Writer: Shanon Van
Editor: Amy Li and Alloe Mak

I am hostile by nature
I spend my days picking at my skin as an attempt to shed myself of the little defining details
As the city thaws and warms away its own bleak winter
I have remained just the same;
Cold, stale and unsatisfied
Not any different from last month, or the month before that, or the month before that
And today, as the sun kissed me just right
All I could think about was my dream last night
And how I still am a shard of glass, untouched by the sand and waves—sharp corners and all

Of course, I do love the summer;
I love its permanence on my skin
The kindness it inherently brings and the full laughter it draws
The anticipation for its pinnacle is like no other—I adore the way we all swarm together out of habit for its big reveal
The balmy air and teasing wind makes me lose memory of the way January nurtured my depraved, extremophilic mind
And because I do not want to stay a melancholic mess forever, I follow suit

I daydream in secrecy while the sunlight peaks through my patchy blinds
Pondering about otherworldly love in a ridiculous, out-of-reach way
Entertaining myself with the fantasy of overbearing affection to reverse engineer my cynicism
When did I become such a pessimist?
Perhaps I’ve gotten too familiar with my own company
Perhaps it has been here far past it’s stay—conforming to the corners of my tangled room, taking the shape of my clutter and using up all my ink

Or worst of all; maybe I am a pessimist at heart
Maybe a flesh eating bacteria has devoured the tenderest part of me and replaced it with itself
Then, at the center of my body lies a rotting fruit
And even after I desperately try to tuck away all it’s bloodiness into my glossy porcelain shell,
I still feel it all, wholly and vividly
And I realize with a horrifying gravity;
I will be forever tethered to the ugliest thing about me because I am not fast enough to run away from something inside me

But lucky for me this world is full of great cures;
I gain traction on the little things,
Spinning in vanilla and nectar, I sweeten myself from outside in
I split my attention with the June air and attempt to stop thinking just for a little
I try to reel back my tongue and sit in the rare tranquility of silence
The women in my family lend me their little pearls of advice
And I just listen
And I just wait