Amy Do Nguyet Anh

It's New Year's.. only 10 or so more days until I meet him again. I know his brilliant smile will hang across his face and we will be in shopping malls for hours, hands heavy with happiness. Ten days until we get to eat what we want and talk about what we want. Partying into the night and shopping away the days. It's almost Tet, only 3 more days until I see them again. The friends that I have known since I didn't even know myself. How are they now? After many seasons of love, life and career? I can't wait to feel like I'm 15 again, but more freedom, more hope. Nostalgia keeps me strong. It's May.. only a few more days until my last day at my job, and 5 more days until I see her again. It's been 7 years. Too long to believe, yet too short to feel. How does she look like now, away from the Singaporean sun? How does she look now, the weight of philosophy on her shoulders? Her cheeks rosy with the touch of love. We both have changed so much, but also so ...

One night years ago during final season, we waited in the rain for the 25 bus to come. It was past midnight, and the cold April rain gripped my hands and face. He patiently kept me awake with conversations that I don't even remember - video games, politics. The rain kept pouring on us, but he didn't leave my side. When it was finally obvious that the 25 was not coming anymore, and I had missed my last bus back to dorm, I pleaded with him to let me stay the night. And back we trekked through the cold and wet to his place. I had no dry clothes. He was sleepy. We got to sleep as fast as we could. I don't remember much else. But the wait, for something that eventually did not come, I still remember. I was disappointed, but I knew I had someone beside me. I knew I had somewhere to go. A direction. Here I am years later, waiting again. My life had shifted this year. Things started to become bad. Bad in a complicated way. Not in the way a 9th-grader would mean. And I'm lo...

I woke up one morning the cold besieges me I grasp for warmth and you're not there. My dreams are disconnected invaded with thoughts of you still here holding me. What does it take to knit the fabrics of time and hold on. What do I do, with reality and hope How do I reconcile, the could've and the is.