When I love, I love: wholly, thoroughly, completely, drowning in everything. Every glance can be a conversation, eyes just playing and saying what needs to be said. Silence is loud, and the air becomes heavy. I want you. I want all of you.
Shout out to the mixed kids who never felt close to the cultures they come from. Shout out to the mixed kids who don’t know the native language(s) at all or fluently and get shamed for it. Shout out to the mixed kids who were never really immersed in their family culture(s) and their for don’t know anything or very little about where they come from. Shout out to the mixed kids who felt connected to one side of their culture than the other(s). Shout out to the mixed kids who get shamed for wearing or celebrating something unique to the culture(s) because they “don’t look like they’re from there/like that race”. Shout out to the mixed kids whose own family called them “fake”. Shout out to the mixed kids who never felt like they belonged.
That was the thing. You never got used to it, the idea of someone being gone. Just when you think it’s reconciled, accepted, someone points it out to you, and it just hits you all over again, that shocking.
Sometimes, the most random thing will remind me of you. And out of nowhere, you’re invading ever cell in my brain. Suddenly I can smell you, I can hear your laugh, I can feel your skin, your whole presence wrapped around me like an embrace. But then I remember where I am and the illusion shatters revealing reality: you are gone.