liz – Page 10 – Letters From Liz.

I grew up watching the other little girls get dropped off for dance practice by their mothers. The other dancers would come into the studio with their hair pulled back in a cute little bun with a bow that matched their leotard for the day. The moms came in with their dance bags, kissing their daughters goodbye before they left in their mini vans for the day.

My dad tried to be a dance mom in a sense, but he had no idea what it was to even be one. In the dance world, I felt like a dance orphan; I was left to dress myself for practice, do my own hair, and make sure I brought everything I needed in my dance bag. What also made it feel even more real was that I was always the last person to be picked up because my dad worked late hours; most of the time he was active on a case and had my Uncle Mason pick me up. He would disguised himself as my dad; it was easy since they were twin brothers.

Since then, dance has always been something that I did by myself with no one else to help me. I was my own “dance everything”, and still reigns true to this day.

I walked into our last mandatory rehearsal before the last run of our shows. It was crazy to think that this day would finally come after a year of shows and rehearsals, working on the same numbers that have been embedded in our memory for the rest of our lives. I looked around the space, looking to see if Sahim was here today. On a normal day, he’s here to greet me with a hug or kiss and wish me good luck on the rehearsal. In a sense, his presence this past year had filled that void that was missing at my dance practices growing up. He would carry my bag, make sure I looked fine before heading to the stage, and supported me throughout them by watching on the sidelines. Today, he did none of that, and I feel the knot in my stomach tighten as reality begins to set in. Thankfully, Sonia walked into the space before my thoughts had time to spiral out of control at this point.

“Good afternoon, everyone,” Sonia greeted the room. She smiled wide, probably also feeling how surreal to experience this last rehearsal. “Last rehearsal of the production; time has truly flown by.” She immediately changes her tone of voice, getting in her director persona. “We will be spending today on the stage doing our final dress rehearsal; we will be doing it in parts like we’ve always done, and new numbers will be reviewed and finalized at the end of the day.” Sonia darted her eyes at me, which made some of the other dancers turn their heads toward me. “Ms. Ashmore, please see me at the end of the final number to review your number.” My face got hot, but I nodded my head to confirm. Sonia proceed to talk to the rest of the dancers as I let out a deep breath, nervous about putting this number on the stage for the first time.

…

The stage was the only thing lit up when I entered it for practice. The audience was pitch black; it almost felt like there was nothing even out there in that void. I spot Sonia coming from the side of the stage and walks over to me. I was nervous; I wasn’t ever in a situation where I had rehearsal with just Sonia alone. Her face got serious when we both faced each other on the stage.

“How are you feeling about your number?” Sonia asked. I sighed, which summed up how I truly felt.

“I’m nervous,” I said, looking around the stage and out toward the seats. “I haven’t… performed a piece I’ve choreographed myself since I was a teenager.”

“You danced that far back?” Sonia asked, seemingly shocked at my statement. I nodded before continuing my story.

“It was for a scholarship at Juilliard,” I said, reminiscing about my 17-year-old self. “I had transferred to Waverly High for the Performing Arts for my senior year, and the dance program was a part of this competition that granted them first place winner a full scholarship into the Juilliard dance academy.”

“Waverly? I heard great things about that school. Who was your dance teacher?” Sonia asked. I looked at her, not knowing how to answer the question without sharing so much of my backstory to her.

“Ironically, it was my mother,” I said as I let out a deep breath. “Being in her class was how I officially met her for the first time… second time, I guess.” Sonia’s eyes widen; I know she wasn’t expecting me to say that.

“Did she see you perform that piece? Or was it just a student thing that they did on their own?” Sonia asked, intrigued by the story.

“She saw me perform the piece,” I said, looking out toward the black void of the venue. “You don’t see anyone in the audience when you perform on stage because of the lights. It’s a blessing, and a curse; a blessing that you don’t see hundreds of eyes looking at you, and even if you mess up a part, they wouldn’t even noticed that you did because they’re just watching you. But when you know someone is watching you that you care about, it’s like you wish you were able to see their face as you perform, wondering what they could be thinking while you’re up on stage.”

I closed my eyes and remember the shimmery golden dance costume I wore for the competition. I remember how it shined every time I moved on stage. I remember seeing my mother out in the audience, watching her daughter dance on a stage for the first time in her life. The first time for the both of us. She looked so proud, tearing up by the end of the piece. I wondered what she was thinking when she saw me up there. It was soothing to know that even though she didn’t know me well, she felt something when I danced, and I fathered that than nothing at all in that moment.

“I can tell you after your performance,” a voiced said, but it wasn’t Sonia’s voice. I immediately turned my head and looked at the direction that the voice was coming from. I seriously thought my eyes were playing games with me.

“Mom?” I said. My mom walked on the stage with a huge smile on her face. “I—what—” I turned my head to see the smile on Sonia’s face as well. She definitely was in on this.

“I swear I did not plan for the story to be the one that you told me,” Sonia commented before walking to my mother and hugging her. “Mollie, it’s been way too long!”

“30 years too long,” my mom said before looking at me. I couldn’t say anything in that moment, and she could obviously see that. “It’s so good to see you, Gracie.”

…

“So what made you even come out here?” I asked as my mom and I sat in a cafe, catching up over some coffee. The waitress comes to our table with two black coffees; I clearly picked this habit up from my mother.

“Well, Sonia had called me,” my mom said, stirring her coffee with a spoon. “She wanted to talk about something business related.”

“So you just packed a bag and decided to fly across the world for just a business meeting?” I questioned, trying to piece together my mother’s logic. She rolled her eyes before answering.

“If it was just that, I would’ve told her to send that shit through a text,” she explained. “But I also wanted to be here for your last show before the production ends.” I raised my eyebrows, a bit shocked that she wouldn’t do something like that. She had already seen the show when it first started almost a year ago online, and nothing much as changed about it besides—

“Did Sonia tell you about my solo performance?” I questioned, raising an eyebrow up. My mother looked at me; she was clearly guilty. I couldn’t help but scoff. “Of course she did.”

“She might’ve mentioned it to influence me coming here,” my mom teased, sipping her coffee. She scrunched her face after tasting the coffee. “This is way too light compared to American coffee—”

“Mom,” I said, trying to get her back on track. She placed the coffee down on the table and sighed.

“She mentioned that you’ve been… going through some stuff lately,” my mom confessed, looking at me with a serious look. “She said that you seemed distracted, like your mind has been on something else.”

“Mom,” I sighed, not wanting to get into this any further.

“I get that the production is ending and you’re nervous coming back to America,” my mom continued. “I get it, I was there and I felt the same way, but—”

“Mom, please,” I interrupted. I was getting angry, and she could tell that the conversation was about to go in a different direction. “I don’t want to get in this with you.”

“One day, we’re going to have to talk about it,” my mom emphasized.

“Oh, is that the real reason you’re here? Making up for lost time or something?” I said, now feeling super exposed.

“I’m here because I wanted to see my daughter dance on the biggest stage of her entire career,” she spat back. “I’m here because despite what we’ve both been through in our lives, despite how you perceived me as growing up and despite what you carry, that I always loved you.”

“If you really loved me, you would’ve came back to America once you realized that the only person you wanted to see after a year of being away was your daughter,” I confessed. “That’s what I want to do after this production is over. I want to hug my daughter and tell her how much I love and missed her and see all of the things she’s learned and how tall she grew and be her mom.” My mom just stared at me, deciphering the words I spat out at her.

“I simply wasn’t as strong as you at your age,” my mom finally said. “I wasn’t able to distinctively separate the things that mattered versus the things that I thought mattered at the time. And because of that, I will forever be sorry for that, even after allowing me to be a part of your life now.” I looked at my mother intently as she spoke, realizing that this was how our conversations will be when she tried being a mother to me.

I love her, and I look up to her as a professional dancer. I can’t take that away from her as she worked hard to be recognized as one of the best of her generation. I can’t take away the fact that her decisions were most likely influenced from her own upbringing. I can’t judge her for her cognitive dissonance, the way she reacts to things and kill myself wondering how someone that carried their child for 9 months can simply leave for a year and never come back home.

I can’t keep asking the same questions just to get the same answers and feel disappointed by them every single time.

I let out a deep breath before I adjusted in my seat. I looked at my mom before I said anything to her. In this case, I would rather feel nothing at all than to feel something right now.

“So, you said Sonia wanted to talk business with you?” I asked, changing the subject. “She mentioned that she was retiring after this production was finished.” My mom took a deep breath before she spoke. It was rare for my mother to be speechless for a long period of time, but somehow I was capable of doing that to her.

“Uhm, yeah,” she finally said, clearing her throat. “She mentioned that the academy was looking for another director to replace her after this production, and recommended me for the position.” My eyes widen; surprised.

“Oh,” I said, letting the thought ponder. “Did you say yes?” My mom looked at me, not seeming excited about possibly taking this role. I knew my mom more than I gave myself credit for, and not because I’ve grown to known her well, but because she handles things in the same way I do. There was more to this story than she was letting on. “Did you come here to take the offer?”

“I don’t know if I should, to be quite honest,” she said, stirring the coffee with her spoon. “This position requires a lot, and things are just… different now.”

“They are,” I added. “Which is why I think you should take the position.” My mom looked at me, confused at my comment.

“I don’t understand,” she began to say, adjusting in her seat. “Five minutes ago we were just talking about how me leaving the family behind when I was younger; now you’re encouraging me to go?”

“I’m not a little girl anymore,” I said. “And, I’m talking to you as one dancer to another.” My mom’s face slowly relaxed; she was beginning to realize just how different the dynamic of our relationship truly was. She started to understand where I was coming from. “I think you are the type of person that a production like this needs. Sonia has been great, but she’s not ‘Mollie Sue Castro’ great.” My mom smiled before she sighed, still looking at me intently.

“I was once asked to direct one of the productions after dancing in one,” my mom started to say. I pretended that I didn’t know this story; giving her the opportunity to tell her story to me. She probably waited to tell me about it my entire life. “I had thought about it, but I was still so young. I didn’t think I was capable of leading such a big project like that at 30. I felt like I needed to come back home and learn more before I was able to ever do something like this.” I nodded my head, listening to my mother tell the story about a young Mollie, navigating the world while still trying to find her place in it. I understand a lot of what young Mollie had gone through, and because of that, I’ve learned to do the complete opposite. I know where I belong, despite the ups and downs and constantly fighting my inner demons. I’ve come to terms with even my younger self, telling myself that it was okay to make the decisions I made and leave them in the past where they belong. I’ve learned to change my perspective on things in order to live a happy, healthier life. I’ve accepted that I am not perfect, and I am not expected to always be right in the decisions I do make.

I’ve learned all of this because of a young Mollie.

“I say go for it, mom. You were born to do something like this, and with dad now being retired, I know he’ll be on board and follow you wherever you go.” I smiled at my mom before continuing. “That never changed about him; the way he felt about you, by the way.” My mom smiled, seemingly trying to hold back tears in her eyes. For once, we feel like we’re on the same page, and for once, I feel like an adult daughter to my mother. Despite everything we’ve been through, I feel the most at ease with her in this moment.

The waitress came over to hand us our bill after what seemed like decades. I thanked the waitress in Korean as my mom watched. As soon as she left our table, my mother relaxed her shoulders.

“There has to be better coffee in Korea than this bullshit we just paid for,” she commented. I couldn’t help but laugh out loud, something I don’t think I ever shared with my mother since meeting her, nearly 13 years ago in the dancing studio at Waverly High.

Overexposed: A Self-Love Project.

Overexposed: The Neighborhood Schoolyard.

April 1, 2025April 1, 2025 liz

Saturday, March 29th, 2025 // 1:25PM:

It’s 80 degrees in New York City; the warmest day of the year so far, and the warmest day since early Autumn. Everyone is out enjoying the nice weather; riding their bikes, going on walks, wearing clothing that you would normally see in the early days of summer. The wind is creating this nice breeze, so it doesn’t make you sweat that much when walking in the sun.

As for me, I went to take a walk to enjoy this nice weather; I already had to run an errand before the store closed later, as they seem to close early on the weekend. I was going to take the bus home and call it a day, but my body was telling me to stay out a little longer. Go and get a coffee, and just do something that wasn’t planned for once. So I did.

I ended up walking down the block of where three of my childhood best friends lived in Borough Park. It was crazy to pass by the buildings they used to live in. I remember being 14, standing outside the building of one of my friends as she sat outside of her bedroom window, hanging out with me since her mom didn’t let her come outside. A couple of doors down, I remember being 8, being picked up by my mom and sister one night after spending the day with my other friend, watching the VHS tape of both Britney and NSYNC’s making of their respective music videos from 2000. Even further down the block, I remember being 11 years old, hanging out with another friend upstairs in her house, listening to the Destiny’s Child album, “Destiny Fulfilled” – singing along in her living room and playing with dolls. It’s crazy to think that this block holds memories of all these different eras of my childhood and adolescence, not knowing that all of them would move away as we got older. One of them is now engaged. One of them is now a musician. One of them wasn’t doing too well the last I heard of them nearly a decade ago, and hope that they’re living in a quiet and safe space.

I’m now sitting in the schoolyard of my old middle school, and I can’t help but think about the different memories that live in here. As a teenager, I remember sitting in the “well” area of the schoolyard, watching the boys play Yu-Gi-Oh cards on the table as the girls sat on the benches gossiping. I remember showing my first ever poem to the group of girls who wrote poetry during lunch, saying that I should consider becoming a writer. I remember taking pictures of all of my friends on my digital camera, watching the 6th graders mob the schoolyard as this girl ate the roaches off the ground (real story) and watching my friends play basketball, pretending I knew what the hell the rules of the game were. I remember graduation practice, the carnival that our class was almost banned from attending after misbehaving, the kids playing handball on the wall of the school… I am merely sitting here as my younger self, smiling as I remember what life was like during a time that I so desperately wanted to be older and grown because every other teenager acted that way. I wish I cherished those moments a little more and lived them a little longer.

This schoolyard was also the place I said my final goodbye to a toxic lover the summer after freshman year of college. It was getting dark and the lights were just set to turn on. It was in that moment that I knew I couldn’t keep going on feeling this way; living in this constant state of fear for my life and having my heart constantly broken and manipulated because I didn’t know that true love was when you find it within yourself. It was the first time that I actually put myself first, letting go of something (and someone) that I had to learn how to live without. It was the first of many heartbreaks since then, and the first of many hard life lessons I learned. I smile now, not realizing just how much of my life was lived in this schoolyard. I could even still see my white lab and Dalmatian mixed dog run in the snow, laughing as he hopped up and down and seemed yellow against the white snow. Pal lived a beautiful life and sometimes I miss his goofy personality.

Memories don’t hurt until you actually sit down and remember them. Sometimes, you don’t even realize you remember them until you’re in the place that you made them. Although sometimes I wish it was easier to forget them and act like they don’t impact you anymore, I remember how they shaped me. I’m not the same girl that was running in this schoolyard, chasing the boys as they teased me in middle school. I’m not the same girl that put on a pretend concert with my childhood friends before the summer was over. I’m not even the same girl that left out of this schoolyard that one night after watching the person I forever said goodbye to walk away from me, going towards the train station to head back home. I am not the girl that lives in this schoolyard.

I am now a woman that carries these memories, hoping that I could one day visit these places without missing the person that lives in them. I am now the woman that still struggles with memory, hoping that one day I can coexist with them as I make new memories. We seem to live so much in our past that when our present comes our past, we seem to regret not having done more to make the best of it at the time.

I had to leave the schoolyard, as I felt myself becoming overwhelmed with emotion, sitting in my memory for too long without coming up for air. Maybe I needed to sit in there long enough to realize just how important it is to live in the moment. Maybe I needed to feel the knot develop in my throat, the steady breathing as my eyes got watery, and mentally live the last 25 years of my life in this neighborhood to realize that it’s time to stop being afraid of growing up. Growing old. Losing the ones we grew up with and meeting new ones to grow old with.

It’s time to let go of the fear that life will never be as great as it was when we were younger. To our younger selves, we’re everything we never thought we could possibly be: Alive. Shouldn’t that be the reason why we should keep going?

The "Something" Series: Season 3

Something Has Changed Within Me: A Grace Monologue.

March 27, 2025March 12, 2025 liz

My head was spinning once I opened my eyes. My vision was blurry, which made it hard to even lift my head up from the pillow it was resting on. I slowly got up, and looked around my surroundings once I was able to see clearly again. I’m confused and concerned about where I woke up; this wasn’t my room, this wasn’t Aimee’s room, and it wasn’t even Sahim’s room. I’m not even wearing Sahim’s clothes right now.

I know exactly where I am, and something tells me I did a stupid thing for me to end up sleeping here in the first place.

I quickly got up, trying my best to not make any loud noises. I saw my clothes from earlier tonight folded on top of the chair closest to the couch. I grabbed them quickly, trying to see if I could find a bathroom to change in and leave without getting caught. I walked up the short flight of stairs to the second floor, looking at the numerous closed doors that could be the bathroom. I was nervous to check them all; for fuck’s sake what if I see him sleeping in his bed and wake him up? I took a chance to open the first door near the staircase, hoping this was the bathroom.

Apparently bathrooms are not located closest to the stairs in this apartment.

I walked into what seemed like Jamie’s office, with Jamie sitting on the computer chair next to his desk. He turned around to look at me. Fuck. Busted.

“Hey, uhm…” I awkwardly greeted him, not knowing what else to say. “I was, uhm, looking for the bathroom to change and—”

“It’s the third door to your left,” Jamie answered, looking at me with a worried look.

“Thanks,” I quickly said before attempting to leave the office. “Sorry if I disturbed you—”

“Wait,” Jamie softly said. I turned around, looking at Jamie look at me. To some extent, I was a bit uncomfortable. What is going on? What the hell happened tonight? “Are you feeling okay?”

“Despite this huge ass headache I have, I’m fine,” I said, sighing. Jamie’s expression didn’t change; it was beginning to make me worried. “What?” Jamie got up from his seat and directed me to sit down. I was nervous, not knowing what to expect in this situation, yet alone from a person like Jamie.

“Grace, I don’t know if you remember much of what happened tonight, but…” Jamie tried his hardest to find the right words, but the longer he waited to say something, the more irritable I got.

“What? Just say it—”

“You got wasted at Shawn and Skylar’s dinner,” Jamie admitted.

“You’re lying,” I said, not being able to truly hear and believe the words coming got of Jamie’s mouth.

“You think I would even joke around like that?” Jamie emphasized, raising an eyebrow as he spoke.

“I have to had mistaken my cup for someone else’s or something,” I tried to make sense of any given scenario, but something was telling me that what Jamie was saying was correct. Jamie didn’t have any reason to lie to me, and it would explain why I was even at Jamie’s house in the first place and not at Skylar’s or with Sahim. “I really should get going, I should go check in on Sky and then call Sahim to let him know I’m okay and—”

“Grace,” Jamie said, almost sounding like a plea. He didn’t know what else to say at that point; I could tell considering he sat there trying to ponder the right words to say. So it’s true. I fucked up something that almost everyone in my life was proud of me for doing. “Do you remember anything that happened?

“Do you remember anything that happened?” Jamie asked as he sat in the chair across from me. I looked at him, and at this point it was sinking in: the sadness. The regret. The sting behind my actions.

“All I remember was Skylar literally announcing to the room about what happened between us,” I said, recalling the night. “How could she think it was okay to even say that in front of all those people? She had no right putting out my business like that.” Jamie didn’t say anything back; he sat there and listened to me rant, despite the stupid shit that I pulled this night. Despite being the main reason that his girlfriend is not here with him tonight. God, she probably hates him the same way Sahim hates my guts too. The wave of sadness was now officially transforming into a huge tide, and I didn’t know how to control it anymore.

“I’m sorry,” Jamie blurted out. I lifted my head up, confused by what he meant. If anything, I should be the one apologizing to him.

“For what?” I questioned. “You didn’t do anything wrong tonight.”

“I’m sorry for everything,” Jamie repeated himself. “For everything that you went through these last couple of years.” I looked at Jamie as I thought about the words he was saying. I thought about the first time we met at the cafe back in New York that one, summer day. I remember our first date, our first exploration around the city during the holiday season. I remember how excited Willow would get when she sat on his lap as a baby. I remember all of these things that happened with Jamie, and it wasn’t until this moment that I realized that most of my life in recent years were spent with Jamie. So much of my highs and lows were experienced in the time that we’ve known each other; does he ever get sick of being the only person to consult me in a crisis?

“You too, Jamie,” I said back to him, also feeling responsible for his highs and lows of his recent years. “I’m sorry for everything I put you through these last couple years too.” I expected Jamie to say something else, but instead he sat there, looking at me. I couldn’t stop looking at him, and all I could think about were the times that things were simple. We were happy. We were once living a life that in the moment was what we wanted, and I missed that. I missed him.

I sighed, remembering fragments of our conversation from earlier tonight. I remember exactly what happened from that moment, to the moment that I fell asleep on his couch. I was sick to my stomach, knowing that this was something I had to now come to terms with.

“Yeah,” I simply said, now looking at Jamie. “I remember what happened.”

“I’m sorry that things went that way,” Jamie began to apologize. “I should’ve stopped it before it even was a thought and—”

“Jamie, please,” I said in a tired, defeated tone. “I don’t want to think about what happened. I don’t want to talk about it, and I surely don’t want to relive it. All I want is to get dressed and go back to my hotel room and sleep in my own bed.” Jamie nodded his head, seeming to respect my decision. He got up from where he was sitting, and started to walk towards the door out of his office.

“I’ll take you back to Ulsan,” Jamie said, looking at me.

…

My head was still spinning by the time we got into his car. I felt like I was going to throw up. What was I going to do once I got back to the hotel? What was I even going to say to Sahim when I see him next? Our next rehearsal before our last couple of shows begin tomorrow, and I don’t know how I’m going to walk into them as if nothing happened the night before. There wasn’t anyone on the road on our way back to Ulsan which made the ride go by quicker. With the tension between us, it felt like I was in this car for hours.

“Thank you again for letting me stay at your place,” I said to Jamie. “Who knows where I’d be after that disastrous night.”

“You would’ve been at my place,” Jamie answered as he drove. “I wasn’t going to leave you there by yourself.”

“You don’t owe me anything though,” I said, as I turned my head to face him. “I haven’t done anything for you to even be remotely nice to me.”

“I’ve stopped trying to figure that out,” Jamie said as he continued to drive. “I guess there’s always going to be that one person that you’ll always care about, despite the circumstances.”

“And I just so happen to be that person?” I questioned.

“We don’t choose the people, they somehow choose us,” Jamie subliminally said, briefly looking at me at red light. “It really wasn’t nothing for me to have you stay over my place while you sobered up.”

“Are you disappointed?” I asked him. “That I broke my sobriety?” It took Jamie a while to finally answer the question.

“I can’t project my thoughts on a decision you made,” Jamie answered. I rolled my eyes, as I should’ve assumed he would answer in a riddle-like way. “I don’t know what made you want to break it, but that’s something that you have to deal with.” Jamie was right, and it was something that I didn’t know how I was going to do that after everything that happened at the dinner. I wasn’t sure how I was going to talk to Sahim after what was said, and I didn’t know if I could ever forgive my cousin for exposing me in front of everyone. How the hell was I going to explain this to my family back home?

“I’m sorry,” I began to say, not really knowing why I was apologizing in the first place. A part of me knew the reason; I remember what happened at Jamie’s place. I remember passing out on his couch in a panic, not knowing how I was going to face Sahim once I sobered up. Now that I’m here, heading back to the hotel and back to the workplace that I share with Sahim, I’m still unsure how I’m going to handle seeing him now. “I know you’d rather be with your girlfriend right now, trying to fix the mess that I caused.” I looked over to Jamie, waiting for some sort of response. He looked forward as he drove; he was clearly deep in his own thoughts. “I know it was the last thing you wanted to happen—”

“Don’t stress about what happened,” Jamie began to say. “You got an obligation that you committed yourself to do and finish.” Jamie had changed the subject so abruptly. What was Jamie keeping to himself? Why would he still feel the need to look after me after all we’ve been through? It was utter insanity to think that someone still cared about you long after they’ve been put out of this position. Jamie never made me wonder if I was ever going to speak to him again whenever we had a fight; everyone else though? A complete fucking mystery until I ultimately left without a trace in people’s life.

“Going back to work requires me to think hard about something I don’t think I even have the energy for,” I began to explain, dreading our next rehearsal tonight. “I don’t even have the energy to go do this stupid show tonight.”

“Again, I can’t tell you what to do with your life, but if I still know just even an ounce of the person I met in New York, it’s that no matter what, she gets the job done,” Jamie reassured me. He finally turned the car into the parking garage of the hotel, parking in a spot closest to the entrance of the building. He turned the car off once he parked which made the air in this car still and full of tension.

The last time Jamie and I sat in a car for a long period of time was the night that I dropped him off back at the place he was staying at in New York. It was hours before he had to leave for his flight back to Korea, and I was trying my hardest to keep myself together after everything him and I went through in the short period of time. I remember those four months feeling like four years of my life. It felt like the last day of high school for the very last time, knowing that you can’t go back to these days once the day is over. I felt like I couldn’t ever see my life go back to the way it was prior to Jamie entering it. Jamie brought something in it that I didn’t think I needed, and he made me feel like in a way, I brought something in his that ultimately changed him.

Something has changed within me since then. Everything isn’t the same anymore, and I don’t think they will ever be the same.

“This feels awfully similar to our last night in New York,” I said, speaking my inner thoughts out loud. “At least it’s not 32 degrees with snow falling down.” Jamie smiled to himself, finally turning his head to look at me. “You remember that night?”

“Of course I do,” Jamie answered before sighing. “You gave me your gray scarf and demanded that I wrapped it around my neck before I got out of your car.” I laughed, remembering that exact moment happening.

“Oh my god, that scarf! What even happened to that scarf? Maybe you gave it back to me and I just stuffed it in one of my closets or something.”

“I, uhm… I never gave it back to you,” Jamie admitted as he turned his head toward me.

“You still have it?” I asked, pretty shocked that he would just keep something so minor like a scarf in his possession still. “Or did you throw it away?”

“I kept it,” Jamie confessed, letting out a deep breath. “I couldn’t see myself throwing it out or donating it or even giving it back. It was one of those things that reminds me of that time, being in New York.”

“There’s no place like New York,” I said, still sitting in the dark car with Jamie. “I didn’t realize how much I missed it being away for so long. I miss the person I was when I was in New York.”

“Me too,” Jamie said. “I miss the person I was back in New York too.” I looked at Jamie, seeing all of the years we’ve known each other through his eyes. How have 5 years almost pass us by? How can someone that I’ve known for 5 years still make me feel the same way I did in day one?

I wanted nothing more than to kiss him one last time before I left his car. I wanted to be in his company under better circumstances. I wanted to go back to the moment where we lived a much simpler life.

“I, uhm… I should go,” I began to say quickly before getting my stuff together. “Thank you again for taking care of me… especially when no one else wanted to.”

“Of course,” Jamie said, looking at me. I placed my hand on his, wanted to feel his touch one last time. Jamie gently lifted my hand and kissed it. “I’m here if you need me, no matter what.” I got out of his car and stood there has Jamie pulled out from the parking spot. Before turning away, he looked at me through the driver’s window and smiled. I waved bye to him as he drove away. It was like that night in New York all over again; feeling like I was saying goodbye to someone that I wasn’t going to ever see again, but so desperately needed in my life in order to continue.

This time, I was the one leaving the car as he drove away.

The Teenage Monologues: Season 3

Secrets of a Violinist: A Sophie Monologue.

March 25, 2025March 12, 2025 liz

It was raining on this particular Saturday afternoon, and I had nothing planned besides get some homework done and practice a couple of cues for band class. We had our end-of-the-year performance coming up soon, and Mr. Harrison kept giving us pieces to learn for it. I feel like we’ve learned an encyclopedia worth of music this year alone. It was exciting, but sometimes I wish we were given some sort of break in between learning new pieces to actually prefect them.

My mum knocked on my bedroom door before she entered. I still wasn’t talking to her after what she did the day Milo brought me home from our last performance. Since then, she’s tried to make any effort in us being on good terms again; it was hard to forgive her when I was still so embarrassed in the way she acted towards Milo. Even though I am solely the blame for what happened that day.

“Soojin,” my mum said to me as she opened my bedroom door. “Remember that you have your video call with your father in a few.” I didn’t say anything back to her. She sighed as she left my room, closing the door behind her. I wasn’t thrilled to have these visits with my father, but I had made a promise to my mum that if the visitations didn’t interfere with my school schedule or extracurricular activities, I could video chat with him. I made sure that she didn’t completely ban me from ever hanging out with Milo again, considering she thought that he influenced me in a negative way.

…

“Heya, kid,” my dad said through the computer screen, smiling right in the camera.

“Hi, dad,” I said, forcing a smile on my face. My dad had lost some weight in his face since the last time I saw him. He also was the type to upkeep his facial hair; he’s now growing in a scruffy beard on his face. It was like I was looking at a complete stranger that was supposedly my dad.

“How’s it going? How’s high school treating you?” He kept asking me a bunch of questions, which made me feel bad. He really wanted to know everything that was going on in my life, and it seemed like he kept these questions for so long to someday ask me. I should’ve made more of an effort to do these visits with him. It just hurt too much to make this a regular reoccurrence.

“It’s been good,” I began to answer. “We had a show at Juilliard a couple of weeks ago, and now we’re getting ready for our end-of-the-year showcase.”

“That’s great,” he smiled as he spoke. He was so happy to talk to me it made me feel both guilty, yet mad at the situation. You should’ve been here. You would’ve known all of this stuff anyway. “You like it there? You made any friends?”

“Yeah,” I said, not getting much into it. “We’re all in band together, so we spend a lot of time practicing together and stuff.” He nodded his head, not looking too much into my words.

“I’m happy you got into Waverly,” he said, adjusting in his seat. “I’m glad to hear that you still love playing the violin.” I nodded as he spoke. It was undoubtedly true how much I loved playing the violin, and I was only ever introduced to it because of my father. “Remember when you wanted to play the flute in grade school because all of the other girls in your class played it?”

“I do,” I laughed a little, almost forgetting that was something that happened. “We have a flute section in our band; surprisingly they are made up of boys.”

“Really?” My dad asked, seemingly shocked. “I would’ve thought they wanted to play bigger instruments, like the trombone or the saxophone. Or even the drums; boys seem to play instruments that they play in their band outside of school.” I nodded my head, completely agreeing with my dad.

“Oh yeah,” I began to say. “There’s a bunch of boys that are in bands outside of school. That’s all that they talk about with each other before class. It’s interesting to see them transition from their contemporary music to classical music when we have class.”

“Can’t ever escape the classics,” my dad added on. He was completely right; you can’t stray away from playing the classics when you’re in an ensemble like Waverly High’s. “I know your mum is more concerned about your grades rather than music, so make sure that you are keeping up with them as well.” I nodded my head, feeling more comfortable talking to my dad. It’s a weird feeling; he doesn’t feel like he’s in a computer screen. He feels like he’s sitting across the table from me, drinking his coffee with the newspaper folded underneath it. It feels like I’m having breakfast with him before school; like the old days. Like the good days.

“I am,” I reassured him, fidgeting with my hands in front of me. “I was looking into a college that I was interested in, and I have to have really good grades in order to get into it.” This is something I didn’t even share with my mum yet.

“Already?” My dad asked. “I mean, that’s great! It’s good that you’re already thinking about college… although you just started high school…”

“I know, but it doesn’t hurt to start preparing for those things,” I explained. I wanted to tell him the school. I wanted to tell him everything I’ve researched about their music program there because I knew he would be supportive of my decision. He was also very vocal about me pursuing music; my mum had other plans for me. They normally would clash because of it, and sometimes I only feel like my mum only let me go to Waverly to please my father. If it were up to her, she would’ve sent me to some STEM school or something. “So, what’s the school that you’re interested in?”

“Oh, uhm… just a few different schools,” I vaguely answered. “I don’t remember the names of them.” My dad nodded his head before changing the subject.

“Just know that no matter what you decide to do, I will always support your decision,” he said as he looked directly into the camera. “I know it’s hard to believe considering the circumstances, but I am always going to be there for you.” I didn’t say much after that; I was too afraid to say or think too heavily on this just in case I started to cry.

This was the reason why I never wanted to do this in the first place. It’s not because I didn’t love my father anymore, but it simply hurts knowing that the one person that completely understands me isn’t around to help me navigate through these weird times in my life, balancing my life was a student, a violinist, a teenager.

“I know,” I simply said, swallowing the knot that formed in my throat. The beeping of the call began to ring quicker, which meant that our meeting was almost over.

“Keep going, kid,” he said as smiled. “Thank you for coming to talk to me today, and I’ll talk to you soon. I lo—” A blue screen appears in place of where my dad was. The call had officially ended. I took a deep breath, closing the laptop. I wanted to cry so hard in this moment. How was I falling in love with music with someone also in love with music, and the person who introduced it to me isn’t seeing the transformation happening in real time? He would’ve been so happy to hear that I was interested in Juilliard. Back in the UK, he used to watch all of the Philharmonic shows that Julliard hosted. He always commented on how huge the stage was. He insisted that one day I would play the stage of Juilliard.

I made it, dad. I played on the stage that you so desperately wanted me to play on, and you couldn’t be there to witness it happening.

I went back to my room and closed the door shut, weeping in my arms. The frustration, the anger, the absolute sadness I feel without having him around. I missed him like crazy, and I wanted nothing more to go back in time and tell him just how much I needed him in my life. I needed him giving me all the in and outs of being a violinist. I needed him to nod his head agreeing with all of the challenges I faced being a violinist.

More than anything, I needed him to show me what it was like having a boy love you, and how to love a boy back.

Misc., The "Something" Series: Season 3

Something That Stings, Lingers: A Jamie Monologue.

March 20, 2025March 12, 2025 liz

I often am reminiscing about the first time I ever saw Grace, in the cafe back in New York. It was nearing toward the end of summer, but it was still reaching the high 90’s on certain days. I only walked in there by chance; it was the closest cafe near the building that the law firm was holding their meeting in. All I wanted to do was walk in a grab an iced americano before I stated my day, until I heard a huge pile of paper hitting the ground near me. I turned around and saw a young girl with fire red hair, kneeling towards the ground picking up the papers from the ground.

Sometimes I wonder what would have happened if I didn’t help her with her papers. Even if I still did, what would have happened if I didn’t notice that they were case files for a law case? How would the rest of my day went if I didn’t speak to her at the cafe?

I watched Grace sleep on my couch, not knowing what would happen once she wakes up and realizes she’s hungover. She’s going to be disappointed, and I don’t know whether or not she’s going to want me to be around when she does. I would have left her at Skylar and Shawn’s place, but we both knew that Skylar wanted Grace out of there. Sahim had left her behind and Haram left me behind. No one wanted Grace.

“No one wants me around anymore,” Grace randomly said as she sat in the passenger seat of my car. She laughed in pity, leaning her head back on the seat and closed her eyes. “It’s why I don’t stay for too long.”

“That’s not true,” I said as I drove, trying to talk some sense into Grace. “You have friends and family that love you—“

“My own blood cousin just told an entire room of people about my past,” grace turned her head to face me. I glanced her to look at her, in which she looked pissed. “She literally told everyone something that she had no right in blurting out just because she was upset with me. It’s not right.”

“You’re right on that; it was not her place to say something like that to everyone in the room,” I began to say, trying to reason with someone that will not remember this even happening in the next couple of hours. “But that doesn’t mean she doesn’t care about you or want the best for you—“

“Do you really believe in that?” Grace asked, not believing anything I was saying. I guess the expression on my face was enough of an answer for her. “I thought so.” I didn’t know what to say anything after that; for someone as intoxicated as Grace, she ironically made a lot of sense in her reasoning. “What’s the point of even going back to America?”

“What do you mean? You live there,” I began to say, not understanding what point she was trying to make. “Your family, your job, your daughter—“

“My family is living fine without me, I can always quit my job, and my daughter probably doesn’t even miss me because I was always gone anyway.” Grace was silent for a moment, as if she was reflecting on the words that she said out loud. “Like for fucks sake, I am my mother’s daughter, and Willow will most likely turn out just like me to continue this vicious cycle of neglect–“ I stopped the car at he red light and immediately turned to look at Grace.

“Stop,” I spat out, now angry at Grace. “I will not sit here and let you wallow in your pity because you believe no one cares about you.”

“You’re the last person to talk,” Grace scoffed, looking at me straight in the eyes. She looked the most composed in this exact moment than she did all night. “You should be the last person to say that pathetic, cliche bullshit to me.”

“What’s that suppose to mean?” I asked, confused with Grace’s words.

“Forget about it,” Grace said, turning her body towards the car window. Her subliminal messages were the one thing I disliked about Grace.

“You also need to stop doing that too,” I added, annoyed at Grace’s attitude.

“You need to stop talking to me like that,” Grace spat back, turning back around to face me.

“Like what? Like someone that cares about you and wants nothing but you to succeed?” I spat out as I drove. “Clearly, you have people that love and care about you, so stop thinking that no one does and stop believing that stupid, negative voice in your head.” Grace was quiet after I said that; too quiet to the point that I had to look over at her to see if maybe she was crying or something. She kept looking out the car window without a word. I decided that it was best if we both kept quiet.

We got to my apartment later that night; Grace walked right in as if she was comfortable being in the space. I took off my shoes at the door; I let Grace keep hers on considering the circumstances. I walked directly into the kitchen and returned back to the living room with a bottle of water.

“Here,” I simply said, handing the water bottle to Grace. She looks up, but doesn’t take it.

“No thank you,” Grace said in a cold way.

“It wasn’t a question,” I sternly mentioned, handing the water bottle to Grace still. “You need to stay hydrated.” I walked away from Grace, trying to have her listen to me in order for her to get better. Grace doesn’t protest anymore; she opens the bottle and begins to drink it, chugging it the longer she drank. Of course she needed some water after downing that bottle of soju earlier. “I’ll get you something to wear so that you’re comfortable–“

“Jamie,” Grace gently said. I looked at her as she spoke, wondering what was it she was going to say. “Why are you even helping me?”

“Why wouldn’t I?” I said, walking towards the closet of spare pillows and blankets.

“You have a girlfriend,” Grace began to explain. “You should be with her, comforting her after this disastrous night.” She wasn’t wrong, even in her current state.

“We both should be with other people tonight, but here we are,” I responded, quickly getting off the conversation. Grace looked sad sitting there; she seemed like she was beginning to regret the decisions she made earlier. I walked over to her and sat next to her, hoping that just being her company would help her feel better in some way. I began to sit in my own head, thinking about what could’ve possibly led us to this moment.

Grace had her life put together, and I saw glimpses of it throughout the year. It seemed like Grace was the happiest when she wasn’t in contact with me, and she seemed to decline whenever she was juggling me in her life somehow. We weren’t friends; we weren’t even acquaintances, we were just two people that just so happen to have once known each other in a past life.

But if that was the truth, why do we constantly find ourselves in each other’s lives? No matter where we are in the world, we seem to always find our way back to each other in some capacity. What could it possibly mean? Why was this the case with us?

“I’m sorry,” I blurted out without any context behind it. Grace turned her head at me; she looked as much as confused as I felt.

“For what?” She asked.

“For… just… everything,” I finally admitted, reflecting back on the last couple of years with Grace. “Everything that you’ve dealt with for the last couple of years.” I think she understood what I was trying to say since she didn’t say or look up from her hands. I wonder if she was tired of going through this never-ending cycle. I wonder if she regrets ever having met me back at the cafe all those years ago. I wouldn’t be surprised if she wished a lot of things happened instead of the way they actually played out.

“You too, Jamie,” Grace softly said before finally looking up to me. “We’ve both been through a lot.” Something came over us for a brief moment before we were able to stop it from happening. She slowly leaned in and kissed me on the lips. I should’ve stopped it; it was wrong, but it felt like we were magnetically connected to each other in that moment. It wasn’t fair to the people we were now seeing, and I quickly pulled away from her, looking at her in the eyes. Grace began to panic; she got up from the couch and began to pace around the living room. “Oh my god, no, I shouldn’t have— oh my fucking god—”

“Grace, it’s fine,” I tried to calm her down. Sure, internally I was panicking about what just happened. There’s a level of guilt I am feeling considering this was supposed to be a chapter of my life that I closed almost a year. Surely, this was a chapter that grace had closed herself a year ago as well. We’re both thinking the same thing: we just ruined a year’s work in five seconds.

“Fine?! Jamie, we are in relationships with different people! We just did something that many people consider cheating and—” Grace began to hyperventilate, losing her breath with every exhale she made.

“Grace,” I grabbed her by the shoulders to calm her down. I looked at her in the eyes, trying to reassure her that everything was going to be fine. I had to tell myself everything was going to be fine; it had to be fine. This had to be just a moment of weakness and that by tomorrow, this would be a thing of the past. But something about that thought bothered me; I knew that anything that had to do with Grace was never just a “thing of the past.” First meeting her isn’t a thing of the past. Exploring New York City in the winter with her isn’t a thing of the past. Our relationship, our dates, our conversations and what our lives were in that time cannot just be a thing of the past.

This time, I found myself kissing her first. This time, neither of us pulled away.

…

I immediately turned my head toward the front door when I heard a slight knock. I walked over to it and knew exactly who it was. I opened the door and there was Kevin, nearly half asleep with his hair unkempt.

“Thanks for coming on such short notice,” I said as I opened the door wider for Kevin to come in. I saw him glance over toward the couch, noticing who was asleep on it. He immediately turned his head toward face me.

“Hyung?” Kevin questioned.

“I know,” I said, directing him away from the living room area. “Let’s talk in my office upstairs.”

I gently closed the door behind us once we got into my office. I appreicated that Kevin kept his cool until we got up here, because I know he was feeling everything else besides “cool.”

“Hyung, why do you have Grace sleeping on your couch? Why is grace even in Korea in the first place?! What the hell is going on!” Kevin paced the room, trying to gather his thoughts.

“Ya,” I said as I sighed, trying to massage the headache away through my temples. “It’s a long story.” I looked up at Kevin; he stood there, waiting for me to explain this “long story” as if he had the time to listen to it. I sighed knowing that this was now unavoidable; this entire situation was unavoidable at this point. “Grace has been living in Korea for a year—”

“A year?!” Kevin repeated, shocked by the news. “Don’t tell me you—”

“Kevin, just me finish,” I demanded, trying to get to the point. “Grace has been here because she works for a dance company that is touring their production here for a year. I didn’t know this until Haram and I went on a date to see the show. By that point, Grace and I were not in contact with each other.”

“Then how is she sleeping so comfortably in your clothes, on your couch, in your house?” Kevin questioned in a snarky way.

“We made contact through Shawn and his girlfriend, which you know is also Grace’s cousin. We decided we would be cordial for the sake of their relationship because Shawn’s most likely going to marry Skylar—”

“Oh,” Kevin reacted, shocked. “I didn’t realize Shawn was… thinking about marriage.” I looked at Kevin, reminded that the falling out between him and Shawn was because of Skylar.

“He loves her, Kevin,” I emphasized, trying to prove my point. “And Grace and I knew that it was going to happen sooner than later.”

“So the solution you two came up with was that you’re going to be friends for the sake of their relationship? Despite how toxic yours with Grace had become at one point?” I looked at Kevin, hearing the same words he’s told me about Grace for years now. Kevin was mature now, and to some extent he’s able to understand the things you do when you are simply in love with another—

Love. Not “care”, not “wish the best for”, not “support in any way”; but “love.”

“We tried. I tried,” I began to say, now sitting on the small couch in the office. I felt my legs give out when I finally pieced together everything that was roaming in my head about Grace. “I tried, so hard, for the sake of her relationship and my relationship and…” I finally looked back up to Kevin, now staring me down with this serious look. After a moment, his face softened, and he pulled the chair from the desk to sit down and face in my direction.

“You’re still in love with Grace, aren’t you?” Kevin asked. Before I could even answer, he followed up with not another question, but with a statement that I think I was avoiding to ever say myself. “You’ve been in love with her this entire time.” Something that stings, tends to linger.

Black Sheep in Society: Season 3

Milo, the 1st Kamalani Black Sheep: A Micah Monologue.

March 18, 2025March 12, 2025 liz

Growing up, I wasn’t really close to my older brother. By the time I was old enough to have memories, Milo was in high school, hanging out with his friends as any teenager would. We don’t make much in common besides the fact that we both grew up around music. I know for sure that my brother grew up with our parents with music blasting through the stereo as they did their Saturday cleaning. I have this one memory of being a kid and watching Milo look at our parents in horror as he brought Sophie to the house on one of those Saturday mornings. Music, if anything, symbolized a lot of things in our family. To my parents, it symbolized love. They had their own band growing up, writing and performing songs with Uncle Danny and Aunt Nicki, and as they got older they still used music to showcase their love. For us, it meant togetherness. Our family always came together whenever music was playing; whether it was on the car radio or at one of our performances in school, our family always was so passionate about music.

But even music did not bring my brother and I close together.

I walked up the front steps of a small house, catching my breath as I carried my DJ equipment on my back. I rang the bell, and shortly after my brother answered the door.

“Hey, dude,” Milo greeted me, opening the door wider in order for me to walk in. I looked around the house as I took my bag off, leaving it near the door with my shoes. We weren’t allowed to wear our shoes in Milo’s house, as it showed disrespect in Asian culture.

“Hey,” I greeted back, digging in my bookbag and getting straight to the point. “Mom wanted me to drop this off on my way home. I guess Sophie was asking for it.” I handed over the container to Milo as he took it.

“Ah, yeah; Sophie said that Jennifer was giving this back to us,” Milo said, walking towards the kitchen area. “She’s making cupcakes for Summer’s bake sale thing at school.” Summer was Milo’s and Sophie’s oldest kid. In a way, Summer felt more like a sibling of mine than my niece. Of course, I was her uncle whether she would get too boy crazy; like, she’s 13 for fuck’s sake.

“Yeah; one less thing I need to carry on my bag,” I said, pointing at my bag. Milo glances over to look at it, then back at me.

“Is that what was at Dani’s place?” he asked. I nodded, annoyed that my mom would even tell Milo what I was doing today. “That’s a lot of baggage to carry around.” I looked at Milo, trying to decipher his words. He was always known as someone who never bluntly said what he said and meant what he meant.

“Yeah, it is,” I spat out, getting myself ready to leave Milo’s place. “I have to get–“

“Wait, Micah,” Milo interrupted me, getting my attention. I turned around to face him. “I wanted to actually spend some time with you before you head back home.” I couldn’t help but scoff when we said that.

“Yeah? What, mom told you to do this?” I asked, shaking my head. “We never spent time with each other before–“

“Micah, I mean it,” Milo began to explain. “I haven’t gotten the chance to just sit down with you and talk. We’re both so busy living our lives that–“

“I’ve been perfectly fine just passing by, bro,” I cut Milo off, not wanting to get into it with him. “I have to get going before mom thinks–“

“For fuck’s sake Micah, can you just listen for once?” Milo spat out. Ah, this is the brother I’ve grown to know. “You’re acting like I can’t be concerned for my own brother–“

“Half brother,” I corrected him. I had to remind Milo that the reason why we weren’t close isn’t the fact that we’re literally 10 years apart, but simply just the fact that he made it clear as day that his siblings were just half of him.

“We’re still brothers, asshole,” Milo spat back, now annoyed. “Let’s not act like I wasn’t there when you were thrown in jail.”

“Oh geez! Thanks for the reminder!” I sarcastically reacted. “Seriously, what could I have ever done if you weren’t already at the house having dinner with mom and dad? You wouldn’t have even cared if I was sentenced to life–“

“Are you fucking hearing yourself, dude?” Milo said, growing more angry. “Seriously, why do you always act like the world is out to get you or something?”

“Because you guys always act like it is!” I shouted back, growing frustrated. “Like seriously dude, when was the last time we actually did something together as brothers without it being because mom and dad forced us?” Milo didn’t say anything, which was extremely telling. “Stop acting like you care when all I am to you is a thorn in your side. You, mom, dad; all of you treat me like the damn black sheep of the family, and then care when I’m in danger. Like pick a fucking side!” I thought that would be the end of our conversation and that Milo would just kick me out of his place. I’ve come to terms that Milo will never truly be the older brother I could confine in; his picture-perfect life with his family has no room for anything that is damaged.

Milo started to laugh, as if this shit was just some game to him. The louder he laughed, the more angry I became.

“Oh shit, that was a good one, Micah,” Milo said as he got his composure together. “You? A black sheep? You grew up with both of your biological parents in a nice ass house in Brooklyn. You were in all the music extracurricular activities that you wanted to be in as a kid. You didn’t grow up watching your dad date all these different girls until he married Jennifer. You didn’t grow up being a black sheep because you never were the black sheep. I was.”

“Is this some fucking competition?” I yelled out, walking toward Milo. “Seriously, are you making this a competition?”

“No, Micah; I’m tell you how it really is. Your problem is that you believe you’ve been so mistreated by your family because you’re “so different”, when really it was you that distanced yourself from everyone around you.” Thankfully, Milo’s phone started to ring and answered it in the other room. I had no other reason to stay any longer, so I grabbed my things and left his place.

Milo and I were never close; I grew up thinking that maybe it was just the age gap between us. As I got older, I realized that our age had nothing to do with it. Milo was proud to being the original black sheep of our family.

Overexposed: A Self-Love Project.

Overexposed: Why Did We Not Keep Our ‘COVID’ Hobbies?

March 13, 2025March 12, 2025 liz

It’s crazy to think that we were living in a pandemic this time five years ago. It was five years ago that COVID literally shut the entire world down.

It will truly be one of those things that when we are asked “do you remember where you were when [insert major event] happened” and we can honestly vividly remember what was happening that moment.

For me, I was in Florida visiting a college friend, nervous that the pandemic was getting worse to the point that my flight back home was going to be cancelled. Many of us thought we would be back at work in two weeks, getting a nice needed break from life before we got back to the swing of things. Thankfully, I was able to make it back to New York before everything started to shut down, and—needless to say— did not realize that we would be home for the next 5+ months. Of course in that time, many of us went to the internet for entertainment, keeping us busy in a time that was uncertain, uneasy, and really tragic for many of us.

I was one of those people whose life was chronically online, and every interest and hobby I had involved being a part of some online community. I met a ton of people online during this time, which was something that I truly needed in such a transitional part of my life. I was in my mid 20’s still trying to find my identity after it was tied to being a student after so long. It wasn’t long that I started to surround myself with people who lived all over the world, sharing the same interests as me and connecting through this hobby of ours.

Of course, I didn’t think that this hobby of mine would just be another phase of my life. Something tells me that for many of these people, they didn’t think this was going to be theirs either.

Hi, my name is Liz, and I am no longer a K-pop collector, a penpal writer, or chronically online anymore.

Many of my readers know that K-pop was something that really defined me at one point in my life. I went through all of the stages of being a K-pop Stan, and while I cringe looking back at how serious I took it, it was a building block in figuring out my true identity. I sometimes blame my “falling out” on K-pop on the negative cognition I have with it: it’s something that associates itself of a time that was great but so damaging to my mental health. I sometimes blame it on the fact that the groups that are popular now are no longer the groups I listen to; most of which have either disbanded or now on hiatus to make room for newer (and younger) groups. Like, I’m sorry – how is there a new girl group with a maknae that was born in 2010?! Sure, that girl is 15 years old but to think that 2010 was 15 years ago is insane to me.

Anyway—

I thought that it was a mixture of those two things: maybe I just don’t connect with it in the way that I did before because it represented such a different time in my life. But, then it clicked: where in the world did everyone that was once in this community go as well?

I could name a handful of people that I have not heard from since the world began to slowly come out of the pandemic. Even in 2022 (which for me was my true last year of K-pop collecting) I started to not see the same people in the community that was once there during the height of the pandemic. It made me wonder a lot of things: how could we leave (or sell) something we worked so hard (and spent so much) in completing, and why was it so easy for us to just stop?

I think K-pop collecting, and even penpal writing (in my brain, they are one in the same because they stemmed from the same online community) was just a filler in a lot of people’s lives. In a world where we were so uncertain if we were ever going to see a life where wearing masks would not be required anymore or if we would ever return to our classrooms or jobs and interact with people in person again, I think we all needed some way to nurture the human qualities in us.

We need to socialize, we need to work on something or learn something new or do something in a way that makes us feel good. I mean, how many of the people in your life currently do something that they said they picked up during the pandemic? There are some out there still doing what their pandemic selves did, but for most it seems like the hobbies and interests we invested in was just temporary, or at least until the world opened back up and we were able to spend our money on experiences, not materialistic things.

Personally for me, I like to spend my time and energy on creating tangible memories; ones that don’t solely develop and live online anymore. My life (and identity) were once tied to solely being on the internet, realizing that the people I thought I would click with forever due to our common interests were also just a product of their social media persona. Yes, I had one as well. For me, I just realized that the things I valued weren’t on the internet anymore, and once everything began to open up, I started to spend more time outside. I went to more concerts, more parties, more social gatherings, and more vacations since I stopped putting my energy in things that I didn’t have much to show for. Having an aesthetic looking Instagram page was also becoming extremely outdated and it screamed “produced by the pandemic”. In a nutshell, I started to stray away from both communities until I completely let go of them both.

It took me some time to accept the fact that I grew out of this phase. I had thought that this was my end all be all, only because it was the first time in my life that I had a group of online friends with the same exact interests as me. By all means, I am not shitting on people that still have these close connections with their online friends in their designated communities, I’m just saying that with my observations and time to reflect on that time, I realized that a lot of people used their pandemic hobbies as an outlet. It was an outlet to pass all the time we didn’t have before, the uncertainty of when the world would go back to normal (which, in my opinion has never been the same since, but that’s a different post for a different day) and most importantly; it was an outlet to keep us connected to people when we couldn’t physically see them or hang out with them.

Personally, I will always remember this time in life as the stepping stone in the person I am now. I think I needed those experiences to understand what I truly wanted out of life, and those that I associate myself with. I’ve also learned to not always deem the person I once was as “unhappy” or “unwell” by any means. I was happy, and it was fulfilling to the person that was living through a pandemic. Like, if something that you once loved got you through something, it got you through something and you shouldn’t feel ashamed in that if this is something you relate to.

In the meantime, I would love to hear about the hobbies that you guys picked up during the pandemic! What were they? How did you discover them? Are they still an important part of your life? If not, when did you completely let the hobby go? And most importantly: how did that hobby shape you as a person?

y2katalogue: The Tapes

Tape #38: Besties Breaking Free (From Each Other)

March 11, 2025February 17, 2025 liz

Milo walks into his Biology class and smiles once he sees Gwen sitting at his table. He immediately takes the seat across from her , which makes Gwen look up from her notebook.

Gwen: *smiles* Hey, Milo.

Milo: *points at her notebook* Writing the scientific formula to cure world hunger?

Gwen: *laughs* What does one have to do with the other?

Milo: I don’t know, doesn’t the earth eat due to photosynthesis or something?

Gwen ponders on the thought, amused.

Gwen: That somehow made sense, but you clearly need more tutoring if you’re looking to be in Chemistry with me next year.

Milo raises an eyebrow and smiles as Gwen giggles.

Milo: Oh I will, only if the smartest girl the world is the one tutoring me.

Gwen: *sarcastic* You have Marilyn vos Savant as a tutor? I’m totally jealous.

Milo laughs at Gwen’s joke, feeling amused by her intelligence-related humor.

Milo: That’s a good one; and something that we are learning in our history class.

Gwen: It’s literally freshman social studies, Milo.

Milo: So what? It;s still something that I was able to remember from being in that boring class.

Gwen smiles and rolls her eyes, continues to write in her notebook. Milo watches her as she does.

Milo: Do you ever read back on your class notes?

Gwen: *confused* Why wouldn’t I?

Milo: I mean, you simply just know everything, even without the teacher actually teaching it to us first.

Gwen: I always read back on my notes; that’s how I learn the information. *teases* You should try it sometime.

Milo sucks his teeth as Gwen laughs; he doesn’t take her words too seriously.

Gwen: Enough about me; you and your band have practice later today?

Milo: *shocked* How did you know I had band practice today?

Gwen: Because it’s Wednesday, and you tell me your band always has practice on Wednesdays, of course with the exception of school performances or something else.

Milo smiles at Gwen as she speaks. He’s still pretty shocked that Gwen remembers the things that he would’ve deemed as miscellaneous information.

Gwen: *nervous* What? Is my hair okay?

Milo: *snaps out of it* Yeah no, your hair is fine. I was just thinking about something else is all.

The bell rings, and the teacher begins to teach the class. While Gwen is focused in on what’s being taught, Milo finds himself looking at Gwen every now and then, smiling whenever she would raise her hand and answer a question correctly.

…

Jennifer is seen opening her locker door during passing, getting the textbooks needed for the next class. She drops something on the floor as she opens it, realizing that she must have overstuffed her locker from the previous period.

Jennifer: *annoyed* Ugh, son of a—

As she bend down to pick it, up, she is startled when she sees Nate appear out of nowhere.

Jennifer: —Nate! Geez! A warning would’ve been nice.

Nate: *teases* But it’s more fun to be a bit spontaneous.

Jennifer cocks an eyebrow and begins to walk down the hall; Nate walks with her.

Nate: Listen, I wanted to talk about what happened at the studio the other night…

Jennifer continues to walk with her head down, listening to Nate as he speaks.

Nate: I didn’t mean to judge you the way I did about your past relationship.

Jennifer stops in place, finally turning to Nate.

Jennifer: I’m listening.

Nate: *sighs* I’m sorry for the way that I acted. The truth is that it bothered me that my brothers knew about you and Danny before you told me, but then I realized that I have no right in being mad at you for not telling me something. It’s not like you’re my girlfriend or something.

Jennifer seems slightly disappointed, but acts cordial.

Jennifer: Yeah.

Nate: And I really hope you still would like for me to come to your band’s show in a couple of weeks to see what you guys have been working on, if that’s okay with you.

Jennifer ponders the thought and sighs. She faintly puts on a smile, hiding her true feelings.

Jennifer: Of course; that’s what friends do.

Nate leans in to give Jennifer a hug, in which she quickly reciprocates one back to Nate. In the sidelines of the hallway, Milo catches them in the act. He rolls his eyes and walks in the opposite direction.

…

Milo: And she was all over him!

Milo and Nicki sit in the hallway, waiting for Jennifer to be dismissed from class.

Nicki: From the sound of it, it looks like it was just a simple, friendly hug.

Milo: *annoyed* Oh, so you’re just going to sit there and pretend Pep isn’t crushing on Nate?

Nicki: And even if she was, what does that have to do with you? I understand your dislike for Danny; but you barely even know Nate besides him being a dual major like you.

Milo: I don’t trust any guy that calls himself a musician just to impress girls—

Nicki: … you do understand that you are also a musician, right?

Milo: Yeah, but I don’t use it to get girls to talk to me.

Nicki cooks up an eyebrow, crossing her arms along her chest.

Nicki: Yeah? So your “friendship” with Gwen is just a friendship?

Milo is flustered at the question.

Milo: Yes, Nic. I’m not out here trying to hook up with every pretty girl in our grade—

Nicki: *shocked* You think Gwen is pretty?!

Milo: *nervous* I mean, she’s okay—

Nicki: Milo, you’ve never called a girl that you didn’t like ‘pretty’ before. Plus, I didn’t think Gwen was your type—

Milo: *defensive* She’s not, but I’m a guy; of course I’m going to think girls are pretty.

Nicki lets the conversation go once she sees Jennifer walk out of the vocal room. Milo is relieved: perfect timing.

Jennifer: Hey, Nic! *looks at Milo* Milo.

Milo: Pep.

The "Something" Series: Season 3

Hoping She Forgets Doing Something She’ll Regret: A Jamie Monologue.

March 6, 2025February 13, 2025 liz

“Grace,” I began to say, walking towards Grace with my hand out. I immediately take the empty bottle of Soju out of her hands. “What the hell did you do?”

“What does it look like I’m doing?” Grace said, picking up the glass from the countertop. “I’m just following Korean culture, drinking to be socially acceptable in this country—”

“Grace, you’ve been sober for over a year now, and you just ruined that by drinking some cheap, peach soju from the convenience store!” I looked at Grace, remembering seeing this exact look on her face many nights back in New York. This look of defeat, feeling so lost that the only escape is drinking to complete numbness. I’ve seen this look on her face too many times, especially the times it was because of our relationship. She shrugged her shoulders and rolled her eyes, pretending to not care. Before she could walk away from me, I grabbed her by the arm, stopping her from going any further. “Grace—”

“Get your hands off of me!” Grace demanded as she yanked her arm away from me. “I don’t have to explain anything to you!”

“So you rather go back out there, wasted, and pretend that nothing happened?” I spat back. “Seriously Grace, what’s going on with you—”

“Just leave me alone already!” Grace shouted. “Don’t you think you’ve done enough? It’s like everywhere I turn my head, every time I think I can move on and live my life in New York, California, and Ulsan – you’re right here making my life ten times more complicated! It’s bad enough my cousin is with your best friend and that no matter what, you will always be around, but for fuck’s sake: just stay out of my fucking life!” I looked at Grace, not only hurt by her words but confused in where this was coming from. I didn’t want to question her any further; I don’t think she’s even able to hold a conversation any longer. I nodded my head, letting her pass by me. She’s right, you know. She hasn’t been my responsibility in a long time, so why continue to treat her like she is? Sahim can deal with her.

“Go ahead then,” I finally said as she began to sway herself back in the living room, I walked behind her, feeling the numbness that Grace is feeling. All eyes stare at us entering the living room, Haram being the first to raise an eyebrow once I looked at her. I looked over at Skylar, who’s sitting on Shawn’s lap as she watched her cousin walk back to her seat next to Sahim.

“Everything okay?” Shawn finally asked. I nodded my head, but Grace decided to open her mouth to speak.

“Never been better!” Grace throws her hands up, laughing as she looked around the room. Sahim seemed to smile, but it wasn’t anything close to the expression Grace had on. “So, what did I miss?”

“Haram was teaching us how to say our names in Korean,” Sahim began to explain as he looked at Haram. “What was it? She-one?” Haram started to giggle at Sahim’s pronunciation.

“Siwon,” Haram corrected him. “The name ‘Sahim’ can be translated to mean ‘unique’ which in Korean the closest name to meaning ‘unique’ is the word ‘perfect’, or ‘Siwon’,” Sahim smiled as Haram spoke; in a way it began to make me feel uncomfortable.

“Ah, perfect and unique, huh?” Grace sarcastically pointed out.

“Haram had mentioned that it’s better if we had Korean names when we interact with natives here, like at restaurants or at events,” Sahim furthered explained as Haram nodded her head.

“It’s very true. It’s an act of politeness and respect,” Haram began to explain. “Skylar’s Korean name is ‘Haneul’ which means ‘sky’, and ‘Grace’ in Korean is—”

“Eunhye,” Grace spat back. “Jamie taught me that when we dated.” My eyes widen, shocked that she would even say something like that. I felt the knot in my stomach tighten even more, anxious to see what is said next.

“Jaemin?” Haram repeated as she looked at me.

“Jamie,” Grace emphasized. “You know, his American name that he goes by.”

“Grace!” Skylar shouted at Grace, appalled at her cousin. “What the fuck has gotten into you tonight?”

“Oh, so you don’t see these two just flirting in front of my face?” Grace said as she stood up, dropping her purse on the ground. My heart stopped once I heard a hollow glass bottle hit the ground. Grace knew, and everyone else knew, what that was that they heard fall to the ground. I could see it in Grace’s face that she was panicking, bending down quickly to grab her purse from the floor. Sahim picked it up before she did, which made Grace go mad.

“Sahim,” Grace said, trying to grab her purse from his hand. “Give me my purse—” It was already too late as he began to unzip her purse, revealing the soju bottle. Skylar was the first person to react.

“Grace,” Skylar got up and grabbed the bottle from Sahim, swishing the almost empty bottle in front of her. “Please tell me you didn’t do what the fuck I think you did!”

“Oh, so everyone else can drink and have a good time, but it’s a crime when I do it?” Grace debated, slurring her words in between. “I’m a grown ass woman—”

“How could you?!” Skylar pleaded with Grace. She looked more hurt than upset with her cousin. “A year’s sobriety down the drain because you can’t put your fucking differences aside and be here for Shawn and me! Seriously Grace, the past is the past and you need to get the fuck over it!”

“Sky,” Shawn tried to calm Skylar down, but she wasn’t hearing anything else but Grace’s slurred words at this point. To my surprise, she turned to me, pointing the soju bottle in my direction. “You fucking did this.”

“Wait, hold on, Skylar,” Haram began to speak, feeling defensive. “Grace is responsible for her own decisions, not Jaemin.” Skylar looked at Haram, laughing as her response.

“Oh, sweetie,” Skylar began to say. “If only you knew the entire story.” She looked at me before looking back at Grace. “As if the last time you blacked out from alcohol wasn’t because you had just aborted Jamie’s baby. Anything to live this fantasy of being a dancer because you are trying so desperately to find out how can someone possibly do such a heinous thing like abandon their child for a career like her mom did!”

The air was thick and still. Grace was left speechless; her last breath punched out of her with Skylar’s words. I couldn’t even look at Haram, but I know she was looking at me, dumbfounded at what was just said. Sahim looked at Grace with a look of disgust in his eyes.

“Sky,” Shawn was the one that finally said something. “That’s enough.” Skylar didn’t say anything else, she just walked away and slammed the bedroom door shut.

“Sahim,” Grace tried to grab Sahim by the hand, but he rejected her touch. “Sahim, please—”

“I’ll see you at work tomorrow,” Sahim said, not even looking at Grace.

“Sahim, please,” Grace continued to plea, but the more she did, the angrier it made him.

“Just stop,” Sahim finally said, disgusted. “A lot of things about you that didn’t make sense, finally do.” Sahim turned around and began walking towards the door. He looked at me, fuming at the sight. He walks out of the small apartment.

“Grace,” I gently said before she started to cry. She held her palms in her head and runs to the bathroom, slamming the door once she enters. It’s now just me, Shawn, and Haram in the living room now.

“I’m going as well,” Haram finally said, gathering her things.

“Haram,” I began to say.

“Ya,” Haram shouted at me, visibly hurt and angry. “What is there possibly left to say?” She was absolutely right. I didn’t say anything back, which made Haram finally leave the small apartment as well. I stood in the living room with Shawn, completely unsure what happens after this now.

The Teenage Monologues: Season 3

Fact or Fiction: A Milo Monologue.

March 4, 2025February 11, 2025 liz

I haven’t had the courage to talk to Sophie since the day of our performance. I felt like she was too embarrassed to talk to me too; I don’t blame her considering that her mother literally saw the devil in me when she grabbed Sophie away. I didn’t think her mom had a problem with me, but maybe I was wrong. Maybe she blamed me for something that Sophie did, or didn’t do; who knows at this point. Regardless, I wanted to give Sophie her space and wait until she felt like she was ready to finally talk to me. I didn’t realize that two weeks later, she still wouldn’t come and talk to me.

I watched Sophie as we rehearsed a piece in our band class, wondering how she will react when I finally go up and talk to her.

Once the bell rang and everyone began to pack their things, I waited for Sophie after class. I walked to her desk as she was putting her binder in her backpack. She looked up to see me standing there.

“Milo,” Sophie said in a slightly shocked tone.

“Hey, Scout,” I greeted her, wanting to make this interaction as comfortable as possible. “You want to rehearse in the West Wing today?”

“Sure,” Sophie simply answered, which I was surprised to hear. We both walked out of the classroom together and went to the West Wing.

…

“So, the piece we’re learning now,” Sophie began to say as she was taking her music binder back out. “There’s a section that seems to be confusing to me because of the major and minor chord changes—“

“Scout?” I said as I put my hand on top of hers, slowing her down. “Are you alright?”

“Of course,” Sophie faintly smiled, trying to mask everything. “So this piece—“

“You know you can still tell me anything, right?” I reassured her. “Like, you know I’m here to listen, right?” Sophie looked at me for a moment, not really knowing what to do or say next.

“I know,” she finally said. I leaned back, finally giving Sophie her space as she took in a deep breath. “I’m sorry for being radio silent the last couple of weeks. I didn’t mean to shut you out and when I did, I was nervous because I thought you didn’t want me to talk to you anymore.”

“Scout, that wasn’t even a thought I had,” I began to say. “I was worried about you, especially with what happened with your mom and—“

“I’m sorry that she spoke to you that way,” Sophie immediately said, as if she needed to get it off her chest. “She shouldn’t have took my mistake on you. She just assumes that other people–“

“Influence your decisions?” I finished her sentence. She simply nodded. I know how that feels. “I get it. Literally my parents think the same thing.” Sophie smiles, seemingly relieved that this went smoothly. I didn’t want to ask her what “mistake” she was referring to; I felt like anything was better to talk about than the one thing that she was stressed about for the last two weeks.

…

“Did you figure out what you’re going to perform for the dual major showcase?” Sophie asked me as we sat in the rehearsal room, tuning our instruments.

“Not yet,” I said, flipping through the pages of my music binder. “I feel like it’s so cliche to sing and play the drums; like I’m not in a band like that.”

“And you never wanted to be in one?” she asked.

“In a band?” I repeated as she nodded her head. “When I was younger, yeah, but that vision went away as I got older.”

“You’d be so cool in a band though,” Sophie mentioned. “Like, you have such a unique singing voice, your band would totally stand out from the others.” I smiled at her words; they made me feel warm inside.

“You’re just saying that,” I teased Sophie, getting close to her face as I did. I could see the wind being taken out of her breath when I did.

“I’m stating a fact,” Sophie said, pressing her finger on my forehead as she playfully pushed me back. “Seriously Milo, you should consider starting a band so that by the time you’re a senior, you’re this huge rockstar in Waverly.”

“Do you just want to see what it feels like kissing a rockstar or something?” I continued to tease her, missing our banter. I missed sitting this close to Sophie; even more so, I missed how her lips felt whenever I kissed her. I gently kissed Sophie on the lips, yearning for her touch. As I expected, her lips were soft and tasted like vanilla sugar.

“Now that’s fiction,” Sophie teased back, giggling as she tasseled my hair. She got up once the bell rang, ending our lunch period. This period always feels like it comes and goes in 15 minutes.

“Can you hang out after school or,” I drifted off, knowing the answer once Sophie looked at me. Still grounded, huh?

“You can walk with me to the bus stop; technically that’s not us hanging out after school,” Sophie said slyly, smirking at me. She was getting pretty good at doing this flirting thing with me; I was enjoying every minute of it.

“That is a fact,” I responded back, mimicking her early conversation. She laughed as we gathered our things, and went our separate ways for the rest of the day.

…

I have developed this habit of being one of the first kids to come to our vocal class; not because I was eager to come here, but because the West Wing was closer to the vocal room than the lunch room is. My dad was erasing the chalkboard when he saw me walk into the classroom.

“Hey, kid,” my dad said as he cleaned the chalk off of his hands. “You’re here earlier than usual; you usually have like 5 more minutes before you’d get here.”

“Sophie had to go to her next class,” I said as I took my binder out of my backpack. “She has a test today.” My dad didn’t say anything else; he just walked over to his desk and gathered some papers together.

“You guys were in the West Wing?” he finally asked as he started to sort out the papers. I rolled my eyes, knowing what he truly wanted to know.

“I was there practicing for the dual major showcase,” I said, looking up at my dad. “Sophie was there studying for her test. That’s fiction, Milo.

“I just asked if you were at the West Wing,” my dad scoffed, stapling pages of sheet music together for class. “I didn’t need the details–“

“Oh, like you weren’t assuming the worst,” I said, rolling my eyes.

“I’m just saying, Milo; I was once your age,” he looked up as he spoke. “I know what boys your age do.” I think about kissing Sophie in the rehearsal room, realizing that’s something we tend to always do when we’re there. Fact, but I won’t let him know that. It wasn’t long after that Mollie walked into the classroom. I quickly glanced over at her, but looked back down at my binder. “Good Afternoon, Mollie,” my dad greeted her.

“Hi,” Mollie greeted back, sitting at her seat.

“Ready to learn a new piece today?” He asked as he began to put sheet music on each desk.

“Another new song? What, are we entering some never ending singathon or something?” I couldn’t help but chuckle to myself. Mollie and I don’t really speak to each other these days, but there was no doubt that she would say funny things out loud, especially if they were things we were all thinking.

“Oh, you think that’s funny too, Milo?” my dad said, crossing his arms along his chest.

“I mean, we do have enough songs to sing if we were ever invited to some charity stream raising a million dollars,” I added, slightly looking at Mollie. She wasn’t looking up from her desk, but I could see her smirking to herself when I spoke to my dad.

“Well, you want to be the best, you have to know all of the best music out there,” my dad said, finally handing me the sheet music we were learning today. I skimmed through the pages and my smile began to fade. I looked over at Mollie, now looking up from the desk and at my dad.

“Mr. Kamalani, are you serious?” Mollie finally said, holding tithe sheet music up. “What even is this?”

“It’s the song we are submitting to NYSSMA next month,” my dad answered, smiling. “Welcome to Waverly High vocal, guys.”

Author: liz

Rather Feel Something Than Nothing At All: A Grace Monologue.