Somewhere in the world right now, a young child is taking their first bite of the spongey-ist pandan cake ever. White teeth with little green bits floating, the cheekiest delightful grin imaginable. Somewhere in the world, as I write this, an artist finishes their painting, signing off for the night, a greasy blot of purple pastel on their eyelid and collar. Somewhere right now, soft moss finds new ground to grow, breathing against the soft earth, searching for possibility as plush green velvet. Somewhere, a volcano in Hawa'ii bursts open, a pimple on the Earth exhaling in relief, bleeding freely. While the bird on the New York City sidewalk bleeds out, beak broken. While the bridge and the once shiny universities in Tehran shatter like glass under Israeli bombs. While the ocean flies to the shore, everyone on the coast hostage, standing still on a hill, where else to run. While the financier shorts the AMD stock on the correct Friday morning, 3000% profit. While the Palestinian youth stand behind barbed wire chanting for that memory of normalcy, of sitting safely at their chair desks before the chalk board, fighting for a do-over, a memory in which they've never heard the sound of any bomb or any missile or any gun or cry. While the 2026 White House President cuts the woman news reporter, "Over, " at her question about the Iranian conflict, the Strait of Hormuz, or the other reporter when she straights him about his friendship with Epstein. While the woman driving her child home is yanked from the car she just paid off, and thrown into an ICE sleeper cell, one child left behind. While the same financier steps over the splatted bird and heads to their favorite NYC Italian pasta spot for the lunch special, the same spot Taylor Swift and her ex sat in awkwardly and did not hold hands throughout. While the Houston ER room admits another shaken, confused and almost naked woman from the city park with no mailing address to fill on the form. While an ill-slept 25-year-old woman is on the phone with the man who sent her Hellofresh and chocolates. While a bullet finds the brains of another scientist who perfected a source of clean energy, bullet and hitman sponsored by someone we must all know but we're all too exhausted to gather together. While a gentleman and gentlewoman deftly sign off, in expert hand, a signature so distinguished and so, so cursive, on a defense contract in an oval room chilled to a nice 70 degrees Fahrenheit. While an elderly gentleman finished submitting his taxes online for the first time, only for a tax return of $80, instead of the usual $200 in years past, peeling off the steel-toed work boots too heavy for him now. While a plane soars, bringing a young soldier who once was a child, back to his mother, shaking and guilty of things they want to forget.
The globe breathes and cracks at human insanity, anger, exclamation mark ending the thought, the argument, someone's peaceful fizzie bathtime. How can so much happen and yet we exist as if everything is okay? How can the people that sleep at night, sleep at night? How can the people that can't sleep at night, sleep at all? How is there no justice for a volunteer doctor or journalist who is shot by Israeli forces? How is there no justice? Why must it be so hard? Why can't justice be swift? Why must it dredge through mud, the speed of health insurance claims being processed? Ha. I don't understand. Make my brain understand. Comprehend. It is responsibility. It is fragile diplomatic relations. It is easier to call it a genocide than to stop it. It is easier to call it a war than to stop it. It is easier to name it a cleansing than to stop it. Make its definition known. Let it live in the books that it was said, and let done. Let it be recorded in history as a mistake, rebranded, give it time to be pushed, because if you're not an American, you're an alien. And we don't help aliens, because why would we help beings from other planets? If you're across our border, you're practically from another planet. You're not from Earth. And if you're not from Earth but you look like a human? No, you are not human. You are an alien. We call you an alien, here, in the United States of America.
The Earth spins while we call each other aliens. Ha. How silly, right? We live on the same planet. And are aliens to each other. I never knew that could be possible. But then if that's possible, then how could we ever protect anyone but ourselves? How could we even be called human? In Vietnamese culture, they say, being born a human is much better than being born an animal. I rather think animals would protect those they don't even know. Even if that animal lived across a border, being bitten to death. Another elephant would come to protect. Another whale would slap that killer whale senseless for messing with that seal. That's the animal kingdom for you. But the human kingdom. Oh gosh our human kingdom. If you threatened to or damn did the deed of exploding an entire family or street, children, fathers, mothers, brothers, sisters, it would be written about. A tornado of bombs even. Your neighboring countries, your neighboring humans, might not raise a hand for you. You're as good as dead. The video of your death somewhere on the internet.
Our human kingdom is a hypocrisy. We call each other aliens. Refuse to love our neighbors for the sake of self-preservation. Refuse help, refuse love, because of inconvenience.
Inconvenience. Wow. How terrible, how silly, how fucking dumb that is.
"Let's not inconvenience ourselves." So there is that.
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Even in the midst of this writing, I acknowledge that I write with the fervor of someone who has shelter, food, income, and family. I write from a state of privilege. I write from a state of comfort I gathered at the end of the day. So there's that limitation for you.
Ahhhh yeah. I spiraled tonight... heh. WELP.
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