Depression, My Best Friend

I just lost a friend. But there's no surprise there.

I'm so tired and lost. I want a new life. I want a new me. I want, I want, I want, I want, I want, I want. Maybe that's my problem. I want too much, I don't give enough, and I'm a bitch.

Just now, not only did I piss off my parents causing the distance between them to grow larger, but I lost my best friend. My go-to person, my helper, my angel with horns. My life is falling apart as I speak. My grades are dropping like bombs on hiroshima, my life is a fragile glass of wine that has a crack in it, a crach that's growing too big.

I feel like an amorphous blob. No way to go, no definite shape, no

fuck it.


i dont eve nwanna write tonight.

i just wanna go shrivel up and die somewhere.

life would be better in hell. i can already see it.

The Asian Teen,

Kimmy.

Falling From Grace

I am falling from grace,

I no longer know...

Who I am,

Who I want to be,

Who others see me to be,

How I've lived so long,

Why I'm still alive,

Why I'm living here,

Why they're my friends,

Why I feel so empty,

Why I feel so lost,
Who I love,

Who loves me,

Who I believe,

Who I trust,

Who I respect,

Who I need to know,

Who I thought I knew.

All I know for sure,

Is that I'm falling from grace.

Falling faster than the speed of light.

I'm falling so fast that no one can catch me.

I'm falling so fast that I can't see their faces...

The faces of the people who are true to me.
The faces of the people who are trying to catch me.

The faces of the people who are trying to stop me.

The ones who really care.

But does it really matter?

Does it really make a difference?

Will knowing who they are actually change something?

Or will it hurt me more?

Knowing that the people who I thought would save me,

Don't care enough to even bat an eyelash.

Cruel is the life I live,

as I fall from grace.



The Asian Teen,

Kimmy

Ghost

What's left of me is a ghost of who I used to be.

I'm crying as I write this because of self pity? Remorse?

There's no reason to be crying... And yet my heart doesn't believe me.

I repeat these words to myself over and over again but nothing happens.

I'm a ghost who fears being forgotten, who fears goodbyes, who fears herself.

All around me all I see are people who say one thing but think another.

I come to wonder if anyone I know is true to me, honest, pure.

I'm not without sin or without error myself, but sometimes I wonder.

I used to be so confident and strong, and now I'm a baby,

crying all by myself feeling bad for myself because no one else will,

no one else will feel bad for me, because they're all having too much fun.

I feel isolated and without a path to go about following.

I was fine, lonely, isolated, but okay, without a tear in my eye.

I work like an ox on a field with a plow attached to its back,

hoping that by giving myself little room to think I won't feel the pain.

I thought that working myself harder than ever would make me numb.

Up till now, I thought I was a part of a group, belonging and loved.

Now I know differently; I was nothing but something to laugh about to them.

This is my fault though, no one but my own damn fault.

Kimmy

Too good to not share.

My friend posted this as her status on fb and i had to share it.



Love who you are.



Look in the mirror in the morning and smile and say:


"I am too blessed to be stressed and too anointed to be disappointed!"


"Winners make things happen. Losers let things happen."

-Ebony Mikle



Kimmy <3

True Love?

I've been thinking a lot about lovely lately. And, it's funny, but this long line of thought started with a simple Korean soap opera, or, as we call it in Korea, a drama. It's called Playful Kiss (that's a rough translation), and the storyline is about this girl who's not smart, not beautiful, not tall, not athletic, and is most definitely not rich. She falls in love with this guy her freshman year of high school and this guy, he's perfect: smart, tall, athletic, good looking, rich, you name all the positive things and he's it.

Well, anyhow, the story goes on where this girl is madly in love with this guy, and by some mishap their fathers are like best friends. When an earthquake takes down the girl's house the guy's parents are like OMG THAT'S YOUR OLD FRIEND!! And the two families end up living together. Now, to the girl this is like heaven and to the boy, its not that great. They get to know each others through fighting and arguing, but I think its also through this that they get closer and soon both fall in love with each others. Just, the problem is, the guy doesn't tell the girl, and instead he's a butt towards her. Then to make matters worse, another gal comes into the picture, she's like a duplicate of the guy just in a girl version. The main girl, she's worried and after a while it seems like the perfect two are gonna get married because the guy's father's company needs money and the duplicate girl's grand daddy is the funder etc. Well in the end, the main girl and the guy fall totally for each others and they get married, she straightens out her bad study habits and gets a degree in nursing and all is good.

How does this lead to the provocative thinking of love on my part? Well, my life somewhat reflects this, just, not exactly. I've been having a lot of bull crap views on love and bad stories of love. And, its funny, but now... I think I like one of my best guy friends. FML x100. Why the FML? Because, he's smart, he's athletic, he's got his charm, and he's just too good for me. To make matters worse, it seems that everyone else likes him too, FML! And, to make the already horrible conditions worse, one of my closer friends thinks she might like this guy so there goes all sense of hope.

It sucks because now it'll have to all stay in my heart, my emotions I mean. And I guess I can't complain seeing as I have known him for quite some time now, but one can't help but to feel some regret? GR! Curse these stupid emotions, man, sometimes I wonder what life would be if I didn't get special feelings like this. But then, I wouldn't feel the joys of love and such so eh, I guess these emotions are all worth it in the end. I think.

But yeah, bottom line, love... I know I feel something for my friend, but I'm almost 90% sure that he feels nothing special for me, which is pretty sad. Still, when I think about it, even if he did have special feelings for me, I think I'd be too afraid to act because I don't want to ruin the friendship I have with him. He's my pillar of strength and he keeps me from falling and letting the world around me crash down. I guess its better to keep him as my bestie than it is to have him as my significant other, but one can't help but to wonder, no?

Oh well, that's life I guess, confusion, wonder, GR!

The Asian Teen,

Kimmy

Changing Seasons

As the seasons change I can't help but to notice the difference in the attitudes of students.

Interesting.

Kimmy

Family

What is family?


Is it the Adam's Family? Full of odd mismatching people that still work together?


Is it the Brady Bunch? Joyful and with constant joys and happy episodes that lead to another happy ending?


Is it the family from the movie Marley and Me? Joyous with sorrow and moments of laughter?


Or is family what you see on the news?


Headlines:
"Mother commits suicide after killing husband and child."


"Child murdered by parents and left in isolation."


"Spears and Timberlake divorce, issues over custody for children."


So yet again I ask you, what is family?


As the days go by I come to wonder if every other family out there is like my own:


Happy in the face of the public but secretly dysfunctional and without order, constantly fighting to keep the thin-tight little strands of whatever keeps us together, there.


What is family?


Every day I find that my family struggles to be together, and if we're not struggling to be together, we struggle to stay together and be happy. I look back into history and find that there is seldom a day that our family has been truly happy and without conflict. Thinking about how without hope my family is makes me sad; it crushes any signs or sparks of hope that once resided within me. Now, I live on in my family for three reasons:
1. My mother; despite the fact that she's been ill for quite some time, she struggles every day and battles against her health and all forces of nature to keep my family functioning and together.
2. My little brother; he covers himself over with a skin of "macho" greatness, but inside I know he is just as scared as I am. He doesn't have to say it, but I know that even when it seems he is thickskulled and blunt, that he thinks much deeper with maturity beyond his meager fifteen years of age.
3. My father; I come to blame him a lot for the wrong that happens in my family, but I know he is trying to be better. My father comes from a dysfunctional yet functional family of his own. In his childhood, his father, my grandfather, constantly beat my grandmother and father. My brother's six sisters were left untouched but emotionally scarred by what they saw. My grandmother thought that this was the last straw, requesting help from her sister-in-law, my great aunt and my grandfather's sister. With time she was able to move all seven of her children and herself to Missouri where my great aunt cared for the family of eight with the help of her husband. This might seem odd, "His sister helped his wife and kids runaway from him?!" It is weird, and its not something you see everyday, but my great aunt saw that it was her responsibility to clean up after her brother. And its funny because, my grandfather, he also came from a dysfunctional family.
When my grandfather was young, his parents died leaving him and about five other siblings to fend for themselves. Being the youngest, his siblings worked to keep him healthy and afloat. They did their best, but being kids themselves it was inevitable that there was some damage done to both parties. My grandfather's brothers were abusive and temper mental so my grandfather decided it was time to fend for himself a little more. He grew into a rebellious short tempered young man. He had to teach himself the traits of life and along the way he faced much hardship.
After this one comes to think, "I guess there's a lot more than meets the eye." You can't help but to sympathize with the families, my grandfather's family, and my father's family, and then at an extension, my family.


These feelings of sympathy though, weren't instilled into my heart until this year though. Before, I used to blame my grandfather's family and my grandfather for the way my father was. Now, don't get me wrong, my father is an excellent father. He treats my family well and does his best to make up for the negative traits we see in him every day. He takes us places, he feeds us things, he shows us things, and he does his best to make sure we live a life of comfort and peace. But, he, like his father, is short tempered and the military gave him a sharp tongue and work ethic that shaped his already intimidating persona into something even scarier. He became a father of steel; my brother and I were raised in an almost military style, my father restricted us from many things. He has strong views that kept us from engaging with some people, from joining some activities, and even from being with some of our friends. With my father, its even hard to express our feelings because even the slightest wrong remark led to a lecture and screaming and shouting that eventually led to tears.
So throughout the years my brother and I trained ourselves to be somewhat favorable students and children. We did our best to hold our tongues at home, but this didn't do much for our lives outside of home. For myself, I know that I grew a temper, what I stored up at home in anger and other unhealthy emotions I spewed out at the people with whom I interacted every day. I became known for my short temper and sharp tongue, something my father is well known for. Everyone knew me as a girl who got the job done but was harsh and strict with her every move.
My brother on the other hand, a little more rebellious and outspoken then myself, became a radical figure almost. He befriended people in his own grade and they grew up, but as they grew up his friends went into the realm of smoking and drinking. Thankfully, as far as I know, my brother has been good about not smoking and he doesn't like drinking. Still, his friends didn't do much to help his growing emotions of hurt, anger, and sorrow. In school, he became too involved in doing the things that he couldn't do at home, such as playing games or just having fun like most kids. So, to make up for the things he lost, my brother came to do them outside of home. He was a constant "knuckle-head" as some people labeled him, and to others he was a class clown. But when my mother and I saw him, we wanted him to stop, but part of us felt bad. While I was somewhat more malleable to my father's will and didn't disobey him, and so I just let certain aspects of my childhood just flyaway, my brother was still young and my mother and I wanted him to have that part of his childhood. My mother tried her best to help me when I was young and growing up, but you can only do so much.
So, through me, she helped my brother, hoping that he wouldn't grow up to be the same scarred girl that I had grown into. She wanted him to be, "more like a kid and less like an adult," and I wanted that too. We gave him a lot of freedom and thought that was enough but it became apparent that it wasn't. He was acting up in school trying to replenish the meter of "Lost Childhood Memories". And like I said before, even though my mother and I wanted him to do good academically and have a good reputation, we couldn't blame him or force him to stop being a kid... It just wasn't fair that he would have to suffer what I did. So we did our best to make sure he didn't go all wrong. Slowly his grades improved and he set himself straight, but that didn't stop him from being as rebellious as ever.
We found out that he was still a big "stir-it-up" figure in school. He and his friends did everything and anything they felt like doing. His grades were acceptable but he could do better. As time passed we thought it might be hopeless, but I guess he opened his eyes a little more on his own. He was able to straighten up and now he's doing good. He still has a temper like none other and he still does some things that he shouldn't do, but he is doing good academically and he has a strong social life. He's healthy and he's good with others, so what more could I ask for?


But, that's just the half of it.


My family, we're not as happy-go-lucky as we seem. In front of the eye of the public we were one of the most ideal families; father with a good job and steady income, mother beautiful and seemingly happy as ever, son strong athlete and okay student, and daughter good academic standing with a passion for music and strong with responsibility. But that's just the mask I mentioned before, in reality all is different.


My father, strong, short tempered man with words to match his temper; my mother, ill and growing aged, weary of everything and struggling to keep the family together; my brother, short tempered, outspoken strong, acts on instinct and sometimes without thought; and myself, short tempered, sharp tongued, weary of everything, lies to keep people unaware of who I really am, and without a true identity.


Some of you might think, Okay, so what? Like that makes a difference? What you don't know is that all of that really does. Here's the sequence of a lot of our arguments:
1. I do something I'm not supposed to do, as of late, the issue is I stay up later than the lights-out time of 11 o'clock set by my father, because I'm doing homework or just messing around.
2. Mother comes to tell me to get off and hurry to bed like my brother.
3a. I yell at her and we get into an argument.
3b. I ignore her and let time roll on by until my father comes and notices.
4a. My father comes to ask why we're fighting and gets mad at me for being bad to my mother.
4b. My father comes and yells at me for having poor time management.
5. Mother tries to intervene and issue blows up, everyone is screaming, brother stays in his room.
6. Next day father/mother/me are all in bad mood, brother is crabby because he's tired.
7. Come home, something sparks an argument, normally its something small like I have to do something and I forget and don't.
8. Father gets pissed yells at me and storms off into his room.
9. Brother finishes work so he plays 10 minutes of game and father gets mad and tells him to go play piano.
10. Father brings up how irresponsible my brother and I are.
11. Brother grows angry and blows up, brings up issues from past.
12. Everything goes to hell.


And the basic structure is usually the same. But it always lead back to me... Me, myself, and I... I seem to always be the issue. My parents tell me I am the anchor of this family, but from where I see things, I'm also the iceberg that sinks the ship. No matter how I look at it, this like this are ALWAYS my fault. Almost every conflict we've had in this house always leads back to something I did wrong or just something I did in general.


So yet again, I ask you as a closing question, something to keep your mind jogging:


What is family?


The Asian Teen,


Kimmy

How Many Carrots Are You?

Someone onced asked me, "How many carrots do you think you are?"

The man who had asked me this was a mime in New York City, he had just come off a bus when I asked my mom about getting a ring; I was only 8. I had just seen the biggest diamond in a store window and I asked my mother to buy a diamond for me. In the midst of no where this man with a face painted white is looking at me. He smiles and at first I shy away; I'm afraid of clowns and he looked scarily like a clown.

He held out his hand and I shook it. Smiling he did a little act and I had to laugh because it was funny in its own way. Then he asked me that strange question:

How many carrots do you think you are?

At the time I thought it was a strange question. I told him I thought I was 100 carrots and he smiled again and asked me why I thought so. I told him it was because I was just that great and valuable to the world. He looked at me with though for a moment.

Keep that answer in your heart, and when the time comes you'll think about this question again.

When that day comes, think about me and the question.

Think about my occupation and the people in this city, don't forget.

And if you ever get a chance to, make sure to come visit me again to tell me the answer.

He told me his name and I remember my mom looking at him funny. He tipped his hat theatrically and walked off into the crowd of people. I had to stare, I mean when is the last time someone said something like that to you? Just out of the blue?

Oddly enough though, he was right. I thought about it every year afterwards until I turned 10, then life just got too fast paced for me to remember anything. It never crossed my mind to think about the mime whom I came to call Mr. Carrot. Years went by and then I turned 16, and then it was like life just took a change for the unknown; I became that unknown variable in those math equations that I saw so often and I didn't like it. I encountered a lot of problems in which the answers were hard to find or just never found.

After all of those problems I got to thinking and one night I remembered Mr. Carrot and the question came to mind. The entire event from meeting to departure played in my mind like a strip of film that you see in movies. I thought about the question and then all of a sudden I wasn't so sure about my answer. As a matter of fact, I wasn't sure about anything anymore; it was all a blur, and it still is to this very day. So now I ask you, How many carrots are you?

How valuable are you in this world? How much do you value yourself in this world in which we all drag ourselves through? How much are you valued as a person who is a friend and member of a family unit? How much are you worth to the economy? How valuable are you to the community in which you live in? Do people stop to look at you in awe? Or no, better question, Do people stop to look at you to admire the way you've lived? To admire your lifestyle and your values and beliefs?

How many carrots are you?

The Asian Teen,

KIMMY