writingicing

thoughts like dreams like words like books like well structured arguments, like poetic love songs like prayer like curse like a cry of an infant it speeds and runs and jumps and jumps

then it falls and crashes and burns and yet goes on and on and on and on thoughts like dreams like words like books with the creation of a brand new universe

come meet me there in my thoughts, climb my tower gripping onto my hair which my thoughts use to travel

you will be able to hear them as you climb, and if you aren't scared come meet me there where i'm lost in my

There is a certain surface level understanding of what getting past trauma, healing and independence means - here, Wen Yifan wasn't after independence. Her issue was not being able to fully depend on anyone. And what worth is human life if we don't do that?

When she takes him to dingy room, he asks her if she doesn't like the place and that he can tell because of the very little luggage that she had with her. And she responds, "I just want to be where you are." And Sang Yan gets it immediately - he just says he will help her pack and he takes her home.

Like. How beautiful is that. Wen Yifan was never not independent - she consistently stood up for herself throughout every single obstacle and trauma she faced. The unfortunate side effect of that was learning that running away was one of the effective ways to do it - and so comes a different struggle. How to stop running away? What if running away for once means not leaving behind something that doesn't deserve you, but rather leaving behind the perfect life?

She spends six months on her own to get her fill one last time - living by herself, building new lives for her again and again was not only a reliant tactic but also a friend, a deep habit that helped her stay safe and grow safely. She got her fill one last time, took six months to say goodbye to that part of herself before FULLY and bravely embracing the new her: the lovers girl. The one who is independent and yet has learned how to depend on someone, has learned how to let someone love her and has learned that reliance on loved ones never means weakness.

And what a fresh journey this is... for once learning that independence or healing doesn't mean you throw everything away but rather that you give yourself enough courage to live your best life. Some people out there would hate the idea that love like this is her happy ending, not just from a "romantic storyline" lens but also from the lens of her as an individual female character having journey and growth.

somedays i trudge my way through the forest imagine a pouring rain, mud stuck in my shoes insects crawling out and in, the sun missing after a long day's of work, effort until it bled now hiding away to sulk, letting clouds take over these days i feel seen by him, and my hut bears the mud from my feet, the weight of my coat bears my heavy sighs, the complaints, the crying

and other days i find it in me to flutter like a fairy, light on my feet, wings flapping energetic, glowing under the sun whose rewards of the day are so glorious he wants a party, all drinks on him the bees buzz in celebration, glasses clink and my hut is stringed with fairy lights AC on blast, a full meal inviting me in

somedays i don't enter my forest i stay in my pain, in a space of nowhere i forget my hut, i leave it behind in the dust these days i can't find myself either in my surroundings, the sun doesn't exist and neither does the moon, only emptiness i don't feel the weight of my coat, or my thoughts neither do i have hunger nor desire

to you who appears in my dreams bearing snacks, leaving your shoes at the door clad in comfy pajamas, sinking into my couch ready, no waiting, to listen to my sorrows how else can i show my love but for laying fresh flowers at your feet and chanting your name under my breath?

is this what girlhood feels like? this feeling of being stripped down out of your skin to your barest most vulnerable, most sensitive in front of the one whose love is as endless as the moonlight that reaches inside every window every night

when i lock eyes with myself as i'm combing my hair in daylight i think back to each conversation is this what girlhood looks like? devotion in the form of friendship love in the form of blind faith, and faith in the form of the calling bell ringing

us girls when we hold hands together and stand in a circle, with flowers in our hair an energy blossoms just like the one you have when you feed this world this generosity, this kindness, i feel as i unlock the doors of my heart

this is what girlhood feel like, i believe you who appeared in my dreams as a girl who wants to be a friend in times of need you whose love takes form within me and within the women around me and within the world around me

i keep memories of you

like stickers in my journal,

too scared to peel it off,

too scared to let it stay.

it hangs in the air,

unspoken, unexplored,

sits inside my drawer,

i can hear it wait

when that afternoon comes

when I'm lost in myself

and shadows of my past

creep in, dim the room,

i'll peel it off one by one,

stick it on the page,

close the book and,

never open it again.

i keep memories of you

like stickers in my journal,

pages i keep tucked

in the corners of my heart,

too scared to confront,

for i will miss you too much,

and in anger, my fingers

if you cut me, will i bleed honey or poison? maybe it depends on the knife, its sharpness, and its angle do your fingers tremble when you try or is your pumping raging blood pushing you into motion? maybe it depends on your fingers, is it holding that knife, (i imagine it as already bloody) or it is reaching out, raw focused, curious, thirsty for touch, for feel? what flows in my veins, honey or poison? well, what was i fed when i was younger? was the rice mixed with honey, with bees buzzing around the plate, or was it mixed with poison, oozing, sticky and rotten? was it a plate placed in front of me waiting for my curiosity to feed me or was it a cruel hand pushing the food into my mouth with force? was my stomach satisfied after the feeding or was all i felt still nothingness, despite heaps of food on my plate?