On most nights, I have vivid dreams. I remember dreaming about fire-breathing dragons in my former high school grounds. The following night, I flew a Nimbus 2000. I played for Gryffindor even though I was sorted for Ravenclaw. The characters and the setting felt too real. Sometimes, the scene shifted from one story to another. It was a mesh of different worlds in just one night’s dream.

I used to dream a lot in the third person but now, I mostly experience them firsthand. I can always recall with much detail the intensity of emotions I felt during a dream. Some mornings, I would wake up crying or screaming. …

I’ve been told a lot of times that I’m being too hard on myself. It probably started 19 years ago. Kindergarten. Big Crayola. Nickelodeon lunch box. Annoying boys who open restroom doors for fun. I got my first report card. I was top of the class. Not everybody liked me for that but they liked me enough to celebrate my fifth birthday party at school. They even came with presents.

Two years in kindergarten and six years in elementary school. I excelled each year; joining quiz bees, speech contests, junior press conferences, science camps, and yes, even pageants. …

Poetry

Uknown town, foreign paths
A foreign tongue and unfamiliar faces
Terribly alone, seeking sanctuary
In the cracks of my mind
Lonely walks at daytime
The sun-facing window is my friend
I see the neighborhood cats
Sunbathing on the crimson roof

But of all the felines I’ve seen
The darkest shade of black
Caught my attention
Possibly abandoned
She lives outside a grocery store
Purring at the customers
Along with two others

I called her ‘Sabi’
Took her in my arms
Without protest
Just green eyes staring back
Every day I would visit her
With leftovers and a big smile

Until one day she disappeared
Searched under cars
Still, there was no sign
Nothing left behind
Except for crumbs of old bread
And confusion
Three days went by
I comforted myself
At the thought of her
In a new…

One night, I decided to tell my boyfriend that I touched myself. We were both 16. He was my best friend and naturally, I wanted him to know everything about me.

I shyly asked, “What do you think about girls touching themselves?”

He didn’t answer. All I remember was the look of disgust on his face when he asked back, “Why? Do you do it?”

I replied in a shameful tone, “Yes.” Almost in tears.

He said, “Promise me you’ll never do that again.”

Being the lovesick, naive, and hopeless romantic that I am, I agreed.

Inside, I felt awful. I felt so judged. But mostly, I felt so compelled to question why it should be such a shameful thing. …

Most of our social interactions are now done online. With a quick upload of a photo, we can share where we are and what we’re doing in real-time. With a single click, we can instantly send comments to someone’s Instagram post or Twitter thread.

We’re living in a simulacrum of reality where it has become so easy to speak our minds.

I’ve always had a love and hate relationship with social media. I would spend a month or two without mindlessly scrolling on Facebook as a simple way of digital detox. …