just twelve feathers

Was in the process of transcribing some stuff from an old notebook into a new sketchbook, because goodness knows i need something to get that sketchbook dirty so I’m not afraid to mess around in it.

Found some stuff from the last year (possibly last quarter?) of college. All written in red ink. My, I was angry.

…words in red slashes across serenely symmetrical white-and-blue paper, emboldened by a green felt tip pen when the words would no longer stay captive in your chest.

See? Angry. I still remember why. But it seems so far away, now. And embarrassing, to put on a public forum.

Oh well.

In chronological order, but with omissions:


Piano music is the best. Well, except piano and cello. That’s the best best. Deep and rich and burgundy, and a tinkling of ivory keys.

You alawys thought it was funny, that I played the cello. It’s almost bigger than you, when you play, you would tease. It’s louder than you too.

Which was definitely true. You used to say I had the vocal volume of a fairy. And a grove of fairies, when I was feeling talkative.


Take me away from here, you whisper. It’s not nearly loud enough for him to hear, but the littlest star, who is your friend, carries it far enough for you. And then he is on your windowsill, almost in the next instant.

What’s wrong?

Take me away from here, you say again. Take me away, Peter.

He gathers you up in his arms obligingly, as if you weighed naught but twelve feathers put together.

Where to?

It would be cliched to say Anywhere, or Neverland, but you say it anyway, a mixture of the two that comes out sounding like Neverwhere.

But you say it anyway. It’s your last breath and you’ll say whatever you damn well like, thank you very much.


She locked herself in the bathroom. Cool tiles, marble sink, gold-gilded mirrors. Turn on the light. Bathroom flooded in intensity. Too bad you’re not using the acoustics now, bitch. Look at yourself in the mirror. Look. Look. Look at your watery eyes and puffy skin and red nose. Look at all that goddamn liquid, dripping from your eyes and nose. God, how unbecoming.

Look at how ugly you are.

Look, and revel in it.



ok that’s all!

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One thought on “just twelve feathers

  1. Sharon Yi says:

    I LOVE THE CELLO and piano <3 the best best! If I can learn an instrument it would be cello. Man I feel like I ruined my childhood.

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