Forgettable

At night, the aroma of Mama's food still lingered the air in the house, as if mom just cooked us a delicious meal as those countless old days. I waited for mom's call from the kitchen to ask us to eat, but no sound. I kept the light on as usual, I wrapped myself in the cotton blanket, I closed my eyes. "Mama", I whispered.   I was long for mung bean pastry, a snack I loved since the first time I ate. So I decided to make it from scratch. One important ingredient is the lard. I noticed a bowl of fatty meat in the freezer for a while. So I took it out, defrost it. When it was boiling in the water, a lot of garlic gloves and dried shrimps were separated into the water. The images of mom peeling garlic and adding spices to the meat flashed in my mind, I held the spatula to stir the meat, so that my tears wouldn't drop. Then a familiar aroma of Mama's food drifted in the kitchen. I thought of the days mom cooking in the kitchen, I breathed deeply, I felt safe in th...

Q: You finally reached the first goal you set since the beginning, 200 posts. How do you feel about it? A: Not easy, actually. Especially when I didn't start it for a living, and I have no skill for faking, I just did it whimsical when some sorts of emotions sparked in me so the words flow naturally. I think people name it authenticity, so yeah. I initially did some maths about how to reach the 200 faster, like, within a year. But most of the time my real life took over my plans. It took much longer than I expected. The outside world and inside world changed significantly during the 200 posts. But I made it, slowly.  Q: Do you want to say something to your audience? A: Yes, of course. I never advertised my stuff or pay to get attention so I'm not sure why I got audience, but somehow some people or one person kept supporting me even in my darkest day that I thought I'd never post anything again. I don't know what's so attracting here but they or IT always come back h...

"Both." Yeah, it's love, confirmed again by one of those non-participants. In her mind, all the other words surrounding "love" disappear.  "Is it you? " She runs away every time the answer is yes. Yet she keeps repeating the question in different situations. Can she change the mindset? Why can't she? "Yes" or "No" really matters? She reacts like "yes" is the least pleasant reply. But nobody knows how frightening it is for her if one day, she couldn't feel the urge to bring up the question anymore. If the doubt lingers, so does It, the only existence that wouldn't be taken away during Its absence.  For years, she plucked petals, murmuring "love me", "love me not". She needs no reply, she knows the reply is in the reason caused the question. 

Me glitter on your glasses.  Your smiles glitter in the familiar dim room. I want to kiss your head.