My Musings

I want to add my long form writing to this site, but I'm not quite sure how to format it in a digestable way without taking up too much space. Hmmm...I don't really want to make hundreds of different webpages just to turn a digital page in my books.

I don't usually do this, but if you have any template suggestions, you can leave a comment in my neocities profile feed.

Thanks :)

This poem is from the perspective of "Hikaru" from The Summer Hikaru Died:

Ink splattered sinew

My insides draped across the moonlight

Twist into me until we tether

across worlds and the paper-thin

window pane of a fallen leaf.

I feel no pain

except for the dull knife

of your words choking my heart.

This skin, pulled taught

over eons of mystery, is not mine.

When I look in the mirror,

I'm sometimes surprised at dewy eyes

dripping across soft tear-tracked salt skin

looking back.

I ache to be longed for.

My insides are so cold

I forgot what warmth means.

My heart is beating a false tune,

but my feelings for you are real.

At least, they're real in the dim light

of your bedroom

between "I told you so" and "let's play another round."

Say you love me.

And please,

if your tired tongue can bear it,

mean it.

The short story below is based on a real story that happened to me, but it isn't quite as perilous lol

So there really was this random big family that would park at the church near my house and take a walk for seemingly no reason before leaving.

I would usually see them while walking my dog at sunset or night.

They haven't showed up in like a year, so I guess they're walking somewhere else now.

That's really it. Just a strange reoccuring event that inspired my short story :)

It has been happening for several weeks now. I go out to walk my dog through my quiet neighborhood and I see them: A family of roughly five members. I say ‘roughly’ because they seem to lose or gain a person every other time. They always go on a routine nightly walk, all of them together. This might not seem all that strange until you learn they don’t live in my neighborhood. They arrive in their packed van every night, parking in the church parking lot, and go for a stroll before walking back and driving away again.

While walking my dog, I spotted them again just up ahead of me. I strained my ears to make out any hint of a conversation–maybe they were buyers looking for a new house? Not that any houses around here were for sale. I didn’t hear anything. They were just walking in complete silence, a small girl leading the way. Not even their little new-born was babbling. Suffice to say, it gave me the creeps. Usually, I like to wave at my neighbors, lest they think I’m a no-good loner, but I just couldn’t bring myself to say hello to this family. I tried, my hand twitching, about to rise and make my presence known, but it stayed by my side. After a while, I realized I was shaking all over. My dog was tense like I’ve never seen before, keeping her aging eyes on the family ahead of us.

I was just about to call it quits and head back when I noticed one of the kids staring at me with wide, pleading eyes. He wasn’t saying anything, just staring. My brow furrowed as I looked at him, wondering what was going through his mind. I was jolted out of my thoughts by my dog rushing off to capture some poor squirrel off to the side. When I looked back, the family were already turning around the corner, heading back to the church. They all piled into the van and drove away.

Another time, I could have sworn I saw the mother–or aunt, or sister–of the group standing in my front yard, blank eyes grazing the front of my house. When I did a double take, however, She was gone. Suffice to say, the whole ordeal was itching at my brain with unanswerable questions. Who are these people? Why do they come to my neighborhood just to walk? What’s wrong with their neighborhood that they don’t walk there? It was keeping me up at night. I would look up at the ceiling in a cold sweat, mind racing with the possibilities.

Now, I’m not a nosey person, but I like to indulge in the neighborhood gossip every once in a while. So imagine my surprise when I heard from a friend’s friend that the little old lady down the street had suddenly moved out the morning before. Her next door neighbor, Patricia, said it was out of nowhere. She said the elderly woman hadn’t even packed up the house, just that she stumbled out in a fit.

And got into a van.

Suffice to say, it wasn’t that much of a logical leap for me to get into my busted Honda, the keys jamming in the ignition, and follow the family’s van as they peel out of the church parking lot. I tail them, not too far close, not too far behind. The more we drove, the more I started sweating. Looking out the window, I could tell we weren’t even in the same county anymore. Trees and fields passed by, brushing against the sides of my car as I rumbled through a narrow dirt road. I can still see the van ahead of me, dust clouding in its wake.

Eventually, they pulled into the long driveway of a one-story home. It looked like it should be in a suburb, but it was the only one around for miles. I parked at the end of the driveway, hidden by the brush. I quietly exited my car and peered up towards the house. I saw the family getting out of the van with one distinctly new figure: the elderly woman. She didn’t seem to be in distress, in fact, she looked calm from down here. I sighed, maybe this was a fool’s errand and I was just paranoid. Turning around to get back into my car, I’m startled by the sound of a branch cracking. I whipped my head to the right and saw the little boy from earlier standing in the forest, staring at me with those wide eyes. Once I caught my breath, I felt unease drip down my spine. Would he tell the others I was being a creep? Not wanting to get in trouble, I put up my hands and slowly moved back towards my car.

“Please,” A raspy voice interrupted me.

I turnt back and looked at the boy, “...What?”

“Please,” He repeated in a gravely tone.

I frowned, the unease growing deeper, “‘Please’ what? Do you need help?”

He just stared at me blankly and walked back up to the house. I stared after him, torn on what to do. What if something awful was happening up there? If I just drive away, am I condemning that boy to some horror? I swallowed, my mouth dry. My hand trembled, the small quakes snaked up my arm. The gravel crunched under my feet as I walked up towards the house. Surely it wouldn’t be too weird if I just knock on the door and pretend to be lost. Maybe take a peek inside, just to make sure everything’s alright. I stepped up the short stairs onto the concrete porch. A small welcome mat smiled up at me, flowers wrapping around the words, ‘Stay a while!’ I opened the screen and knocked on the door a couple times.

Nobody answered. I waited a few more moments before lifting my hand and knocking again. Still nothing. I hummed to myself in confusion. I knew they were all here. Unless they’re in the back? I turned around and stepped off the porch. A small vine from under the stairs caught on my heel and I stumbled slightly, letting out a quick yelp. I detangled myself and went around the side. The backyard is cluttered with rusting cars and turned over metal tables. I stepped over broken pots, the plants long withered away. I heard the sound of something clanking, so I followed it to an old shed. As I peered inside, I saw a man around my age, hammering some nails into a wooden sign. I cleared my throat to announce my presence and he spoke without looking up at me.

“You’re late.”

I blinked, unsure if he knew I wasn’t one of his family members, “...Sorry, I got a bit lost and was wondering if I could borrow your house phone?”

He looked up at me, eyes stormy. I was slightly taken aback by how intense his gaze was. “You’re late,” He repeated. “You were supposed to follow earlier.”

I stared at him blankly and wet my chapped lips, “What?”

The strange man went back to hammering. I noticed that the sign reads, ‘girl scout cookies.’ Oh. I felt a bit silly. They must have been going to different neighborhoods to sell girl scout cookies. I frowned, taking a step back. But that doesn’t explain the young boy or this man’s cryptic words. I turned around and ran right into a large figure. I yelped and looked up at a tall woman with blank eyes who towered over me.

I gulped and said, “H-hello, ma’am. I was wondering if–”

She interrupted me, “Would you like a cookie? First one is free of charge.”

Blinking, I cleared my throat and tried to shuffle past her, “No thank you, ma’am.” I need to get the hell out of here.

“Oh, I insist,” She said, stuffing a thin mint into my mouth.

I felt my jaw start to move on its own, crunching and chewing the thin mint until it’s a fine paste. I swallowed, my hands shot up to scratch at my throat. My chest heaved and the world spun around me. What is happening to me!?

+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+

It has been happening for several weeks now. We go out to walk across the yard before clambering into a giant van with the rest of our family. We take a scenic drive out to the city, blurred trees and flowers passing by. Eventually, we make it to one parking lot or another and start walking. We know what to look for. We know who to talk to. We know where you live.

I'm not a professional or anything FYI. I'm just an overthinker lol

So I was taking a walk today and I was thinking to myself about the Self and how no one knows who you really are because they all have biases and expectations and made up versions of you in their head.

BUT you don't know who you really are either because you're always changing and growing and you also have biases and preconceptions and traumas etc. etc. For example, something you might think is 100% true about yourself could be revealed to be nuanced in therapy.

So...

WHO AM I?

Myself answered that I am the universe and everyone is a mirror of each other, but then I thought back to myself: If I was okay with everything because I didn't have an identity, I wouldn't have internal preferences. When I'm doing something or surrounded by some people or NOT doing something, I can tell internally in my gut/heart/whatever that it alines with what I am. With who I truly want to be/doing.

This means there IS a 'true Self' then. But how does one access it? Is it just a lifetime of trial and error and growth?

IDK

I need to get a shit ton more oil though. That tiny bottle is NOT cutting it.

It's sooooo much better than a binder to me. Highly reccomend if it's the best option for you personally.

AAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHH

Had my first class of the year today. It's a computer science course so I'm really excited to see how the stuff I learn will translate over to this website.

It was sort of challenging because we're using Unix and Python, which I've never used before (I think), but it was fun! I have another class tomorrow, so we'll see how it goes.

I'm going back to school soon and I'm feeling nervous-excited.

I'm excited because it's literally my dream school, but I sort of feel imposter syndrome? I know everyone everywhere feels like that--ESPECIALLY in higher education, but ugghhhhh

I'm just worried I won't be cut out for this whole school thing even though I've made it so far.