Sarisa's Personal Essays

     I am not a crier. I don’t cry while watching movies or reading sad books. The Kite Runner was a close call. The Disney movie Brave too, but that’s because I was seven, and the mom turning into a bear was sad. I go literal months without crying, as I tend to bottle up my emotions. I started jotting down all the times I cried on my Notes app to prove a point that I really don’t cry that often. However, once that bottle breaks, the tearworks come out, and they come out hard. I started my notes at the start of 2023. Here are all the times I cried: March 7, 2023: On this fine sunny Tuesday, I cried for the first time that year. I wasn’t sad, but I sprained my ankle hard while playing soccer. I remember the feeling of that ankle rolling to a 90 degree angle, before I hit the ground. I curled up on the ground and started crying. June 29, 2023: I was so excited to go to the beach. The front entrance of our resort rooms had a couple of stairs. Those stairs weren’t even, and...

     I figured out I’m a pretty good liar. No, I am not a pathological liar. But I’ll lie if I have to. At 3am one sleepless night, I figuring out my lying into three steps: Step 1: Root the lie in some truth. I once met this girl who said she was good at figuring out when someone is lying. I decided to put that to the test. She was from Canada, and so some conversations later, I made up a lie that my dad studied at the University of Toronto and that I was born there. I even said Toronto the Canadian way to really get the bit across. I said my dad studied electrical engineering there for his masters. True, my dad did receive a masters in electrical engineering but that was in Michigan, not Canada. Still, changing a few locations is easier than making up a complete lie. I said I had both Canadian and American passports. I do have two passports, just not a Canadian one. If half of what you’re saying is the truth, then you're only half lying which is a lot easier to get away...

Baan Thra Phra This one possession of ours has been in my family for over sixty years. It could easily sell for millions today, yet it is priceless. It brings us together, yet it has caused endless family drama and estrangements. This possession is our property in Bangkok. At the entrance stands large gates with a fence that surrounds the (insert area when I remember to ask my mom)sqft of property. I always hated opening up the gates. They were heavy, and the locks needed to be clicked just right. The gate leads to a driveway, scattered by plumerias— my favorite flower as it reminds me of this house. We park our cars next to a small garden, where stood a sandbox that I frequented as a kid. Before the front entrance of the house itself is a bricked walkway, covered by trees. The bricks have become uneven, and it’s a common sight to see me trip over them.  To the right is a grass lawn. There used to be a swing set, but I don’t remember when it was gone. To the left are more trees, a ...

             Rachawan and Boonsin are my parents. I am an only child. That’s my family.                Lisa and Tobias are my parents. I am not an only child. That’s my family.  In America, Thailand, or anywhere else in the world, my family consists of me, my dad, and my mom. My mom, Rachawan, was born in the heart of Bangkok and has lived a life I am only jealous of; she met Princess Diana and drove around in her own BMW at the age of 20. When I’m 20 and in college, I’ll call to tell her the grass was extra green that day. When I’m 20, I’ll call my dad asking what’s wrong with my car. Boonsin, my dad, is no short of the dads randomly revealing the most insane stories. From famous bass players to Netflix directors, my dad knows about everyone in every industry.  My extended family all lives in Thailand. Growing up, there has always been a sense of isolation: it has always just been us three. ...