There’s comfort to not being terrorized by the thought that one’s action or inaction contributes to an inevitable future at the mercy of eventual degeneration.
Whether it’s language or food (or any other cultural symbol, at that), can you still be faithful to your culture if you stray away from its shibboleths?
It’s easy to be friendly. But some people assume friendliness should mean unbridled openness. Far too often I’ve seen how some people would lovebomb strangers in the hope that they will win their trust and friendship.
I think true friendship takes time.
The adult in me thinks that she is very juvenile and naive, and I wonder if I’m just too jaded to enjoy how whimsical she is, how her whole world seemed to be rose-colored and bright.
What do we actually lose when someone dies? (How can you lose a potential, anyway?)
Memories to cringe over are a small price we pay for living long enough.
Will gatekeeping culture and calling out cultural appropriation bring justice? Or is it going to kill the very thing it wants to protect?
Do we stop being impostors the moment everyone is finally convinced we are who we say we are?
When we claim names with conviction, they stop being prison walls, and instead become the bricks that allow us to climb up, transcend.
Life is a series of untaken roads and unfulfilled potentials.