cantaloupe breath.

I am constantly reminding myself that I am not “by myself”

The end of the semester was a hell of a disaster, rain seemed to get my mood, it wouldn’t stop crying. But I said maybe it’s just constipated and finally gets to take a wee, that was a bad joke. It didn’t make me feel any better.

So it was yet another cycle of feeling fulfilled when i saw my calendar full of writings, but feeling just like a tool working with no humanity. I was yet again fighting this wet, dark world alone, and the pressure of un-talkative elders looming over me.

I rode the motorcycle that was left behind for me, but i refused to wear the raincoat.

I miss you. I put on all you’re clothes.

3of February was the day I finally got my holidays.

There I stood, looking silly with a big brown luggage when my home was only an hour and a half away. freezing still, I looked back on the semester.

The bustling sunshine first half, contained of all the events that seemed to last forever, Friends, Laughter, Love, Food.

Then the second half, cold eyes, night rides, and tons and tons of drinks, eyeshadow, smoke.

Then the realisation dawns me once again, I had not breeze through this alone.

puking on sidewalks, you guys were there to comfort me. Balcony talk, cup noodles.

sitting by the river, admitting once again how alike we were,

singing offtunes and really doing nothing on the dorm bed,

walking pointlessly around, riding long before the world gone to sleep.

Ktv, beer, movies,

My Youth,  Our memory.

Warmth despite the fact i was stone cold on the inside.

Thank you.





I had an amazing tale,

slowing fading away from my memories.






I cannot stop to think,my brain betrays me; a pool of unclean ocean I’m suffocating in, soon i’ll be drowned and soon I’ll be unclean.




“All i know is we are only here briefly, so while i’m here i want to allow myself joy.”

After I became blonde, my life seemed to spin right out of control.

It’s the first time I’ve ever came this close to venerbility. To Throwing my heart out at somebody only to get it shattered.

Three weeks exact.


You were exactly the opposite, the worst. And He was an angel, everything Life was for. But I craved the feeling of living, of the unknown, I was drawn and I refused to keep away.

I drowned myself in alcohol, in self destruction, this way I felt living. Laughter and pain but worst sadness. Guilt flow through me knowing I belong not on earth but the deepest end of hell.

I enjoyed surprises, waking up not knowing when my next meal was or whom bed I would spend the night in. I enjoyed painting my face, bright sparkles under the eyes, dark lipstick. I broke away from my lifeless fairytale.

But Who cared for me? Who would leave me?

I left my cycle for you, can you tell?

I stared at the street waiting for you’re shadows to show. It’s stupid, I know.


You told me not to leave, You told me to grow up, Now three weeks later I’m back into the cycle like nothing ever happened. Like we were strangers.

I can smell that scent, I always will.


Day after the eruption,

hours and hours tucked away in bed,

last nights naughty long behind; just like the lingering scent of alcohol fading away.

time drags,  The Comfort hour.

Then rhythm of life slowly flows back to you, and every nerve on you’re body feels it.

Bombarded by the head spin. the quick pace of contact lens. brushing teeth. blowing hair. eyeliner. shadow earring. Reborn.

Life comes back to you, the checkoff list, suddenly life seemed to be right under you’re control; people wave hi to you in class and you smile in secrecy, they have no clue where you went last night.

By the end of the day, you unconsciously count down the hours that soon closes the twentyfour hours to eruption. By then, you ate dinner with friends, roamed around school, checked off you’re to-do list, It’s like the day before never happened.

“That’s why I live in the moment” he says, “Let it move through you because it won’t last.”


也許是真的 別人不會特地去記得所有身邊的人發生的事。不過從你嘴裡講出來特別的刺耳。

藉著酒精給我的膽子 我說出了這一生最狠心的話

在防備自己的同時卻又傷害了別人 蠢蛋。

有誰會想聽呢 有誰願意好好坐下來聽?


是不是又被看成太在意太自我中心太誇張 不過你知道嗎 我只是想把我的心情講給你聽。

是不是沒有流淚 所以是完整的





You know that odd age, where you get stuck between a child and an grown up.

Old enough to feel the weight but too young to bear it.

This motivates me to grow up.

Four days and three nights, Hotel rooms, Checking in, grab the keys, rode the motor cycle, feeling like it was just you and me. No one told us when to eat or sleep, We were the leaders of our own Runaway trip,

yet no credit card, and a ticket was all it takes to snap us back to reality.

I muttered the word Invincible, maybe even tried to convince myself a little. Pathetic was it? Yet I saw us, two newly born birds, a bit aimless but definitely unafraid to fly.


Of many things about this summer, what surprises me the most is the way my brain categorises memories. After learning that I’ve got a boyfriend, my dad seemed oddly affectionate towards me and my sister, always hugging and always reminding us that our family is a Tribe, never separated. One morning he came into the living room and said, shyly of course, why is it that we could easily exclaim love for somebody outside but never said that we loved him. Even now, back in Taiwan I think about this quite often, sometimes even guilty for finding happiness from somebody else not family. Was it the thought that we no longer depended on them as much anymore or was it because he thought it was foolish of us to waste love around?

Memories of my childhood comes in fragments, mom in front of the computer, dad driving the car, mom taking me clothes shopping, dad coming home every night checking on my video, us together eating dinner. Last summer at the airport entrance gate, we hugged goodbye, dad suddenly pulled me in and touched his lips to my forehead, it was no kiss but merely a brush of lips, a gentleman. Every men on earth was pure evil except daddy, according to him he was the role model and the last gentleman standing.



Back to back, quiet morning, you smiled.

Summer light shown through the glass boxes that made up the kitchen ceiling. I liked the kitchen in grandpa’s house. everything looked yellow. cozy.

Ten o’clock, you came home again from you’re daily routine of morning market. Breathing hard, sort of limping. I decided to stop pretending to sleep. I walked to the back of the house to you. sweating, fans on. good morning.

I do what I always do, looked into each bag.

Sat down, still silence, oddly you didn’t turn on the TV right away today.


Out of the corner of my eyes, I saw your the corner of you’re lips tilt up just a bit. you’re eyes forming an down ways banana. the mango tasted bittersweet. Suddenly childhood memories flash through my head. All the dumplings, broccoli, guava, ice tea, all the food that connected us.  You’re small smile every time I walked by with you’re food in my hands. every time I chewed. You barely talked much, but you always always asked If I ate yet, If the dishes were okay, or just to say you’ve dishes were a mess that day.

I liked to cry, but I was always you’re favourite.






I bathe in the glory of your jealousy

in secret.

The worstest Luxury, but the most valuable .

Venomous words spoken out of your mouth

soothes the edges to my unbalanced heart /

singing comfort to my ears .

I am messed up, feeding off your suffering.

eating away your peace.