Monday, May 10, 2021


The phone number of the man in the latest post ends in 5169, the same as the man who works at SpaceX. The man who lives in Seattle switched from cigarettes to a vape, the same as the man who cooked for me in Brooklyn. The two Bens from New York, they’re both of Jewish heritage, and every time I read news of Israeli settler violence against Palestine, I think of them, not that I think they’re Zionist at all. The man I loved for two years, we got together on my birthday, and today would have been our second anniversary. The funny thing is we didn’t even spend our first together, because Singapore was on lockdown, he was in his apartment and I was in my family’s. I sang Taylor Swift’s Mean on New Year’s Eve in Los Angeles the first time I was there, about fifty-two full moons ago, and I have changed, grown, become a whole other person since then. I have loved different people, I have loved differently, I am a new person now. And yet, every single one of those past versions of me still lives within me. Not a single one of those people I have loved could be replaced by any other. I know which trait belongs to which person, I know who’s been to therapy, and who wants to but hasn’t. I started out my day wanting to have a good day, but it weighs heavy on me, I am feeling so many things in so many places, I do not even know where to begin untangling them. There are things I probably still haven’t uncovered. You drew stars around my scars, but now I’m bleeding.

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