing wetly. “That was kinda scary, Shi-yisheng.”

“Oops,” Shi Jinghui says, deadpan. They both laugh at that. And everything's not perfect, but—time heals. So long as treatment is there.

#lianhuaslices #hbdxiulihua

Hi all! A poem of mine involving a reimagining of the myth of Narcissus and Echo has been published in a dream, selective (there was a less than 2.9% acceptance rate this issue!) magazine of mine called Perhappened Mag! I would appreciate it endlessly if you read it here, seeing as it’s a poem I’m proud of!:

https://www.perhappened.com/echotakesaloversunnyvuong.html

Along with that, the rest of this Issue 08: LOVERS is amazing as well! We were told that out of the over 1,000 submissions Perhappened received, 29 pieces were chosen for publication. Please enjoy this journal’s hard work along with some amazing writers’ pieces! https://www.perhappened.com/issue8lovers.html

Let’s see ma’am now where should I start--

my sister is the sunshine of the family.

We orbit around her like drunk bees waiting for a drop of pollen or a joke, saying nothing.

I sit still and silent with clenched teeth until I’ve got bloody red gums from smiling in too many planned photographs,

I change the color of my hair like it’s in the witness protection program.

And I guess I’m all used to this sort of thing by now so I’ll tell you how

every night when my family goes to sleep I’m still up with a book on account of

I don’t wanna leave but I’m wanting to get out.

I stick my fingers in the edges and slam it shut till all we see is--

I’m sorry younger me, but what the hell is freedom? Is it something you buy in a tricolored popsicle at the fair

    or has consumerism not grabbed you by the cup size yet and asked your name and number?

    How young are we talking here?

    Yes ma’am I think I stopped growing around twelve or thirteen and my mind feels like it’s stuck there

    but the point is I’m done, done,

    now all I gotta do is wait slowly for my body to deteriorate

and fall to the ground up and down quick like a climax chart.

Yes ma’am I believe in a God not on my accord though cause I been raised in a church

and sure I seen them comedians that come in and make gentle jokes about being a Home Schooled Kid Like Me

but that ain’t exactly what I’m going for here see I think just by nature I may be a bit edgier.

Am I outrunning stereotypes yet?

(That was a joke ma’am you can laugh.)

Now how long exactly have I wanted black hair? Has it been long because nah it can’t’ve been

    do you have that in your notes, ma’am? Do you have in your notes how I can’t seem to do nothing permanent

    or that my favorite color’s red but I wear more blue? Do you have in your notes how I hold books like security blankets,

    how my mom and dad are real successful and my brother he’s good at math and I’m just not no matter how hard I work? 

    You been writing down that I’m sad? Or why? What you put down there in your notes, is it my favorite art or poems

    is it terror dreams is it the recurring one about baby Rosemary crashing out of my arms like a fish flopping for life on the art class floor

    cause my arms ain’t strong enough to hold up an act anymore?

Things are crashing, ma’am, they crashing real hard.

Planets are coming out of alignment but Pluto here’s just a stubborn one, huh?

And she don’t want to revolve around the sun no more, huh?

And it’s been about an hour so I should probably take a sucker and get the hell out so you can see the next messed up kid, huh?

But when my family’s all sleep y’all think about me still up reading.

I’ll stick my fingers in the edges of the pages and slam em real tight.

Now all you can see is the red.

“Remind me why I’m letting you crash at my place,” Soren mutters after the second straight week of walking into his tiny apartment to find it an absolute disaster. The boy looks up absently - Finian, his name is Finian, Soren needs to remember that - from his nest of empty takeout containers and blankets. He’s got flatbread in his mouth, apparently caught midchew, the rice and vegetables threatening to topple off the remainder of bread in his hand. Soren cringes - he’ll never hear the end of it if the carpet gets stained beyond repair - and tries not to look horrified as he throws his keys and coat on the table.

Finian doesn’t seem to have heard Soren at all, but even if he did hear Soren neither of them have been very good at getting the point of what they’re saying across. Being frozen in an iceberg for over a thousand years seems to have horrible effects on communication - who knew? Every day Soren spends with Finian does wonders for science.

The sheer number of things he does that defy modern laws is staggering. Soren has lost count, but he never ceases to be amazed. His latest discovery: the boy doesn’t bleed.

“No die,” Finian explained haltingly after two days, when Soren caught the boy wandering outside in the heavy traffic of the city. Somebody rammed him hard but the boy just slid across the hood of the car and continued to walk as if nothing had happened. So if Finian wanted to claim immortality Soren was willing to believe him.

Did all immortals take over your apartments and compulsively buy everything on the meals app you showed them how to use? Or was this boy, sitting in the last shaft of buttery afternoon sunlight peeking through a gap in the curtains, somehow different even among legends?

“Good food,” Finian says happily. He examines the bottom of the latest takeout container and sighs with disappointment upon finding it empty.

“That’s nice,” Soren says absently. Coffee - he needs coffee to deal with this boy, he has learned that over the past fourteen days and even before that, on the little expedition boat with Lara, trying to understand words in a foreign language nobody’s spoken in a long time. Soren growls deep in his throat upon discovering the boy has taken the liberty of unplugging every appliance in the kitchen.

“Did you unplug the television too?” he snaps. Finian looks up, startled, his green eyes bright and wide. Who, me? his expression screams.

“Tele- telli - telviz —”

“Tel - ah - vish - on,” Soren sounds out.

“Tellyvzhon,” Finian says triumphantly. “Yes, I like.”

“Did you unplug it?”

Soren brandishes the coffeemaker plug at the boy in an attempt to get his point across.

“Ah,” Finian says, perking up. “No, I kept plugged.”

The television is off, but Soren sees the shape of a remote hidden under the brown paper napkins littering the floor and he wonders if Finian accidentally turned the television off and forgot how to turn it back on. He’s immortal but I can’t even have a simple conversation with him, Soren thinks to himself.

He phones Lara. He does that a lot, even more than before the expedition. If they hadn’t found Finian, he doesn’t know how things would have turned out, what with declarations of love and all, but with Finian they’ve got an excuse to talk to each other every chance they get.

“Lara, I don’t know if I can keep hiding him in my apartment,” Soren says in a rush as soon as she picks up the phone. “He keeps unplugging things! And my wallet can’t stand his outrageous eating habit much longer.”

“He’s still eating?”

“Yes, yes, of course he’s still eating. I have a literal immortal crashing at my place and I can’t even teach him basic speech so we can talk about half the things he knows because he’s always got his mouth full with flatbread,” Soren hisses. “Can’t you take him for a few days? Just so I can get the stains out of my carpet, Lara, please—”

“You know I’ve got the boss over for the informal dinner party this weekend,” Lara sighs into the phone, her whistly exhale crackling along the speaker. “After that - maybe. If nothing else, I could always take him out to see a museum or something, even if it’s only for an afternoon.”

“A museum,” Soren breathes. “Lara, you’re a genius.”

“I’m a scientist, dear. Not quite the same, but close enough. Keep flattering me and I might share the credit for my paper on the ruins we found in the desert with you.”

“That one’s all yours,” Soren mutters. “I hate deserts. Nasty places.”

“Excuse me,” Lara yelps, indignant. “They’re wonderful! I will not have you shitting on deserts if you expect me to drag any strange thousand-year-old beings to see ancient history.”

“Okay, okay. Deserts are… okay places.”

There’s a click on the other end, the sound of a pen. Lara shifts her phone - Soren can hear her moving and rustling. “I’ll take it. Now, where should I bring the iceberg boy?”

“Finian, his name is Finian—”

Soren pauses and casts a glance at the boy, now wrapped up in a blanket and watching the television with fascination. It seems he figured out how to turn it on again, but Soren is less interested in the way the remote is dangling precariously over a glass of water and more interested with Finian’s strange hair and skin tone.

“Hang on, do you know where he’s from?”

“No. Finding out information about him is your job, Soren. Being a historian and scholar of ancient civilizations and all.”

Soren huffs. “You’re paying for this, you know.”

“Paying for what?”

“His meal of bribery.”

Soren hangs up on Lara’s protests and approaches Finian cautiously. “What do you want to eat?” he asks, carefully, slowly. The boy stares up at Soren for a moment before grinning widely.

“More flatbread,” Finian says cheerfully. “I like flatbread.”

“And that’s my number. Don’t text me unless you’re dying, you got your girl pregnant, or you’re quitting the team,” Dante says, handing Rei’s phone back to him. “I’m heading out now. We’ll talk to Coach about your jersey, yeah?”

Rei takes his phone and tucks it into his hoodie’s pocket. “I don’t have a girl.”

“Yeah? Sweet. Only two things for me to expect from you, then,” Dante deadpans in response. He claps Rei’s shoulder before reaching down to throw his soccer bag over his shoulder. “G’night, kid.”

Rei huffs out a laugh as he watches the team captain leave the locker room. He turns to his own bag.

“Not dating anyone, Tanaka?” One of his teammate asks, clearly amused, as he rifles through his locker.

Rei snorts, not bothering to answer. He squints at the analog clock on the opposite side of the showers. The ice cream parlor closes up in about an hour.

“No?” The same teammate, Elijah, Rei barely remembers, prods. “Why not?”

Rei clicks his tongue, trying to ignore him. “Someone needs to clean the bleachers soon.”

“Taking anyone as a date to the dance?”

“Why?” Rei snips, finally turning to Elijah, who’s raising an eyebrow at him. “You planning on asking me out?”

Elijah raises his arms in mock surrender at that, grinning. “Hey, just asking, man. It’s all the girls are talking about nowadays.”

And then he starts droning on and on about high school words-down-the-grapevine chatter. Rei stares at the stain in his locker.

Rocky Road’s probably all out by now, he thinks, dejected.

“—and you don’t even care about that, huh?” Elijah scoffs, tossing a sweaty practice jersey at Rei’s head to get his attention. Rei glares at him. “You think you’re better than them, pretty boy?”

“Hey, knock it off,” James says, who hasn’t said a word since he started watching their exchange for entertainment. “The guy gets a thousand confessions and a thousand and one more proposals to dances, and he won’t say nothing. Not gonna open his mouth now.”

Elijah whistles mockingly at that. “Girls do love the brooding type, I guess.”

“I don’t brood,” Rei shoots back defensively. He just really wants ice cream about now. “I just don’t run my mouth twenty-four seven like you douchebags.”

James barks out a laugh at that. “My fragile heart, Tanaka.”

Rei rolls his eyes. “You guys need a ride home?”

“Nah,” Elijah responds, still eyeing him like he wants to press more. He gives a two fingered salute instead, shrugging. “Catch ya later, heartbreaker.”

///

“You know people find you intimidating, right?”

Rei happily nuzzles his face into the tiny samoyed’s fur.

“Like, by first impression and reputation, they think you’re a Metallica kind of guy,” Vivi continues, waving her sandwich around in her hand thoughtfully. “When really, you’re a Britney Spears type of guy.”

“There’s nothing wrong with Britney,” Elisa cuts in, monotone. “She’s one of the few celebrities not under the telepathic control of the Illuminati.”

“How’d you sneak him in?” Rei asks, moving the dog so he’s cradling it. “I thought the electric scooter was your magnum opus.”

“If it fits into a backpack, I can get it on campus,” Vivi shrugs, nonchalant. “You’re ignoring the subject topic.”

Rei sighs, turning to her. “And we will continue to ignore it. You have a pop quiz next period, by the way.”

Elisa tuts. “He’s using Rei Tanaka Defense Tactic 293, Vivi.”

“What,” Rei says.

“Of course!” Vivi narrows her eyes at him like they’ve caught a felon in the midst of a lie. He kind of wishes he was in jail right now rather than anywhere next to the two. “You deflect questions about your personal life with concern about our academic careers.”

Rei turns to Elisa, deadpan. “Stake me through the neck right now with one of your chopsticks.”

“Come on, Rei!” Vivi groans, shaking his shoulder. “Look, half the school wants to date you, and another one fifth at least wants, like, one kiss.”

“Easy sell from us,” Elisa adds, nodding seriously.

Rei stares down at the samoyed, trying to telepathically will it to suddenly go rabid and kill him instantly to get out of this conversation. It barks, tongue lolling out of its mouth innocently.

“You’ve got an image, hon!” Vivi elaborates. “Handsome, star soccer player, standoffish, sure, but it adds to the sexy, quiet vibe—”

Rei closes his eyes. “Christ.”

“Intellectual, hardworking, good bone structure,” Elisa hums thoughtfully, tapping her ringed finger against the cafeteria table. “Which is very important to the Underground Lizard Society, by the way.”

“And secure enough in your masculinity to be on the cheerleading team!” Vivi finishes cheerfully, clapping her hands together. “You’re the package, sweetie.”

Rei sighs, pushing his face into his hands, flushing slightly from the praise. “Please don’t describe me like an Amazon customer review.”

“All we’re asking is that you tell us if you’re ever seeing someone,” she continues. “Just that! Only this and nothing more.”

Rei opens his mouth to retort, but Elisa cuts in. “And we know you’re busy with National Honor Society and extracurriculars, but just in case you do hit it off with someone—”

“—we’re here as wingwomen,” Vivi continues proudly.

“I appreciate the thought, Tinder Twins,” Rei sighs.

“Well?” Elisa prods. “You should give us your thoughts now, by the way. There aren’t trees in here like there are on other parts of campus.”

Vivi slurps her slushy. “Why does that matter?”

“No government-installed listening devices in the trees to eavesdrop.”

“Ah.”

“Right,” Rei’s eyes flick to the clock. “I’ll…keep you guys posted. I have a meeting with a teacher now.”

///

“Your writing was immaculate, Rei,” Mr. Gbeho tells him as he hands papers back to him. “The essay was about each president’s contribution to the proliferation of the two party system, but you surprised me by going deeper into the glorification of the founding ones despite their misgivings.”

Truthfully, Rei’s been staring at the Pocky snack bag on the teacher’s desk. He blinks, vaguely registering that he’s being talked to. He bows his head politely. “Thank you, sir.”

Mr. Gbeho hums. “Rei—last week, I believe you told me that you’re free after school for about two to three days a week. Is that correct?”

“Unless my soccer games are rescheduled, yes, sir.”

“I’d like to offer you a part of our tutoring program,” the history teacher continues.

“There’s someone in this class I’d like you to work with—Linden, maybe you know him?”

Rei doesn’t…particularly pay attention to a wide circle of people besides the Tinder Twins, which he feels guilty for, sometimes, especially since he feels like he’s on so many people’s radar. But it’s not a conscious decision: he’s more of a conversation watcher than a starter, and he’s more focused on his studies and sports than social circles. That, and apparently having, as Vivi likes to call it, an intimidating resting b. face.

“We haven’t met yet,” Rei admits after a bit.

“I suppose he hasn’t made himself thus approachable,” Mr. Gbeho chuckles, which is, Rei thinks, not an exactly teacher-ly thing to observe, but whatever. The man nods his head towards a kid at the back of class.

He’s dark-skinned, longish black hair, headphones in. Seems like a typical loner.

“That’s Linden,” his teacher points out to him. “Help him out a bit with his history grades, yes?”

Rei nods: it’s another thing to add to his college resume, and it shouldn’t hurt too much. He turns his head to look at the boy, who stares out the hallway like he’s waiting for someone.

If all goes smoothly, and the school year runs well, they should get along easy enough. At least, Rei hopes.

(Later, he finds: some hopes are a bit too high.)

#poplon

i don’t make non-writing pieces, but. only wtw-ers are going to understand this, so! fair warning here.

i’ve hit 200 followers on wtw, and, well. ha. i don’t want to get so sappy from the get-go, so enjoy this surprise! my gratitude to all these users, expressed in different ways. (and a pretty funny intermission that, if i do say so myself, you might like to read!)

pravartika, my fave brit directioner, i have a feeling you’d help me fist fight someone. and for that, i adore you. greats minds band together?

samina, thank you for making me feel brave and loved with your sweet messages, always. <3

aadit, (aka my favorite rebel son spurtsofdark) a compliment from you may not come outright, but they’re a compliment all the more.

crow_e, we may not interact much, but i have the hugest infatuation with your writing, and i believe you were one of the first people i really looked up to when i joined the site. thank you for being a source of (most likely unknowing) support!

raehyos, the most precious and talented novelist in the world, thank you for being a fellow cake enthusiast. i’d love to read more of ikara one day.

tho_nguyen, my only other vietnamese face! thank you for being a source of “home” in your writing—i appreciate you, em.

HazelTkach, aka Sena, i firmly believe we’d be a duo to be reckoned with. you’re a right delight to talk to and a brilliant girl. and an even more brilliant friend. thanks for your commentary on my insta stories, LOL.

N., thank you for being such an Intellectual TM. i feel like we’re scarily similar in the sense that we have a couple of life-situations that coincide, so your writing has always been a source of comfort for me. thank you for being an inspiration.

purplepanache, spare talent for the rest of us? thank you for blessing me with your heavenly writing and for always being so detailed in my comments. sometimes you outshine me in my own comment section. get outta here. also ily.

***A BRIEF INTERMISSION***

actual, literal things chrys has said in response to my texts/comments to her:

-can i disown you

-STOB IT

-i will not dirty my hands with your blood

-IF I HAVE TO SEE “huehue *insert bad pickup line*” EVERYTIME I SPEAK THEN MAYBE-

-i just woke up and now i wanna to go back to sleep.

-thou shalt not let oneself be seduced

-as these messages progressed, a myriad of emotions suddenly passed through my body, but the only one that stayed was exasperation

-y’all please don’t...

-do you smell that? smells like bullcrap

-sometimes i hate life

-to see without my eyes

-i’m suffering. very very hard

-shut it jade lemonade masquerade buffet

-EXCUSE ME VERBAL ABUSE IS MY LOVE LANGUAGE

-please stop

-can i just say that i spent a whole thirty seconds of my life just wondering what to reply

asta (aka my favorite piggie harem member):

thank you for blessing me with your lovely prose. you’re a whole other level of funny and i couldn’t be more glad to have found a friend in you. we’d escape to an Italian island on the spot if we ever met irl. meet me on the astral plane asta fr fr ily ily ily

jun lei (aka my one and only circe):

thank you for befriending me since the beginning and putting up with all my shyness. you’re dang talented and so full of passion that i cant help but admire you. you do things with all your heart and it SHOWS, hun. your talent is impeccable and cant be found anywhere else—and to top it off, i love u sm! you’re a great human being and an even greater friend.

chase (aka the infamous the_enclave but became a friend to me as CDWillson):

my favorite wtw/prose older brother! that’s the first time i’ve said that, and, well. there you go. you are incredibly emotionally mature (from my standpoint, at least) and i’m honored to be your snot secret sunny. thanks for letting me mess around and terrorize you and taking it in stride. i have a feeling we probably don’t agree on some things, but I Care You Nonetheless. i feel like the baby lion that jumps around biting the older lion dad who’s just taking it as best he can. thank you for your support, chase.

naomilling (aka fresh meat, my favored daughter, and simultaneously my cameo aka ex?):

you made me cry last weekend. i was looking over your profile, and then: i saw that i was the very first user you followed. do you know how much that meant to me? gosh, im so glad you stayed. you’re hilarious, so pretty, so sweet, and your writing is so so unique and elegant that i cant help but be in awe. you’re an awesome friend and you’ve always been close to my heart. thank you for being a bright light in my day, fresh meat. never stop being you.

rainandsonder: thank you for always being so kind! you’re honestly such a welcoming and warm presence, and i really do smile when i see you’ve commented on a piece of mine! you’re so genuine i’m all :’)). you’re super super talented as well!

elliem: my sestina morya sister! one of my dearest and funniest friends, aka my fart academic, ha. you’ve always been such a comforting presence to me and such a genuine person. i enjoy our talks so much! i seriously look forward to every message from you. thank you for being like a true older sister to me. north american squad LOL! let’s stay close, okay :’)?

mnemosynink: my closest friend and one of my oldest ones, chryssie! proud to be your older “brother” hehe. youre stupidly talented, and im so glad i stumbled across that post of yours that led to us talking. winged girl, thank you for being by my side throughout this entire journey. you’re a true friend to me, no matter how far apart we are, and i couldn’t ask for a better partner in crime. stay close to my side, yeah? you better!! here’s to becoming wtw legends like we discussed so long ago :’). this would be longer but you already know i love you to the moon and back!

paperbird, agustdv, and the contrarian: the chances of any of you reading this might be a little slim, since, tbh, we dont interact all that often, but you guys have been truly great inspirations to me. thank you for being such beacons of light!

anha: haHA. there was a time where i was worried about what to type to you because i was scared i’d come off as too childish. and i still kinda have it there in the back of my mind, which is a bit silly, but it’s always how i am when there’s someone i feel like i look up to. anha, you once said that popularity was a construct. and i think that’s true: though you’re adored by practically the entire wtw population, your large audience isn’t what made me admire you. i’ve wrote before in an appreciation post about all that i do adore about you, so i won’t be repetitive and type it again. but truly, anha. you really made a change in my life with your words. thank you for being such a cool older sister for me to look up to.

inanutshell: thank you for being such a comforting older sister figure :’) your comments truly made my days back then when we were both more active, and i can’t thank you enough for it. you’ve always been so kind to me, and ive appreciated it more than you know. good luck with life, yeah? don’t be afraid to check in every so often! <3

vintervejen: another sestina morya sister heheh. my gummy bear wtw wife! i’m so glad we met :DD you’re such a chaotic joy to be around and you have so much energy im like. what. is. happening. haha i adore you for it! you’re so generous and your artistic skills are undeniable. thanks for being the extrovert to my introvert, the fire to my water! you’re like a serotonin shot, seriously. my favorite polyglot!

saudade: mia!! my babie and my little wtw sister!! we’ve come so far together, and i’m so proud of you. you’re so, so kind and so happy and bubbly that whenever you comment you make me smile! you’re soooo talented and your writing never fails to blow my mind! i love it when you text me bc i know i’m always going to end up happy by the end of our conversation. always text me if you need anything, alright? i always have time for you, no matter how small it may be!

poetri: riley, gosh, where do i start? i think your writing style is honestly probably one of my favorites: it’s so concise and elegant! you’ve always been so kind to me, and everything you say always seems to come out right. also, the katniss and peeta days sure were fun, weren’t they? thank you for being somebody i could look up to when i first joined wtw!

phantastical: my (other) wife and fellow sestina morya member! anoushka, you’ve gotta know how important you are to me. i think one of the first things you said to me was “how do you usually write?” and i was like! i wanna get to know this girl! you’ve become one of my closest friends ever, and our text convos are never ever dull. i seriously look forward to messages from you! you’re so so talented, and your spirit (feminist icon heck yeah) is so admirable! stay close to me, yeah? love you, my dearest.

dmoral: last but not certainly least, my favorite of allll my older sisters on here, haha. i’m an only child, but i feel like i’d really want you to be my older sister irl. you already know how dang talented you are, but you’ve got such a magnificent personality to back it up. you’re a brilliant girl and so so so supportive! i know i can always rely on you. sometimes i worry if i’m gonna say something stupid while texting you, but our conversations are always so awesome to me. you’re seriously someone i looked up to when i first joined, and i’m honored to have your guidance. i genuinely value our friendship so much, so please! stay with me, alright? love ya, big sis.

and lastly, thank you all so much for your support. i remember when i just started out, i never really thought anyone would pay attention to me at all. and look at me now! so many dear, dear friends and meaningful relationships. the road here has been nothing short of extraordinary, and i thank you to the sun and back for your kindness and your time. 200 followers is a lot to me, and, wow. i was really happy, i won’t lie. it’s just?? 200??wow. i wrote this here bc wtw has its guidelines, yknow, and y’all deserve a more concise thank you. so from the bottom of my heart: i’ll work hard to continue being someone worthy of your attention.

later, my loves,

sunny!

i wanted to be your student director;

your leading lady, standing tall and thin in the shadows of a spotlit stage, 

the one to watch the cast while you run out for tacos, the one to introduce you as the director before the show,

simultaneously idolized and loathed. 

now i write about floating down rivers in venice and dye my hair blue in a tiny bathroom mirror.

i could write my own movie and make myself a star, but i wanted to see your head nod from the side of the stage like peppermint sticks in july.

cool and swift, loud and slow.

loud and slow.

attention is, if any dream, a bad one.

quarantine spared me, i didn’t want to be your cow. 

i don’t want to be your cow, not then or ever. i don’t want to make people laugh, i don’t care if it had the most lines, i don’t like the way the lights feel on my face anymore. i don’t like the way strangers come up to me and tell me i did good, i don’t like any part of it and realizing that brought me into focus.

my senior year is not this year but the next

and am i scared? maybe.

quarantine spared you, too.

would i have walked off the stage if the show went on? maybe.

but i wonder if knowing that hurts more than knowing your show was never a show. or is it good i never had the chance, then?

take it in stride, dear, like peppermint sticks in july.

cool and swift, 

loud and slow.

loud and slow.

Dear J,

you will never read this letter. i made sure of that—there’s not one social media platform that we’re both on where i haven’t blocked you yet. and i’ll tell you a secret: i thought about sending something like this to you just so i could at least pretend that you acknowledged i existed. which wouldn’t be fair, of course, because neither of us seem to acknowledge that we knew each other at all, so why should i expect so from you? maybe it’s because i wanted an apology. gosh, that stupid apology. i wanted (past tense) to forgive you. i wanted you to forgive me. and you know the funny thing? neither of us would know exactly what we were (would be?) apologizing for. for nothing? for everything? for the words we said, or for the ones left unsaid? i don’t know. i don’t know. it’s been three years and i still don’t know. but i need to let go.

i lie to myself sometimes and say that i wish i’d never met you in second grade. it’d save me the heartache. it’d save you the heartbreak. (but did your heart break? am i sick for wanting you to hurt just as much as i did?) you hurt me. you hurt me so much. i could handle people thinking that i was the snooty, smart, popular girl back then and you told me every time how good i was but i know that you must think it now. i know you would shame me now. (i don’t know if demonizing you despite not knowing how you are in the present is a way to cope but it works it works it works it works.) you used to spew all that religious stuff (you didn’t look me in the eye when i got fake married to my other two gal friends? it was for pretend and it was all a game but you told me to repent forever and ever and i think that was when i started being angry at what religion could do to me.) and you shamed them and you’d shame me and you did you did you did why did you do it? you were (past tense) my world and you knew it. you were my best friend and we planned to attend the same university together and you knew it you knew how i gave you all of my heart and i still wonder what you gave me in return. i wasn’t the best i know i’ll admit but you knew it you knew it and i wish you’d just admit it. and then there was the incident and then i forgave you but then everything went downhill and i hated you for it but i still loved you all the same.

and then it was radio silence. there was no massive fight between us to end all things. things weren’t okay between us, they were awkward, but at least we were friends, and then we just stopped. stopped texting every hour of the day. radio silence. and that was the end. i haven’t talked to you since that day three years ago. and all i wanted to do was let go.

the truth is that i hate being vulnerable. even the things i write are surface level reflections of what i choose to show and i think maybe that’s why i haven’t sent this. because i hate being vulnerable and sending this to you would be asking for something and that would be vulnerable because it would give you the chance (again, again, again) to give me nothing in return. did you know you’re the reason i had such issues in how close i’d let friends be to me? i was so so so terrified that i’d give another friend my all only to be met with something halfway that i just couldn’t anymore. i grew colder. i got more scared of liking someone more than they liked me. there was a distance that i held them at and it was all me and an insecurity borne from you. but that’s not who i am and you knew (past tense) it. because what sunny v. does is love and love and love. and i know it’s not right to pin it all on one person but gosh the issues i have just from you alone is. well.

and that’s the past now. i’m better. i’m older, just a bit, maybe. i’m less cautious in the people i let see different sides of me. i’m still writing, and i know you are too. sometimes i’ll get published in another magazine and i’ll see your piece right below mine. and it’s bitter, maybe, it stings (present tense), but i’m going to let go.

because the truth is that you hurt me. and it was your fault, but it was also mine. we both could have been better, but i wouldn’t change things. not really. because the truth is that i will never see myself being on good terms with you again, but that doesn’t mean i haven’t forgiven you. we will probably never speak again and i will never get the chance to hear you ask for my forgiveness, but i have. i’ve done it. i’ve forgiven you, and i didn’t do it for you. every time i see your name, i remind myself of this. because holding on to my hate feels like i’ve let you win. so i’ll let go.

so without even asking for it, i forgive (present tense) you. i will never forget you. and i forgive you. you will never see this, but i’m putting this past me. the truth is that i used to think of whether you still thought of me and how it all went wrong the same way i did. and now that i’ve decided to forgive you, i realize that i no longer care. so this is goodbye: to the memory of you, which is all i have left.

i hope you’ve forgiven me, too. because i’ve let go (present tense). and i want you to, too. i think we owe each other this much.

until we meet again,

Sunny V.

you started taking irony like pills; yes, that’s when it started. life’s too short and you knew that, so when boys started thinking you were cute that was everything to you. many mistakes were made but that’s life (or so you tell yourself) and so the day you find out, you think, how was i suppose to know it’d come to this?

mother hissed the words at you, ”you were better off dating a plant” and they’re funny in plain sight, but hurts when it hits at 3 am you start silently crying in your room. and you curse at everything when you realize your best friend was right, how changing the locks on your heart, was the truest thing to do at time. but now, it’s too late. so there goes your future dreams, though, there wasn’t much anyway; ’cause you never saw the point in getting a degree of something that doesn’t quite exist besides on a piece of paper they print just for the occasion of your graduation (or so was the thinking your father forced upon you). 

perhaps what’s hurting the most (besides being entirely alone), is knowing your family’s deserted you (mentally of course, because they can’t risk bad publicity or court). like when you run to your cousin but she screams at you: we can’t be the cousins we were five years ago when there’s a kid and motherhood reminding you of the life you decided to live. and forever’s an awfully long time when your family’s condemned you to live in the devil’s land.

and you know better than to think the father’s name (though you do it often enough anyway), since he left you before you even thought about what your options were. yet, part of yourself is too blame too. protection can be a two-way streak and you thought things wouldn’t end up like this; oh, your favourite words were: i thought of him as temporary, can you blame me? but darling, how you’ll forever have a part of him tied to a part of you, in the form of another being to add to this mess you call life.

so here you are, lost and broken and discard and just damn scared. but nonetheless, you kept the baby, because if there was one thing you knew how to do, it was pray she’ll have a better life than you. that’s the one thing you’ll take to the grave with dignity, but in the form of words that’ll sit on your dead lips: she’ll be something, and make up for the nobody i ended up being. every second after her birth you’ll remember to tell her this, it’s the one thing about parenthood you figured out how to do. ’cause even if there’s no right thing in parenting, there’s most definitely a wrong and you did that. though, you’re sorry, and you constantly tell her that.