Saying goodbye

Dated August 8th

I'm seeing Will tomorrow - nearly a year since we dated and broke up. I'm not really sure what to expect. I'm not really sure what I want. I don't know what my ideal is. I don't know if I have an ideal situation in this case. He's leaving. There's a high likelihood that I may never see him again. I'm sure he'll be back in Toronto but things as they stand now, I'll never be part of his life again. That thought haunts me even close to a year since we broke up. It's hard not being able to share any part of my life or his life. Even in conversation. It feels cold and mean.

I'll acknowledge how weird it is that I reached out and asked to see him. It'll acknowledge that I'm surprised he agreed to see me at all. But I'm glad. I'll tell him my fear. How I am uncomfortable with the parallels between a breakup and death. It is never not weird to me. Someone I spoke to every day, one day disappears from my life. We don't acknowledge the other person's existence, and that is something I'm not OK with. I'll ask why he agreed to see me. Why he bothered to give me an hour at all.

I want to tell Will that I miss him. I don't know and I don't think I miss dating him. I think a year has changed those feelings. I don't feel the same way as I did. I don't feel pangs of hurt or even anger anymore. I miss him though. I miss talking to him. I miss sharing parts of my life with him and hearing about his. I miss hanging out with him. I want to tell him that maybe it's a strange request but I want to be friends. I wish we can get to a place where one day if he's in town or for whatever reason, I'm in his town, we can grab a drink and trade life updates. I want us to be happy for each other. I want us to be friends because I think he's a really good person. Maybe the nicest guy I've dated. I would really like for us to be friends and that's why I asked to see him. He's a good person, and it would suck to completely lose him from my life without trying at all to salvage our relationship.

From another month earlier: 
I hate losing parts of my life like in a breakup. It feels cruel. It feels confusing how someone is in your life and then they are not. It feels unnatural to me. I don't want to lose you, Will. For the first few months, I just missed having someone to talk to. I missed talking to you. I missed hanging out with you. I didn't just miss dating you. I missed you. I missed having you in my life. You were good even if/ even though you haven't figured everything out yet. I haven't either.

I want to tell him what's happened in my life in the year that we've been apart. I want to tell him it's really been a struggle with work and school. Everything was constant and I felt constantly overwhelmed. I didn't know how to exist. I wasn't really, truth be told. I was hanging by a thread for a lot of it. But I made it. I made new friends. I learned more about myself. It was one of the first real challenges I put myself through. It challenged my sense of self. After so long (nearly a year), I finally made it. I start my internship next Monday.

I want to ask him about his life. How has his life been in the past year? How happy or sad or conflicted was he about leaving his job? How excited is he about starting his new life? I want to wish him well. I want to tell him that I hope he's able to change the world for the better. The world needs it, and I think the guy that I met and dated really wants to help the world too. I want to wish him the best life, the best grades, the best experience. I want him to tell me all about it the next time I see him, and there will be a next time because we will stay friends.

I hope tomorrow goes well. I hope I'm able to tell him all of these things. I hope I don't cry or feel panicked. I hope I still feel safe with him. I hope when we leave, we can give each other a big hug and well wishes. I hope we stay friends. I hope tomorrow is not the last time I ever see him. I really hope that reaching out to him won't prove to be a bad idea. I hope that we can be honest and vulnerable with each other. I hope that if I lay my heart out on the line, Will won't hate me for making him deal with this again. I hope tomorrow goes well. I hope we can stay friends. I'd really like that.

To My Best Friend

I've known my best friend for 21 and a half years. For almost as long as I've been alive, she has been a part of my life. We have the sort of best-friendship that they base Disney Channel TV shows on. We text a lot; every day. We talk about everything. We share opinions about boys, food, clothes, makeup, culture, politics, people we dislike, people we somewhat like, school, art, pop culture, dating, TV shows, movies, white people, etc. I don't think we've ever gotten into a fight. She has been my constant since day 1 (of her life).

This afternoon, we're having a conversation. Texting back and forth, trying to make plans to see a movie later this week. She shares an article about Chinese bottle ladies in Toronto. We start talking about culture, and how we deal with our culture as second generation Chinese immigrants. We talk about the way we negotiate race and culture. I tell her one of the things I'm scared and ashamed of is eventually losing my culture when my parents are gone. My first generation immigrant parents have worked so hard to raise me in the best possible circumstances. Yet the reality is that my current situation moves further and further away from my parents and the culture they grew up in, and the culture they brought me up in. I'm afraid that without my parents, I won't keep up with the festivals and I won't know how to make any of the foods. I can already see how I might lose the language. As I'm expressing these concerns, Ellen tells me, "We could do it together. Between the both of us, I'm sure we can still do stuff." We could try to remember, maintain our culture and traditions together.

I know we've talked about this before. On my birthday, she sends me a long essay over text about this. It kind of clicked for me then. Our friendship has a longevity and truthfulness that is almost strange. I don't think it's particularly easy to maintain, although it has been for us. Our friendship has always been such a natural and unquestionable part of my life. Undeniable. I'm so glad for that.

Our conversation today reinforced how happy I am about our friendship. How happy I am to have her as part of my life, as a constant in my life. I am so happy and relieved to have someone who I can share growing up with, to share growing old with. I am relieved because our friendship means that I will never have to be alone when dealing with... Anything, really. There will always be someone to explore and examine the world with me. Whether it was when we were kids holding paper lanterns underneath a full moon, or today when we are almost adults discussing how difficult maintaining that cultural aspect may become. I have someone who will always be there to figure that stuff out with. I have someone who will always be there to listen.  To celebrate success with, to ponder confusion and sadness and anger with. I have someone who will always be in my corner as we're doing all that. And that? That's amazing. That's so lucky. I'm so fortunate. We're so fortunate. 

My best friend is great.

On the 23 Women Who Inspire Me

Nico writes a list of 29 women who have shaped his life. A woman for every year of his life. These are women who helped him grow, who gave him love, taught love. "An ode to the women that taught me how to love." 

Inspired by Nico, I wrote a list of 22 men who have been storms in my life. They are men who have taught me strength and resilience, courage and recklessness. They are men who have built me and broke me. Encouraged me and forced me to grow.

Men and masculinity are so often thought of in violent, active terms. Men are not quiet. They are not soft or tender. Masculinity represents strength and aggression. They are forceful and hard. They are the storms of my life. Storms are beautiful, and they're necessary. When we are broken, we grow. But when we are whole, we also grow. The women in my life have made me whole.

If men are storms, then women are oceans. Women are the oceans that will always look clear, that will always fold back to envelop. They are the calm and powerful. They refresh and renew. They erode and demolish. Women are the calm you envision, but the strength and true, sheer durability that you sometimes forget. It is women and femininity that is uplifting and grounding. Soothing and paralyzing. So, a woman for every year of my life.

To my mother, Janny, who is everything that supports, nurtures and cripples me. Mom is constant love, sacrifice, care and attention. Mom is constant worry, expectation, and hope. Mom is always, always and will forever be home. I don't have words to express the importance of my mother in my story, my upbringing, my life, my values. Everything. Mom, I know I wasn't an easy child. I'm not an easy person- always an underlying illness even when I wasn't sick, a selfish child, a lonely child, someone caught up in her own world. I think you've done so well with me though. You've worked so hard. Thank you for that. Thank you for always trying to support me. You're the first person I want to share my excitement with, and the person I never want to disappoint.

To my aunt, Lisa, who has always been the symbol of fun and adventure. A kind of carefree. You've always had a story to tell, always a smile to share. Always there to listen to my stories, and to encourage them.

To my grandmother, Yuk Mui, someone who has seen too much of the world, its brilliance and its terror. My grandmother who was a child living through the Sino-Japanese War. My grandmother who travelled across the world to start a life where she truly knew no one and nothing. My grandmother who kept going, continues to keep going. On the other side of the coin, my grandmother who braved the world and never forgot its horrors and chaos. My grandmother who never forgave the world for the sadness it caused her. My grandmother who never got over the anger and an entitlement to something better. My grandmother who is relentless, but scared of death, scared of quiet. My grandmother is part of a world I will never understand, but maybe it's for that I should thank her endlessly.

To my best friend, Ellen, who is more of a sister than she is a friend. Ellen, who I have known since I was a year and a half and she was born. Ellen, who I talk to almost daily. Who I'm not afraid of exposing myself to; my secrets, vulnerabilities, flaws and mostly, my inconsistencies. In so many ways, we are so different but in so many ways, we are also the same. If I was to fall, you are what ties me to the Earth. You keep me grounded, truthful and accountable. I don't know where to begin or where to end when it comes to you, or us. I think you're how I stay together. Thanks for understanding. Thanks so much for understanding more than anyone can or ever will.

To Amma, who has been the best mentor and friend. Thank you for being a presence in my life, for you've always, always been such a positive influence. I think beyond our old school, career and boy talks, the thing that stood out the most was how bright you are as a person. You radiate so much light and so much kindness. So much goodness. I cannot wait to see you at your wedding, and I cannot wait for all the happiness that life, as you said before, will bring. That's the best thing you taught me - to look forward.

To Charlotte, who I ask about all things in life. Love, health, friendship, biology, things on the Internet, drugs, everything. I remember talking to you for the first time on that walk to the football game, and then sitting in your room till 3 o'clock in the morning that same day with Chris. We then spent so much of our time at Queen's together. We lived together for three years, basically four. You've seen me do some stupid things. You've seen me naked. You've seen me at some of my best and my absolute worst. And vice versa. We've done some fun things together, some boring things together, and everything in between. It's funny how things work out that way. I really don't know where I'd be without you the past 5 or so years. I see you so much and often as my voice of reason, and kinda my lifeline. I don't know how to express all of that without being cheesy... You're great. Actually, in your words, you're perfect.

To Mishi, who I shared almost every single dumb and drunk and fun adventure with in my four years at Queen's. My fellow Sagittarius who always sought a little adventure, always willing to do something, always willing to play the odds a little. When I think of us, I think of drunkenly walking down Kingston streets late at night. I think of laying in your bed and falling asleep while doing nothing at all. I think of all your weird meal combinations. I think of someone who makes me laugh, who makes me feel so cared for and loved. I think of tequila shots. When I think of us, I think of shouting to you in the next room. To be honest, I can't really think of those four years of my life without you in every frame. 

To Evasha, my first roommate. Maybe it's because we were roommates and at such a critical part of my life thus far, having you in my life feels like such a sense of security. You're always there to listen, without judgement. Or not, because you also throw in some of the shadiest comments. That's one of the things I miss a lot about you and Kingston- it's the regular everyday chats. It's swapping stories and anecdotes and that was us.

To Sarah. From the very first week of Queen's to now, it is so strange and lovely to see how our friendship has manifested. You are the sweetest, kindest, most generous person and I am so happy and lucky to have you in my life. Honestly, you bring such happiness and joy to my life. I miss you. I miss our time together. I miss hanging out - whether it is at the mall, in the library or just sharing a nap in my room. We always did have fun.

To Jenny, who I always saw as my cooler older sister. I have and continue to so admire you for the way you are, the way you have always been and continue to be. You are so fearlessly yourself, so fiercely and unapologetically independent. You have always had such clarity in how you approach life. I always aspired to be like you in that way. I know we don't see each other that often, but when we do, things feel so natural. They feel like an old piece of home. Even in the way that our friendship continues, I feel that kind of steady confidence that you've always exuded.

To my cousin, Michelle, who faces the world with a kind of bravery and independence and attitude. No one quite does it like Michelle, is what I always thought growing up. I like the way you've always approached the things in your life. You never backed down from what you wanted. You've always demanded a certain level of respect. I love that. I think this about you, is going to make you an amazing mother. I already see it. 

To Kelly, who I lost before I learned how to say sorry, before I learned how to put aside my pride and admit to my own anger. I'm sorry I never said I was wrong. I'm sorry I was angry and I took it out on you, on something that was never your fault and entirely my own. You were an amazing friend, and you saw me in a much kinder light than I deserved.

To Henrieta, the one I discuss everything big with. The one who challenged me intellectually, the one who demanded me to go further creatively. I remember our drawing sessions where we spent as much time discussing politics, philosophy, culture, life, art as we did any art. I think this was an important part of my life in Kingston. I needed someone who understood and sought after all those parts of life. No one else does adventure or living quite like you.

To Jennifer, who I shared so much of my growing up with. Who I used to sit by the skatepark with, making up stories for the boys, making up stories for the rest of our lives. You are a part of so many of my stories and so many of my memories. An undeniable part of my teens and also my young adulthood. I think the most significant thing to say, is that you were part of my discovery. The discovery of myself, of people, of culture, of adventure, of alcohol, of boys. Also, you're one hell of a muse.

To my first and second grade teacher, Ms. Brown. I think I will always remember you as the sweetest, most caring teacher I will ever have the absolute pleasure to meet. Years later, thinking back to some of the things you did for us, it is so easy to see how well suited you were to teaching young children. Their first encounter with the outside world. Thank you for showing this frightened child so much kindness, for encouraging her as much as you did. I still journal all the time. Thank you for giving me that.

To Nefisa, the girl who will change the world. I really believe that. You've always been so brilliant. The way you see the world and the tireless way you work. You're always someone I look up to, always someone who I can count on for support. Also, always someone who can make me laugh and open up a little more to the world.

To Danielle, who I have to thank for so many amazing opportunities. This program and your guidance was pivotal in how I see the world, how I know the world today. I know how lucky I am to have been part of this program. It offered us so many connections that we wouldn't have had otherwise. It helped me learn about the world, and the possibilities that I haven't seen before. You were at the centre of all that. You worked so tirelessly for us to get all of that. You also went above and beyond. It's really like family. I'll always see it as family.

To Auntie Tunnie, my mom's best friend and my babysitter as a little babe. In my own world, what is really my world and the people in it, you are who I always thought of as so much wisdom. A gentle, kind and patient wisdom. Someone who is humble. I adore you. I always have, even as a kid. I continue to now, and I think it's still so obvious. Maybe embarrassingly so. Your daughter is wonderful too. It's so eye opening seeing how she's growing up. When she was little, she reminded me so much of myself but as she's growing, I can see how wonderful she is on her own. She's going to do wonderful things, and I'm sure it's because of your presence. 

To Patty, my middle school best friend. I remember continuously walking the track during lunch breaks. I remember discussing boys over the phone. I remember the crying as we discussed the boys. I remember the first touch of teenage emotion, angst, drama; the vindictiveness of it all. Before 13-year-olds were ever cool, there was us and the way we saw the world that was too simple and too complicated. You were a simpler period of my life, but also when things became so much more complicated. 

To Erline and Kaley. I once read about the people you invite to your wedding. I'm not getting married any time soon, but the article suggested that you invite new friends as well as your really old friends. New friends who have the potential to stay in your life, shape your life; who you really enjoy having in your life. I always say that my coworkers at Starbucks are the sweetest people. You guys are that. But beyond that and our shared interests, it is also the discussions we have when we're together. It's so enlightening the way you guys see the world because of our different experiences growing up and existing in the world. This is always precious. We are bonded by mutual annoyances and interests, strengthened by food and the way we talk about life, learn about life and all its nuances.

To my yoga teacher, Krista, who sees the world in a way I want to learn. A world I want to be a part of. For me, Krista encourages a kind of juxtaposition in life so easily forgotten. I'm asked to push my body in ways I'm not used to, to challenge the pain and discomfort in my body that I so easily shy away from. I've always been told my body is a fragile thing and I can never be too careful with it. Here, I'm told to challenge. To respect my body, but to challenge it. I'm told of the power and strength of my body instead of its fragility. I'm told to play instead of staying in the shadows.

And finally to Hanna, who I have never met but write to, both in letters to her and in the back of my mind. Hanna, who is beautiful in the way she holds herself, the way she encounters the world, the way she lets the world encounter her. Hanna, I could lose and have lost myself in your words. I've also found myself and continue to find myself in your words too. Truly the embodiment of a force of nature. 

I wrote saying that a list of women would be easier to write. Women have always been there to inspire me, encourage me, support me. Women have always been there to protect and care for me in a way that the men in my life never have. Women, who have always served as the beacons of beauty, grace, kindness in my life. I'm not sure where I will be without them. I'm not sure how I will be without them. Women are everything. The past, present and future. Always existing and present.

On the 22 Men Who Inspire Me

Nico writes a list of 29 women who have shaped his life. These are women who helped him grow, who gave him love, taught love. "An ode to the women that taught me how to love." 

I think it would be easier to write a list of the women who inspire me, encourage me, support me. Who love me. But this is for the men in my life, and their energy that I must accept. For it is the men in my life who have always caused the biggest storms, inspired the most tremendous growth. Men who have broken me, but also taught me strength and resilience. This is for the men in my life who have taught me endurance in love, courage and recklessness in love. It is for the men who have stayed and who have left. For the ones who have broken me, and the ones who have helped me rebuild. It is for men who continuously force me to go beyond comfortable, who open my eyes and show me the world in a way I had not seen it before.

To my father, Steven, who tries in the ways he can to show love, to create and foster a family. To my father who never knew his father, who never grew up in a conventional family. Who grew up struggling and lost. Dad, we disagree on so many topics. There are issues I don't know how to solve because of you, but Dad, I know you tried. I know you tried so hard to show me love and a good home. In many ways, it was a good home. Thanks for a childhood where I got to see so much, where I got to laugh so much. Thanks for doing all that you knew to do.

To my grandpa, Edward, who I wish got to see me grow older because I know you would've been proud of me in the silent way that you always were. To my grandpa who I still imagine sitting on the end of the couch, watching TV, helping me colour in my colouring books. It was my grandpa who was the first inspiration for art, for the creative. It was my grandpa who I never knew how to say goodbye to. 

To Phil, who still haunts me today. Phil, you were everything and you taught me so much. Sex, love, photography, pain, messy relationships, graffiti, being playful and taking risks. The ferocity and viciousness of love. You were the most beautiful summer. You taught me love, heartbreak and doubt in the way that only being in love can. You were the best love, but the most confusing and heartbreaking. 

To Adam, one of my best friends. You are the kindest, the most understanding. I always tell you you're one of the best people I know. You are comfort, you are safety. You are home. I don't want to imagine my life without you in it. We've known each other for maybe six years now, and I'm so happy for this. You're everything I'm so glad to have in my life. Thank you for always being so understanding, so giving with me. You spoil me, and for that, I'm so so lucky. 

To Jack, the boy who lived upstairs; my first crush. You were the one who first showed me the importance of laughter in the person you hope to be your partner. You showed me to look for a partner in mischief, in adventure. 

To my cousin, Ken, who always, always comes through. Thanks for all the drives and being the best handyman/tech guy. Things get tough, but they're far less scary when I know you're there for backup. Also, you have the driest sense of humour. You're so rude sometimes, and I love and admire that. 

To Dalton, one of my first and best friends in university. And whom I had the biggest crush on. I think maybe you were the one that got away. Everyone thought we were going to date. You kissed me on the cheek once, but that was all. You were still the one that showed me so much music, so many movies. So much counterculture. You were always so different, and the world seemed too small for you. I will always hope that you're doing well.

To Jonathan, my first kiss. I was 16, sitting in your living room. We were watching I Am Legend when you kissed me. I told you that it was my first kiss, and you turned my head over again and asked for my second. You were everything I wasn't at the tender age of sixteen. You were mysterious and a bad boy, all the things I'm drawn to today. 

To Stephen, who I lovingly call Bear. You are not the easiest person, and sometimes I have to really try. You are different and kind in the way you know how, the way you believe in the things you do. It is a lesson and a gift to see the world from another's perspective. It is a blessing to see the world in a way bigger than your own. You've taught me so much about myself, about being in pain, about being resilient. You became such an important piece of my life in such a precarious period of my life. I remember all the late nights talking. Please know that even when we don't talk as much as we used to, even as I grow, you're always part of who I am. A part of the things I aspire to be.

To Mr. Erickson. You've taught me so, so much about how to be kind. How to be understanding and accepting of difference. You taught me to be critical. How to push and create the change I want to see. You also introduced me to my favourite author, and for that I will always be grateful.

To Mr. Bauer, who made all the girls swoon. You are the epitome of a good teacher. You, who cared so much about the world and the people in it. You, who changed career paths so you could change the world in a more tacit way. You've taught me to be kind and considerate of the people and the environment around me. You've taught me to always see the best in people; the potential in the world. You taught me to always be hopeful for the future.

To Raj, who I've known for so many years now without having to think much about this fact. You've always encouraged my sexuality, made me more curious to explore and embrace my sexuality. You met a frightful, young, innocent girl, and seen her become the unapologetic sexual being she is today. And still, you compliment me on my smile.

To Alex and Griffin, the Boys who made my undergraduate career what it was. We met what feels like a lifetime ago. When we met, we were all so young and naive in the way that we saw the world, the way we handled the world. I remember all the times in first year we spent getting drunk, and then the times in the following years. You guys take such good care of me. You're always there as an ear to listen. Always there to finish off the food at all-you-can-eat sushi. I don't know where I'd be, or how I would've made it out of Queen's without you two. I have so much love for the two of you.

To Robert, who is a hard person to explain in my life. You taught me a kind of comfort in my body. You taught me to demand what I want, and to say stop when things become more than I can handle. You are a return to animalism. 

To Richard, who was the closest I've come to a real boyfriend. You were so good until you became so difficult. But it was good. Our strange and awkward dance helped me figure out what I want and what I need in a partner. It taught me to communicate and to compromise. It helped me realize the importance of being alone, and of finding myself before finding someone else. You were so tall and you always made me smile and sometimes, I still wish that we could've made it work. 

To Feo, the sweet alumnus who reassured me that the future would always be hopeful. We met right before the end of my final year. You were a friend of my Gael's, which only made your advice all the more reassuring. You were so many sweet things that I wished I had more often. A good influence who I wished I got to spend more time with. 

To Timmy, who I met in middle school and somehow followed through university. We've become such different people, and we haven't spoken in maybe a year. But we've always stopped and picked up where we last left off. You're very dependable in that way. You've always been dependable. I think we'll always be there to help each other out. You're just that kind of person.

To Russ, the boy I lost my virginity to. You allowed me the opportunity not to lose myself in another person. You gave me the freedom to constantly choose, rather than to let one person define me. Also, I can't believe you waited a whole Guy Ritchie movie to make a move. I fell asleep during that movie. I had already seen it before. 

To Alejandro, who spoke such lovely words and inspired me to speak lovely words in return. You were a beautiful tortured soul, more tortured than my young 19-year old self could handle. You were loving and possessive. I was in love and flighty. I never ached for someone the same way I ached for you. It was a short lived and distant romance, but the creativity and passion you inspired in me, I'll never lose the words for. 

To Matt, the only boy I felt truly sorry about. I'm sorry for the way I treated you. It wasn't fair. It was cruel and reckless. You met me at such a difficult time in my life. I was heartbroken and so, so lost. I didn't know how to deal with it and you were caught in the crossfire. This isn't an excuse, but a poor explanation. I hope you're happy now with someone who deserves your affection.

And finally to Samuel, the most recent one. We had so much in common, and towards the end I thought I was fine being friends. I liked your passion for igniting change. I liked the way you spoke about it. So defiant against a system I had already lost faith in. You still believed in change, and I admired that part of you. But like you told me, we're not perfect people and we can't always treat people the way they should be treated. I'm learning to treat myself better. Be kinder to myself, be less harmful. One of the last things you said to me broke me down in tears. It brought back all the heartbreak that I thought I had moved past. I'm not ready or willing to be thrown into that again. Men have taught me strength, but I am trying to teach myself kindness.

To the men who have changed my life, I wish you only the best even if our end was only the worst. I hope that if the stars and moons align, we'll meet each other only in the best circumstances and with the kindest intentions. I hope I will meet the men of my present and future with the same strength and resilience I've been taught. I hope I meet myself with the kindness that I will surely need.