Mug of Olivia Rhee

Keeping Korean

We Need to Talk

It was never a secret to my family that I was struggling with my mental health. That being said, my mental state was never outwardly discussed. Avoiding this sensitive topic is a hallmark of the Korean experience.
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Mug of Olivia Rhee

The bridges I’ve burned

We Need to Talk

I’m the first to admit that I wasn’t the best daughter, friend or sister during that period. And yet, the people I was closest to offered me reconciliation – the bridges I burned could be rebuilt.
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Photo of a house

A letter to my childhood home

Dear childhood home, I saw it coming. I can’t lie to you and say that I didn’t. After 10 years of living in Bahrain, I knew mom and dad would eventually want to leave the Middle East. I guess I just didn’t expect it to happen so soon. When I left for college, I didn’t realize how little time we’d have together. 
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Something about a goodbye

It’s in all the little mannerisms and phrases I’ve stolen from “you”, it’s in the way I dress and the way I define love; all little pieces of you that are stitched into my identity, woven seamlessly into my life, seasoning all of my experiences like a familiar recipe.
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photo of a mother and daughter

A timeline of us: A poem

1972 South Korea. Black hair and almond eyes and parted lips; impatience intertwined with red blood. It is quiet and you are crying: a baby swaddled in fragmented memories and a mother’s tears. The air is smoky, sweet, sea-foam blue and pearly pink. An attempt to speak leads to a
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An escapism detour

It's a Chronic Thing

When my own body starts to feel less like a home than ever, I will gladly escape into my favorite things for a while.
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