Unstable, instable, instability
Keep the sadness at bay

Unsatiated, immovable, unappeased.

It

I hate myself, I hate myself.
Foolish choices. Foolish hopes.
Don't be naive, Don't be naive.

stop. Stop. STOP

Just make it stop.

Make sense of it. Think back on it.
How did we get here, how did this come to pass.

There we were just standing there, and now we're here.


go. Go. GO, RUN


Run as fast as you can, before the feelings can catch up.

Silence. Loneliness. The chill air

The Interruption

The interruption, the interruption.
Can't feel, can't think.
The interruption.
Where did my thought go?

Tell me, find me
Speak.

The interruption, the interruption.
Feel, wish, hope
The interruption, the interruption.

Music-less

Its a rare moment that I do not have a song in my head. And the songs in my head reflect the actions that occur outside of it. Rather than ask me what I'm thinking, a better question would be, "What song is playing?" because maybe then you could listen to it with me and feel the way I feel. And thats the powerful thing about music, its ability to make you feel.

It is a rare moment that I do not have a song in my head, and when that moment occurs, I feel it is the most chaotic. Its even more unsettling when I refuse to find an alternative song to satisfy the craving. The silence. That is what's most unsettling-- the desire to refute the silence but refusing to use the incorrect song. The incorrect feeling.

It is a rare moment that I do not have a song in my head, and when that moment occurs, I can't feel. Because without feeling I can't find music, and without music, I am numb.

Find the song, find the song, I tell myself. And then you will find relief. But I can't find the song, I cannot find relief. Because the reality is, there is no relief for the way I feel. There is no song.

Religion vs. Me | Part I--The Back Story

Many many many people ask me why I dont attend church anymore, (or rather, why I pop in and out at the last second, salute my tunnel-visioned mother and then jet off to continue my day elsewhere).

Religion has always been a touchy topic for me, and something that most people know, I never divulge into. Why is this? My relationship with religion goes way back and most of the companions who I friended later in my life probably would never guess how deep those roots go.

To say that I was "raised in a Christian home" would be an understatement. I was not simply raised in Christianity--I was conceived, born, bred, actively conditioned 24 hours a day, seven days a week to live, breathe, and eat Christianity.

To give a brief summary, my late grandfather founded one of the very first Vietnamese-American Christian churches in Southern California some time after the Vietnam War. My grandpa, in a nutshell, was the Pastor Chuck of the Vietnamese people. (Their words not mine). The people loved my grandpa and his doting wife and of course to maintain appearances, they conditioned their kids to be miniature versions of themselves.

Fast forward decades later, and my whole family was running that church-- Youth Pastor, Worship Leader, Sunday School Teacher, Kids Ministry, Deacon Board--all uncles, aunts, cousins, and my mother; it was like the Borgias with no sex and a lot of under-the-table nepotism shrouded with religion. All this to say, my family wielded a lot of social scrutiny from their positions and by default, so did I.

Because of my precarious position,  I was frequently reminded by my grandparents that we were "Pastor's grandkids" and to always consider how we were perceived by the church. One false move and it would be the talk of the town by next week. If this were Footloose, I'd be Ariel Moore.