If You Could See the Sun

by Ann Liang

(Mama always says there are no ugly women, only lazy women—but from what I’ve gathered, it’s more like there are no ugly women, only broke women);

And I find myself wishing, not for the first time, that I wasn’t always so acutely aware of the things I lack.

Sometimes the universe offers us the things we think we want, but which turn out to be a curse,”

“Everything is temporary, Yan Yan. And all the more reason to seize whatever’s in front of you while it’s still there.”

I’ve long acknowledged and accepted my limitations, and done my best to compensate for them with sheer willpower and hard

If I’m not swimming as hard as I can, feet thrashing at the waves, I’m drowning.

“when a large enough number of people collectively care enough about something—no matter how superficial or arbitrary or inherently worthless it is—it starts to carry value.

“A lot of the kids here were born when the one-child policy was still around. They literally have their entire family—all their aunts and great-aunts and their grandpa’s cow—just counting on them to succeed, not to mention how many of them have parents who immigrated just so they could get a foreign passport, a better education, a better life, whatever. And with that kind of pressure weighing down on you all the time... It can push you to do extreme things. It makes failure a nonoption. Unthinkable. You know what I’m saying?”

But here’s the thing about living in a place full of people who don’t look like you—whenever shit like this happens, you can’t help but wonder if you’ve been singled out for a reason.

I falter. “What?” His eyes are kind, almost sad when he looks at me. “Even if it doesn’t feel that way now, you’re still only a kid.” He shakes his head. “You’re too young to be this...hardened by the world. You should be free to dream. To hope.”

guess that’s the thing: I’ve spent my whole life longing to be seen, but I’ve also come to realize that when people look too closely, they inevitably notice the ugly parts too, like how the tiny cracks on a polished vase only become visible under scrutiny. Like

“Descartes was wrong, you know, when he said, ‘To live well, you must live unseen.’ To live well, you must learn to see yourself first.

still want so much, so badly. My heart still aches for all the bright things beyond my reach.