I may never forget the awkward look on my mom’s face. It was as if I had suggested something that would put the whole family to shame. Or perhaps, that was exactly what I did.
If given a second chance, I promise to change the dialogue. “I’m so happy for you, but at the same time, I’m jealous and sad that you would be getting a new job and leaving me behind.”
Growing up in an Asian household, the attitude towards relationships have always been hush-hush. They don’t ask; I don’t tell. If necessary, they refer to him as a friend. Perhaps their parents also did not talk about it.
I was reminded of the time when I stayed home for 5 days straight without seeing or talking to another soul. It may not sound like much but the aftermath of self-isolation scared me into a frenzy.
“I don’t know. All I know is that I can’t go to the kitchen. I can’t look at knifes right now. I’m also afraid to look at the balcony window. I’ve been gripping this chair in the den for 10 minutes already to calm down.”
Thanks to advanced analytical tools, I knew the exact time of day to publish my photos, videos and posts to receive the most feedback. And if the result did not meet my expectation, I immediately began to question what went wrong. “What could I have changed? Was it the hashtag? Too many? Not enough?”
“I told you my mom was a makeup artist, right? I think I’m the only person who’s seen her without makeup. Everyday she’d wake up 2 hours before to do makeup so by the time I was awake, she’d be ready to walk me. Perhaps the divorce made her feel insecure… but she passed away not knowing how beautiful she is barefaced.”
“How dare he say that I’m addicted to texting! Everyone texts and it’s perfectly normal.” In my head, the term addiction has such a negative connotation that I would never associate it with my personal image.