Into the Red

A piece of me, to you.

Arcade Fire’s Film Miroir Noir “Windowsill”

One of my favorite videos and one of my favorite songs. The desperation of the second phone call is heartbreaking. Definitely buy this film.


“When I was a l…

“When I was a little girl, my mother told me not to crinkle my eyebrows. She said that worrying causes wrinkles. I later found out that laughter does the same, so I thought that wrinkles must be beautiful. When I grow old I want my face to look like brushstrokes in a painting, where every line is visible. This way I will remember every moment when my worries melted away and laughter rose from my chest to my eyes.”


There is a reason why my body recoils at the sight of the bathroom mirror.

Why steam refuses to rise from my skin.

Why my breath is locked in my chest like a treasure that I am always searching for.

It is the same reason why I am awake at 3 am, staring at a pitch black ceiling, willing my body to sink into nothingness.

And then I will wake in the morning, take off my clothes, and wonder what your perfect God’s reason was for creating me as if I were a mix-and-match marionette.

When I was thirteen years old, I started bleeding with the moon.

After two months of ashamed secrecy, my mother found out. She said it was normal, but I was never the same.

I waited in quiet fear for the aftermath.

The way a bomb never stops detonating an innocent Iraqi child,

The way the Vietnamese can still smell their flesh burning at the touch of napalm,

I never stopped waiting.

My body contorted into the unrecognizable and my mother’s eyes have fallen, heavy with the loss of her someday daughter.

That someday daughter. A seed. Blown from the dandelion, a wish that will never come true.

I am my mother’s daughter. I am my mother’s son. I am the moon, bright with longing, shining in the darkest of moments. I am the whisper in your ear that you just couldn’t hear.

Love me. Love me.