Dear beautiful reader,

Happy 2025! It’s official— we’re living in the future!

For me, the most exciting thing I’m celebrating is that after a year of this project, I’ve successfully written an entire manuscript (loose skeleton) of my memoir! Since a memoir is typically 70,000 words, I unknowingly tackled that challenge, month by month, and have well over that. It’s now just about editing and piecing it altogether. So thank you for being a part of that journey!

It’s funny— when I picked up my pen for the first time in over a decade last year, invigorated by the rush of reading The Artist’s Way, I started with little poems because despite primarily reading only non-fiction, memoir writing seemed wildly daunting and intimidating to me. But now, after a year, I know how I like to write stories about my life (more like channel from a Divine portal because it just comes pouring out of me, the memories, the dialogue, etc.)

But for the last couple of months, my heart has had the desire to return to poetry writing, to master it, but have been soooooo in my head about it:

“Is this terrible?”
“God I fucking suck”
“Man, does it sound like a nursery rhyme?” (I’m still a sucker for poetry that rhymes lol)
“Just stick to memoir writing!!!”

I walked into a Von’s while spiraling with these thoughts— I almost relented in deciding on going back to writing a story for this month— when I glanced to my right and saw the words: “Poetry in bloom” out of the corner of my eye.

A sign. Right in the Von’s floral section.

So here I am, writing some damn poetry!! It’s definitely a challenge for me, I’m a wobbly little fawn, but the more that I practice this art form, the better I’ll get. Thus I present you to a collection of poems: some new poems and some old poems that I wrote on my writing Instagram account before I even started this project, in case you haven’t seen them.

Mucho luv and hugs!!!!!!
Amy

Daughter of the Desert

Clunkiest of hardwares, violently rusted too,
“This is why I wanted to abort you from the beginning!”
undone burgundy stitching,
“I hate you!”
nothing but frayed edges,
“You’re so selfish”

gaping holes, broken sole—
Just barely, 
my leather hiking boots dragged through the glass shards
of the Coastal Atacama Desert
Together, my trusty boots and I weathered 
every storm since birth

When I was a little girl,
I marveled at all the plants,
cosmic cacti,
yawning, yearning Yuccas.
I looked to them to teach me,
to bestow upon me, too,
the gift, the skill to build a thick, waxy coating
all over my skin
since I was made too fragile—
blistered all the way up and down
from contentious, long days in the sun

Oh, what a silly, human thing
of me
to be

So I eventually learned to 
preserve the water inside of me
Born on the eleventh of February,
I came to be the Water Bearer

Master of survivals, my plant friends were…
but I refused to turn nocturnal,
to hide from all that which I love,
being of the desert might have burned me
but it made me a heliophile, too.

A camel, in my teen years,
without water for long periods of time
or storing fat to metabolize as needed.
Binged on the greasiest of fries and
everything in sight
Then restricted myself from every morsel
just like the habitat
I came from

But the desert,
when she was happy and kind,
oh, it was the most starriest of nights…
I’d point to all the constellations
“She looks so pretty here”
“I love it when she shines so bright”

There were days when temperate
that I cherished the most
A modest level of heat,
safe to adventure out,
and no teeth-chattering freezing 
underneath the sheets

Not to mention—
the most stunning silence you could never know,
like invisible perfect rhythm to
her own special inaudible incantation

Of course, when she rained, she poured
and yet knew nothing of her power to
bring a superbloom the next day
Even the tiniest rainfall could sprout
the most florescent pinks, purples, and yellows
the next day
Brought upon us flower species unique only 
to the Atacama Desert

It was her superpower

Roses were her favorite
So I remembered them every Mother’s Day.

Aging

Big toothy grin, fuzzy red pajamas,
waking up on Christmas morning…
but then 
it’s already time to turn the lights out

Sigh, have to wait a whole year again

Thawing your favorite meal in excitement
then a zombie-like foggy amnesia,
induced by a 9-to-5 slow death,
creeps in,
accidentally too rotten to eat,
a familiar wailing sorrow 
compounded by a raging hunger

I guess… I’ll just
DoorDash again?

The best hole-in-the-wall spot for pupusas
chased out of town by
the construction of an ugly Amazon Fresh
Hm…
Maybe these frozen ones will do?
They just aren’t the same
They just aren’t the same

It’s
gentrification of the soul

Oh— so this is what aging feels like

Eatin’ birthday cake on a Wednesday
Benihana alone just ‘cause I wanna
Sure, inflation sucks
but now I can afford the drink 
that costs the extra four bucks

Leave all my clothes on the floor
for a deplorable amount of time
Cuddle with an earth angel 
disguised as a black fluffy canine
until the end of time—
at least until noon
Munch on all the skin on my fried chicken
and never make my king-sized bed

Mama, she never learned how to swim
for fear of drowning
But now I go surfing
on Sundays with my saint-like friends

Oh! So this is what aging feels like

Open the mailbox,
once a portal of magic and delight,
now I close it back up, save the bills for another day—
huh, man, thought I signed up for
those electronic statements?

Apparently youth is wasted on the young,
but I think adulthood is the present
being so frivolously wasted 
on the past and future

Go to Halmoni’s up north every Christmas
We the youngins always had to do the family talent show
for all the aunts and uncles
Best dancer wins twenty bucks
“Hey, you guys, maybe I could buy us some Hot Cheetohs fries
at the local 7-11!”

Then all of us eventually graduate—
It’s just Umma, Appah, Opah and me
in Palm Springs in my early twenties
Dad and his blinding yellow t-shirt tan,
loves to don his Santa hat
while floating in the pool
Our gingerbread houses keep falling down from
the lack of moisturized icing
The innocuous passage of time
marked by all the lines 
on Mom and Dad’s faces

Then Elysia comes and joins and gifts us 
the existence of candidly captivating Conan boy
Napkins, water, some honey?
What else do you need?
Blueberries are his favorite food
Wobbly little fawn,
he fell down and hit the screen door
He has my brother’s teddy bear cheeks, 
his entire face turned so red

And now my older brother hosts the talent shows,
soothes baby Conan's wounds…
With my tattooed ink burning in the heat,
right before my eyes,
I’ve suddenly become the “cool aunty,”
or so they say—
maybe just the eccentric one who’s
always talking about the moon—
I shout from my Malibu Barbie
top-down convertible dream,
picking him up after school
on this scorching hot afternoon

“Hey, kid, so this is what aging feels like!”

What I Got for Christmas Haul

On this day where Jesus was born, 
I got ready with me in a modern farmhouse aesthetic penitentiary
Quickly stuff yesterday’s clutter into an out-of-frame corner
and on my tippy toes plastically zip myself back into my perfectly framed pink box:

Hey guys, welcome back to my channel 
Disclaimer— I’m really not trying to brag, you guys
I am so grateful for everything so this is what I got for Christmas:

Cozy new SKIMs
Lululemon leggings
Amazon jacket 
Amazon crop top
Amazon earrings
A higher dosage of Zoloft
50 milligrams this time
Gucci loafers— oh, really loved these, you guys
Baby blue quilted Chanel bag, eep!!
New bedazzled treadmill to run on

And my sister, she got me this certificate for more botox
Isn’t that so thoughtful? Since I’ve been thinking twenty-seven’s
looking pretty geriatric

Oh I did see Kylie Jenner wear these, I’ll leave the link down below
10% more off with my affiliate code, ugh so lucky to collect those pennies from Bezos
Double tap, heart eye emoji
I’m obsessed with this secondhand opinions molded chokehold

I’m so grateful for you guys, I would be nothing without you guys
I am worthless without you guys, I deserve nothing, really, you guys
I really am so grateful, you guys
Seriously, you guys

Be sure to comment down below to tell me what you wanna see next
Honestly this is totally the childhood dream
In the icy glare of a dimly-lit phone screen
at 2AM, 
it’s overconsumption that
poses as a panacea for all my
sponsored, IKEA-Alex-Drawer-sized self-esteem 
and gnawing, repressed existential dread,
made possible by two-day shipping
and yet this chronic neck pain searches for life’s meaning desperately
via a meretricious TikTok screen

Rhode Pocket Blush and Charlotte Tilbury ‘Pillow Talk’…
Even a mountain of PR— my childhood, lower-middle-class self 
would be so disheartened to see—
does nothing to fill the bottomless void 
in my heart

Okay, please remember to ‘like,’ comment, and subscribe
Um, ew no I look so ugly, sorry I was looking at myself in the viewfinder
I apologize for my broken nail, ugh I don’t like it either
Again, I really am so grateful! Because without the views
I mean y-you guys, I am pretty fuckin’ worthless

In fact, except maybe to my therapist, it’s practically impossible to admit
the second I push that button to stop recording at the end of the day,
it’s just me and this inescapable feeling 
of being

a glorified 

whore 

on a 

billboard

in between all these manic video timelines
on a self-imposed Truman show

Ok bye, subscribe, you guys!! ❤️

Justin Bieber

In an intimate ceremony on a Saturday,
amongst green ivy and quiet, close friends,
you married your melancholy.
And I gentle parented and caressed mine
in a chilly psychologist’s office
when I turned twenty-five.

Older poems…

Viciously insecure
Self-esteem so in debt they’ll rob you too

Dessicated people-pleaser
Countless acts of service, the only IV drip

One learned to stomp and yell and cry
The other, to give up the last bite and die

Love-making in a ditch
What a beautiful marriage

Reeks of alcohol
Chain and ball
Heroin and addict
They take each other like a hit

—Codependent and Anemic

When I meet strangers these days,
I show them my battle wounds, beaming, as though to say, 
Do you wish to see my large collection of battle prizes?
From the bloodshed, here's the strength I drew 
Truthfully though, I say, I was not sure I'd make it out alive

This one is from the mountains when I drove alone, 
a soldier begrudgingly carrying the weight of two 
This one here from all the low jabs, the petty names being called 
and all the chairs being thrown at walls

Wounded in the sacrum, I speak of the chlamydia I caught, 
losing at a game of an eye-for-an-eye
I tell them tales of late night calls of threats of suicide, 
feeling as though my existence reduced to a crisis text line

Of being made to feel so worthless as a mere option 
between a young girl whose innocence you recklessly took
She so desperately begged me to let you go
When it had already been many months that you had been let off the hook 
Of the last and final blockade, where I screamed,
"Please, if you love me, you'd let me leave!”

Of the time I should've laid down my gun and waved a white flag,
instead of ignorantly dismissing your migrant pain
Like a stupid politician, I projected my own unresolved self-disgust 
as a matter of woke-ness
When, across the sea, your eastern homeland had become besieged, 
while the land of opportunity welcomed you with arms wide open 

Those nights where I stayed awake, in a stalemate, processing my shame
Of the disagreements where I cried in front of a gentle man 
who fought on the same side and never once dared to raise his voice 
Though in fear that he would and repeat my past
Of the day when my shackles finally began to loosen 
when my therapist had diagnosed me with PTSD and severe anxiety
Back then you had cursed and said that I was not a victim 
but Dr. Kim and the DSM would argue otherwise
To hear her words, in session, I had never sobbed so uncontrollably

Maybe I should've never involved a third party 
in hopes of taking my power back
But you should've never sent her to do your dirty work 
Swimming through a tsunami of anger, resentment, and pain 
I sat each week in a cold psychologist's office for three years 
Despite my fear of getting drowned in it all over again

After six long years, I finally laid my head to rest 
Though I've now released the heaviness
And my forgiveness, for both you and me, has come, 
Understanding it was a cycle of pain of many generations past, 
And how I, too, played a hand in the violence of it all

Though the hurt and suffering are now mostly gone, 
When I speak of you these days to strangers I meet, 
Your name remains "my Shitty Abusive Ex" 
And I call my ex-boyfriend "John" 
I am now a retired veteran, 
with the battle finally won

— truthtelling

I paint and write and strum on my guitar
Skip and dash and travel all over the globe
Show my Korean ancestors the pleasure of a tasty tlayuda
Share a joint and hear stories untold
Under the warm buzz and laughter
with some strangers at a coffeeshop in Amsterdam

I allow myself to nap and rest and play in the middle of the day
and shed myself of centuries-old conditioned guilt and shame
for those whose bodies only knew of hard labor and decay

I process my traumas with a therapist on Wednesdays at 3pm
to face what my mother and father would condemn
The disease to please— passed on in our lineage for centuries
But, here and now, I decided it would end with me

After every heart break, I take a risk and open up some more
After every betrayal, I still seek new ones to befriend
After every loss, I hurt and cry and grieve and mourn
For every ancestor who turned their heart cold and decided to keep score
For every ancestor who settled for a love and life that made them miserable
For every ancestor who saw life as nothing more than a battlefield at war

I stand, shaking, on the edge of a cliff and dare to take a leap of faith
Believe in a Higher Source to take me to my divinely ordained destiny
for every father, mother, uncle, cousin, sister, brother, lover that
succumbed to the negative voices,
abandoned their hopes and dreams,
and instead went on to keep up with Joneses

I also stand on the shoulders of those who came before me
A stadium of ancestors whose spiritual bodies carry and applaud me
on this 3D plane during every hardship and difficulty from which I may heavily bleed,
For it is I, an amalgamation of their traumas and dreams past,
but also
their strength, tenacity, and love
All packaged in one...
‘I come as one but stand as 10,000’
Ms. Angelou got it right
And so—
I stay fighting the good fight!

Because haven’t you heard
you are the rock star
your ancestors have been waiting for?

—Rock Star

If I’m the problem,
You won’t be shit talking me
to all your half-assed friends who just never meet your needs

If I’m the problem,
You won’t be having flashbacks of the mornings 
you screamed venom at me on our way to Barry’s

If I’m the problem,
You won’t be searching for me in every self-help book you read,
in every healing person you meet

If I’m the problem,
I wouldn’t always immediately take all the blame,
profusely apologize and fill my body with all this shame

If I’m the problem,
You won’t look back on all your regrets one day
You won’t be asking everyone why it is that I left

If I’m the problem,
My absence won’t be leaving you lonely and bereft
And, finally, with kindness, treating the only friends you have left

If I’m the problem,
Staring at your own reflection in the mirror should be a total breeze

If I’m the problem,
When I leave, surely you’ll be in much better company

If I’m the problem,
When I leave, the flowers won’t return back to life in technicolor
My laughter won’t have so much authentic pleasure
My energy regained 10x better than ever

Won’t have myself thinking, 
“how could I have ever imagined, us—together forever?”

If I’m the problem,
When I leave, you won’t be having haunting dreams of me, as I sleep peacefully

If I’m the problem,
Surely you won’t miss me at all when I’m long gone

I guess, the only problem is,
If I’m speaking honestly,
Without you, I’m doing quite magnificently

—Accountability

I first dated a child for a year
He left with me a love for his favorite food, 
stuffed crust pizza
Excessive amounts of dairy
just like the promises to change
that he spoon-fed me
A food so greasy and delicious in its first few bites
But then leaves you nauseous and lethargic towards the end
The same way our 11 months did

I could pretend that I still love him
just to watch him boomerang
and destroy his white-picket-fence life,
and inflict the same type of petty pain

But he is so lucky that
I’m not seeking revenge,
I’m
only 
seeking 
happiness.

I then found a boy for two 
I left with him a love for colored hair
Nearly blinded him with the neon lights of my soul
But even the most joyous of raves could not lighten up 
the dark gray clouds that hung over his head

I could pretend that I still love him 
just to see the lights flicker once more,
and ignite a sense of false hope,
and ignore that I deserve more
but he is so lucky that
I know my worth now,
because he 
somehow
always 
did.

Now here I am, 
with a man for the end of time,
by my side,
because he finds 
my beauty in truth and my truth as beauty

We climb mountains and move them too
Not two halves,
incomplete until we meet,
but rather
two doves in the sky, 
with the freedom to independently fly,
yet make a conscious choice to each other
to soar through life together.

—love is a journey

Farewell

Light dims, curtains close, what a spectacular show
The audience claps, no need for a standing ovation though
All the scenes of my life, they only require the space for silence
Parting ways with another version of who I once was
Because what am I, if not, a phoenix?

Another few several storms to clear the path
Before it all changes, I’d like to lie here for a bit in the wreckage
Pick up and examine all the broken pieces on my old self’s behalf
Say one last beautiful farewell to the last few years 
After all, I took my love and I had to take it down
Though, I never thought I’d be so damn grateful for all these tears 

A fond adieu to the child that I once was
Who sought love in the external validation from a few Internet ‘likes’
and stayed trapped in the one dimension of her influencer life
and let her family perennially drain her of her color and vitality
all because she knew they wrestled with those ugly monsters, depression and anxiety
as if she, herself, did not continuously bleed internally

Farewell to the girl that I once was
Who took a good beating in exchange for no substance but some good looks 
and always sought friends in those who turned out to be only petty thieves and crooks
and then stuffed her feelings down with one last gnarly late night binge behind closed doors,
only to wake the next and remind herself to starve once more

Farewell to the woman that I once was
Healing and dying in her own loneliness
Carrying the weight of a cycle-breaker
Saying goodbye to her best friend, who she will always love
Despite the hurt and ignorance, she knows she never wanted to become a taker

They say it’s always darkest before the dawn
My life a store-closing sale, “EVERYTHING MUST GO!” the sign reads.
Take the mannequins, furniture, and even lighting fixtures
Take it all because I know, to this new life, they can’t come with me
Even ending four years with my beloved therapist
Dr. Kim wishes me well, knows my decision is ultimately for the best

So now here I am, in this liminal space, somewhere between the old and the new
In my Sunday’s best, twiddling my thumbs in God’s waiting room
Here is my last farewell to all that once was
Thanks for the memories, some of them were truly great
Onto the next show and onto my fate