"So I was being raised by two people who were exiles,
effectively exiles from their country. And I found that
there was a lot that was not discussed. So it was that
which I described in another way in my novella Hunger,
you know, like there's this hole in the house. There's a giant hole
in the house. It’s like a black hole that things go into
and they don't come out of. So there is a lot going on that isn't discussed."
–LAN SAMANTHA CHANG
INNER CITY STORIES
The loss of a person you care for,
Is like the loss of some part of yourself.
The pain that it causes
Will scar you forever.
The casual words,
“I don’t care,” create a sentence of lies.
The lack of understanding as to how
To get them back is enough to cause insanity.
The tears you low-key shed,
Are for the words, “I’ll never leave you.”
The thought, “What have I done?”
Constantly crosses your mind.
The words, “Please don’t leave me,” and, “I won’t”
You realize were just a phase,
Because in the end, we all go our own way.
So we blame everybody else,
But that’s just to get over it.
So now we, quote/unquote, “Move on,”
But that’s close to an impossible notion.
We try to act as if that person never existed,
But we know they can never be erased.
Now we have another hole in our souls to face,
Though these types of holes can never be effaced.
Take a breath, deep and slow.
Feel the air whistle through your holes,
For we all have them, as everyone knows.