My friends tell me I have no social filter in my words.
I always deny it but even my roommate of barely two months agree with them.
But these are things that I know that you all don’t care to know.
Well, the last time I gave blood, all they took from me was an empty tube and left me with the tears that fell on my face and the disappointment that dropped like a rock into my heart.
Well, of course, a boy broke that, and like in all typical love stories with no good endings, I never told him and I think he never knew.
But college means I am someone new, someone who should be better, do better than what I did before, but I’m still little old me.
College means forgetting everything I used to know and accepting the reality in front of me.
Sometimes it feels fast, thrilling, almost exhilarating.
But it is when night falls that all of it peels away.
It’s always the hardest when I’m sitting in the backseat of my parents’ car and the large skyscrapers are only getting bigger as I look outside the window. I can’t will myself to stop the car from moving because that’s not how life and well, gravity, works.
I miss my small apartment that’s only a borough away, but despite that, I miss the familiar taste of my parents’ scallion pancakes that I love so much, and the just-cooked smell of fresh dinner on china plates instead of plastic containers of food stored in the freezer like a snapshot momentarily brought to life by a microwave.
I miss the way my mother snores as she falls asleep on the sofa reading her Chinese romance novels that she borrows from the library.
And when she cries after a sad movie, I’m not there anymore to laugh at her wiping her tears away with a tissue, or hear my father try to comfort her by usually telling her “It’s only a story someone made up” in his dismissive tone of disbelief.
I miss the familiar hissing sound of the kettle boiling water on the stove, and how I am usually the one to turn the heat off to silence it.
But now I wonder when I’m gone, who will be the one to turn off the stove? Do my parents take turns or is it only one of them that does it now? Who does the other tasks that I used to do, now that I’m gone?
I miss how my parents are always still awake when I come back late at night, and sometimes my father goes out to meet me halfway on the street to find me. Nowadays, they’re so happy to see me when I come back to visit, but I can’t help but think this is only a fraction of what will be in the future.
But ultimately, I’m going to miss all of this.
I’m going to miss my youth, being able to smile and laugh until my cheeks hurt and turn red,
making such a commotion in the middle of the subway cart that everyone looks at all of us.
I’m going to miss the feeling that in our youth, we are seen as the people that we are, and not what we will represent to the outside world.
I’m going to miss feeling the warmth and familiarity that I feel now, and being able to forget that the marks we make will soon fade in time; the jokes we make will sink into the depths of the abyss, and all of this will be distant memories we long to hold onto. All we will remember is this moment, here and now.