Welcome to The Millie Diaries

I wish to paint you in my bleary sky, wiping away the cascades of blurry rainbows just so I can see your precious face.

The skies seem so far, but I don’t need to care if you’re in my arms. Let’s hide in this hollow space forever, you can make up for my faults and I can be your guilty pleasure.

We’ll never have to leave. We can stay here forever.

I couldn’t live, couldn’t survive, without you. Don’t you breathe my kisses like I inhale yours? Without you, I’d suffocate.

This makes me think that maybe, just maybe humans were made to love. And that’s all I have to do to be happy for the rest of my days.

On better days, I used to really believe.

Like the mulberries that grew behind the rotten wood swing set, I started out amongst the thrushing, far from the whitewash wall.

But slowly, vibes swept and pushed me forward and with one great leap I braved the picket fence and began to climb the wall.

Inside the stained glass window, people were singing, they sang all day, their hymns both joy and sorrow but nothing in between.

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I felt my heart thump, aching with infinity hurt. A little wish bloomed, reaching from the dried up fountain by the driveway, a wish that I could be in there with them, in that little hollow brown room, layer after layer of hard shell to block the outside.

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I would've been invincible.

I feel so close to you

Even when we’re miles apart.

You’re in my head as I repeat back the blue bubbles you used to send to me

Is it bad that you’ve rubbed off on me that much?

I can’t even take a look without turning red, I wish I could control my own face

What am I going to do with myself every time I hear your name?

And when people give me icks and embarrassing things to imagine you doing

I end up liking you all the more.

You’ve drawn quite the character, a figure that cuts and dribbles blood down my chin.

Is it just my mind? Or are you everything that I have ever imagined you to be?

But yes:

The truth is this: I can’t help falling.

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who am i?

ap psych

pt. 3

chinese-american

i’m chinese american not because I choose to be, like I do with being an artist or an AP psychology student, but rather because it’s something that I cannot change, and therefore have to put up with whether I like it or not. Over the years, I went in and out of peace with this fact, and experienced some bad and a lot of good. All the experiences I’ve had because of my race are intertwined with the rest my life, so it is definitely a part of my identity.

if I wasn’t chinese american, maybe I would be happier or more blissful in ignorance. However, I wouldn’t have to the unique communities and culture built around Chinese American’s shared race and ethnicity. Losing the sense of belonging to any group would be very confusing and frightening.

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i miss and i hurt and i hurt and i hurt from

something i’ve never experienced.

my life is nothing. I haven’t even experienced what it means to truly love something. I don’t feel like I have purpose, i feel like i lost why i am living and what i’m working towards.

i can’t find true emotion

i only force the tears out of my eyes

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like a sport.

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i need to get all the flooding out in order to

feel normal,

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in order to go to sleep.

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it’s routine,

feeling completely lost

snd crying

and falling asleep

and waking up

and doing nothing.

I lost.

The first thing I said after the news was broken.

The order, so foreign and unknown in my mouth, scared me down to the core.

I didn’t believe it was all real, I didn’t want to believe that it was. The thought alone nearly killed me.

Knowing that next year, I won’t be class president anymore, and I'll be without that title. 

Knowing that I placed second in every competition that I had in my theatre class, even when i tried my hardest. 

Knowing that I have not been successful at all, compared to the talented people that I am surrounded by. 

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Honestly, I clung onto my fake identity as much as I could, because I knew that without it, there wouldn't be anything left. 

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Knowing now that a part of me which I valued so deeply is gone, gone, this hollow space is empty, and I don't know what to fill it with.

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The future is once more uncertain, just a haze in the distance.

it’s the worst knowing that you are not wanted.

knowing how much you want to be wanted.

these past few weeks i have liked someone, been liked back, went on a date, had my first kiss, been excited to see him again, been reduced to nothing but a body, by all other means denied.

I made a list in english class and realized the extremity of what he had done and everything he had said.

i realized that he did not deserve

me or anyone or

Basic human respect

from my friends and their friends and everyone

Who was involved.

this needed to end and it needed to end now.

A long text from him painted my face in

an ugly violent red, with white lips and pupil

less eyes. I was the devil and satan and

the reason why everything was

Going wrong.

i hurt him and

those around us by

spreading false rumors that there was

something between us when there really

wasn’t.

what does she see in him?

what makes him a better friend than you?

you’ll never know.

how strange the human brain is.

did anything you did even make

an impact?

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would they care if you just disappeared,

left them behind and went back to

your small town?

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and worst of all, have you become

someone you are proud of?

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what are they saying behind your back,

do they whisper to each other your name

and judge your every move?

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life is just middle school in michigan over and

over.

once the seed of doubt and insecurity is

planted, it will grow back no matter how

many chemicals are sprayed to tame it.

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does anybody have a map?

i listened to dear evan hansen in the car

because she skipped the song during

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stretches and played something else

instead.

she says she doesn’t need my help

she says she doesn’t usually like having

another person teaching so

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she just wants me to take her direction.

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i could see the anger like

two green slit eyed

snakes behind her pupils and the shadows

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making way to

a deep crimson that

reminded me of the bfg and his

nightmares in a jar. 

i drew her eyes in class

the teacher looked and studied but did not

say anything because there was nothing to do

i was not going to listen anyway because

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the piece must be finished.

my magnificent paint collection

spreads across the table like a jungle

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lions dark orange and

ochre yellow giraffes and

flamingos like bubble gum and

grayish blueish elephants and

traffic-light-yellow cheetahs

and zebras black on white.

A scene I want to shoot:

One year ago, she was dancing with him to this song as the sun set, on top of the world, so far away from the world and all her worries.

One year later, the same song plays, but it’s playing in another room at a party and she’s crying by herself, or it’s playing from outside or out of a stereo.

She starts with just a few tears, but towards the end sobbing, all the insecurities and fears of the world engulfing her completely.

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There's no one who can save her now, and she's completely alone, facing the harsh cruel world without another body to soften the neverending blows.

I travelled through the galaxies. It was beautiful, like a flash of passion the speed of light. It hit me, unexpected but still the sweet center makes my taste buds ache to once more feel it-

The moment you said you would, and even before you then, I, like a soup ladle (because I can't think of anything else rn) had so much to room to fill, if only there was enough substance.

What would it hurt to just say a little more?

Because my feelings are spilling over. I love you, but I can’t say that. But I don’t want to wait! What does your every gray text box mean, what does your voice wavering sound like whispered in my ear?

I wait for you to join me, little prince, because the world can keep getting bigger and bigger, as long as you stare into my eyes and believe.

who am i?

for ap psych.

older sister:

epecially since quarantine, I’ve realized the value of familial relationships. Without being an older sister, I would not have learned how to manage my time efficiently since I used to rely on my parents always being there to tell me how and where to budget it. The appearance of my younger brother in my life made me realize the importance of the ability of independence. I also softened from being a loud, noisy, bouncing-off-the-walls child, since there was now someone even smaller and weaker than me who needed the family’s patience and care.

i would probably be a lot more selfish and a lot less responsible if I wasn’t an older sister, and have a less developed sense of empathy.

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And for that, 

I have to thank my younger brother. 

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who am i?

ap psych

pt. 4

hopeless romantic

since I was young, I’ve always been inspired by the passion and beauty of the world, and the complex web of relationships connecting the billions of people. This might have stemmed from growing up with my grandma and my mother in a small town bordered by a lot of nature, as well as from being Christian. Believing everything around us is created by a divine being definitely made me more idealistic and sentimental. I also reflected a lot on what makes me truly happy, and I realized it’s the small moments where I feel a profound sense of understanding that there is more to the world than what meets the eye.

if I wasn’t a hopeless romantic, I think I might be more practical, and not be as happy generally. Finding what you believe to be a hidden or deeper meaning behind something, or seeing the world in rose colored lenses is actually very healing and blissful.

I miss you so much it hurts.

deep down.

I don't know if i’ll ever get over you, really.

I feel like I’ll never be able to find another one like you.

It’s a sort of hurt that I can’t really put into words.

you don’t feel this kind of stuff every day.

or every relationship.

or whatever.

i don’t think we really ever had a relationship that was romantic at all, but i know the potential was there.

we just didn’t take it, because of fear and because of technical difficulties and because of bad timing.

i wish we had just talked a little sooner, liked each other at the same time, i don’t even know what i’m typing anymore, i just wish we hadn’t both missed each other so conveniently.

why? is it because it wasn’t meant to be? then why am i always thinking about him all the time, even know when i’m 13493094932849328 miles away?

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easter sunday was today, and i’m very glad it was. I’ve been so caught up in everything that i forgot what was important, yet again, who’s surprised, no one. i’ve noticed that recently, nothing has really moved my heart, made my soul feel something, something as deep as I used to experience.

and being wrapped up in my own life, I turned a blind eye towards this yearning, this deep hole inside me that I didn’t know how to fill. Soon enough it became so gaping and wide, I felt as if it was swallowing me whole. I know these are first world problems, struggling with isolation and divorce and depression and not knowing who you are and questioning if I’m worth it, or worth anything.

I’ve been looking everywhere for that validation, that “you’re worth all that is this world, to experience what it has for you”, and after so long of searching, it only then occurred to me that I had been looking in entirely the wrong spot.

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Pastor Ben said today that we can be freed through the life Jesus Christ laid down for us, and I think that’s true.

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My lord will free me from the chains that I have been held in, this house and all of my overthinking and my unholiness and all my sins everything will be washed clean, clean.

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he warned me before all of this,

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that if this ever happened where we

had a bad breakup it would ruin

our friendship and be awkward for us professionally,

but i did not believe

anything could come to harm from

two

people falling for each other.

so thank you *** ****** for being a terrible first love, and teaching me

to love myself with or without validation.

turns out, i am a beautiful, wonderful,

talented, lovely person,

all by myself,

and i don’t need you to complete me

or get me into a club

or any of the above.

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i hope that tomorrow when i come into school

you will feel the regret seeping under your skin

because i am so worth it.

it’s not that we didn’t have something,

We just didn’t have something real.

how strange the human brain is-

it can feel the pain yet cannot remember

how to prevent it from happening

again and again and again and over and

over and over in a vicious,

terrible, never ending cycle.

scars will never fade.

wounds will continue to bleed.

infections will spread,

and sores will throb.

in the end when you are alone you only

have yourself and your broken pieces

to pick back up and sweep under the

carpet and go on with your life with

another hidden battle scar.

halfway through my meditation i lose my motivation and

decide to do the other hole to the soul

in a calmer way.

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i breathe and

realize

with a jump that

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the morning had been so dark

it had been hard to see

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the unwanted suprise awaiting me:

just an opened and nothing else

despite long conversations that i thought meant something to the both of

us.

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but within that one word, this eye would

see what was not said aloud, 

the gray area - the color of the iris

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whatever i thought we were, whatever I thought we had, was not at all reality. 

the little twinkling stars

and the long stares meant

nothing really to

him. 

On a piece of paper I drew a set of eyes,

one red, one gray,

staring into my soul

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burning and rainy

deadly and surrendering

stinging and pleading

as frequent as a blue moon,

both fine and not fine and nothing in between. 

I wonder what it would be like to have a stalker. I wonder what it would be like to feel watched, but not in a safe way, not in a happy way. 

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My fingertips scar the burgundy silk, peeling the edges and dissembling the threads. I’m on fire, burning with something that smells of deep incense, the type waipo would buy at the Buddhist store down the street. I’m angry. My ideas burst forth, and through the wicked fumes I break the curtain and once again reclaim it all. The slanting eyes and flat nose, the night hair and preadolescent boy build. I cup these in my hand, not wanting them to disappear for once. Because without them I would also disappear. I cut an impressive figure, like a taichi warrior with a third eye that like the others is currently dropping tears. Of struggle and strife, these slants eyes have seen their fill. Of pain and prejudice, this broken vessel has been knocked down a thousand times. But the precious sweet passionate fruit and the land of milk honey, lactose intolerance and fine China holds a whispered promise, locked with a kiss on my bleeding forhead. 

who am i?

ap psych

pt. 2

artist:

art is a huge part of my identity, because it’s been an outlet for all my ideas, emotions, and thoughts. When it’s hard to put how you’re feeling into spoken words, I find that it’s considerably easier to draw them or write them.

Art has become one of my defining features because I also took on some of the charactersitics, as best I could, of a good artist: creativity, open mindedness, deep thinking, curiosity.

if I weren’t an artist, I might not know how to handle the unnending waves of pubescent emotions.

I probably would find something else to be spend a lot of time on, but I don’t think there’s anything I could enjoy more than art.

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who am i?

ap psych

pt. 2

artist:

art is a huge part of my identity, because it’s been an outlet for all my ideas, emotions, and thoughts. When it’s hard to put how you’re feeling into spoken words, I find that it’s considerably easier to draw them or write them.

Art has become one of my defining features because I also took on some of the charactersitics, as best I could, of a good artist: creativity, open mindedness, deep thinking, curiosity.

if I weren’t an artist, I might not know how to handle the unnending waves of pubescent emotions.

I probably would find something else to be spend a lot of time on, but I don’t think there’s anything I could enjoy more than art.

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12:30 am .. here I am.

Touch deprived teenager who is chasing after something more beautiful in life than what is here now.

There has to be more to life than this bed and this room and this subdivision and this small town and this quiet city and this closed up country, right?

I wish I could fly off into the sky, ascend straight through that clouds until I could no longer see the earth.

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Somewhere up there, where time no longer exists, I could stay with you, forever and ever.

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Won’t you come and fly away with me?

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healing.

a peculiar word to say the least,

saying it evokes a feeling of slowness

as if everything is moving at a reduced

speed.

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i see a warm, welcoming green that wraps

me up in its arms and whispers

shh child don’t say a word

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you have slashed out angrily

not daring to let anyone

in

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into the fragmented heart, shards of glass

pieced together yet still split

down the middle.

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you have longed for a refuge, a place to hide

a someone, a something who would shield you

block the menacing sun from blinding

your eyes.

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but you have been enclosed in silence for

so long,

left hanging from your shirt on a tree branch,

throat hoarse and dry and lips chapped.

you have forgotten the sound

of your own voice.

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can one glance ruin your

entire day?

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how strange the human brain is-

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when measured, sometimes immense things seem

small when compared

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to a tiny detail.

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it hurts to know that the only time you

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are friends are when

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she’s not around. you know it’s

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different because when she walks into

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the room he is just drawn towards her

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as if pulled by an invisible hand, beckoned

like a dog to a bone.

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It feels like a thorn that stabs me again and again, reminding me that everything I've gotten from you, 

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the secret glances and soft smiles, 

it all means nothing. 

crimson red color pencil

on my sky blue jeans.

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i didn’t realize until

the phone beeped,

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letting me down once more and exposing parts of me i tried to hide.

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angry, stubborn eyes waiting, hidden in

the brush and foliage on ****'s designer t-shirt. she's been waiting for this mistake, this mess up. She takes no time to use it.

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maybe the world likes me better as the

quiet girl

who was just a shadow.

maybe if i disappeared behind the braced

mask once more, and the tiny squinty

eyes of mind didn’t seek out those of

others’,

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i would be let alone, spared

and allowed to pass not as myself,

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but as a blind follower of the toxicity that is

teenage society.