My Own World

#AsianDay

Who would have thought that a hashtag would cause me to pause mid-step? So benign a phrase that followed a stream of silken-clad selfies and chopsticks poised over dumplings that made me wonder what it meant to be...well...me.

Am I a cup full of boba, shared with friends and tagged #AsianDay? How about a face mask - best used to cover a non-existent blemish before being tossed away? Or - best yet - am I the drive-thru of a Panda Express?

#AsianDay

Truth is, I’ve been all of these; a culture represented only on the most basic of levels that I’ve often disregarded the depth of history that’s the root of it all. It took the miraculous aligning of an all-Asian cast topping the American box office for me to catch myself. It took Asians occupying the lead role on a Netflix  romcom and a thrilling movie that searches for the truth in social media and family to plant my feet firmly back on the media landscape of today.

Yes, I am Asian, and I am more than all of these put together. I am tradition - cut and polished into a family heirloom passed through countless generations. I am innovation that adapts to the new social dynamics of today. I am passion and joy for a culture once treated like a movie costume - exotic and foreign, but otherwise put away when the lights turn off.

I am Asian, and I’m everything I am proud to be.

I am alone, now I know it’s true

There was a time when we were two

Those were the days when we would chat

Doing little jobs of this and that.

We’d go to the shops and select our meals

But now I’m one I know how it feels

To try and cook or have meals on wheels.

The rooms are empty; there’s not a sound

Sometimes I’m lost and wander round

To look for jobs that I can do

To bring back the days when we were two.

When darkness falls and curtains drawn

That’s when I feel most forlorn

But I must be honest and tell the truth,

I’m not quite alone and here’s the proof:

Because beside me in her chair

She quietly waits our time to share.

Kath said to me some time ago,

"Darling when the time comes for us to go,

Let’s mix our ashes and be together

So we can snuggle up for ever and ever."

Even if this is my last time, I will sing without regrets, I’ll keep singing and singing.

I am the right brain.

I am creativity. A free spirit. I am passion.

Yearning. Sensuality. I am the sound of roaring laughter.

I am taste. The feeling of sand beneath bare feet.

I am movement. Vivid colors.

I am the urge to paint on an empty canvas.

I am boundless imagination. Art. Poetry. I sense. I feel.

I am the left brain.

I am a scientist. A mathematician.

I love the familiar. I categorize. I am accurate. Linear.

Analytical. Strategic. I am practical.

Always in control. A master of words and language.

Realistic. I calculate equations and play with numbers.

I am order. I am logic.

And, into his eyes did I look and see,

the words, unspoken, were meant for me.

To him, my love, did I hold true and say,

I've waited - oh, how I have waited, for just one more minute. Just a few more seconds for a love that was shared so long ago, now buried in a past full of denial.

Your love, tucked away in fear and self-doubt, took mine with it. Gone, now, without a trace of existence - save for the last dregs of hope that lingered in my own heart.

How you looked at me that day - the moment I turned and found revulsion on your face. Searing hate in a place where love once was. When your eyes had lit up as they fell on mine - they now looked back with disdain.

The years, they passed, and the hurt faded away. As best I could, I built myself anew; piece by piece, gathered to some seeming of wholeness that could move forward.

Life moved on, and so I tried. The career I loved brought me back to a place where I could breathe again. And this place, once filled by you and me, now feels so barren - a void that once held our budding relationship.

Into this place came him. He, who drew forth what you couldn't then. A promise of love; of pride and declaration. He, who was not afraid to walk down that street with me and hold my hand. He grasped me tight and flew, soaring before I was ready to as well.

This leap of faith brought me back to Earth - back to the place where we once were. And in this place, there you now stood, holding a hand out to me like I once did for you.

Are you willing? So you claimed. So you said that you wanted me, invigorated by your own self-discovery. But I knew. I knew now what I didn't then.

You aren't ready for me.

"Wait, but wait," you cried - with sorrow and determination so clear in your eyes. "Can you do that? Can you wait to give us a chance?"

This, oh this, how it has given me pause. I look back now and think it true as ever then.

I've never stopped waiting.

Your touch, I still feel it on my skin. That lasting moment I didn't want to end. But how could it not, as you had to pull away  - unsure of what to do, but to hurt those who cared for you.

Your touch, I still feel it on my skin. That first kiss we shared, so tentative and fleeting. Your fingers trembled as they grazed my face, and your eyes looked at mine with marvel in their depths.

Your touch, I still feel it on my skin. The moment you pulled away as I reached out - leaving me behind as you ran away from what was true. You fled and broke my faith that day.

Your touch, I still feel it on my skin. How I could only wish to be free from that memory. Of your smiling face I saw in the morning, gazing down as you held me in your arms.

Your touch, it no longer comforts me. The caress I still feel on my skin -  now wounds of the past, renewed with each breath I take.

Loved. Accepted for who you are. Turmoil which came undone.

You welcomed me with open arms, offering guidance unbiased.

Male or female, straight or gay, you amazed me with your open arms.

This is my dad, who extended the same kindness he had given my brother.

To me, he said, he hoped that if the time ever came that his advice I would need, in life and love, he would help guide me.

Male or female, straight or gay, I'm still his son, and this meant the world to me.

---

Conflict which once arose. Understanding that now dawned.

You understood my potential, regardless of who I am.

Male or female, straight or gay, you amazed me with your faith that my future would be filled with brightness.

This is my mom, who never doubted she would have grandchildren by me.

Born by blood or through adoption, acceptance was freely given, regardless of who I might love.

A promise made to set things straight. Swelling feelings held at bay for just a bit longer. Wait, wait, and the moment will come - then, right then, will I say the words I've always felt but never said. Words that you deserve for your heart. The goodness you show and the home that you are - the time will come when you will know just how much you have come to mean to me.

But this time never came, as the chance passed and the moment slipped away.

The words you've shared so often with myself - the chance to reply that I felt just the same. The opportunity passed as you slipped away. Time, this time, has escaped, and the moment never came.