Yolk

by Mary H.K. Choi

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.

It’s crazy how lonely it is to be in a family. Even if the stuff with my mom didn’t happen, even if everyone was super evolved and therapized, I think just being in a family is what screws you up. I’m never going to fully understand them. And it’s fucked up because that means they’re never going to understand me. But who knows.”

I have wasted my entire life focusing on the wrong things and the wrong people. I don’t know how it came to be that I believed changing everything about me would change the way people treated me.