Days of Distraction

by Alexandra Chang

“This is one of those rare moments when I think having a boyfriend could be fun and nice,” says Jasmine. “But it doesn’t take long to remember, oh yeah, men are terrible.

You’re how old now? Twenty-five, right, but twenty-six according to Chinese lunar year, which means you’re twenty-seven soon, so almost thirty.

The three of us spend the night doing what comes as naturally as breathing: complaining about our jobs.

What one carries from one point to another, geographically or temporally, is one’s self. Even the most inconsistent person is consistently himself.

I fell asleep fantasizing about what life would have been like somewhere else.

What greater loneliness and longing is there than living with someone you once knew so well, and who is now hardly around?

Invisibility can be protective and advantageous—like the animals that camouflage themselves to hunt or hide.

There is nothing like you, there was nothing like you, and there shall be nothing like you.

“Life is too short to bother much over men anyway. I’m all for myself when it comes to love matches,