Description: A photo visualizing some of the moments spent garnering the thoughts below. (Muir Woods, California)

Salt Lake City, Utah

March 12th, 2018

It has been seven months since I have left my warm and ever welcoming home in Asia which was nestled in a valley that magically changed colors with every season.

It has been seven months since I basked in the company of my beloveds. It has been seven months since I have welcomed a new chapter into my life with bravery and vigour.

When I landed in my new world, I knew of two things: compassion and empathy. How to sit in silence with a friend that mourns. How to smile when someone is excited by the mere sight of butterflies. How to knit language with moments and passion, intertwining around language so it follows no laws. Yet, like the needles knitting from wool, the language built flows like wool, knowing where to go.

How dangerous it is to be an extrovert in a world of ambiverts. “Yes, Ma’am,” “No, Sir,” has tailored how I talk to people, subduing my rebellion. I would write pages and pages on end and smile at my child, born of moments of inspiration and pain alike. Now I distort it – maybe, pull its ears so they’re less donkey-like, and crush its fingernails so they’re shorter and not wildly spiraling to the heavens. “Here is my child,” I claim, “Here is my art. Here it is. Behold; you may praise it. One slice of creativity shredded to please your literature appetite.