"When blood is no longer pure, can the soul still have a name?"

Born in the body of a Vietnamese boy—with tan skin, black hair, and the wistful eyes of the East—
she (yes, she) never imagined that destiny would tear her apart.

A blood transfusion at age fourteen—meant to save her life—
becomes the beginning of a journey of possession, multiplicity, prejudice, and pain.

The soul of a Western woman—wife of a Vietnamese man from a previous life—awakens within her.
From that moment on, she is no longer one person.
She becomes a fragment of history, an echo of the past, a threshold between East and West, male and female, sinner and survivor.

Rejected by schools, abandoned by her own twin sister, scorned by a society that despises “hybridity,” and belittled for her intellect, gender, and origin—
she continues to live.
Not to be accepted.
But to prove: she is real.

She studies. She loves. She aches. She forgives.
She does not choose revenge—she chooses existence.

No one sees the tear in her heart,
but all see her rise.
No one hears her sob in the shadows,
but all witness her smile—
like a lotus blooming in the mud,
not as radiant as a rose,
but resilient enough to survive.

And if you’ve ever felt unseen,
if you’ve ever felt like you didn’t belong—
then this story is for you.

Not to pity you—
but to remind you that somewhere in this world,
someone has lived as you have.
And is still living.