SAY SOMETHING IF YOU’RE THERE
JOCELYN LYNN SUNG
It’s late. The quietness of the room should be soothing,
that the cold circle of tears pressing against my cheek is because
but without a bit of sound to focus on—a fan stirring up a gentle
of the wetness of my hair. I could convince myself that, in the
breeze, the tumbling of clothes in a dryer, or the ticking of a
distance, there are a pack of stray dogs howling at the moon,
clock—it’s difficult to fall asleep.
and I could fall asleep by focusing on that imaginary noise. In my
dreams, I could convince myself that I am anyone else anywhere
I’m extremely drained. I’ve now spent a majority of my
childhood moving from place to place, constantly having to adapt
else, and she has so much more going for her than I do.
to new surroundings and schedules. At ‘home,’ my mom boils
over with pent-up rage and stress, but that isn’t new; the jagged
way.
scar on my left elbow attests to that. My friends at school do
things that genuine friends would never do, let alone even con-
the ocean spreads its waves after they clash against the shore of
sider. They use Asian racial slurs to make inside jokes. One uses a
an empty beach. I don’t think I breathe, because if I breathe, that
neon-yellow highlighter to scribble all over the math homework
feeling will crumble. That feeling of searching, of reaching out, of
that I so meticulously wrote out, because there isn’t a printer in
hoping to sense that something or someone is there is as delicate
any of the boxes littered everywhere in our new apartment, if you
as a newly born fractal of snow. If I make a single wrong move, it’ll
can consider things like strange odors and cockroaches as ‘new.’
recoil like a stretched rubber band, stinging me before I even have
the time to react, and everything will be confirmed.
I spend each day dreaming of the better things that my
Instead of doing any of that, I lie to myself in another I stretch my conscience out. I spread it thin like the way
future has to hold for me because not only is there only so much
that I, a fourteen-year-old girl, can take without having anyone
answer and received one so immediately or so obviously, then
to count on, but if the universe has so cruelly cheated me of a
I’m sure some sort of divine being, whether it be God or not, has
kind beginning, it can’t possibly cheat me of a good ending, too.
to have some sort of compassion for me and everything that
Right?
I’ve been through. Maybe then I could finally find something to
Those thoughts wander through my mind as I lie in
If so many people of faith claim to have prayed for an
believe in.
bed. The moon is full tonight, and its round face peers into my
Are you there?
bedroom through the window. It chases away the darkness and
To someone else, those words are simple and bland.
makes it flee into the unsettling black of the closet. I’m sure that
To me, I have poured every ounce of myself into them. There’s a
if I turned, I could see my younger brother’s sleeping silhouette as
deep pressure inside my heart that attests to that.
he dreams of nonsensical, light-hearted things; instead, I’m facing
the wall, curled up with my knees tucked against my chest and
answer.
In that quiet, moonlit room, I lie still, waiting for an
my hands gathering folds of my blanket underneath my chin.
My damp hair lies behind me spread out over my pillow.
If I tried my best to lie to myself, I could probably convince myself
2021 RED MESA REVIEW | 62
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