16
LITERARY
The Virtual l a u t r i V e h T l e r g n o MMongrel By Jennica Lianne
It’s 2021, and we’re still in the middle of this Coronavirus pandemic. “Damn,” I thought. “I guess this is what some inmates feel like when they’re serving their time for a crime they didn’t do.” But enough of my whining. Just between you and me, let me introduce myself. I'm Macy Xiu. Yes, as my name implies, I'm of oriental descent. I'm Filipino-Chinese, 18, and barely hanging in there, to say the least. I've always thought moving back to the Philippines after living in China for so long would be such a bad idea. I never really believed in my Filipina mother's long-standing philosophy of "Filipinos stick together beyond the family tree." Ambivert instinct, I guess. For those who didn't know, or somehow forgotten, in most parts of the world, such as the Philippines, people blamed the Chinese for spreading the Coronavirus back in early 2020. Numerous posts on social media would bring my race down to the lowest of the low. And as my freshman year at university was about to begin for me in my mother's homeland, I already knew what to expect. I guess I had face masks and face shields to thank during the enrollment period, having to sign up for all of my classes while being barely noticed. "It would've been better back in Guangzhou," I thought to myself. Really, people back there wouldn't care what they thought of me without me ever having to hide who I was. And that, to me, spoke about the "Beyond Family Tree" philosophy better than anyone else could. Weeks passed, and regular virtual classes were starting. I'm not at all happy in any way about this pandemic and all the academic adjustments everyone has to make. Still, if there was anything I was grateful for, it was the fact that students could either turn on their cameras or not, depending on the circumstances. Mine could allow me to. But suppose anyone finds out about my identity. In that case, I might just put up an online business until I could earn enough for the next flight back to China without my parents knowing. “Macy? What can you say about the Great Depression?” I heard my professor speak into her microphone. "Fake it till you make it" would have to be the most cliché yet most applicable mantra for my life while I'm here. I would have to blend in with the other kids who don't have stable internet connections and type in my answer to my professors' questions. I just couldn't let my whole being get out into the open. Why can’t I just let myself be me? It's harder to make friends; it's harder to make impressions. It's harder to speak; it's harder to breathe. Everything, just everything, is more compli-
I Am To My Méabh I am the rain to my sun The thing that I wish to come When everything is burning When everything is too much Rain that washes everything Rain that soothes the burning Rain that covers the sun Rain that calms the sundown I am the star to my moon The thing that I long to see When a part of the light is covered When clouds scatter at night Star that illuminates the sky Star that makes the sky prettier Star that creates fate Star that stays by the moon I am the melody to my lyrics The thing that paints my time When everything is bland When everything is muted Melody that gives color Melody that inspires Melody that amplifies emotions Melody that intertwines with lyrics I am the film to my video The thing that lets me see When I am lost in the void When I can't seem to find something Film that decorates space Film that holds memories Film that stores emotions Film that carries a lifetime
cated when you're not one of them. And in my case, I'm not entirely one of them. I stare into my Meet Icon. Just a plain letter M, for Macy. And M, for Mongrel, a word I remember from a book I read. Someone of mixed descent. It's a word that may sound fascinating to people unfamiliar with this term but trust me, it summarizes everything else that's going on, other than a multi-variant disease. It reflects the people who have been discriminated against for their race. Those who have felt like me, afraid and abashed to reveal who they are to the rest of the world, are a manifestation of two different worlds molded into a single person. You might want to know what I look like, huh? Would you really want to get to know someone like me? Please. People like you make your own pandemic. So what do I do? Isolate.
1371 Ashley Russel S. Baysa
The nooks and crannies of what I see have never felt so the same, Yet the wind still roars as it marches forth— a loving breeze I cannot tame; Only when it was quiet— it knocked on my door, And when it called— need I say more?— “The mailman doesn’t come here anymore.” With intent, I stared at what it left. Nothing— it left nothing, But something was there The heavyweight of thought— luggage no tin man can bear; But steel does not suffer, steel cannot feel— Steel cannot heal, and yet it is there; it is real.
PACE By ZAKI
I am the album to my photo The thing that stops time When something seems missing When something needs to be filled
Lest coming the day, I forget the times my soul grew weary Then grab ahold of what I've left, and whisper not an elegy Elegantly, fare me with what's passed that was once dead to me Aid me in making peace with my beautiful, dark, twisted fantasies.
Album that clasps relationships Album that grasps ties Album that bears souvenirs Album holds onto the past
And maybe then will I see; I would not have done anything differently If it was another choice, it could never amount to a difference All that I have become is nearing me such a distance In sinking it all in love, those days I once believed were my deep ends.
I am the protagonist to my antagonist The one that always gets in my way When I am close to breaking down When I am about to go Protagonist that imprisons me Protagonist that smiles at me Protagonist that changed me Protagonist that turned me into a lead
Days I was bleeding sugar, days I asked for the stars Were days I’d stayed too far, days I laughed with scars Days I didn’t care at all for who and what you are Maybe so I won’t forget, I’ll keep those days in a jar.
I am the universe to my earth The thing that makes me live When everything seems like a blur When everything is confusing Universe that gives hope Universe that continues to expand Universe that is full of discoveries Universe that holds the earth
As for when I was troubled, I was with a smile. For when the time was wasted, it felt seemingly worthwhile Because for what was, was what held me up today For what I did before, life stopped feeling the same. Only now do I understand; you're the one I call for power You, strolling beside me in my deepest and darkest hours Nothing can stand against me, just as long as I remember Everything that had happened will free me from disaster This is an ode not to whom but to a moment in history A blissful bittersweet bloom of times before was ecstasy Now to torment all of that would then call for the end of me In facing tomorrow that is today, I will fight along with my memory.
