Black Sheep in Society.

Two Slushies for the Black Sheep: A Micah Monologue.

liz

I wasn’t surprised to see Rosie roaming the aisles of an 7Eleven store; I was more shocked to see her in a 7Eleven store all dressed up like it was after midnight on Prom night. She was wearing this long purple dress; her hair messily pulled back in what seemed to be half down and half in a bun. She looked out of it, yet for some reason still looked so beautiful.

“So now you’re following me or something?” Rosie said, looking through the snacks on the shelves. And now I’m back to reality.

“I don’t know, Roe,” I began to say, playing along. “You’re the one dressed up for the Oscars in a dirty ass 7Eleven.” Rosie finally looked at me and rolled her eyes, not saying much afterwards. “Seriously, what are you doing here?”

“What does it look like I’m doing here?” Rosie spat out, grabbing a bag of hot chips from the shelf. “I’m buying snacks.”

“Roe,” I simply said, tired of her cryptic answers. “If you were at one of those fancy events with Prescott just say it. It’s better than lying to me.” As much as I hated the fact that she was probably his company tonight, I Know the real reason she’s in here by herself. “I used to do the same shit whenever I went to those fancy events that had no food. Plus, I would get high sometimes before going to those events and get mad munchy.” I finally looked over at Rosie, which in my surprise is already looking at me. “The Chili and Limon ones are better, by the way.” Rosie looked at the bag of chips in her hands before putting them back and grabbing the other flavor.

“Thanks,” Rosie simply said. There was a brief silence between us before I ultimately sighed and began the conversation once again.

“It slaps with a slushie.” I mentioned.

“Really?” Rosie asked, looking at the other snacks on the shelf. “Is that your go-to combo?” I nodded my head, grabbing my own bag of the same chips.

“You want one?” I kindly asked. “It’s on me.”

“It’s fine,” Rosie quickly dismissed, putting the chips back and about to walk away. I quickly grabbed her arm; not too rough, but enough to get her attention. She quickly turned around; I can see the fumes rising through the pupil of her eyes. “Let go of me.”

“Roe,” I softly said. I learned that if you needed to get Rosie’s attention, you needed to make sure you made your presence known. In addition to that, you needed to talk to her softly. I don’t know the extent of her past trauma, but I’ve learned that you had to make Rosie feel safe when you needed her attention. “Get what you want, nd I’ll pay for it. It’s okay.”

“I don’t need you for something so stupid,” Rosie fought back, yanking her arm from my hand. It didn’t stop me from grabbing her arm once again; this time, bringing her closer to me.

“Friends rely on each other, no matter what,” I said, now looking at Rosie’s face. “And you, Roe, are my friend, regardless of whatever the fuck you may think about me.” Rosie took a moment to actually hear what I was saying. I slowly let go of her arm, in which she sighed and picked up the bag of chips.

“I’ll take a cherry slushie,” Rosie softly said. I smiled, walking down the aisle with Rosie toward the slushie machine.

…

“So what was tonight’s event for?” I asked, sitting on a bench outside of the store. Rosie took a sip from her slushie before ultimately sighing.

“Some dumb networking event for heir business owners,” Rosie answered as she rolled her eyes. “Prescott insisted I’d go with him, but I didn’t realize that my ears would bleed out boredom.” Another thing I learned about Rosie is that no matter how many times you can tell her something is bad for her, she will only listen if she tells herself that. With Rosie, you sometimes just have to go with the flow in order to get answers out of her, no matter how painful it may be.

“Do you always go to these events with him?” I asked, curious to know more. “Like, wouldn’t you already be used to how bullshit these events are?”

“Yeah, but I don’t do it for him,” Rosie looked at me as she answered. “I do it for me. Gives me a chance to go out for a night and be anything I want to be. Like tonight, I was the distant cousin of a sole heir of a beauty brand company. It was fun for like the first 15 minutes; then it got super boring.” I couldn’t help but laugh; Rosie always knew how to make a bad situation into a tolerable one.

“Do you come up with your backstories for these events?” Rosie nodded as she took a handful of chips from the bag. “And what happens if someone’s like, oh, let us invite you over for tea and crumpets–“

“First of all, dude,” Rosie stopped me as she laughed. “It’s the 21st century; not the Boston Tea Party. Secondly, I just don’t show up. Prescott only takes me to these events, but never anything too intimate. That’s not my cup of tea.” I look at Rosie sitting on this dirty bench with a dress that probably costs more than everything she owns; current and future. How does she do it? How does she just do these things without even thinking twice about it? Why pretend to be someone else when you are perfectly fine the way you are?

“Do you hope to one day go to one for art or something?” I finally asked. “Like, would you ever go to an event and try to make a real name for yourself?”

“I wouldn’t want to associate myself with these type of people,” Rosie began to explain. “You and I both know that all these people care about is what they are wearing and how much better they are compared to others. It’s bullshit and so fucking toxic.”

“So why even go to them in the first place?” I asked, not really thinking about how I was asking. I knew I said it in a way where it came off as annoyed that she kept going to these events with Prescott. Surprisingly, she didn’t look upset with me or like she was going to storm away or something. She just sat there, kicking her legs from underneath her purple dress, and sighs.

“The same reason you went to them with your girlfriend,” Rosie admitted. She doesn’t look at me when she does, but she knows I’m looking right at her.

I wanted to scream. I wanted to shake her out of the delusion that she actually was… in love with Prescott. That was the reason that I went to these events with Kalia; I was in love with her. I’d do anything that she wanted to do whether or not I liked it or not. Sure, Kalia would treat me like disposable shit when her career came first, but there was a moment in time that I knew we were in love. Prescott ‘douchebag’ Jones is not capable of loving another person other than himself. Rosie is a smart girl, so why is she acting so oblivious to the fact that this man is using her?

I couldn’t handle it anymore. I immediately dug into my pocket and took out my bag of weed and roll up. Rosie slowly turned her head as I did so; taking a paper out, mixing the grabba and bud together, and began rolling it. She sighed and turned her head.

“I know that’s not the answer you were looking for,” Rosie began to explain. Quite frankly, I didn’t want to hear anymore about this. “But it is what it is.”

“You can’t help the people you love,” I started to say back. I finished rolling the blunt and lit it up, taking the first puff. Be her friend, Micah. She needs one more than ever. I took another puff and pointed the blunt in Rosie’s attention. She looks at me after looking down at he blunt.

“I don’t think I should smoke with you,” Rosie finally said. I knew she was referring to the hook up we had a couple of months ago.

“Dude, relax,” I said, giving the blunt to Rosie. “Those snacks are gonna hit so much more when you hit this.” Rosie carefully took the blunt from my hand and began to smoke it. I figured it was safe that both of us are out here, on this dirty bench, with nowhere to go really. Be her friend, Micah.

“Oh yeah?” Rosie questioned, taking her two puffs before passing the blunt back to me. “You know from experience or something?”

“Duh,” I playfully said. “Because Chili Limon chips and slushies are deadass nasty together.” I couldn’t help but laugh when Rosie sucked her teeth and nudged me on the shoulder. It was a good thing she was still smiling, knowing that I was just playing around with her. “Let’s start walking, it’s cold as shit out here.”

“You’re telling me,” Rosie said as she got up from the bench. She was shivering in her tiny ass jacket. The fuck would he make her wear this skimpy ass jacket in this cold? I quickly began to take off my coat to unzip my hoodie. Once I do, I handed it over to Rosie.

“Put it on,” I demanded more than suggested. “You’re not dying from the cold out here with me.” Rosie rolled her eyes and put on my hoodie underneath her jacket.

“Happy?” Rosie sucked her teeth. I smiled as I began to walk down the block with her.

“Ecstatic,” I simply replied.

Misc., y2katalogue: The Tapes

Tape #13: Back to our Roots.

liz

Milo and Jennifer sit on the floor in Milo’s bedroom with notebooks and paper scattered on the floor. Milo is penciling in music notes on sheet music while Jennifer is barely doing any work; she plays with a handball she found on the floor of Milo’s room. Milo looks up at Jennifer every time he hears the ball hit the floor.

Milo: Pep.

Jennifer: *looks at Milo* Huh?

Milo: You do know we have homework tonight for vocal, right?

Jennifer: I know, I’m just waiting for you to finish so that we can compare answers.

Milo: *confused* Don’t you actually have to do the homework first ion order to compare answers?

Jennifer: Yeah, compare your answers by writing them down on my own paper as well.

Milo laughs and shakes his head, but continues to work on the homework. Jennifer finally puts the ball down and sighs.

Jennifer: I needed to get out of the house before I lost my mind.

Milo looks up at Jennifer, listening to her vent.

Milo: Did your mom bring him home today?

Jennifer rolled her eyes.

Jennifer: Of course she did, and of course he is still trying to act like a father after all of these years. Like, we were doing perfectly fine without you, dude.

Milo: How did your mom even reconnect with him?

Jennifer: Through a cooking course she’s taking. Like, I knew my dad was a chef too, but for fuck’s sake, out of all the guys in New York, you decide to give him a chance?

Milo: Do you think they’re dating?

Jennifer gives Milo a look. Milo looks up and notices Jennifer.

Milo: Are they?

Jennifer: *annoyed* Dude, of course they are dating! That’s what’s pissing me off!

Milo: I mean, it sucks, but you can’t really do anything about it, Pep.

Jennifer gets up from the ground.

Jennifer: Whose side are you on?!

Milo: Pep, I’m just saying. You’re angry over something you have no control over. Sure, that doesn’t mean that what your mom is doing is okay; your feelings are valid but you shouldn’t let that affect you–

Jennifer: What if they get married or something? What if they just decide to pick up where they left off when he left us 11 years ago?

Milo didn’t say anything back. He knows that the subject was sensitive for Jennifer, but only wanted to let her know the truth about this whole situation. Jennifer sighed, sitting back on the ground with her knees against her chest.

Milo: You can always stay here when you can’t handle it at home, Pep. You know that.

Jennifer: Yeah… *reminisces* Remember that one summer I practically lived in your house?

Milo: *laughs* And we did nothing but run up and down the block on our bikes?

Jennifer: Dude! That bike used to go so fast! and the sidewalk used to be all cracked and broken so the bike would hit them and we’d go flying!

Both Jennifer and Milo laugh as they recall the memories.

Jennifer: *sullen* When did things get so complicated?

Milo: I don’t know, Pep. I guess as we got older, things are just the way they are now.

Jennifer: Yeah, well it sucks. High school sucks, the people suck, and my whole family just sucks now too.

Milo: *teases* Well, I hope that I don’t fall into that “people suck” category.

Jennifer rolls her eyes and nudges Milo as he laughs.

Jennifer: As much as we fight and want to rip each other’s heads off, of course you’re not in that category. Like, I told my mom that your mom invited me over to dinner tonight and that;s why I’m not over there eating dinner with her and my dad.

Milo nods his heads as he listens to Jennifer.

Milo: What are you gonna do when you get home and starving because you actually didn’t eat dinner here?

Jennifer: I’ll make some excuse that I didn’t like the Philippine food your mom made or something.

Milo laughs and shakes his head. He sees the little ball of his phone turn blue, meeting that he had gotten a new message. He picks up his phone from the ground and unlocks it, reading the text message he got.

Gwen: Just wondering if we’re still practicing after school tomorrow for our band rehearsal later this week…

Jennifer notices Milo looking at his phone for a minute longer than he usually does.

Jennifer: Is that Nicki?

Milo: *nervously* Oh, uhm… yeah. She just wanted to remind me about our band rehearsal later this week.

Jennifer: Playing an instrument is so boring; good luck to you both for that.

Milo smiles and laughs at Jennifer\s comment. He looks back down to his phone screen and begins to type on the mini keyboard, answering the text message.

Milo: Yeah, just meet me in the West Wing tomorrow after school.

Message sent. Milo looks back up and sees Jennifer finally taking out her books to start on the homework.

Milo: Pep, I already finsihed doing the homework; why are you just now taking out your books?\

Jennifer: Clearly you didn’t hear me when I said that I was waiting for you to finish so that we can “compare” answers. So, I’m comparing your answers with the ones I would’ve wrote down if I gave a shit.

Milo shakes his head as Jennifer jokes around and laugh.

Overexposed: A Self-Love Project.

Overexposed: I’m Alone, But Not Lonely.

liz

I hear it from older generations all the time; people these days do not know how to socialize the way that they did when they were our age. I agree with them even though they are talking about my generation and the one after mine. I can’t speak for Gen Z, but I can say that for us millennials, we were on the right track of knowing how to socialize; that was until the internet and social media blew up. I can remember being a young teenager having to make the effort to pick up the landline phone and speak over the phone if I wanted to talk to my friends. I had to actually make plans verbally with people and let them know this is where we were meeting up because once we left our house, we had no way to get in contact with our friends. I can honestly say that when I was younger, I felt like I was on the right track of being a social butterfly; these days not so much.

Do I blame the internet and social media for my demise of being social? No. For me, my lack of social skills stems from a place of trauma and only dealing with it way after it actually affected my skills and ability to be social. Now don’t get me wrong, I’m not this person that just sits at their computer all day and writes other people’s stories because mine is too boring to tell. I still interact with tons of people and able to speak to people (sometimes, when I’m feeling confident) but for me as a person, I find myself being the best version of myself when I am in my own company, being my own best friend.

Hi, my name is Liz, and socially I’m alone, but I am not a lonely person. Does that make sense? Lemme explain.

I guess this topic is coming up from me because this time last year, I lost the only friend group I had since probably being back in high school. Yes, this friend group were consisted of people I never met in person and that I met online through a community, but it didn’t change the fact that I shared a ton of my life with these people and considered them just as much as my friends I would have in-person. Losing that friend group completely made me question a ton of stuff about myself and who I was as a person. Why was I so quick to cut people out of my lives when something like this could’ve been discussed and avoided? This seems to be the question that a lot of people who are social and have tons of friends would ask those who tend to cut ties quickly, and they are right; how come it is so easy for us these days to cut ties with people that we put our trust and care into when one thing goes wrong? Why is it so hard for us to sit down and have these difficult conversations with those we love when they hurt us or if we hurt them?

I can’t speak for anyone else when I say this, but for me I would talk things out with people in situations that I knew needed to end right then and there. I used to hoarder people in my life to the point that eventually I learned that it hurt me more to hold on than to let go in the end. For me, once I began practicing self-worth and assertiveness, I lost my ability to have these tough conversations with people, and at the end of the it all, I was back to square one.

Our generation specifically have been smothered in this idea that you are the best version of yourself when you make decisions that benefit your well being. It’s not a stupid ideology; we are the generation that began to have these conversations about mental health and just how important it was to take care of it. But, we have took that ideology to the extremes when it comes to interacting with other people, whether it be romantic or platonic.

Losing a friend group as an adult is so different than losing one as a teenager. As an adult, there’s no one fighting for your friendship the way we did as teens and as an adult, no one has the time to sit back and reflect how their actions may have affected you. We’re too busy living life as full-grown adults, trying to make it day by day in it. So when we cut people out of our lives due to anger and emotional distress, we don’t realize that these temporary feelings lead to permanent decisions. Then we end up alone.

So, am I going on this tangent because I regret my decision of cutting ties with my friends in my past? No. I made the best decision that I thought was best in the heat of the moment, when I was crying in my break room at the job on an emergency therapy appointment because I felt incapable of continuing my day. Everyone has their reasons of why they cut ties with people, but at the end of the day, we have to realize that if we aren’t able to be our own company, sit in our own thoughts, and learn how to be our own damn best friend, reconsider your options.

For me, I am used to be alone socially. I don’t have friends I see every weekend and go out with. I don’t have friends to vent to when I am feeling angry or depressed about a situation. I cannot name 5 people that I consider my friends that I can confidently say that if I were to ever get married, would be a part of my bridal party. is it sad? Of course. Someone in their 30s should have a solid group of people they see or talk to regularly, but for me it’s not a priority because, well, I am the best version of myself when I’m by myself.

“Oh, but that must be a lonely feeling to constantly have.”

I am not lonely. I have family that I live with and talk to every single day. I have coworkers I see five days a week and talk to when we get the chance. I have acquaintances that will comment and reply to a story on social media, sparking up conversation. I have a pretty awesome partner that I get to laugh and have fun with. I have my creativity and my writing universes that nurture me as a person. I have myself.

And that’s okay with me.

y2katalogue: The Tapes

Tape #12: The One with the Memories.

liz

The front door opens and in walks Jennifer. She immediately drops her bookbag near the doorway, closing the front door behind her.

Jennifer: Mom?

There’s no answer. Jennifer calls out for her mom one last time before someone is seen walking into the living room. Jennifer sees its her Aunt Gabby.

Aunt Gabby: Hey, Jennifer.

Jennifer: Hi Aunt Gabby *looks around* where’s my mom?

Aunt Gabby: She went out for dinner with–

Jennifer: *annoyed* Ugh, don’ even say it.

Jennifer walks away from Aunt Gabby to go toward the kitchen. Jennifer forcefully opens the refrigerator and takes out the juice. She slams the door shut and sees her little sister, Maryette.

Maryette: You’re not supposed to be slamming the fridge door.

Jennifer: Leave me alone.

Jennifer walks away from Maryette in which her little sister follows her.

Maryette: And that juice is supposed to be for dinner tonight.

Jennifer: Stop following me and leave me alone.

Maryette doesn’t listen; he continues to follow her big sister around the kitchen.

Maryette: You can’t tell me what to do, Pep!

Jennifer: *annoyed* Shut up and leave me alone! You’re so fucking annoying.

Maryette: *shouts* Pep said a bad word! Pep said a bad word! You have to put a dime in the swear jar!

Jennifer: Leave! Me! Alone!

The two sisters begin to argue in the kitchen and Aunt Gabby comes into the kitchen to see what the bickering is about.

Aunt Gabby: Hey! Hey! What is all this fighting about?

The two girls begin to talk over each other, not allowing the other to speak. Aunt Gabby quiets the girls down.

Aunt Gabby: Okay, that’s enough! The twins are asleep and this noise will wake them up. *to Jennifer* Jennifer, you go first since you are the oldest.

Maryette: But–

Aunt Gabby: *stern* I said Jennifer gets to speak first.

Jennifer: I was minding my own business until she came into the kitchen and started bothering me.

Maryette: She slammed the door and took the juice!

Aunt Gabby: Maryette.

Maryette quiets down and Jennifer chuckles to herself.

Jennifer: This is stupid; can I go to my room?

Maryette: It’s my room too.

Aunt Gabby: Maryette, how about you go and grab Matt from his room and you and him can help me bake some cookies?

Maryette: *excited* Okay!

Maryette runs towards the staircase and up to the second floor. Aunt Gabby turns around and looks at Jennifer.

Aunt Gabby: What’s going on with you?

Jennifer: Nothing, it was just a long day at school today.

Aunt Gabby: It’s always a long day at school; is everything okay?

Jennifer: Everything’s fine, Aunt Gabby.

Aunt Gabby: Okay, I’m just making sure. You know you could always talk to me if something is bothering you.

Jennifer: *dismissive* Yeah.

Jennifer walks out of the kitchen and toward the staircase. She walks to her shared bedroom and closes the door behind her. She takes a deep breath and lays back first on her bed. She closes her eyes tight.

It’s the year 1996, particularly on one of the hottest days of the summer season. Jennifer is playing across the street in front of Milo’s house. They kick around a soccer ball, laughing and having a good time. Moments later, Jennifer looks at the house across the street where she sees her father, Justin, call out her name.

Justin: Pep! Time to come in!

Jennifer smiles at her father and waves goodbye to Milo. Her father walks across the street to get Jennifer. She grabs her father’s hand as they walk down the street.

Justin: Mama is taking your sister to the doctor today, after lunch we can go to the park.

Jennifer: Can Milo come?

Justin: Of course, we can go and ask Milo’s mom if he can come.

Jennifer smiles; she swings her father’s arm in her hand.

Jennifer opens her eyes when she hears Aunt Gabby talk to someone downstairs. She opens her bedroom door and looks over the railing of the stairs. She sees Aunt Gabby talk to two adults in the foyer; one being her mom and a second being a man. She knows exactly who it is.

She leans in closer to get a better look down at the foyer, which causes for the railing to creek loudly. Jennifer cusses to herself, but loud enough for the adults to stop what they were doing to look up at Jennifer.

Lydia: Peppie?

Jennifer squeezes her eyes shut before opening them, revealing herself on top of the staircase.

Jennifer: Hi, Mom.

Jennifer looks at her mom and then looks at the man next to her. She immediately knows it’s Justin, her dad. Jennifer walks down the stairs, pretending to be unbothered of the situation.

Lydia: I’m going to start making dinner in a few, I–

Jennifer: I’m going to hang out at Milo’s.

Justin: *to Lydia* Mark and Elise’s son?

Lydia nods.

Lydia: Please be back before dinner is ready.

Jennifer: *dismissive* I promised Mrs. Kamalani I would stay for dinner–

Jennifer grabs her jacket and bookbag from the front door where she last left it.

Justin: It was nice seeing you, Pep.

Jennifer stops what she’s doing and turns around to look at her mom and Justin standing there.

Jennifer: My name is Jennifer.

Jennifer opens the front door and exits without looking back at her parents.

Black Sheep in Society: Season 2

Caviar, Black Sheep: A Rosie Monologue.

liz

The first formal event I went to with Prescott, I felt like a complete outsider. There’s a certain way that one must walk and talk; shit, even breathe. Going to these type of events require tons of media training, especially when your plus one is a sole heir of a fortune 500 company. Prescott was a natural at it; he was always able to give the press what they wanted out of him, and to me, it was a completely different side of him I never see. I like to call him Press-Scott, the guy that smiles and is kind to the press so that any slandering stories made about him are either dismissed or no one pays attention to. Sometimes, I feel like that’s the guy I first met, and whoever this guy is now is just who he truly is.

But it’s the fact that I know he’s capable of being the guy I once met is what truly keeps me here.

I looked at myself in Prescott’s huge walk-in closet. For tonight’s event, he picked out a lavender-color silk dress, spaghetti strapped. I had told him countless times that these type of dresses always make me feel insecure, yet he’s always making me wear them and every single time, he has his makeup artist cover the tattoos on my back, just covering up the things that make up my being.

Prescott walks into the closet. I turn around and look at him, smiling.

“I like this color,” I simply said. “Purple pairs well with brown.”

“I know,” Prescott said, grabbing his suit jacket from a hanger. “I had asked my stylist to see what colors would look best on you.”

“You could’ve just asked me,” I teased, trying to hide how I really felt. Me, being an art major and knowing color theory like the alphabet, knows that purple compliments brown hair and eyes. As much as I like wearing all the fancy shit Prescott picks out, I wish I was able to contribute even just a tad-bit.

“Not the way you dress, Rosie,” Prescott teased, putting on his watch before sighing. “You do look really good in that color though.”

“Thanks,” I smiled as I put on the matching faux coat. “Time to do this.”

“You’ll be great,” Prescott reassured. “You always know what to do.” Prescott turned around and exited the closet. I slowly followed behind him.

…

Tonight’s event was some bullshit excuse to celebrate the next generation of business owners. It was full of pretentious wannabe business owners that were born into these businesses, yet here I am with one of them. I don’t remember how or when I agreed to be Prescott’s date for these things, but I guess in exchange for free outfits, I have to act interested in what was going on. I typically zone out in these events, thinking about who’s secretly fucking who and who has skeletons piling up in their closets. Sometimes, I’m able to keep up with the conversation enough to engage when I’m asked to; tonight wasn’t that time.

“Rosie?” Prescott called out my name, annoyed. I quickly looked at Prescott, trying to appear as present as possible. “Brandon asked you a question.”

“I’m sorry,” I said, now looking at this tall, skinny guy that looks like he’s a lead guitarist of a band rather than a business owner. “What did you say?”

“It’s fine,” the guy dismissed. “We all bring these types of dates some time.” The guy walks away as Prescott tries to laugh the situation away. Once the guy leaves, Prescott’s smile quickly fades away.

“Do you not know how to listen?” Prescott said. “Like sheesh, I know you’re not too bright but if one of my colleagues ask you a question, I expect you to answer it.”

“I’m sorry that I wasn’t listening to the guy who’s business is all about animal fecal matter in soil,” I said, rolling my eyes.

“It’s called being respectful, Rosie; I know you didn’t grow up knowing what that meant,” Prescott spat back. It was times like this that I wanted to do nothing more than just run out of these events. The longer I would have to stay here, the more annoyed I’d become. Normally, I would suck it up and stay; it was better to feel miserable than to have to hear Prescott go off on me when the event was over. Tonight wasn’t that night.

The food finally came out, and from what I thought would be a five-course meal was just caviar and crackers. I couldn’t take it anymore and needed to get out of here. I looked over at Prescott who was too busy interacting with the other socialites sitting at the table. I sighed, giving him chance after chance to pay any sort of attention to me. I slowly grabbed my bag from the side of me and got up from the table. He didn’t turn around to ask me where I was going; nothing. I rolled my eyes, walking toward the coat check section and grabbed my coat, leaving out the venue from the front door.

…

It wouldn’t be the first time I entered a local 7Eleven store in a formal dress like this one. Sure, the people in the store always look at me when I do, but after these dumb, fancy events, I always have to get real snacks and real food from a store to take back home with me. I walked down n the aisles, looking to see what I wanted to get tonight. I didn’t have much money on me this night, but I had to make due what I had. I picked up a small can of soda and csome chips,, followed by some gummy candy as a sweet treat. I looked up from my pile of snacks and see another perosn in the same aisle as me in the store. If it was anyone else, I would’ve just went about my night, paid, and left to go back home…

Of course, I looked up and see Micah, looking just as confused and annoyed as I am in this moment.

“Hey, Roe,” he finally said.

Overexposed: A Self-Love Project.

Overexposed: Traumaversaries.

liz

For most of my twenties, I had carried trauma from events that happened when I was a teenager. It’s no surprise that in the seven years I’ve been writing for the blog, I spoke about this trauma to acknowledge it, accept it, and to diffuse the energy that I allowed for it to carry. Within this last decade, I’ve sat down with my therapist to talk about the events in detail and identify the triggers so that when they arise, I don’t allow it to affect me as it usually does. This work took years for me to finally accept it for what it was and to ultimately forgive myself for the role I played in this event. It wasn’t until later in life that I decided to forgive those who contributed to my trauma; not because I actually forgave them, but because I need to move on and, yet again, diffuse the energy it held. I finally allowed myself to let that trauma go and not let it affect how i lived my life back in 2021.

I was finally free from ever experiencing another ‘traumaversary’; you know, the time of year when the traumatic event happened. Mine were in January and in May; it felt good to take back the positive energy of my birthday month and what was once my favorite month of the year because the weather was at it’s best this time of year.

That was, until February 2023 came around and gave me some new traumaversaries; back to back in the same week.

Hi, my name is Liz, and I am currently going through my 1st-year traumaversary. It is notable that the first year is the most challenging.

The thing about having a traumaversary is that it is sort of like a holiday; you don’t really think about it until the time of year comes around. After moving forward from that situation, I went about my life and made 2023 one of the best years I’ve had in recent date. I entered 2024 knowing that this time of year would come again and I would be brought back to thinking about my trauma in ways that normally would not trigger me. For example, I went for my usual coffee talk and put a random playlist on shuffle. I skipped a couple of songs until this one particular song began to play, and I was immediately taken back to red hair and bleach-eyebrow Liz, sitting on my bed crying my eyes out and singing along. The lyrics to the song talk about being heartbroken and wanting nothing more than to erase the memories away by destroying yourself in the process. I immediately skipped it, not being able to handle listening to the song.

This song was one of my top played songs of 2023.

I guess the point I’m trying to make is that trauma resurfaces in ways that you’re not always ready for, no matter how long its been since going through that traumatic experience or how much progress you’ve made in healing from that trauma. Trauma isn’t linear, and you never really know when or how it will resurface itself; for me, it’s always around the time of year that the event happened. During that time of year, I am extra cautious when it comes to my mental health and my overall well-being.

I am reminded that I’ve come a long way since experiencing that trauma. I make sure to let myself know that I did what I needed to do for myself in order to move forward and begin the process of healing. Since then, I’ve learned so much about my needs and what type of interactions with people I wanted to have. I’ve learned how to be my own best friend by taking myself out to shows and concerts and give myself the same love and care I would give to others. I’ve learned that I also need to have boundaries with myself because I am not perfect nor am I excluded from having the toxic traits that I don’t allow others to have around me. Although I am able to move on with my life and learn from these unfortunate events, it still doesn’t make these anniversaries any easier, especially if they are from recent.

For me, I am taking care of my mental health by doing some self care; in this case, it’s writing a lot. Writing helps me diffuse that energy that these events still carry, and talking about them out loud instead of allowing it to circulate in my mind until the time passes. I know that in this time, I will mourn the loss of the person I was prior to this traumatic experience, and yes, I will sink into this rabbit hole and think to myself, “I was so different before everything happened; life was so different.” It’s normal to mourn the losses that these events caused, and it’s completely okay to miss the people involved and the person you were, but you have to remind yourself why you chose to make the decisions you made and again, remind yourself that the progress you made since experiencing any trauma is worth acknowledging.

At the end of the day, your traumaversary will pass, and you will make it to see another day, week, and year. Just be gentle with yourself.

The Teenage Monologues: Season 2

Tale of Two Drummers: A Milo Monologue.

liz

The show was less than two weeks away, and I was already feeling the pressure of being the only person in the percussion section learning the piece. It was technical and I haven’t been able to grab the hook the way I would normally do on a piece. I felt my stomach tie itself in a knot when Mr. Harrisburg had us set up for this particular piece.

I don’t hear anything or anyone besides the sweet, soft voice of a girl. I look up and see Sophie standing there, watching me tune the drum set for this particular piece.

“Hi, Milo,” Sophie said and smiled. I couldn’t help but smile back.

“Scout,” I said and leaned back in my chair. “And what do I owe for this surprise visit in Percussion Paradise?” Sophie immediately laughed.

“Percussion paradise?” Sophie questioned.

“Two tickets to paradise,” I said in a sing-song melody. Sophie laughed and shook her head as she took a seat next to me. “What’s up, Scout?”

“I was going to ask you if you wanted to practice for the show after school,” Sophie stated, picking at her fingernails.

“Why so nervous?” I questioned, noticing her hands fidget on her lap. She immediately stops.

“Well,” Sophie began to say. “I’m usually never the one to ask to hang out, and I don’t know if you’re busy doing other things like being a dual major.” I rolled my eyes at Sophie, but smiling to let her know I wasn’t serious.

“You know you can always ask to hang out with me,” I said. “And you know I will always say yes.” Sophie smiled and immediately cleared her throat.

“It’s always fun practicing with you,” Sophie pointed out. “Plus, it gives me an excuse to practice anywhere else but my house.”

“Another video visit from your dad?” I asked. Sophie nodded her head.

“My mom is supposed to see him today,” Sophie said. I nodded my head as she spoke. I know how hard it was for her to talk about her dad. I cant imagine not being able to see or be with someone you loved every single day. “And knowing my mom, she is going to take away all of my practice time to sit in this call and I just don’t have the energy today to do that.”

“It’s cool,” I reassured Sophie. “I’m down to distract you with music.” I smiled at Sophie, which makes her smile. Finally. “You know, you should just permanently switch your seat next to me; it’s not like he comes into class anymore.”

“But I don’t play the drums,” Sophie said.

“I’ll give you another drum lesson when we hang out,” I insisted. “And then you can teach me a couple of things on the violin.”

“If you learn the violin, I’m out a spot in the strings section,” Sophie commented. “You’ll be so good, you could be a one-man string section.”

“Well I guess you’re going to have to take my drum lessons seriously,” I teased. Sophie nudged me on my shoulder. Mr. Harrisburg clears his throat, in which Sophie immediately gets up from the seat and rushes to her section.

“Good afternoon, class,” he addresses the class. “As you may know, our mid-winter showcase is two weeks away. This show is a very important one as there will be some special people watching in the audience.” The class begins to softly chatter in excitement. My dad had told me that potential colleges scout freshman for these specialized programs; they basically work with you for the time you’re in high school and pay for your college when you graduate. It was something that my dad did when he was a student at Waverly all those years ago. I can understand why he’s been so pushy about me being good at both of my majors.

In true fashion, the classroom door opens, and in walks in Aaron Serrano. Mr. Harrisburg turns his head and looks at him.

“Aaron,” he addresses him as he tries to sneak past him. “Please see me after class today.” The class snickers to themselves before Mr. Harrisburg quiets the class. Aaron sits in his seat, next to mine, taking out his notebook and sheet music. I slightly shook my head; how can he get away being absent for so long without getting his status suspended?

“I would like to start with percussion today,” Mr. Harrisburg said as he looks in my direction. “Milo, Aaron; please flip to the last four measures of your section.” I couldn’t help but grin a the fact that Aaron has no idea what we’ve been working on and that he’s about to make himself look like a fool. Payback’s a bitch, huh? I quickly open my book to the song that Mr. Harrisburg is referring to and I immediately panic. Where the fuck is this sheet music? I look at Mr. Harrisburg, who is looking at me. “Are you ready, Milo?”

“Uhm, yeah,” I answered, trying to play it cool. Mr. Harrisburg counts us into the piece in which I nervously wait to start playing. I look over at Aaron, flipping through the pages of the music before we come in to play. How the hell did he get this music?

One, two, three, and–

To my surprise, Aaron and I begin to play at the same time, and for the first time actually sound like one section. I tried to not look in his direction, but I was genuinely curious how he knew the piece just as good as I did.

“Okay, okay,” Mr. Harrisburg stopped us. “This is the best I’ve heard you both play together. Well done.” I finally look over to Aaron, sitting in his seat like what he did wasn’t a big deal. How did he learn this piece so quick? How did he even get the sheet music? Aaron looked at me and rolled his eyes, making notes on the sheet music as the rehearsal went on. Something is hella weird.

…

The bell rings and everyone begins packing their bags to leave. As I started to put my books away, I see Aaron walking past me to leave. I don’t know what possessed me to say anything to him; I just do.

“Yo, Aaron,” I called out. Aaron stops to look at me; clearly he’s confused that out of all people, I’m the one calling for him. I’m just as confused. “Got a minute?”

“For you?” Aaron asked. “No.”

“Sorry,” I quickly said. “Don’t mean to take up your precious hallway time with Mollie.”

“Yeah, my girlfriend,” Aaron emphasized. The sound still makes my skin crawl.

“Yeah,” I played along, trying to not him get the best of me. “Tell her that the next time she needs to steal my sheet music in order for you to learn it to let me know in advance.”

“The fuck are you talking about?” Aaron asked, annoyed now.

“Just admit it, dude,” I said, now directly looking at Aaron at his face. “How the hell do you miss all these classes, yet you have the sheet music for a song we just started to learn, and you knew perfectly?”

“It’s called being good at your major,” Aaron scoffed, trying to walk away from me.

“Sure,” I continued to say. “But it’s a coincidence that my sheet music just magically disappeared the day you finally show up to class with the music and knowing how to play it already.”

“So you’re accusing Mollie of stealing your sheet music?” Aaron asked before laughing. “Damn, that’s suppose to be your best friend, dude.”

“Damn,” I mocked. “That’s suppose to be your girlfriend; why would you have her steal my music?”

“Listen, jerk,” Aaron spat out, getting close to me now. “I don’t need to steal your fucking sheet music.”

“So where is it?” I asked.

“I don’t know,” Aaron started to get louder. “But I don’t need to be stealing your shit, and I wouldn’t tell Mollie to do some shit like that.” He points in Sophie’s direction, which startles her. “Now go bitch about it with your band-filler violinist girlfriend.” Mr. Harrisburg immediately calls out our names to stop arguing. The class quiets down and everyone is now walking away from Aaron and I.

“Aaron, I told you to see me after class; Milo, keep it moving and go to your next class.” I grabbed my backpack from the ground and look at Sophie. She quickly puts her head down and walks towards the exit of the classroom. Just when she was getting more confident in her craft. I sighed, leaving the classroom as well.

The "Something" Series: Season 3

“Did I Say Something?” A Grace Monologue.

liz

In America, small concerts were never really small. No matter what, they will try to fit 200 people in a space where the capacity is only 150 people. When I was in college, I had went to a small concert with a bunch of my college friends in the city and got caught in the middle of a mosh pit. Let’s just say my mother was livid when I came back home with random bruises on my arms and legs since my father was due to come visit the following morning. It was fun, though.

In Korea, it looks like they take their events seriously. It was nice knowing that no matter what, I was guaranteed my seat and that the atmosphere was a lot calmer than what I was used to. I looked around the venue, watching everyone take their seats and engage in small talk. Before I could take my phone out, I hear my name being called.

“Grace!” I looked up and saw Summer waving her hand at me. I smiled and began to walk towards her. I’m grateful that even being in another country, I still have family here to visit.

“Hey Summer,” I greeted as I gave her a hug. “Thanks for inviting me out tonight.”

“As someone who is appreciative of the arts, it was only right to invite you,” Summer said as we walked to our seats. “How’s the production been going for you?”

“It’s been so good,” I happily said, smiling as I answered. “I can’t believe it’s already been a month since we first opened. Before I know it, the year would have gone by.”

“Evan always tells me the same thing,” Summer agreed. “He’ll go on tour with this band mates for a couple of months and before you know it, he’s back home.” I couldn’t help but smile whenever Summer spoke about Evan; she was always so giddy whenever she spoke about him. I had met him only once back in America when Summer went to visit her parents. It was nice to see Summer in her element like this.

“He’s definitely not wrong,” I chimed in, looking toward the stage as the lights dimmed. The first couple of bands were really good. Most assume Korea is just a nation that produces cutesy K-Pop music; I definitely did when I first heard about it. I learned a lot about the music through– through Jamie— and to my surprise I enjoyed a lot of the different genres. Some of the bands were jazz-like and others resembled R&B. Evan’s band was K-Rock, which reminds me a lot of my love for rock music back in high-school.

Watching Summer smitten as Evan played on stage was cute. She would bob her head to the music and jump up and down in place, cheering him on. It was sweet to see how a relationship like this looked like. It makes me think if something like this could’ve ever happened for me. It would’ve been nice to have Willow and my family here, cheering me on show after show.

By the end of the show, Summer had took me backstage with her to meet up with Evan. It was weird to be backstage at a show I personally wasn’t performing in, but it was a nice change to the usual madness I experience in a backstage setting.

“Evan!” Summer said excitedly, running towards Evan as soon as she seems him. His smile immediately covers his entire face as he opens his arms wide. Summer runs in for a hug, softly kissing Evan on the cheek. “You did great, tonight.”

“Thank you, gongjunim,” Evan said, still holding his arm around Summer. It’s cute how he calls her ‘princess’. Evan looks at me and greets me by bowing. I return the gesture out of politeness.

“Hi, Grace,” Evan said. “Thanks for coming out tonight, and I’m sorry for not making it to your show with Summer last month.”

“It’s okay,” I said. “You were legit on a tour, which by the way you killed it out there.” Evan nods and faces Summer. She looks back up at him to look at him too. “I wish I could stay and talk, but the guys and I have a meet and greet with the rest of the artists.”

“It’s cool,” Summer said, now looking at me. “Grace and I can go back to our place and hang out. Is that alright with you?”

“Yeah,” I answered. “We finally have more than just a one day rest day between shows.” Summer smiles, which makes me smile in return.

…

“Would you ever permanently move to Korea?” Summer randomly asked me as she opened a kimbap from the convenience store. “Like if there was work out here for you, would you take it?”

“If I was younger, maybe,” I said, eating a bag of chips. “But I truly think this production is the last big gig I get at my age. I’m not what your typical dancer looks like.”

“That’s very ageist,” Summer said, looking at me. I shrugged, knowing it was the truth.

“Tell that to the industry,” I simply said. Summer rolls her eyes, getting up from her seat. “I also have my daughter back in America; I can’t just leave her there for a job.”

“But you kind of already did that,” Summer pointed out. I looked at Summer, a bit annoyed she would say something so vial and rude.

“With all due respect, Summer, you don’t know my life outside of what I tell you,” I snapped back, readjusting in my seat. “Just because I’m here for work, doesn’t mean I’m making this my lifestyle.”

“I didn’t mean for it to come off like that,” Summer said. “I meant that the hard part is already over. Willow is getting older, and if she’s doing okay with you being across the world, then imagine actually doing it as a job. Isn’t this something you always wanted to do?” Before Summer moved to Korea, we spent a lot of time hanging out at her parent’s place. My mom and her dad are lifelong best friends; family even after my aunt married my uncle. When I moved to New York for college, Summer was the one that would show me around the city on the days I didn’t have classes. Even though she was a couple of years older than me, we got along like friends. She moved way before I graduated though, and she was already in Korea by the time I had Willow. She knew what she knew about my life after college, but sometimes I felt like she still saw me as this young, carefree girl with big dreams of taking on the world.

“It is,” I finally answered back. “But things are different now. I’m different now.” Summer looked at me and shook her head before finally sitting down next to me.

“If I didn’t make the move here from America, I don’t think I’d be the person I am today. Just how if you never moved to New York, you wouldn’t have had the life you have now.” Summer was right; I know my life would’ve been completely different if I stayed in Virginia. I know that I probably would’ve been a lawyer in some small firm in Woodbridge, and my life would’ve consisted of weekends at my dad’s, being around other FBI agents, DAs, and lawyers talking about absolutely nothing. But I made that huge move once already, but to do it in a different country? I don’t think I could do it again. “Grace?”

“Huh?” I said, snapping back to reality.

“You are just as bad as when you were younger,” Summer teased, getting up and walking toward the kitchen.

“What? Did I say something?” I shouted so she could hear me. Shortly after, I felt my phone vibrate in my pocket. I took it out and to my surprise, it was Sahim.

Sahim: Hey, tiny dancer – how was the show? Thinking about trying a new place in the city and would love to go with my favorite company.

Grace: I’d love to go. See you at 5?

I looked up from my phone as Summer walked back into the room.

“I’m just saying, Grace,” Summer continued to make her point. ” I think you’re selling yourself short and playing it safe. We both know you’re destined to be great.”

“I guess,” I simply said, looking at my phone once it vibrated again.

Sahim: Put something formal on.

I can’t get any more spontaneous than this.

Misc., The Teenage Monologues: Season 2

If I Wanted To, I Would: A Mollie Monologue.

liz

If there’s one thing about being a dancer is that your leg muscles are stronger than your average person. Sometimes, I hate having dance practice because it takes away my time from doing things I actually wanted to do. Days like today, I’m grateful for my dance background as I run down the streets of Brooklyn to make it to dance practice. For a normal person, this would’ve been a 15 minute walk; for me, it’s a 5 minute run.

With each step, I hear my things jumbling around in my book bag; my metal water bottle and house keys making the loudest noise. Come on, Mol; you got this!

I get to the dance academy and yank on the front door. Fuck. I looked at the time on my phone; it was 4:30. Practice started literally 5 minutes ago. Jennifer had a strict policy on lateness when it came to practice, especially when it came to the advanced classes. Jennifer would give her advanced dancers a 3-minute grace period to make it to the rehearsal. If you weren’t in the studio by then, she will lock the door and not open it. I felt stupid standing out there, looking into the small window of the studio. I was never late for practice; I’ve only ever called out from it. I felt like running home and hiding underneath my covers and shutting out the world. I couldn’t tell Aaron that I had missed another week of dance practice because of our band practice; he would feel like complete shit.

As I turn away from the studio to walk home, I hear the door being unlocked. I turned around to see Jennifer opening the door, looking at me.

“Get in here,” she demanded. I ran back toward the studio and entered it. She locked the door and immediately walked in front of me.

“You know what time you have to be here,” Jennifer said to me.

“I know,” I said, trying to downplay the situation. “The buses were slow and—“

“Has every bus this past month been slow?” Jennifer said more than asked; I already knew she wasn’t buying it.

“I have other things I have to do, Pep,” I said, annoyed. “You do know that I’m in a whole school choir, right?”

“You have an obligation, Mol,” Jennifer emphasized. “And for you to miss all this rehearsal time is unacceptable. You never used to miss dance rehearsal.”

“Well, I’m here now,” I dismissed, trying to walk past Jennifer to go into the locker room. She immediately blocked my way. “Pep?”

“You’re not dancing today,” Jennifer said as she crossed her fingers.

“So I actually make it to rehearsal, and now I can’t dance?” I asked, not understanding Jennifer’s logic.

“You were late,” Jennifer reminded me. “You know the rules around here.”

“I’m literally here though!” I snapped back, raising my voice. “Why even open the door if you weren’t going to let me dance?”

“For one, I am responsible for your whereabouts when you should be at practice on time,” Jennifer explained, folding her arms across her chest. “Secondly, you’re going to sit here and watch the rehearsal and as punishment, you’re staying after to learn the steps, since you wanted to be late for rehearsal, you’ll stay late as well.”

“That’s not fair!” I complained, not understanding Jennifer’s logic behind this scenario.

“Mollie, it is what it is,” Jennifer emphasized. “If I make one exception for you, I have to do so for everyone. Like I said, you know how things work around here.” I rolled my eyes, immediately grabbing my backpack to walk away. “Where are you going?”

“I’m not staying here to do nothing for 2 hours,” I said.

“You’re not getting it,” Jennifer began to say. “These are the hours I technically look after you and for weeks, I’ve been covering for you. Mom is gonna start wondering why you don’t know the routine after awhile and I;m not going to be the blame for your dumb, teenager decisions.”

“For fuck’s sake, I’m 15; not 5!” I yelled in Jennifer’s office. The other dancers in the studio turned around to look into the office window.

“Then stop acting like you’re 5, Mol,” Jennifer said to me; she seemed annoyed more than embarrassed. “Seriously, Mol; if you don’t want to dance anymore then just let me know and someone who wants to dance will take your place.” Before Jennifer leaves the office, she turns around one more time to look at me. “I hope you realize that no boy is worth losing your passion over.” My eyes widened; Jennifer’s comment took me completely off-guard. How the fuck does she know? Did Milo tell her out of spite? That’s the person I once called my best friend. Some fucking best friend, huh?

“Whatever,” I finally said, looking away and down on my phone. I tried to play it cool, but I couldn’t bear looking at Jennifer. If I did, my face will tell her everything.

Jennifer simply sighed and closed the office door behind her. I rolled my eyes and got up from my seat, watching the other dancers learn a routine I was not familiar with. I feel my face get hot; this is a routine they all know and I had no idea about. I feel my stomach turn; it was going to be a long night.

The "Something" Series: Season 3

Something Traditional for Mom: A Jamie Monologue.

liz

Dinner nights with my family typically mean I’m in the kitchen helping my mom prepare the dishes. I don’t mind though; as I got older, I’ve grown to actually enjoy this time with my mom.

“Jaemin,” my mom comes over and drops the kimchi in front of me. “Cut this up for me.” I listen to my mom and start cutting the kimchi for her.

Moments later, Haram enters the kitchen with two bags before placing them on the table. I turned around and smiled at her.

“I’m so sorry I’m late,” Haram said, immediately throwing on an apron and helping my mom strain the rice in the sink. “I had a faculty meeting after school.”

“Were the kids nice to you today?” I teased, walking by her to kiss her on top of her head.

“A little rowdy, but for the most part they were good.” Haram said, washing the rice.

“Are you still teaching 3rd grade?” My mom asked, chiming in.

“Yes,” Haram happily answered. My mom smiled at Haram; she really liked her. My mom and Haram got along well. My mom was very conservative with the people that we brought home. The moment my mom met Haram, they instantly hit it off. I guess that’s a good sign, right?

“So cute,” my mom simply said. “I remember when Jaemin was that little. He used to have so much hair and these big glasses.”

“Eomma,” I said, trying to stop her before she got too explicit with the information. Haram giggled and gently kissed me on the cheek. It made me smile.

…

“Dinner was lovely,” Haram said to my mom. “The garnishes were so tasty, as usual.”

“Thank you, dear,” my mom said, beginning to take some of the plates off of the table. Haram immediately gets up to help her out. I could tell my mom appreciated all of Haram’s help. I watched both of them in the kitchen, cleaning off plates and putting leftovers in containers together. I couldn’t help but smile; Haram seamlessly fits in this house which is something that hasn’t happened before. I begin to imagine life with Haram: a house with a tiny puppy that she carries around with her everywhere. I imagine Haram spending Chuseok with my family and vice versa. I wonder how life without—

“I have to get going,” Haram comes into the dining area and grabs her purse from the back of her chair.

“Already?” I said, watching her put her things together. I see the containers of food that my mom packed up for Haram.

“I do have to be at work by 7 tomorrow morning,” Haram explained. “Two more days and then I’m off work for the weekend.” My mom finally enters the dining area.

“You and Jaemin should spend the weekend here when Mina and Minji come in a couple of weeks,” my mom suggested. “I think it would be great for the women to spend some time together.” I didn’t like the idea, mainly because my sisters were extremely tough when it comes to the women I date. I know this wouldn’t be the case; maybe that’s why I’m freaking out.

“I would love that,” Haram answered for the both of us. I quickly looked at her, wishing she had let me ease into this discussion.

“It’s settled then,” my mom said, walking over to Haram and I. “I will let Jaemin know when we could all do this.” Aigoo. My mom hugged Haram before I have her a kiss goodbye.

“Let me know why you’ve made it home,” I said, hugging Haram tight.

“Of course,” Haram said before leaving the house. She leaves out of the front door and I immediately know where this conversation is now going.

“When are you and Haram going to get married?” My mom immediately asked.

“Eomma,” I whined, cleaning up the rest of the dining room table.

“You are not getting any younger, Jaemin. I would love to see my only son carrying on the Kim name—“

“Eomma, please,” I said, nearly dropping the dishes to the ground. “Haram and I just started dating a couple of months ago. There’s still so much time left until things get to that pace.”

“She’s traditional,” she continued to say. “She values family and education. She was raised in a good family that values the same.” I looked at my mom as she spoke. My mom was protective of her only son and didn’t speak too highly about the women I dated over the years. Haram was different though, and that is what makes me feel so nervous. “She suits you well. I’m glad you met someone back home like her.” I rolled my eyes as I placed the dishes in the sink, turning the water on to clean them. I knew exactly what she meant; my mom never spoke if it didn’t have motive or intention behind it. I understand that my mom wanted me to be with someone close to home and that knew the culture well enough as herself. She never told me this, but I know she was flipping out when I was in America with an American woman.

“Yeah,” I answered back, wanting to change the subject desperately at this point. My mom smiled, placing clean dishes in the cabinet as I washed and dried them. I want to make my mom proud, and I know she just wants to be the son that she raised. But, sometimes I feel like that side of me can’t come back, no matter hard I try. I still slip in English words every now and then in conversations with other Koreans, especially when I can’t remember how to say certain phrases and words in Korean due to being out of practice for some time. So, if me being with a Haram makes her happy, then it shouldn’t be that hard considering that Haram also makes me happy.

But, what if I’m not the traditional Korean man Haram needs me to be? What if I am now too westernized to ever be traditional? What if I don’t want to be traditional?

I look over my mom as her phone rings on the counter. She picks it up when she sees that Mina is calling her. She takes her phone conversation to the other room, leaving me in the kitchen by myself, lost in my thoughts.

If I was traditional, I wouldn’t be overthinking it and if I wanted to be traditional, I wouldn’t be so caught up in the anxiety behind being so.