Suki Kim

Look what you’ve done, look what you’ve been left with, look what you are, is this what you wanted?

The thing about newer friends is that they have so little reference. You might give them the synopsis of the life you’ve led up until the point when they met you. But it doesn’t quite sink in, not really. How could it? Your past is only a story for them.

The survival has nothing to do with your brain. It’s about who has the thicker skin. It’s about shedding all the ethics and righteousness that we learned in college. It’s about the resilience of your needs and fulfilling them even if it costs all your moral conviction.

You never know what they are thinking. You can never be sure which side they are on.

Nostalgia is a powerful thing, even when made up.

How is it that you could go on fine without what had once been so essential, that you haven’t even been aware of its absence? How is it then you could declare, without hesitation, that it is your favorite? Shouldn’t love require more? Isn’t love a responsibility?

It is not death that makes her squirm, but a death with no witness, a death with no explanation.

Strange how long it takes to know a person. Yet somehow reassuring that a person could have so many secrets.