What is this tumblr tag you speak of?

So I was tagged by Marcus. I’m really boring but here goes!

1) What do you makes you, YOU?

I dunno, I’m Chinese and I’m a girl and I’m eighteen and I’m a student at UCLA. My circumstances have shaped me and how I live my life.

2) If you could only eat one ethnicity of food for the rest of your life what would it be?

Japanese fasho.

3) Recommend a song you want everyone to listen to right now?

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=De3Cjo23dOs

4) Hobby?

www.reddit.com/r/pokeents

5) Favorite singer?

Jonathan Mendelson

6) If you could travel in time, with the ability to meet your former/future self, what time period would you travel to and what would you do/say?

7) Current crush (in real life)?

Evelyn Chan

8) Current crush (celebrity or anyone)?

Tony Stark

9) What is a huge plus which attracts you to another person?

If he treats me well. :3

10) What would your 10 year old self think of you?

I think she’d be rather disappointed, to be honest…….. Well, no, proud of some things, but pretty appalled at others.

Okay I tag @kaire-chuu, @lalaevelyn, @lockedkeys, @waznpride, @cindyhunni @detaylor, @chocoru

here are your questions.

1. If you had one day to spend a million dollars, how would you do it?

2. If you could be fluent in any one language other than English, which would it be?

3. Favorite food?

4. Favorite body part on opposite gender?

5. Favorite place in the world?

6. How did you meet me?

7. How much do you love me? :p

8. What would you rather be doing right now?

9. Guilty pleasure?

10. Best feeling in the world?

May 23. 3 Notes.
She looks down at the capsule in her palm, then looks back up to meet your gaze. “I’m scared.” You smile. You don’t say a word. She parts her lips and places it on her tongue. “I’m scared,” she repeats. She reaches for her milk tea and takes three fast gulps. “It’s done,” she says. “Do it.” I can’t remember what it feels like. I can’t picture the sensation; I can’t recall the feelings. I don’t know what it is I’m chasing anymore. I don’t know if I’m seeking pleasure or if I’m trying to find a remedy for pain. The days pass by in a crazy blur, alternating between thrills and boredom, and I often find myself unable to distinguish between the two. Is it fascination or is it disgust? Are my feelings even real? What is my reality? I can’t even tell. I don’t know why I’m always trying to escape. I don’t know why I try so hard to lose my sense of who I am. I don’t understand why I’m so restless; I don’t get why I’m so unsatisfied with my circumstances. I don’t know why I’m so picky, and I’m never happy with where I am, and I’m always trying to find a new place to be. Are you the answer, or do I just wish you are? Do you think you can help me pull myself up from the cold railing I’m dangling from? Do I want you to? 

She looks down at the capsule in her palm, then looks back up to meet your gaze. “I’m scared.” You smile. You don’t say a word. She parts her lips and places it on her tongue. “I’m scared,” she repeats. She reaches for her milk tea and takes three fast gulps. “It’s done,” she says. “Do it.”

I can’t remember what it feels like. I can’t picture the sensation; I can’t recall the feelings. I don’t know what it is I’m chasing anymore. I don’t know if I’m seeking pleasure or if I’m trying to find a remedy for pain. The days pass by in a crazy blur, alternating between thrills and boredom, and I often find myself unable to distinguish between the two.

Is it fascination or is it disgust? Are my feelings even real? What is my reality? I can’t even tell. I don’t know why I’m always trying to escape. I don’t know why I try so hard to lose my sense of who I am. I don’t understand why I’m so restless; I don’t get why I’m so unsatisfied with my circumstances. I don’t know why I’m so picky, and I’m never happy with where I am, and I’m always trying to find a new place to be. Are you the answer, or do I just wish you are? Do you think you can help me pull myself up from the cold railing I’m dangling from? Do I want you to? 

(Source: agnescc, via chake74)

I don’t know what I want. I should want you. You’re so nice to me. Our personalities fit together so easily. As I write this, I fight against the effects of the Nyquil. I can’t articulate my thoughts. I need to stop taking so much medicine all the time. I’m pretty sure my liver hates me by now. It numbs my brain and makes me feel maddeningly slow. I don’t know if I want you or not. I use pledging as an excuse to escape commitment, but after pledging is over, would I want you? I don’t want commitment. I’m afraid of commitment. I like having fun, just the two of us, together, without a label, without the constraints that a relationship would place on the both of us. I want us to remain close. I do not want to be tied down. I don’t know how to put my thoughts & intentions into proper sentences. I think of fragments, I can string together parts of sentences from my thoughts, but I can’t formulate a coherent & logical idea. I’m getting so tired. My eyelids are weighed down and it’s 12:01 am and I popped the pair of blue pills more than an hour ago, now. And I can’t think, it takes so much effort to stay awake. Why am I still writing? I’m not even thinking of what I’m typing. My fingers are moving on their own. I stare at my screen as the words form themselves. I do not want commitment. I think you over think things. I think I might hurt you. I think I might have hurt you. Sorry about that. I think I might be too dgaf. I think I might care a little too much about my past. I don’t know what I think. I like who I am when I’m with you, for the most part. I like how you make me laugh. I don’t want to have sex with you. Does that mean I’m not attracted to you? Does that mean I have morals? Does that mean I’m just trying to have the appearance of having morals? Does that mean I’m asexual? I’m so tired. I have class tomorrow and then I have to flyer and then I have to sleep right now good night

I don’t know what I want. I should want you. You’re so nice to me. Our personalities fit together so easily. As I write this, I fight against the effects of the Nyquil. I can’t articulate my thoughts. I need to stop taking so much medicine all the time. I’m pretty sure my liver hates me by now. It numbs my brain and makes me feel maddeningly slow. I don’t know if I want you or not. I use pledging as an excuse to escape commitment, but after pledging is over, would I want you? I don’t want commitment. I’m afraid of commitment. I like having fun, just the two of us, together, without a label, without the constraints that a relationship would place on the both of us. I want us to remain close. I do not want to be tied down. I don’t know how to put my thoughts & intentions into proper sentences. I think of fragments, I can string together parts of sentences from my thoughts, but I can’t formulate a coherent & logical idea. I’m getting so tired. My eyelids are weighed down and it’s 12:01 am and I popped the pair of blue pills more than an hour ago, now. And I can’t think, it takes so much effort to stay awake. Why am I still writing? I’m not even thinking of what I’m typing. My fingers are moving on their own. I stare at my screen as the words form themselves. I do not want commitment. I think you over think things. I think I might hurt you. I think I might have hurt you. Sorry about that. I think I might be too dgaf. I think I might care a little too much about my past. I don’t know what I think. I like who I am when I’m with you, for the most part. I like how you make me laugh. I don’t want to have sex with you. Does that mean I’m not attracted to you? Does that mean I have morals? Does that mean I’m just trying to have the appearance of having morals? Does that mean I’m asexual? I’m so tired. I have class tomorrow and then I have to flyer and then I have to sleep right now good night

(Source: rumei, via kairechu)

I love you. I was made to be with you. Time slides through your fingertips and plunges, head first, down the rabbit hole of your confused state of mind,I have no reason to live without you. ripping and tearing at your soul, pulling you one way and then the next, playing with your conflicting emotions and insecurities and hopes and dreams and feelings of loneliness,I remember the first time I laid eyes on you, and you can’t sleep, you cannot dream tonight, you need somebody (and always,) this sick strange darkness comes creeping on so haunting and so unsettling, so infuriatingly omnipotent, You do everything till it takes everything you are. you remember that night, with the lamp on your desk illuminating your bony kneecaps, hugging your calves and resting your chin on those shiny curves of bone,But you dare not, you stand still, you’re not hearing what they say, you’re building sandcastles and crushing them in a moment of fury, your vision clouded with oscillating circles of red and black, expanding and shrinking all at once, blowing through your consciousness, and you remember this feeling, this second, this time, this place, this miracle, this day, this memory and you stop, and turn, and the goosebumps raise on your arms, and you feel the weight on your shoulders and the chill in your spine, and you feel so alone, it hits you how very much alone you are, and you’re scared, you’re haunted, and the weight makes your backbone curl up and hate you

I love you. I was made to be with you.

Time slides through your fingertips and plunges, head first, down the rabbit hole of your confused state of mind,

I have no reason to live without you.

ripping and tearing at your soul, pulling you one way and then the next, playing with your conflicting emotions and insecurities and hopes and dreams and feelings of loneliness,

I remember the first time I laid eyes on you,

and you can’t sleep, you cannot dream tonight, you need somebody (and always,) this sick strange darkness comes creeping on so haunting and so unsettling, so infuriatingly omnipotent,

You do everything till it takes everything you are.

you remember that night, with the lamp on your desk illuminating your bony kneecaps, hugging your calves and resting your chin on those shiny curves of bone,

But you dare not, you stand still, you’re not hearing what they say,

you’re building sandcastles and crushing them in a moment of fury, your vision clouded with oscillating circles of red and black, expanding and shrinking all at once, blowing through your consciousness,

and you remember this feeling, this second, this time, this place, this miracle, this day, this memory

and you stop, and turn, and the goosebumps raise on your arms, and you feel the weight on your shoulders and the chill in your spine, and you feel so alone, it hits you how very much alone you are, and you’re scared, you’re haunted, and the weight makes your backbone curl up and hate you

(via xiai)

They said it would change me. They said I would become a different person. They said I’d be molded into one of the many. I cannot say that is right or wrong. I know that I’m definitely a changed person. As for what way, however……… I haven’t decided, yet.

They said it would change me. They said I would become a different person. They said I’d be molded into one of the many. I cannot say that is right or wrong. I know that I’m definitely a changed person. As for what way, however……… I haven’t decided, yet.

(Source: fuckyeahjapanandkorea, via lockedkeys)

I couldn’t move. I couldn’t speak. I was trapped in these feelings of love and lightheadedness. I felt nauseous and weary. My mind moved so much faster than my body did and I tried to quell my frustration. I decided to sit back and let go. It was then that I felt aloof; I felt removed from the entire atmosphere. I felt that by letting go and allowing myself to be thrown about by the tide enabled me to gain true self-control.

I couldn’t move. I couldn’t speak. I was trapped in these feelings of love and lightheadedness. I felt nauseous and weary. My mind moved so much faster than my body did and I tried to quell my frustration. I decided to sit back and let go. It was then that I felt aloof; I felt removed from the entire atmosphere. I felt that by letting go and allowing myself to be thrown about by the tide enabled me to gain true self-control.

(Source: decompositionbeauty)

Jan 12. 34 Notes.
My body moved involuntarily; my heart stopped. I saw the inside of my eyelids and the intricate workings of my own eyeball. Time stopped and there I stood, speechless. Tendrils of light and sound seeped through the cracks of the dam, and the straining flow of time resumed with a rush. But I was left behind; I was forgotten in the excitement. Time resumed, this time without me, and I awoke again hours into the future. In desperation, I reached for your hand. It evaded my grasp, your fingertips sliding down my shoulder blade in such a way that made me shiver, and I bit my tongue.

My body moved involuntarily; my heart stopped. I saw the inside of my eyelids and the intricate workings of my own eyeball. Time stopped and there I stood, speechless. Tendrils of light and sound seeped through the cracks of the dam, and the straining flow of time resumed with a rush. But I was left behind; I was forgotten in the excitement. Time resumed, this time without me, and I awoke again hours into the future. In desperation, I reached for your hand. It evaded my grasp, your fingertips sliding down my shoulder blade in such a way that made me shiver, and I bit my tongue.

(Source: ileftmyheartintokyo)

Jan 11. 39 Notes.
All I can recall are the lights. The light and the tangible sound. This is a recurring theme in all of my essays, isn’t it? The sound. The sensation. I suppose I write about the sensations because I want you to share in my experiences; I want you to know exactly the feeling that I felt. It was painful, and slightly scary. It was menacing, it was threatening, it was the furthest thing possible from the euphoria I had been expecting.

All I can recall are the lights. The light and the tangible sound. This is a recurring theme in all of my essays, isn’t it? The sound. The sensation. I suppose I write about the sensations because I want you to share in my experiences; I want you to know exactly the feeling that I felt. It was painful, and slightly scary. It was menacing, it was threatening, it was the furthest thing possible from the euphoria I had been expecting.

(Source: cheesedragon, via aviilikesbubbletea)

Jan 08. 72 Notes.

She finds forgiveness in the pages, written without the direction of her consciousness, while the paper curls under her palms and falls from the tabletop, drifting downwards and coming to rest on the floor. Her mind and her right hand do not work in concert. Her thoughts tend to bring her to the past, removing her from the present and forcing her to relive each painful moment of yesterday. She feels, to her satisfaction, those familiar sensations. Her jaws clench, she runs her fingers through her own hair; her mind is at ease. She closes her eyes, content with the knowledge that it’s working. The world seems so excruciatingly silent. Her speech halts, her words held behind a sore tongue, and she reaches a place where she can no longer hear your voice.

Profanity assaults her eardrums. Her eyes are forced open and she is made to watch as humans are treated as animals. She sees them falling, she sees them shivering, she sees them bleeding. She sees them pushed to their breaking point and further. She sees him stumble. They escape her eyelids and slide down her cheeks.

She returns to you a changed person, and while you can tell something is different, you cannot pinpoint what exactly is wrong. Her speech is a little more frantic; her eyes seem to reveal a nervousness about her. You know it’s terminal, and there’s nothing you can do to prevent the eventual death of the person you once knew, but you refuse to accept it. And she tries to prolong it as well, digging her heels into the sliding sand, but you both know it’s a pointlessly wasted effort.

Perhaps you could forget about me, she suggests. Perhaps you could seek comfort from another girl, she suggests. Or perhaps you, too, could find forgiveness in the pages, she suggests.

(Source: kaneto, via cheoram)

A lack of words to describe this moment, a frightening inability to articulate my thoughts and your shoulder, that comfortable part where your arm meets your torso that I love and headphones that completely shut out the extraneous sounds, to the extent I can no longer hear my own voice when I speak, the sound conducting the sequence of my heartbeat, and your deceptively innocent face, the way your eyes wrinkle at the corner when you smile, the way your hair stands up on its own, the way your skin is flawless, and way your fingertips trace patterns on mine, the way you and I are strangers, despite what we may want to believe the way we are so similar, but at the same time so fundamentally opposite and polar, that your name has yet to pass through my lips even a single time, the assumptions and the warnings hover in the space between us, but we ignore them, preferring to just enjoy the moment of you and I in the same place at the same time, which is such a rarity that it’s like a gift, and you and I are both completely sober, enjoying the moment in its entirety- one of us drowning, lost in sound, and the other in complete silence.

A lack of words to describe this moment,
a frightening inability to articulate my thoughts
and your shoulder, that comfortable
part where your arm meets your torso that I love
and headphones that completely shut out the extraneous
sounds, to the extent I can no longer hear my own voice
when I speak,
the sound conducting the sequence of my heartbeat,
and your deceptively innocent face, the way
your eyes wrinkle at the corner when you smile, the way
your hair stands up on its own, the
way your skin is flawless, and way your fingertips trace
patterns on mine,
the way you
and I
are strangers, despite what we may want to believe
the way we are so similar, but at the same time
so fundamentally opposite and polar,
that your name has yet to pass through
my lips even a single time,
the assumptions and the warnings hover in the
space between us, but we ignore them, preferring to just
enjoy the moment
of you and I in the same place at the same time, which
is such a rarity that it’s like a gift,
and you and I are both completely sober, enjoying
the moment in its entirety- one of us
drowning, lost in sound,
and the other in
complete
silence.

(Source: fromasia-withlove)

You lean, stretching yourself across the windowpane, into the cold. You gaze into the street. The cigarette (or what once was a cigarette, rather,) at your fingertips glows, the wind taunting and encouraging its tip. The smoke is acrid; the scent flies back towards your face and fills the room. It’s repulsively unavoidable. The moment, I mean. You take a drag and exhale the smoke through your teeth, tasting the mixture of THC and menthol. The world lifts and the sentences in your thoughts blend together; your tongue quiets and your heart stops. Your vision blurs. Your emotions pitch back and forth. Your existence bleeds into mine and the stain fades, leaving nothing more than a barely visible scar where your presence once was, and you forget the promises, one by one, as your senses begin to dull and you feel that hit of emotional novocaine. That sound, the sound that’s always present in situations like these, permeates the smoke. Your eyes dilate and you tilt your head towards the source of the sound. The stars spell out your name. And then, at that moment precisely before you lose consciousness, you come to a realization: you cannot save him, and you never could have; there’s nothing you, or anyone else, can do for him now.

You lean, stretching yourself across the windowpane, into the cold. You gaze into the street. The cigarette (or what once was a cigarette, rather,) at your fingertips glows, the wind taunting and encouraging its tip. The smoke is acrid; the scent flies back towards your face and fills the room. It’s repulsively unavoidable. The moment, I mean. You take a drag and exhale the smoke through your teeth, tasting the mixture of THC and menthol. The world lifts and the sentences in your thoughts blend together; your tongue quiets and your heart stops. Your vision blurs. Your emotions pitch back and forth. Your existence bleeds into mine and the stain fades, leaving nothing more than a barely visible scar where your presence once was, and you forget the promises, one by one, as your senses begin to dull and you feel that hit of emotional novocaine. That sound, the sound that’s always present in situations like these, permeates the smoke. Your eyes dilate and you tilt your head towards the source of the sound. The stars spell out your name. And then, at that moment precisely before you lose consciousness, you come to a realization: you cannot save him, and you never could have; there’s nothing you, or anyone else, can do for him now.

I don’t think I ever have

experienced such acute physical pain in my life. It hurts so badly I would give anything for it to end. The people who have stayed with me, who have brought me food, who have texted me to check up on me, to ask if I need anything:

I love you, I appreciate you, and I know who I owe. 

To you, who professes his continued love, but who is too busy to come to see me, and regretfully has other plans, and does not understand why I am pushing him away:

I am disappointed in you. I expected better of you. You don’t need to love me anymore, but when I am at my lowest, I didn’t expect you to forget me. I thought I needed you, but I don’t. You may not have regrets, but I do.

To you, who has been through all of this with me, who sees me at my absolute worst, who comes to see me when I am crying, who makes me laugh when I am crying, who stays with me even when I continually push you away:

It took all this time, and it took this terrible experience, to open my eyes. You’ve been with me through this all the way. I do not regret a thing. 

Nov 05. 2 Notes.
I. I know that you don’t trust me. I know that you’ve gone through my photos on my computer, and you see the hair wax on my counter, and you see the pictures online. I know you have doubts. I know that you’ve given it your all. I know that you’ve given me yourself, I know how hard you tried, and I know that I was a terrible person to you. I wish we could go back to when we were happy, and we could laugh together, and I wasn’t so stressed and so tired and you were so comfortable and it wasn’t strained and so painful. I really did care, and I honestly still do. I understand if you regret meeting me. I understand if you regret believing in me. I understand if you regret all the things you’ve done for me. I know that I hurt you. And I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. II. I know that I’ve hurt you, too. And I probably made you regret coming here, to this foreign and awful place, where your family can’t reach you and your friends only make you feel worse and I’m not here for you. You probably regret meeting me, too. And I can understand that; after all, if we had never met, you would be…. in that state of happy unknowing that I found you in. I still believe that that red thread tied around your finger leads to that someone just for you. Whether that person is still me or not is really for you to decide, and I will not blame you for either way. III. I’m sorry for the things that I’ve said. I didn’t mean it. I love you, even if you don’t love me, and I’ll accept it if you regret that decision you made before you even met me. IV. I don’t know how we came to this, whatever we are, but I’m not sure if this is the right thing for us. Like I said earlier, I wonder what life would be like if I never met you that night, or if we didn’t exchange numbers, and I didn’t pledge, and I never saw you again. I try to hide it, but sometimes the things you say really upset me. I really did want you to be my big bro. For you to say you aren’t going to buy me anything………. honestly, it’s not about money, but you seem to forget all the effort I put into you. I cook for you with groceries that I’ve paid half for, I swipe you and go over my meal swipes, I try to keep you happy, I try not to inconvenience you…. I don’t even know. You always say you like me a lot more than I care about you, and I guess it’s true, but I feel like you aren’t really showing it. V. I’m not too sure why I care about you so much, but I really do. Honestly, I’ve never really felt this way before about someone. I want to do everything I can to prove that I love you. I know for sure that you don’t feel quite as strongly back, but I understand that. After all, my feelings for you are.. irrational, to say the least. I don’t need you to spend money on me, but I just want you to show that you care about me too. Sometimes the things that you say or do really hurt me, but I don’t want to tell you because I don’t want to push you away. But at the same time, understand that it isn’t a sexual sort of love in the least; we both are, thankfully, very clear on this.

I. I know that you don’t trust me. I know that you’ve gone through my photos on my computer, and you see the hair wax on my counter, and you see the pictures online. I know you have doubts. I know that you’ve given it your all. I know that you’ve given me yourself, I know how hard you tried, and I know that I was a terrible person to you. I wish we could go back to when we were happy, and we could laugh together, and I wasn’t so stressed and so tired and you were so comfortable and it wasn’t strained and so painful. I really did care, and I honestly still do. I understand if you regret meeting me. I understand if you regret believing in me. I understand if you regret all the things you’ve done for me. I know that I hurt you. And I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.

II. I know that I’ve hurt you, too. And I probably made you regret coming here, to this foreign and awful place, where your family can’t reach you and your friends only make you feel worse and I’m not here for you. You probably regret meeting me, too. And I can understand that; after all, if we had never met, you would be…. in that state of happy unknowing that I found you in. I still believe that that red thread tied around your finger leads to that someone just for you. Whether that person is still me or not is really for you to decide, and I will not blame you for either way.

III. I’m sorry for the things that I’ve said. I didn’t mean it. I love you, even if you don’t love me, and I’ll accept it if you regret that decision you made before you even met me.

IV. I don’t know how we came to this, whatever we are, but I’m not sure if this is the right thing for us. Like I said earlier, I wonder what life would be like if I never met you that night, or if we didn’t exchange numbers, and I didn’t pledge, and I never saw you again. I try to hide it, but sometimes the things you say really upset me. I really did want you to be my big bro. For you to say you aren’t going to buy me anything………. honestly, it’s not about money, but you seem to forget all the effort I put into you. I cook for you with groceries that I’ve paid half for, I swipe you and go over my meal swipes, I try to keep you happy, I try not to inconvenience you…. I don’t even know. You always say you like me a lot more than I care about you, and I guess it’s true, but I feel like you aren’t really showing it.

V. I’m not too sure why I care about you so much, but I really do. Honestly, I’ve never really felt this way before about someone. I want to do everything I can to prove that I love you. I know for sure that you don’t feel quite as strongly back, but I understand that. After all, my feelings for you are.. irrational, to say the least. I don’t need you to spend money on me, but I just want you to show that you care about me too. Sometimes the things that you say or do really hurt me, but I don’t want to tell you because I don’t want to push you away. But at the same time, understand that it isn’t a sexual sort of love in the least; we both are, thankfully, very clear on this.

(Source: decompositionbeauty)

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