by Ang Kia Yee

I must admit this before I lose clarity again: which is that I am actually quite wobbly right now. I am grieving again, the grief in the same vein as what I felt last year. I cannot not feel India from here, I cannot not grieve the Noel Clarke revelations, my rage makes me leave my body. I am also grieving the small deaths within, the closure of possibilities, the coming to terms with loss. And my instinct and ability to suppress all of this is strong.

I sensed something was up from the stability I was feeling, which felt too smooth, almost unconscious. I felt things rising up to easily disrupt this calm, which I quickly worked on dissipating in my mind. I have been conscious that I’ve been pretending on some level, gliding my life across the surface of something difficult.