I Love Kissing. If I Could Kiss All Day, I Would. I Cant Stop Thinking About Kissing. I Like Kissing

“I love kissing. If I could kiss all day, I would. I can’t stop thinking about kissing. I like kissing more than sex because there’s no end to it. You can kiss forever. You can kiss yourself into oblivion. You can kiss all over the body. You can kiss yourself to sleep. And when you wake up, you can’t stop thinking about kissing. Dammit, I can’t get anything done because I’m so busy thinking about kissing. Kissing is madness! But it’s absolute paradise, if you can find a good kisser.”

— Sufjan Stevens (via purplebuddhaquotes)

### Haeseol's Journal Entry

Date: September 27th

It’s been a week since I met Dad. I still can’t believe I can actually say that—Dad. Captain America. The legendary hero. It feels surreal. The whole encounter was a whirlwind of emotions, and honestly, I’m still trying to process it all. I never thought I’d be face-to-face with someone like him, let alone someone who’s supposed to be my father.

He’s everything I imagined and more. He’s strong, kind, and carries this aura of determination that makes you feel safe just being near him. But there’s also a part of me that feels a bit... lost. I keep asking him questions about Mom, wanting to know what she’s like, but he always gives me this vague praise about her heart and willpower. It’s like there’s a wall he puts up whenever I try to dig deeper.

I mean, I get it—finding out you have a child you didn’t know about is a shocker for anyone, but I can’t help but feel a bit abandoned. It’s confusing. What if she doesn’t want to see me? What if she’s scared? I wouldn’t blame her. I know my origins are anything but normal. I’ve got vampire blood running through my veins, and that’s not something just anyone would be okay with. I wonder if that scares her.

I’ve been trying to distract myself with schoolwork and my responsibilities as a shaman, but it’s hard not to dwell on it. There’s this ache inside me—a longing to know her, to understand where I come from and who I am. I wish I could talk to Mom and tell her that I’m not some monster. I’m just a girl trying to figure out how to balance being a shaman, a daughter, and everything else life throws at me.

Dad keeps reassuring me that everything will be okay and that I have the strength to face whatever comes next. I know he believes in me, but I wish I could hear more about her from him. The things he says about her make me think she must be incredible, yet it only deepens my curiosity. Does she think about me? Does she even know what I’ve been through?

I don’t want to pressure him into sharing more than he’s comfortable with, but it’s hard not to feel frustrated. I just want to feel like I belong somewhere, you know?

Right now, all I can do is wait. Wait to see if she wants to meet me, wait to learn more about her, and wait to figure out what this all means for me. Maybe I’ll get lucky. Maybe one day, she’ll be ready to see me, to understand who I’ve become and what I’m capable of.

But for now, I have homework to catch up on, a promise ring to twist around my finger, and a world full of uncertainties ahead. I’ll keep writing and trying to sort through my thoughts. Maybe that’s all I can do for now.

— Haeseol.

Hanbok Designer: 차은엽한복

Journal Entry | October 2nd.

Being possessed by spirits has become such a part of me that I don’t always realize when I’m pushing too far. Whether it’s the warmth of a benevolent presence or the cold, gnawing dread of something darker, the experience is never quite the same. Each spirit has its own story, its own weight. And when they possess me, I don’t just see their memories—I feel them. Their anger, sorrow, joy, fear. All of it, as if it’s my own.

Sometimes, I’m at the center of their turmoil, reliving their deaths or their greatest regrets. Other times, it’s just glimpses—flashes of moments they can’t let go of, unfinished business they’re desperate to resolve. It’s exhausting. I’m pulled between their emotions and mine, lost in a haze of lives that don’t belong to me. And yet, I can’t turn them away. I’ve tried, but something inside me—this stubbornness, this responsibility—makes it impossible to stop.

Some days, it’s one or two spirits that find their way into me. Other days, it’s a steady stream, each one more desperate than the last. There are weeks where I’m possessed almost constantly, barely able to separate myself from the dead. Those are the hardest. I can feel my body breaking down, my spiritual energy draining until there’s almost nothing left. I always push myself too far. I know I shouldn’t, but I can’t seem to stop.

The result is always the same: a fever that burns through me like fire, leaving me bedridden for days, sometimes a full week. It’s like being in a coma, trapped in my own body as it tries to recover from the strain. Three to five days of nothingness. I’m not even sure if I dream during those fevers, or if I’m just gone, floating somewhere between life and death.

I’ve tried to preserve my spiritual energy, to limit how many possessions I allow in a day, or at least to give myself rest between them. But no matter how hard I try, I always end up breaking my own rules. I can usually make it through a month if I’m careful, staying active just enough to keep the fever at bay. But it’s a fragile balance. One wrong move, one spirit too many, and it all comes crashing down.

I tell myself I’ll stop, that I’ll be more cautious. But I don’t. There’s always another spirit, another story. Another piece of someone’s life that needs to be told.

And I keep going, knowing full well that it’s only a matter of time before I’m back in bed, fighting off the fever again.

.・。.・☆ﾟ