365 Emotions Book Final Layout

["why often enough we don\u2019t question but \u201cba ain\u2019t coming home...\u201d 50","365 Emotions: The Poetic nature of survival thirvance bathing in the waters of trauma what is my \u201creal\u201d name?... passing every school requirement as easy as the cool air breeze substituting the (ace) on my trauma exams... mutating paper test anxieties into physical deformity deeply rooted trauma drowning me in silence... my head underwater in the ocean of tears... hyperventilating at the sight of slaps, scratches, and shouts near the corner clothing cabinet under the blanket inside the closet watching purplish viruses take on the persona of termites with a rodent mentality to infest the immunocompromised body on the surface ...soon rupturing frail asthma lungs with smoke om the mouth of the cigarette butts wheezing until an internal bleeding out of memories with no words left to say... a bruise under a scar... directly on the prefrontal cortex without any proper context repeatedly tapping fingers at the crackings of my fragile glass heart... dropping my balanced personality off \u2014 hours before school... feeling abandoned... how our environment\u2019s design keeps us down 51","okinga solar deficiency for no more sunnysides when feeling the wind on my skin turn my blood blue shivering below zero like the micromolecules of broken ice panicking at the slightest volume increase in temperature ... even miles away ... an analog swivel clock-wise prov a camry\u2019s bass surround sound pounding at the door om the window of a man\u2019s mouth igniting the blue ames for fear in familiarity to soon nd myself force-swallowing not just meals but also my emotions like leftover grain mountains of white jasmine rice... a spoonful of unpermitted critiques when digesting the splinters om the wooden stick hits leading to an indigestion of unknown emotions until my fantasy travels up my throat inside out even if i tried as hard i can to be better... i subconsciously learned to be what i\u2019ve lived with fierce rejection of never wanting to be the same this soon led all my problems associated with pain to be conflated with my vietnamese name... ...how can i resent but still love?... 52","365 Emotions: The Poetic nature of survival thirvance while acting as our savior 53","an oppressor stomping on our dead bodies all two realities between life and spirituality augmented into one algorithm too much to process through the soils of organic thoughts within the designated mind plot my fresh air at birth never lasted...soiled and i ask.. when will it be my rst me to breathe in fresh air from the gentle care of mother nature? when no choice left, i give in to my manufactured reality losing my natural drift further distanced across the globe in the sand dunes of vietnam ...the land only my parents know... i again ruminate on why why i truly hate my vietnamese name... 54","365 Emotions: The Poetic nature of survival thirvance silent stories in empty bottles it\u2019s difficult for me to speak what\u2019s on my mind when i can\u2019t afford the 2 cents i want to share empty pockets with no choice for the freedom of speech i deliberately bite my tongue till it bleeds bathing in blood i choke on my own words without consent before they slip off my lips as my dry chapped skin peels my voice duct-taped silently forever young injecting vials of depression \u2014 youthfulness in disappearance aging at a pace that leaves every child behind... 55","the silence soon runs automatically on a hamster wheel round and round with no quesons asked, no longer asked... the throat chakra shut tight to never tell the truth is it forbidden to let the thoughts hiding in the back of our minds - locked \u201csafe\u201d ...breathe just a little? my spiritual connection to self becomes illogical as emotional fitness with capitalism, dissatisfaction is marketed so productivity for consumerism replaces happiness... my cheap shopping spree at the dollar tree was another corporate trap house to drug up all the negave thoughts with useless goods to go to sleep and mind my own business that communism combined with capitalism births the enslavement of hyper-consumerism the untold stories in my heart became a romantic dance with this world translated on paper as the ballpoint pen ice skates calligraphy strokes between the lines a conversation is then motioned with cross-dissolve words that come to mind to soon realize my thoughts don\u2019t always get to see the beauty of life not getting the same proper chance to live and breathe just once... 56","what if it doesn\u2019t? as my brain hoards stocks of creative gems and overbearing emotions that leak through the cracked bottle overnight i lose my race with time even when rethinking \u201ctime\u201d outrunning everyone else, including myself \u2013 forgetng \u201cto let time be patient...\u201d my internal ring ght inflicts self-harm making me a traitor to my own being discoloring my eyes in the reflection of my phone screen a blacked-out vision to see nothing but anger coming through the flames restrciting every step for potential... i hide my truths in a bottle... drink to ease the awkward silence of negative thoughts... no one to talk to about the everyday bricks on my shoulders nowhere to go other than laying on my iron bed where my body and thoughts nally feel a lifespan\u2019s fatigue is this the only me i get to rest? is this the only me the world will love me? having known my parents half their life while they\u2019ve \u201cknown\u201d me all of mine a chance to tell my them why ...again remissed, so i keep to myself... will you still love me if i am authentically me? or will i perish unnoticed as life continues to be... 57","365 Emotions: The Poetic nature of survival thirvance 58 our minds are bondage to poverty,","365 Emotions: The Poetic nature of survival thirvance collage poetry notes 1: despair the \u201cnever to come\u201d peace keeps us separated \u201cam i a problem?\u201d while i continue to ride the city bus to a supposed \u201cparadise\u201d i prolonged my gracious pain as my imposter sings in its head voice so i block out the outside voices to only hear my inner cry i inevitably numbed what it meant to cry... i again ruminate on why i truly hate my vietnamese name... will you still love me if i am authentically me? so our freedom is hazed with worry... stolen 59","inner thoughts on paper 1 hate i life\u2019 s feedback loop survival is survival is love s poison, but love kills pover is hatehate is poison, but love kills pover is hate love hate hate is poison, but love kills (life) pover survival is love 60is","365 Emotions: The Poetic nature of survival thirvance letter 2: the constant questions of \u201cwhy\u201d (older daniel to younger daniel) dear daniel, your mom told me all About it your long rides to school sleeping in the car till schooltiMe sunrises your mom told me all about It your long days with hard manual labor slaving midnight late to reach \u201cdreams\u201d an angelic voice with sincere empathy acknowledging your pain as their\u2018s... 61","your day never Ended just one long playlist cycling through repeated music seeing No way out but just further in, deepening the wounds... my question is: are the fights wOrth it? if you know you aren\u2019t happy? do you feel like you are living someone else\u2019s life deeply inside? living another person\u2019s dream at the expense of lifelong chronic stress your physical displacement is an external displacement of frUstrations leadinG to your conict-adverse altercations for speaking the gibberish of misunderstandings to always feel the ending of emotions in \u201cunHeard inexistence\u201d who are you really doing this for? having no voice Finds its only outlet as anger \u2013 the projection of love an extension of your hypermasculine environment to react rather than respond with response-ability and i say this not to reprimand you... but rather my care is pure lOve mailed out to you to reect inward on how your inner temple may be divided by the turmoil you feel i went through it all like you yourself... changing my speech, my dRess, and my mannerisms deepening my voice, sagging my pants, and stealing food... 62","i eventually leArned ...the slick slip of green stacks was all a trap to trap and i was Nothing more than the systemic hurting around me that\u2019s whY... i have a lot of prOblems today with the hypermasculinity men of color perpetuate maybe that\u2019s why i hate myself ...because i\u2019m a maNifestation of these many representations becausE you and i are alike in blood don\u2019t let this intergenerational narrative of fear as anger be your only voice... a story of pain is multidimensional a story of feeling is revolutionary start with the broken remnants your parents left you to mend the intimacy of self-love through multiple languages because your fluency brings inspiration to those dealing with this unkind repetitiveness in the vicious cycle of pover as you and i lived unremembered... his-tory, no our-story is another dimension in life living in the present memory third dimensionally to remembrance... know i will always be here for you, Daniel Luu 63","his-tory, no our-story unremembered...to remembrance... AM I ENOUGH FOR ANYONE 64","365 Emotions: The Poetic nature of survival thirvance Chapter 2 intergenerational","blues","365 Emotions: The Poetic nature of survival thirvance white milo seeds in place for the scarcity of rice grains a few pieces to keep us just above feeling too famished to work regardless of our state of being, as soon as a sweat drops on the surface of the soil the rice paddies entrench our faces in mud as our body accelerates its timeline to decompose without the feeling of freedom like the cranes freed above to see the teal sky to below, we look at the ground as if an early grave is expected to come as it seems our story repeats with different complexities as in yours truly a d\u00e9j\u00e0 vu skit memorable in every bad way to experience the nighare sweats of reliving a traumatic tragedy \u2013 sitng in a burning room within the \u201cinception\u201d to soon \u201cevacuate\u201d from cotton-picking to rice seeding ...an endless me loop until we get it \u201cright\u201d on leap year\u2019s addional 1400 minutes so i wonder how many mes will our beauful stories be untold till this day? 67","agent orange, re-education camps, amerasian daughters the tales left untold in schools... again left unread like the bedtime stories of cardboard children books we were never told a whole piece of us living invisibly unknown ...our unknown suering... not knowing our pains is the most painful self-harm we can inflict... so we drip through the vietnamese phin slower than the night faucet droplets into a puddle that leaves us awake in insomnia till the white-washed rising sun aggressively choreographs the rippling effect of misgiven facts om a corrupted system militantly hanging over our heads, hawk-eyeing om the panopticon it becomes difficult to fathom the comprehension of life with missing campre stories... we become grim reapers of our own problems \u2013 haunted by fear rooted in anxieties we indefinitely search for the answers to rhetorical questions ...seeking comfort... so i wonder how many times will our beautiful stories still be untold till this day? 68","365 Emotions: The Poetic nature of survival thirvance as a reminder of the rice i eat today is the white milo seeds my parents ate yesterday one silent sacrfice to the next, i feel forever indebt... with diffcult gratitude, i wish i can be god for one day to grant them freedom like the cranes to see the teal sky similar to the ones they saw momentarily together in peace as childhood sweethearts before it was all abruptly taken away to be redacted like their joy ...content in complacency 69","seeing nothing more than the day to day life for comfortability 70","365 Emotions: The Poetic nature of survival thirvance the inheritance of pocket change a morning alarm to one\u2019s bed for thought a trauma reminder of the cyclical transmission of poverty from past lives to present me in one\u2019s soul my appearance camouflaged for jewel eyes in jewelry to feel the facade of material success through a luxury good flex even in the virtual world of cryptopunks, my real pockets are digitally e m p t i e d... but people so often misperceive to be mistaken the out-of-order priories that leave me uneasy wishing i could wiggle my way out of the cemetery\u2019s dirt to be more than \u201c1 of 5 vietnamese americans without a high school diploma\u201d \u201c1 of 2 vietnamese americans without a college degree\u201d an incarcerated southeast asian youth with \u201cthe second to third highest arrest rates in richmond aer aican american youth\u201d 71","born poor to stay poor no matter how hard we work to break the cycle of poverty the calculus tells us the intergenerational transmission of broke dreams is a lifelong sentence using programmed fear to mathemacally kill our visions of equitable futures killing us soly \u2018cause murder is minor no matter what life i live... no matter where i go... i constantly nd myself not just living in the ghetto, but the ghetto living in me ...the internal hourglass for my life\u2019s expiration dropping the last sand grain... even at rebirth, a caste system lives on poverty forever engraved in my sweat, blood, and tears to bury the worries of stress in overthinking as my own worst cric i no longer s l e e p or forever s l e e p ...when living o lives to live in between, siting in limbo... as the dichotomous coexistence of insomnia and hypersomnia gets lost in the fast pace of life in the nascar racecourse making one week feel like a month jammed into one day no vacations to \u201cparis by night\u201d just a hood poet \u201cloitering\u201d like a second-class cizen in an uncivilized world at the borderlands 72","365 Emotions: The Poetic nature of survival thirvance so i reluctantly sell my life to any work letting it \u201cswallow me whole...\u201d when knowing it won\u2019t love me back properly with respectful reciprocity holding onto the abusive neglectance for comfort with the hope i\u2019ll magically get past these gray concrete walls of garage basement rooms, electric stoves, and pb&js somehow i always nd myself back at limbo... trying to move closing walls... staring through the bamboo ceiling of my adu ancipang if i\u2019ll get evicted the next day of a no-contract lease a double interrupon of helicopter spotlights both hovering over the roof, at night and landlord my head, harassments by day clouding my dreams 73","to only see the generational history that keeps us down om forced displacement in vietnam to gentrification in san francisco a double displacement to now even feeling foreign in our own motherland i see my family's tragic memories relived in mine so i sit in limbo indefinitely faded into blue to be living in the blue ...as an \u201camerican refugee...\u201d still questioning if \u201chome\u201d will ever be found or is it really meant to be built? when will i ever see a brighter day ...tomorrow of yesterday... 74","365 Emotions: The Poetic nature of survival thirvance a \u201cfamily\u2019s\u201d inexistence i was once told loyal and trust are the threads that keep quilted love strong and unbreakable but our fragmented values in kinship have severed the branches of my family tree rotting the pieces of bark soon decaying the roots that brought us all up an infection subconsciously adopted to deteriorate my relaonships in present day the broken sickness of imperialism and colonialism cuting our yarn of intimate connections from the war on southeast asia & everywhere else living in us today... but with no antidote, i still believe i am the problem breaking everything i touch \u2013 a life in pieces with a grown man\u2019s responsibility to move a mountain for a village\u2019s healing ...when i\u2019m still only a boy... a childish desire to \u201cfix\u201d our sparse holidays with three or less home alone because our festivities feel artificial when fixated on sparkling christmas trees 75","iregardless of blood ties, we lose sight of what family truly means the forgotten natural love like unreciprocated party favors of uncelebrated birthdays enduring an experience of brokenness at a young age breeding toxic blood for hypermasculine desires of love in unrealisc ways of constantly wondering... if anyone will ever take a bullet for me a reciprocal expectation that realistically won\u2019t be met... like the romanticized movies of the \u201cghetto...\u201d so i hide my feelings in a never-ending hibernation during the cold seasons of december when deeply yearning for the \u201camerican family holiday\u201d hollywood movie scenes a reality far om expectations forming deep resenent \u2018cause of remissed childhood pain especially in the midst of hailing family ruptures that make me second-guess trust an awakening of heartlessness in flames from the binding constitution of unspoken pain... through the design of my environment from people to buildings barred windows, barred doors... our connecon is simply lost through metal bars ...space & time becoming a prisoner of my own conscience... 76 when stuck in survival,","the hidden gift of responsibility i frantically questioned why i\u2019ve been bestowed with... \u201cthe type of pain that makes grown men cry; the type of pain that makes you hate to live life\u201d the things you wished you could unlive... the things you wished you could just forget as an adult... 77","damaged in so many ways with metal dents to my armored heart it\u2019s hard to believe i\u2019ll ever be uncondionally loved because the naked eye opens up honestly to tell me that reciprocation in love won\u2019t come longing for the truth \u2013 a non-existent truth ...creating an alternative reality to unsee... but i\u2019m learning to love boundlessly with myself because love never fades like how smoke rises with me it molds and shapes for an embrace like how energy is neither created nor destroyed no matter the established distance and connection \u2013 \u201cabsence makes the heart fonder\u201d the heart will open up to bloom as love heals our soul\u2019s past wounds 78","365 Emotions: The Poetic nature of survival thirvance familiar cricket silence my childhood was characterized as a coyote walks alone under the city high-rises as passerby\u2019s eyes race a glance with daily forgone compassion... where can we find genuine care today in a world centered around condional dollars rather than smiles? have we simply forgotten care is pure love? i backtrack in rewind to find what\u2019s missing inside the hallway lockers i\u2019ve punched with steps backward in the recollections of elementary being fearful of loneliness \u201c...the only me we get to rest...\u201d but still asking, will the water wave come no more and not visit today? an afterefflect of trauma collections as avoidance or attachment... personality disorders dismissed as quietness in shyness... when it\u2019s my personal reality the innocence in puri left things unsaid and constantly pre-planning the expected worst a flawed strategy shielding nothing but a generaonal divide in place of protection rehearsing how a desert with no oasis imitates a lost cause of one\u2019s life 79","isnow when alone in solitude this loneliness likes to visit without notice... without warrant... not as a superpower but rather kryptonite to handcuff me to my pain to rearrange my day and the inside bone furniture of my brain bolstering the mental effects of s c ol i os with the opposing subtlees of depression that indenitely lays with me in bed as time wears on the sweater for unpredicted moody weather that drags the day long in a tainted overcast making it seem as if a choice was never granted before morning sunrises my body aches om the emotional arthritis to then disperse a mind fog knocking at the front window of my eyes hindering my sight by blanketing the beauful scenery within concealing the words to my emotions within the overused ziplock bag... a suppression of my own self-worth in depression by not saying a single word... speechless because opinions never existed in my mind at that time is it valid to feel these raw emotions i try to disguise? or am i not worth half a man like a slave to feel at any me? \u201csomemes i wish you knew, but i disguise the truth...\u201d ...my silence was my anger... 80","365 Emotions: The Poetic nature of survival thirvance dating these feelings like crumbling fossils that act as souvenir spectacles at the white gaze of exoticism a trigger to my past wounds as covid reminds i am alone one hundred percent of the time twenty-four-seven ...accompanied by air, water, and me will i learn to be fully comfortable cherishing all of me? truthfully, my own presence still frightens me frightened to live the seasons of life not alone but rather living a l o n e l y w o r l d a l l a l o n e . . . 81","it\u2019s difficult to fight for someone else\u2019s freedom 82","365 Emotions: The Poetic nature of survival thirvance life\u2019s repetition in heartbreaks the vintage panasonic television, a rugrats getaway om loneliness a small black box confining boundaries in solitary ...to restrict our views of a dystopia for an underwater rapture to drown in abyss where bloodthirsty vampire sharks consume the very souls of our people as i peripherally watched my parents work their bones to ashes the cremation jar of remembrance vanishes into the thick air leaving the caskets behind distant and foreign, but familiar ... i innately inherited the lower taste of a workaholic life hungover on me to not enjoy the slow-moon island vibes because every second to me feels like a lost dollar on a ripping penny string a nonchalant embracing of the toxicities embedded in producvity a dysfunctional time warp to think i\u2019ll soon be financially freed from the cages of capitalism 83","reality is that poverty will never leave the blood circulaon of memories reality is life doesn\u2019t slow down for us \u201creality is we all don\u2019t get to eat...\u201d what did we do wrong to be severely punished like this? does the punishment t the absence of crime? with no evidence, we\u2019re sll persecuted to be executed like being pulled over to be charged with death for dreaming when exposed through the side mirror, our index nger anxiously taps the steering wheel clock no wonder we occupy the overly sweaty mind by skipping touchstones at the water even when knowing you can\u2019t change a river\u2019s course by casting stones therefore, the taboos of my world as a teen leaves me in disbelief about how I got here am i a restone with a purple heart? a heart of stone as a \u201cbadge of honor\u201d eroding over me by the ocean\u2019s spit of harsh cricism to be forever deformed, weakening one\u2019s innate love especially when sleeping in an old prius parked on lavish hills... feeling \u201chomeless\u201d as a \u201ctransient\u201d on the backseat bed... as my body steam and sweat in the microwave of a heat island as an exploded bao i loiter on the streets of chinatown to downtown for the last bits of hopeless air ...feeling powerless... \u2018cause the tourism hides our pain... so i just ride the bus to forget and pass me running laps around the clock dialogue for pastime until work me ...no \u201cvictory laps\u201d in sight 84","365 Emotions: The Poetic nature of survival thirvance 85","the insidious shadows of pover at midnight lurk to haunt my presence past, present, future... a socially constructed label like adhesive tape annoyingly stamped and stuck on my skin as a tattooed number, a white man\u2019s approval bleaching and leeching away my natural melanin implanting an encrypted zip code that determines one\u2019s life to show where you live gets you stuck how one street can separate us as beings \u2013 making one rich and other poor... can you not hear my heart break? every me a bandage is put over a broken bone is an act of sincerely ignoring systemic pains we work endlessly below a thriving wage on cranked adrenaline while work consciously chooses to not love us back in a one-sided relationship the co-dependency on our jobs keeps us exploited forgetting it buys our salary, not our income making our work for another our only iden as it eats away what it means to live... a continuation of repeated mistakes to make me forget the true meaning of \u201crest\u201d 86","365 Emotions: The Poetic nature of survival thirvance thoughts in hibernation caught by the neck like a roasted duck that hangs us from the shambles of a system an abusive co-dependency dragging us deeper into the depths of poverty and shame hardly breathing beneath the des of sleepless nights we silently succumb to the loss of our rights waving a white flag in submission to defeat creang our e n d l e s s r o a d to no hope... no wonder we feel rigidly paralyzed like the debris of pebbles... ease these thoughts in hibernation using sleep to get away from our broken days... intergenerational blues that makes it feel like we can\u2019t live another day... 3 6 5 d a y s stretched out more than 10000 hours the rest of our life enveloped into an email for junk to be trashed making us live comfortably to feel a sense of peace in content training us to be this way so we don\u2019t demand for more... 87","a \u201cregular\u201d show of life living by default feeling secured at the plateau where fabricated dreams lounge we adopt it by force and inuence when living next door to joe #13 can we not wake up om this nigharish dream? of not reaching our maximum potential, but rather meeting only our baseline abilities instead of thinking twice about the duplications within and around ourselves we feed what society hungers... to be another person to another day with no criques to a system soon drying up with the dirt to be nothing more than an identical name to a person in another state, country, or me why do so many of us daydream our thoughts to hibernation? from one generation to the next... this is our intergenerational blues... 88","365 Emotions: The Poetic nature of survival thirvance stories through flavors agriculture redacted in the name of profit billion dollar industry, aligned agglomeration for exploitation coutinng the coins rather than crops with forced monoculture oligopoly with manufactured tentacles to pick-pocket my kind at the blind moment of harvest dating back to black slavery, indigenous just alike asian farm and slave work still unspoken to this day not a cultural problem with silence more like societal threats to keep us quiet 89","in our name, the calluses on my parent\u2019s hands never in a day righully compensated just a few bucks to baseball bat nuts out of an almond tree no luck with the home runs in the face of corporate catching mitts a day\u2019s worth meant only to walk home in fear along the pitch-black merced road the walk of shame knowingly defeated... worked on the farm, but sll food insecure \u2018cause blacklisted by food apartheid an opportunity drought in the middle of nowhere screaming no water a paradox of mistakes rethinking their southeast asian escape 5\u20192\u201d but life ain\u2019t short because live long with a dream for their story to be told through food but nevertheless demonized to then be exoed cause we feshized ironically used to racialize and beg for \u201cauthencity\u201d from mainstream trader joes erasing our family's recipes coupling us all up as model minori gurines upont and no front, draining us dead when food in abundance \u2014 a hoarding stock appreciation of only what\u2019s on the plate \u2014 doing a historical disremembrance forgetting the stories of survive to thrive \u2013 survivance in thrivance 90","my family food carries ancestral legacies and stories like nipsey\u2019s $100 mixtape can\u2019t disrespect the hustle in homemade culinary arts when changing the philosophy of life a higher taste for nancial revolution to acquire the money in return for me equity all flavors reveal the intersectionalities of race, gender, class, and more in one bite with all spices: hot, spicy, salty, sweet, sour, and everything just nice shifting the gears with a lemongrass stick for a backyard homegrown alternative economy blessing souls to experience a narrative by taste \u2014 opening your sixth sense for a third eye our labor of love through food goes unnoticed, unvalidated, uncompensated... how many times do we have to withstand the slashes of invalidaon to feel valid just once? is it true that it\u2019s a thousand cuts every day of a thousand years? give proper credit and respect where it\u2019s due not the food, but the people behind the scenes to give you a glimpse of our lives 91","especially when you consciously know you\u2019re not freed yet yourself... a thousand cuts every day of a thousand years? 92","365 Emotions: The Poetic nature of survival thirvance a taste of nostalgia pho... i remember the days i would s ll know how to play i remember the mes i could laugh and smile so easily no ont, no complica ons the love, the hate \u2026balanced like yin and yang asymmetrical des ned forever happiness ba, let\u2019s race we ran to the bus stop every morning before school... (older brother), let\u2019s wrestle like wwe! we bruised each other up un l one of us cried ...i cried\u2026 mommy, let\u2019s build sandcastles we made sandhills ready to get washed away overnight... 93","while acting as our savior even when making ends meet with the penny-filled piggies those ...those memories were my happiest of happiest moments as my mind reopens the photographic album i once closed on the streets my heart drowns in the emotions i once kept in a box ...silent as the butterflies fly free no worries, a simple way of life no pain tape-recorded to replay, relive, revive on repeat over and over again... 94","collage poetry notes 2: sorrow so i wonder how many mes will our beautiful stories be untold till this day? i see my family's tragic memories relived in mine the things you wished you could just forget as an adult... rehearsing how a desert with no oasis imitates a lost cause of one\u2019s life can you not hear my heart break? om one generation to the next...this is our intergenerational blues... the walk of shame knowingly defeated... a simple way of life 95","so what does freedom really look like to you vs. me? inner thoughts on paper 2: erased scars bleach what we endured bury the sins under rocks our past lives today 96","letter 3: unknown hurting (older daniel to younger daniel) dear daniel, it hurts me to see you in so much emotional pAin punching walls and breaking lights as a last resort to stay sane it hurts me, even more, to see you cover it up as if you\u2019re okay i see your diseMpowerment by muting your speech with nowhere to go... i don\u2019t blame you for these feelings of being so confused with anger all the me I just hope you will soon experience what joy is like on the other side ...the pure beauty of life my wish is to go back in me so i can be there for you at your worst as the role model you intutively 97","wanted for surVival but one of the most painful things we have to learn is to embrace being alone... just know i had similAr problems like you growing up ...so your struggle is not alone but i made it through the violence, the hate, everything the things you wished you could erase simpLy don\u2019t ever go away so I reflected om isolation to solitude for wisdom ...solitude for freedom and i know you\u2019re the same as the olD me sharing identical blood dna so let me share my deepest secret as wisdom for you to decode my confession to you To feel supported as you navigate your unknown hurting ...i\u2019ve almOst taken my own life with a belt around my neck ...i would have entered the next life... ...i would have hung and not gotten to meet those who truly love me i\u2019ve been there and lacked this guidance you seek know that i aM here for you and i care for you and it will all be okay... keep ghng to see what the future ahead holds for you in beauty because all rainy days have their sunshines promise mE... you\u2019ll make it through not by acting tough like a stage performance of plastic surgery but by acknowledging you lived a dicult life in your own way art...you\u2019ll make it through...alive thank you for existing because the world needs your unique gifts don\u2019t leave with them sll inside you, transplant them into reality sending forever love and peace, Daniel Luu the things you wished you could erase is guidance you seek AM I VALID TO ME 98","365 Emotions: The Poetic nature of survival thirvance Chapter 3 unpacking contradicting 99"]