a life without volleyball- I could not imagine it. 

I feel like anyone who is passionate about playing any sport knows this feeling

I feel like I want to go to college on volleyball

being in the front row, waiting for the opponent to bring the ball back over so that you can smash it down again- there is no feeling more satisfying. Just the pure physical exertion and clean repetition of the activity is enough to satisfy me. I don’t need mental riddles and guessing games 

and when you succeed- when you win the point or the game- they all love you. The teammates- they all come in highfiving and screaming and hugging, you feel like you’ve just won the world

this volleyball was given to me as a gift by my club coach Pei Lan. 

sometimes the journey of life feels like one is hurtling from nothingness to nothingness surrounded by nothing. Figuratively? or literally? I want to know. I am surrounded by so many colors and yet the taste on my lips.. is monochromatic. 

this photo makes me feel depressed. The environment is so empty and so emotionless. the land is unfeeling and unforgiving. Why is it so easy to be depressed but so hard to be happy? What is the biological basis for the universal inclination to kill oneself? Someone please explain it to me

I guess if I want to add some bs figurative analysis to this pic, I’d like to think I’m speeding away from that power line in the distance. 

This is a thank you card to someone that has meant a lot to me. I almost never let a person mean anything to me. I put everything together as gingerly as I could. I hope a few years from now they’ll be able to take out this generic looking card and read the contents with a smile. That would make me happy. 

This is a mother’s day gift. From my brother to my mother. Regardless of how my parents, my mother, has treated me all of these years.. I feel like I’ve been a terrible daughter. Regardless of the way things turned out and how they treated me… regardless.. I’ve been disgustingly spoiled and disobedient. I’m unable to give them what they want, the dreams they see in me, and that hurts me. I can’t be amazing and I’m not going down the straight and narrow. Who could raise a child like me? They are getting old and too old to forgive. One day they will pass away and I will forever be their failure child, the  investment they poured hundreds of thousands into and never saw a penny in return. I don’t want them to die with such unfulfillment. I want to make them proud. This is my brother’s gift. I didn’t even get her anything this year.

This is what stands between me and the summer

I made a list to remind myself. so exciting

Imagine the amount of things I could get done if I were simply productive and paid no attention to my mental or emotional health. I could finish so many things. Does that take a super human will power or can I find it somewhere in my own recesses? 

I saw this cat in front of a court of really nice houses. Upon my approach, it rose on its haunches and displayed its hostility. Suspicion glinted in its grey eyes before it gave up its charade and submitted to my petting. I felt very little meat beneath its thick fur, the cat was a rough sack of bones, like jerky. I assumed it was not getting enough to eat. It was desperate for affection or attention or food and as soon as I touched it it began to roll wildly around on the floor, displaying its belly to me. The cat began to mewl. I thought I could take it home and feed it and take care of it, but it did not follow me as I left. It gave no indication so I let it be.

I can’t help but feel that like that cat, I regard others with hostility and suspicion or fear first and foremost even as inside I am starving. I am unable to get past the primitive reflex to push away; for my own fear of vulnerability. Yet all it really takes is for someone to reach out. I wait for a savior but in the end I am unable to leave delightful, familiar, self-loving misery. So like the cat, I shall starve to death

perhaps I am personifying and projecting my own turmoil onto the cat. Perhaps it was just a damn thin cat living happily in a driveway

growing up. we are like flowers, always reaching up. Sticking our hands out, grasping for something. Who will reach back? Everything follows the basic biological cycle, as do plants, as do animals; and what are humans but animals? Like a fruiting plant our youth is our flower and after it withers and falls away there is no turning back.