Where I’m From


Phillip Gan, Staff Writer

I am from monotonous mornings of wonton soup

Before rushing to school,

Eyes half-open and mind half awake.

I am from built up stress due to procrastination,

The history project due in less than twelve hours

With only half completed… Again.


I am from countless deep nights of reading, reading, and reading

In awe at the adventures of Harry Potter

Or held in suspense by Hercule Poirot.

I am from the soothing weekends of swimming,

(although I am not very good at it)

Cooling and calming down

While my limbs and lungs

Push themselves to the limit.


I am from tense online chess games,

Cautiously placing my knight on G5

And anticipating my opponent’s move.

I am from my excitement of hearing the

Rarely-played ABBA on KOST 103.5,

Singing along perfectly to “Dancing Queen.”


I am from random lazy Sundays,

Eating instant noodles for breakfast,

Taking a two hour nap at one thirty

With my “cow” cat purring beside me.

I am from annual summer breaks,

Filled with mind-frying math puzzles

To rock-hard red bean popsicles.


I am from my dark poetry, occasionally inspired

When the little bottle of emotions inside me shatters

And all feelings burst outward.

I am from wonderful pessimism,

Fabulously negative thinking,

“Never good enough.”


The piano book lies open on the music rack,

A student playing Chopin’s Etude Opus 10, Number 12, Revolutionary.

Each note a memory, tumbling into the next, arpeggios of beautiful bitterness.

The minor scale suddenly falls apart and he pauses,

but his hands replay the measure, slower.

Nearing the end, the piece begins to quiet and soften,

And on the final line, the chromatic plunges, and ends with a set of grand chords.


Photo courtesy of UNSPLASH.COM