hi, hello

Dear self,

6 months have passed since you’ve last written anything. 6 months. You did get in. You got in. And you hate it. I absolutely think it was the worst blessing of my life. But they say that God doesn’t give you anything that you cannot handle. So I guess, this, too, will pass.

The year is ending. Today is Christmas Eve. You don’t celebrate Christmas but you’re wearing a pocket tee with a santa hat and the words ho-ho etched in its little window. And right now, things are the worse it has ever been. There have been a lot of times in the past couple of months where you have been genuinely contemplating of leaving this plane of existence we call life. You haven’t. That’s nice. That’s good.

But I still want to cry right now. When the world gets down your spirits and provokes the hatred out of your bones, you want nothing to do with the world. But they say that’s how stronger, kinder people are built. Because they were made to endure. The problem is sometimes, I do not want to be strong, nor kind anymore. I just want to be able to breathe without feeling like everything will swallow me whole.

Maybe I’ll write more often. It has always felt better when I do.

As this year is closing, please remember this. There will always be people who will grow to hate you. There will always be people who do not like your guts. There will always be people who usher others just to talk about you, and what you can and cannot do. There will always be people that have nothing to do but go on and on about what you’ve done wrong. But they are not your people. It is not your job or your obligation to mold yourself like clay for you to be someone they like. Because the right people, your people, will see you, exactly for who you are, and what you can do, and what you can’t, and who will love you just as fierce and just as boldly are they did before. Those are your people. and no matter how many times you dug through the dirt and mud of growth and the pain that comes with it, once you look to your side, it will be them in that very same dirt and mud, telling you that you are not the product of the mess you have caused, but you are the person that comes out from it. No longer clean, not entirely. But just as brand new. Just as beautiful. And just as worthy of love and respect as anyone else.

The future will be bright. I guess I just have to be there to see it.

Happy Holidays. Here’s hoping I make it.


life update?

Hi, future self.

It’s the 22nd of June, year 2018. It’s the last year of university, the first semester. I just submitted my proposed research paper for the call of proposals. Since you’re from the future, you obviously know whether I get in or not. I hope I get in. Not because of the glory of representing the region, but to be really honest, it’d be nice not to worry about spending a single penny over my thesis. It hasn’t even formally started yet and I’m broke.

I bought Steven a new collar today. I think he kinda likes it. He hasn’t shown any signs of protest and it’s been a solid two hours. I consider that today’s new victory. Sometimes I worry he hates me. But then I’ll take a shower and when I get out, I notice he’s been standing beside the doorway the entire time waiting for me. I can feel he’s a little miserable, though. I think anyone living here would be.

I’m a little sad today. I’m a little angry too. I’m writing because I don’t have the time to feel like this. I need to be as focused as I was this week. I’m doing this for you. I’m doing this so when you read this someday, you’ll be in a place where I want you to be. Frankly, just away from here. Ideally, in that little apartment in that big city, studying in that med school you’d lose an arm to get in to, coming home to your little brother and Steven, and holding her hand throughout the day.

We’ll get there. If you’re already there, I am happy. I know you are too. What’s that like?

I can’t wait to know.


dear steven,

Dear Steven,

Today is the second time I went home without hearing you meow at the door while I try to get the lock open. It’s a little weird seeing my jeans clean without any of your hairs sticking in. I’m sitting on the floor right now. At your favorite spot. And I really wish you were here today. Today was very hard, buddy. I had to spend twelve hours with the very people you kept me sane from. I promise I am trying not to cry every minute that I realize you aren’t jumping on the desk to look out at the window. But it’s really hard not to.

I miss you. I hope your adventures today were more promising than mine. I am trying, Steven. I am trying to do this without your paw on my hand. So you try your best to come soon too okay?

Your salmon dinner and I will wait every second. I promise.

I love you.


red skies

You pierce through my chest and I don’t bleed red. I don’t bleed at all. There must be something about your fists, something about the corners of your heart, something about those ribs. But you were never looking at me. It was always someone across the street, someone else you have yet to meet. Sooner or later, the curtains were going down. But you give this tired soul a home. I may have stumbled all over your front porch but I stumbled all the same in the only place where I don’t bleed. Not even a little. Not at all.

That was the problem. I should have bled. But why didn’t I? Why couldn’t I?


happy pride month!

It’s finally the time of the year where we are continuously reminded that love is love is love is love. This month, we celebrate all kinds of love, but most importantly, we celebrate the kind of love that fights no matter the bigotry, no matter the discrimination.

So hello, nice to meet you. This isn’t your coming-of-age, Cinderella story. I am just a girl turning twenty in a couple of months and I have never been more happy to tell you, dear reader, that I am proud to love like this. Nearly every piece I write that’s filled with nothing but love is because there is a girl who always gives my words a home.

The world can bury me with fiery disgust, and it still wouldn’t change how my heart beats without choice. By far, it is still one of the dumbest arguments I’ve ever heard. If even you could call it that. If it were you, why would you choose to be a minority? What is there to gain where you are deemed inappropriate for children to see? When holding hands under a table already makes you quell with fear? Who would choose to get humiliated, abused, shot 49 times, left to bleed? No one. It is not a choice. It is who I am, who I will be tomorrow. It is who I will always be.

So here’s to us. Here’s to pride. Here’s to every letter, not one meaning less. Here’s to boys kissing boys, girls kissing girls, and everyone in between who doesn’t want to kiss anyone at all. Here’s to the ones we’ve lost along the way. Here’s to the ones who made it all possible today.

Here’s to you. If you’re still shaking in fear, if you’re still praying for it to go away, if you’re still hiding, if you still don’t understand, it’s okay. If you still haven’t told anyone, it’s okay. If the only person who knows is yourself, it’s okay. I see you. I do. This one’s for you, too.

And here’s to you, my love. For being my word’s only place to rest. For the hushed whispers of I love you’s. For the quiet hum of your name tucked in between the spaces I take a breath. For the way your eyes soften against mine. For the way you give my bones solace. For the times I had to let go of your hand. For the times in the future where I won’t need to. For the many ways we have loved, for the many ways we will continue to love. You are the very answer to every conundrum of love, of life, of this. You are warmth in the middle of December, you are spring all year round, you are the rise and fall of the waves, of my chest, of my heart. And I love you, Imee Stephanie. I love you with every inch of me that is capable of love. I promise you, they cannot take it away from me. I promise you. 

G. HUANG, bisexual and tremendously proud to love. 



let there be

When he said let there be light, I think he meant you. For you are so much more than the sun could ever offer. For it was always meant to be this bright but the closest star to the earth was never a ball of fire, waiting to explode. For it was you. For it is you. For when you were made, I doubt it was just clay. For you only have to stand there and smile, and all of the sudden, you create gravity on the corners of your lips. For one by one, they fell. For I fell. For you are the rhythm of every gush of wind, every gravel that reaches the peak of the highest mountain. For you are the taste of the sea, the only blinking light. For I have walked this far for you and me. For you are the only one I ever want to see.

When he said let there be light, I think he meant let there be you.


oh, the trains

The streets are empty, so is what’s left of me. But I tried. But I listened. But I looked back once. There is a beating heart in the palm of my hands and I’m the one who held it there, closely, softly, easy now, easy, but it still broke. It still broke and I heard nothing but the cracks for days. For days. For months. I didn’t hear it enough, did I? I never felt like I did.

I remember an ocean. A boat. I think I didn’t learn to stay afloat. I swam, I think. No, I drowned. Did I blink? When I reached the shore, I could see it from afar. But I did nothing but place pebbles in my mouth. I wonder. I wondered. Did you?

Come in. It’s a little cramped. I never knew how to clean after myself. But it’s here somewhere. I know it. I wouldn’t have gotten rid of it. I know I wouldn’t. It’s here, I swear. I swear trust me, it’s still here. Is it?

There is not a single blinking star tonight. That’s not fair. He was not fair. I did it for you. I did it all for you. At least that’s what I tell myself. I did it in the name of how mercifully I stumbled. But he didn’t have to take away the stars. But if he gave it to you, then I guess I don’t mind.

It was what mattered the most. It was. Maybe he was right to take it away from me.