Yolk

by Mary H.K. Choi

“Your place is nice. That’s how I guess you know you’ve made it, right? When nothing’s IKEA.”

I find that the more I hide, the more presentable I am to the world.

I know that attending college is like praying to God. It’s not that you believe in it; you do it just in case. Because other people are.

There’s nothing more humiliating than trying so hard for everyone to see and still ending up a loser.

There’s this whole theory that younger siblings are spoiled. That we’re enfeebled from all the mollycoddling. Soft. That by the time it was our turn to rebel, our parents had already given up. I disagree with this wholly. It’s firstborns who can’t take no for an answer. Youngest kids have iron constitutions. Hardy hides from lifetimes of rejection.

“I’m smart in ways that make me stupid in others.

The totality of death is inconceivable. It’s intolerable that you’re completely, utterly, irrefutably alive, filled up with decades of inside jokes, goofy facial expressions, all the love of your family, and then not.

Sometimes the female gaze is just as systemically toxic the way it postures as provocation.

Sisters never stand a chance to be friends. We’re pitted against each other from the moment we’re born. A daughter is a treasure. Two is a tax.

Everyone else’s need to be seen is embarrassing to me because I so badly need the same.

God, he probably remembers to drink water throughout the day or something annoying.

All I could think was how I didn’t want a friend who was anything like me. I have enough of me to go around.

It’s crazy how lonely it is to be in a family.

There’s that Maya Angelou quote how people will forget what you said, people will forget what you did, but people will never forget how you made them feel.

Mom’s love language is to scrutinize and criticize all the physical attributes that you’re most sensitive about.

“Because being in a family is about doing shit you don’t want to for the benefit of other people,” she says. “Mom and Dad sacrificed everything for us, and they want the stupidest, basic shit in return.”

“Every time someone hurts you, you find a way to hurt yourself ten times worse.”

“People aren’t abandoning you just because they go.”

Manufactured urgency is their absolute favorite emotion. I get it. Control feels good no matter how small the triumph.

“You’d be a good mom,” she says. A lump forms in my throat. “Everyone fucks everyone up, but you’re so fucked up already, you’ll be understanding about stuff like that.”

No one looks like they’re in enough pain. No one looks like how I feel. No one looks like they do the things I do.

you’re only as sick as your secrets.

“Ji-hyun, you’ve always been so good at taking care of everyone. I wonder if that’s why you’re sick. If my failings are what did this to you.”