everyone has a 2020 poem

and this is mine.

nostalgia. nothingness. noise and repeat

it seems like
the less I do, the more
tired I am and either way
I am not getting any younger
as I sit and wait for life to matter
as much as it did back when
I scribbled my name on the
front cover of my very
last calculus exam.

the cynical 17 year old was right.
the only maths I ever do now is
subtracting days by the hour,
reviewing memories to the
power of x. is it possible to solve
this lethargy by working backwards?
I am guesstimating the root of all my
problems sprouted some time in the
2010s but I don’t have any of this
worked out on paper as proof of concept.

I wish someone could tell me if I
am passing or not as I copy everyone else
by doing more, documenting more to replace
actually being more – rounding up all these
constructed moments (doesn’t matter of what
or what even for) can’t you see that I am so close
to tipping, tapping, turning point?

living life to the fullest exposure and washing
out all doubts of self, believe me, things are
really looking up from this low angle shot, as I
lie, knowing only the blinking caret is here to stay,
dancing to the tick of every minute, it hungers
like an ill-fed guillotine for a slice of life, authentic style.

Instead I offer up my whole head, dust, rust and all.
meditation is too much work, take it off cleanly
at the nape. let it roll like tumbleweed through this
empty field of nostalgia, nothingness, noise and repeat.

on letting go & alice in wonderland

I have a confession to make.

Disclaimer: If you know me even moderately well in real life, this won’t be news to you but

I can become slightly very unhealthily obsessed with other people.

Just a few minutes ago, I caught myself a few months deep into an old friend’s Instagram account that I’d just discovered. When I tried to pull myself out of the #valencia rabbit hole, more than a few familiar faces flashed past as my phone painstakingly recreated the tenuous links I followed to find my ‘Alice’, seemingly in an effort to remind me of a fact that I’m well aware of: I’m a little bit mad.

A1.JPG
(C) Maggy Liu

Instead of focusing on how intrinsically creepy my behaviour is, I’ve decided that I’m more bothered by how much ‘Alice’ & I’s paths have diverged and all I know about an ex-friend are some pixels on the screen.

Should I be happy that we live in such a narcissistic and technologically advanced society that I’m able to access her life in this way? If it was back in my parents’ time, I would have nothing but fond memories and a colourful imagination but somehow, this feels sadder. Witnessing what feels like intimate moments of someone’s life whilst being fully aware that they’re broadcasted to an audience including strangers makes the experience decidedly less special. This takes an even more sombre turn when you can’t even recall when you’ve become one of the outsiders too. Continue reading “on letting go & alice in wonderland”