42 NIGHTS OF FOG & NO SLEEP

I was ten years old when I started to walk to school in the morning by myself. These mornings I'd wake up early to eat breakfast, watch my morning cartoons and clothed myself for the whole day. And those mornings were the mornings I felt the most excited about.

Because those mornings I was alone. I didn't talk to anybody, I didn't see anybody, I was alone... alone for a couple of hours until school started. Those mornings, I could remember, were foggy which were probably the mornings I cherished the most. They were reminders that I'm a loner with little friends. I made friends, sure, but not the kind of friends I could talk about personal things.

And those foggy mornings I would sit on the bench and look. Feel. Drift away. Thinking about it now I've always had this thought of death. How I would one day pass away with no reasons. These were my thoughts at the age of 10. Perhaps this must be the thing that set me apart from other kids. And maybe away from my family.

I could remember thinking that life wasn't going to be good for me the next few years. Because those next few years would compile a reputation of getting ass beatings, rumors of my troubles, and of white people who have questioned ridiculous asian customs that I wasn't aware of at the time.

I'm 29 and still feel like that 10 year old who walked to school in the morning alone with no one to talk to and no one to share certain things to his friends and family. Because being alone is all I know and I'm sure that will like this for the rest of my life.