LOVE

"Under haunted skies, I see

Where love is lost, your ghost is found

I've braved a hundred storms to leave you

As hard as I try, no, I will never be knocked down." -Adele in "Turning Tables"

"Cancer Bitch:" a term I heard for the first time while watching Desperate Housewives a few days back. A self-loathing, self-absorbed, self-pitying individual who only worries about his/her own problems. While stuck at Boston's South Station overnight, I wondered if I too was a cancer bitch.

I had missed my connection by a mere 3 minutes. My kid brother who is much bigger and stronger than me told me to get a hotel because I was "a small defenseless Asian girl." My friend told me I had to call around, "can't sleep at South Station." My father told me to make sure there were no creepers around. After all, being in the overly airconditioned bus terminal with strangers carrying a $400 Coach bag in a dress and heels may attract unwarranted attention. I didn't exactly scream broke even when I kind of am.

When my efforts to get a cheap taxi out of there failed, I became a little self-loathing cancer bitch. There was a guy cleaning the floor at 2 in the morning. A woman cleaning the bathroom after I tried to find some peace from the guy cleaning the floor. So I slept cold and sitting up.

But what's worse than being at South Station at night is probably being at South Station every night, doing the overnight shift cleaning around drooling, cranky kids who didn't schedule enough time between their connections. All grown people of color in an extremely rich, prominent east coast city: perspective everywhere.

With the exception of family trips to Viet Nam every 4 or 5 years, I used to never travel anywhere growing up. Even when I consider myself a broke recent graduate, school and the college experience has encouraged me to travel everywhere. If there is someone I love somewhere, I will go see them.

For laughs at the pond.

For walks.

For swinging.

For hugs.

For tears.

For sharing food and memories.

And maybe a little bit of love making.

There's no blessing quite like being young, able-bodied, passionate, and educated. Privileged enough to take closure trips where I get to choose closure clothes

and closure shoes

and choose how I'm remembered.

Because even when my heart begins to self-loath over good-byes and the closing of adored chapters in my life... I know that eventually, it'll be fine. I'm lucky to have had the time of my life and DC is waiting with hopefully its heart open so that maybe I can open my heart again too.

Who takes trips and trips followed by closure trips anyway? Me. I see those people in South Station who don't think they're too good to work at South Station because they're strong and proud of themselves and I hope I can be that strong too.

Women have always told me that they don't come into their own until their 30's. In our 20's, we're girls, fucking around, doing stupid stuff to feel defined and worthy. Liking low paying jobs and men who aren't quite right is the rule, not the exception.

23 is young.

At the end of high school, I ended that love.

At the end of college, I'm ending this love.

Taking lessons from each one: absorbing how this love has enriched and fulfilled me, and learning to move on.