Flannel keeps me warm but I think there’s something subtle behind it. Something that spurs my decision to wear flannel.
And, the thing about reading less, not having touched anything of Murakami’s for the longest time ever, your grammar competency starts to decay, little iity bit by bit.
It’s funny too or should I say sad, that I can feel the tinge of ethnocentrism in the way you describe my horrible grammar.
I wonder if you saw my name, if you could see its Eastern ‘Oriental’ origin and immediately go ah, I see.
The very standards that I live up to are the standards that I direct my resentment towards.
So how do you translate it into something positive? How do I develop my personal narrative without feeling that deep ass heavy weight of internalized racism?
This semester has been a choke full of surprises and shocks.
It has not been sweet serendipity.
It has taught me a few lessons of labels. Of labels that do not fit me and labels that do.
I’m your belligerent drunkard coping.
I’m your depressed individual trying to find ways to get through the day.
So thank you for being there for me. Thank you for not being there for me.
Thank you for always wondering if I was going down another drunken spiral because yes, I’m your girl.
I’m that girl.
Yum.
jenweirants 