April’s History, May’s a Mystery

Morning of April 29th

Nothing else quite matches the cozy glow of a lampshade that makes everything feel so peaceful. My room is suspiciously zen-like, thanks to my sister being at school. I prepared a pitcher of orange juice, because the only way to study with my brain in beast mode is through bribery. If peace had a flavor, it’d be orange and slightly chilled.

April 30th, a Fresh Morning
While munching on a corn cob and sipping ice-cold orange juice, I’m making a to-do list, because without it, I’d study all day and forget I’m supposed to be a fun, interesting person, not a walking textbook.

Lunch break musings
While quietly lost in the world of Thai language, I found myself drawn back, as if by an invisible force, to my favorite violin piece: Vivaldi’s Winter from The Four Seasons. It drives my mind, racing with thunderous speed. Though the 'why' remains a mystery, the sensation is undeniable, every time. And it mirrors the feeling I have toward you.

I occasionally catch myself questioning if I’m journaling for my own enjoyment or I’m unconsciously writing to you.

8:30 P.M. Finished Studying. Mission Accomplished.
Tomorrow, I’ll focus on pronunciation and intonation, while sneaking in a bit of Thai script writing practice over a plate of blueberry waffles. For now, I’m free as a bird, ready to dive into Playing Go (Chinese drama) and Bad Genius (Thai series). 

Where the Wildcard Bends Fate to Meet the Alpha

If you find the thought of ending it all is the only way to stop the pain,
pause your existential crisis; I’m on my way with bubble tea.

Not because I want to change how you feel.
But just to say, "you’re not weird for feeling this way."

You don’t owe anyone an explanation for your tears.
You don’t need to put on a brave face.
Even warriors need to lay down their swords sometimes.

I’ll step forward first,
lie down in the place you thought of,
and maybe, just maybe,
you’ll forget you were ever alone.

Sweet soul,
if thou must wander where shadows fall,
let me hold thy hand.

Until the darkness takes us,
or shows us the way out.

My Inner Monologue, Written Down

April 23rd, 2025: How Beautiful is the Contrast!

While I lay pretending to be dead on the floor,
quiet and peaceful,
lo and behold,
my 5th-grade sister arrived,
unbothered by my lifeless form.

“Ate Iya, is it review time already?”

April 24th, 2025: What’s Yin Without a Yang?

Here I am, self-studying Thai, praying my brain doesn’t take an unannounced vacation. My little sister’s right next to me, happily playing and calling my name like I’m her free trial playmate with no option to cancel.

We had a heart-to-heart about my 'No Poking the Bear' rule today. She respects my need for quiet time, but I keep a VIP pass at the door with her name on it, even if it’s just for her to flop down and loudly eat chips.

With One Hand Pressed to My Heart, I Have Loved You Quietly.

“The Sorrow, the Grace, the Humor”

Your eyes were a silent cry despite the smile on your lips. You held a smile, even as you fell apart like a wineglass in slow motion. In that quiet sorrow, I saw your heart kneeling in prayer. You bleed, yes, but you still carry the devil so gracefully.

I, however, speak to him like we’re both in on a joke, while sipping on a chilled glass of orange juice, as my little sister casually munches on ice cubes.

 

“Companionship Without Ownership”

Love is not a rescue mission.
Saving is ego’s way of pretending it’s a lifeguard,
because it sees someone as broken.

We may bend, my darling,
but we never break.

Saving is ego.
Seeing is loving without editing.

One believes,
"You're incomplete without me."
The other whispers,
"You are not alone, my friend."

One is a cage
dressed as care.

The other is an altar that says,
"Whether you come or go, your freedom remains."

🍦🌹

April 18: Too Chill to Be Burned

The heat went full demon mode,
But I decided, why not bake myself like a potato? 
Skip the fan and nap on the floor like a soggy pancake.

I celebrated my survival with orange juice in one hand,
ice cream in the other.

I live without AC in my room,
and honestly, I don’t mind.
Turns out, I’m a lot cooler when things are on fire.

April 19: When You Speak, I Listen Differently

Just like when you speak in English
and laugh at every mispronunciation,
even when you're unsure
but stay open-minded.

Why do I listen this way to you, and not others?

What I’m asking
isn’t really a question.
It’s a confession
with a shy smile.

Beneath your window,
a lover hums;
every note understood by you,
and you alone.

It’s a quiet, secret love,
like the one in Romeo and Juliet,
where love is shown, not said. ✍️

Random Brain Spills Captured on Paper

April 16, 2025

My 11-year-old sister asks questions that make me wonder if she skipped childhood and went straight to middle age. She'd casually drop questions about dimensions, ethics, or what you'd rule if you were a judge, and then she claps back with arguments so sharp, even I would fake a phone call.🤭

She’s not only raising questions; she’s also pushing through her training, gearing up for her black belt tournament in Taekwondo. I want to celebrate the strength she fought for, the kind no one can hand you. Despite the first showdown nearly knocking her down, she brushed it off like it was just a park stroll with bonus aerial attacks.

As she was busy being a badass, I created a space where she could express herself freely—no eye-rolls, just a safe place. Because how often do you find someone who hears you out and values your personal space?

 

April 15, 2025

Still ill. Still dramatic. Dragged my half-alive, fully melodramatic self to the nearest café. Sampled my little sister’s waffle-and-lychee obsession. Okay, now I get it. She’s got taste. I’m home now and handed her the drink she loves. Sibling bonds are roasting each other, then passing drinks like nothing happened.🍹😜

A Heart Wide Open, Despite the Arrows 🌹

There was a time when Chinese and Korean songs were all I’d sing. Now I sing Thai, possessed by a multilingual ghost who doesn't believe in rules. 👻

Took my meds early; my left hand’s back to normal, but the right’s still hurting, no clue why. But even this pain is gentle in comparison to the brokenness you feel while loving someone who looks at you, but doesn’t really see you, or love the way your heart stays open, even when it hurts. The way you love her... you have already chosen her a thousand times. How does it feel to watch someone you love love someone else, under a soft sunset, all the while pretending your heart isn’t folding like paper?

What art thou, brave soul,
who bleeds
without a sword,

and loves
without return?

May you always recall,
you are the moon,
pure and quiet,
yet tides rise in your presence.

She’s not unkind for missing it,
only unready for the kind of light you carry.

 

I Write Like I’m Sending a Letter to the Future

I’ve been pouring my heart out into this journal like sacred wine, and realized something wild: Thailand feels like where I’m meant to share my love for the English language. Maybe because it’s the only dream that doesn’t feel like a lie when I wake up. And if English isn’t quite your thing yet, no pressure. I’ll just learn yours, until I can teach you mine.

13th April 2025, 3:15 in the early morning

“Some Things Lose Their Magic When Explained”

Love, they said, would make words 

pour out like rain.

Instead, I just close my eyes,
and sigh your name like it's a prayer.

Before you, I wrote to explore my emotions.
Now, I write because you’ve turned them
into a beautiful mystery.

 

"And I thought… would I do the same?"

I’ve seen enough Thai series
to start my own fan club,
but this one made me
hit pause and feel something.

He waited a hundred years,
but what he longed for wasn’t her face,
her voice, or the way she moved.

No.
He longed for the soul that once felt like home,
and the wordless way she made everything feel okay.

His soul recognized hers,
what therapy calls unconscious familiarity,
regardless of the form she wore:
a man’s body.

This is the secret to love that most never understand.

You do not need to question the warmth that flows through you with each sip of coffee. It simply is.

Love, in the same way, cannot be dissected like a frog in a science class.

🃏 Iya

The Detached Observer

"The Illusion Is Sweeter Than the Truth"

Screaming 'We’re real!'
is as believable as
fan service actors mouthing,
We flirt for free, because who needs a real job?

I dipped my toes into the world of fan service,
and now I need an exorcist.

Once you read body language,
you’ll never look at someone the same again.

Just like a clever con artist,
the meal arrived like a lover
and vanished like a scammer.

It only wanted your trust,
and, oh, a bit of your life savings.

People weren’t fooled;
they just really wanted it to be true.
And that, sweetheart,
is why the truth always loses
to a beautiful lie.

The Humor-Infused Skeptic

"Why Be Slim Shady When the Real Never Needs to Stand Up?"

Watched one too many fan service shows. Now I can’t tell if I need a priest, a confessional booth, or the Men in Black to wipe my memory.

They’re so committed to being ‘real’ that even AI, built entirely from algorithms and code, feels more natural. Why? Because AI isn’t out here breaking eye contact records to sell a personality it doesn’t even have. Truth isn’t a cake that needs frosting. It’s already real.

 

The Silent Assassinator of Bullshit

"Real Ones Feel, Fakes Think Deep Means Googling Quotes"

Mid-chew on some peanuts, I expected Shakespeare,
got a fortune cookie instead.

Without a script,
screen darlings talk about LGBTQIA+ love,
like toddlers explaining quantum physics,
confident but clueless.

One 29-year-old served up the classic:
“Love is love.”

Where’s the actual thinking,
did it get outsourced to a 5-year-old?

The bar was already in hell,
but someone, clearly, decided to dig deeper.

"Love is human to human."
No way.

And here I was,
practicing pickup lines
in whale language. 🤭

Just when I thought I’d witnessed the death of effort,
here comes our dear actor,
mumbling, ‘At least I’m getting paid.’

This is what happens
when the mind retires early
and forgets how to ask
even a toddler-level question.

This is what you get.