Immaculate Conception

by Ling Ling Huang

I find myself missing my parents and wishing I had been able to accept the life they had offered me. Instead, I offered them mine, and lost them to it.

a deep poverty of control.

Being seen forces me to see myself, and I break under the weight of my gaze. The depravity of what I’ve done sinks in more, every day, until I have no choice but to accept myself as the monster I am.

To me, she was the moon, and I, the tide, alternately lapping at her bright milky feet and receding toward the dark shore.

Really, it was love that has always made me my best. It has been my love for her that has most fulfilled, most fed me.

Immaculate Conception is also a book about jealousy, which has been a source of much shame and growth in my life. I am thankful for the many lessons it has taught me.