Month: September 2021

Never far from a hospital

Reading Time: 8 minutes Writing this from a wobbly-as-shit Ikea desk (because the pre-drilled holes aren’t deep enough / the screws are too long), in a shiny-musky new studio-ish apartment (the kitchen is at least in a separate area) with no overhead lighting––illuminated only by a bright streetlight shining through the gaps of my blinds that face a parking lot. I realized that my parents have no longer seen every space I’ve lived in despite having nursed the roof that held us over Manila monsoons. In the last place I stayed in for three-and-so weeks (but not really since I was mostly away from New Haven), the blinds were broken and let everyone peer in, eight different people shuffled in and out of the house, food (even if labeled ever so delicately) was thrown out every two days, and more cracks than floor followed you down to the basement––where a mound of bleach spilled itself onto open concrete. Nothing is more me than disgusting materiality. I realized that as someone who spends nearly all of their time inside, I …