I have ink in my veins
And blood in my words,
I have a voice behind this pastiche of a life,
A voice that is dying to be heard.
I have verses in my heart
And a heartbeat in my pen,
I have a raft fashioned from rosewood and paper,
That has saved me again and again.Read More »
You asked me to write my feelings,
And so I did, although I
Don’t know if you can help me,
But I’d still like you to try.
For years, I’ve walked in the dark
Trying to follow the light within,
But it’s been so long that I don’t know
Where the shadows end and I begin.Read More »
Some of you may have noticed that my posts became a bit sporadic lately. Today, I’m getting a little personal with all of you to explain why, and to offer a glimpse into my Real Life these past few weeks.
In my re-introduction post earlier this year, I revealed my struggle with my depression and anxiety, a struggle that has been with me since high school (which, if we’re all doing the math here, was more than a decade ago). Now, I’ll admit, I’ve never been officially diagnosed by a doctor. However, I am familiar with the signs and symptoms from my years of majoring in Psychology in college, and I had regular sessions with a campus counselor when things got really bad for me during my college years. Read More »
Talent is what they say
you have after the novel
is published and favorably
reviewed. Beforehand what
you have is a tedious
delusion, a hobby like knitting.Work is what you have done
after the play is produced
and the audience claps.
Before that friends keep asking
when you are planning to go
out and get a job.
The stones of the archway were cool under her fingertips and the cobblestone pathway was unevenly potholed. The air itself smelled different here. A wet aroma of fish permeated from the market two streets over, blending with the rich spices and sharp ginger that infused the city. Read More »
In my story, without a doubt,
She was my favorite chapter.
Perhaps that’s why, I still can’t
Make myself read past her.
In my story, we were fantastic,
Like fireworks in the night.
Perhaps that’s why, no one else
Will ever feel as right.
© Jade M. Wong
They believed the volcano to be extinct. They thought it was harmless, and welcomed the building of a city beneath it and the planting of crops on the fertile red volcanic soil.
The day they heard the low drumming, steady and rhythmic under their feet, they wondered if they should leave their city.
