That horrible, selfish feeling, where you feel like no one cares about you, but you always try to push that extra mile, to put the effort in to ask what's wrong, to say sorry first, to make them see and understand somehow that you DO care, that you value their opinions, that before the hurt in "you being mad at me" is the "you"?
Yeah, that's a thing.
I think I've thought about sitting down to write this more than a dozen times. The amount of times that I've actually done it? Once, maybe twice. And I never finished. Because I didn't know if the things I had to say were safe. For me, for the internet, for the eyes that may come across this blog by accident-- and maybe sometimes, not by accident (and if you are here, then hello!). Unsafe, because they aren't exactly things that I want to talk about, that I like talking about. But there are reasons why we were given lips to speak with, hands to write with. And so I will think. And I will think, and think, and think, about these things, about the darkness that has plagued my mind for so long, that have shrouded my thoughts and perceptions of the world, and made things i once thought to be beautiful, into things I would associate with fear.
Because something happened today. And I never saw it coming, not like this, never like this. No one did. No one had second thoughts before going to bed last night about the things they should have said. But time stops for no one, and fears nothing, and sometimes it will take from us the things that we care for the most. Someone matters to me, who matters to him, and so many others in this world. He was our student council president in Elementary School. I remember voting for him. I wonder why I ever doubted him-- maybe it was because he was so small. Back then, I wondered, "How can someone this small carry so much responsibility?", because Elementary School was a big deal, you know. I voted anyways. I trusted him. And he would come to love one of the most important people from my childhood. I hope their love was good-- i'm sure it was, she is so bright, you're bound to be happy with her. (And you did, you did so well, I hope you're at peace. I hope it's warm where you are, because the world as it is right now is so cold, and I'm sorry you had to leave it in that way, you don't deserve this, you didn't)
Maybe I'm so afraid of this world for more than its erratic movements, its uncertainty, its mystery. Maybe I'm afraid of it because it isn't a world that makes me proud of being me yet-- and I hate this, I hate making this about me... but this blog, all of it, is also me, it's all of me, all of my secrets, and not-so-secrets anymore, here, so bear with me for a bit, okay? There are so many things that I want.... but do I really need them anymore? No, I have all the things that are important to me-- a beautiful family, a caring mother and father, the best friends I could ever ask for, acquaintances who would reach out their hands if they ever saw that I had fallen on the ground. What am I so afraid of? I love them, I love, and love, and love them, so much. I'm so proud to call them mine. This is me. I am me. All of this. And that's okay. Maybe it isn't right now, when things aren't going in the right direction, but life will turn, as time will turn, and we'll have to run fast, so we can keep up, but it's a part of living. Changing your pace to suit your own story. And I still have time to write mine. And I will, and it'll be gorgeous, it's going to be so beautiful. I wish yours was written a little bit longer. But short stories, long stories, all of them... are words. Are you, are me. And they are so important. And they make this world, create it. With the memories, with the illustrations, with the jokes, the anecdotes, the tearjerking moments. We are all the authors of a great adventure. I still wish I could write better. I wish my words were as colorful as the images in my mind when I think of them. Sometimes I'm not in the best place, washed over in darkness, in water as thick as paint and dark as ink. But I have hands, and these hands can pull, and push, and touch, and hold, and write, and hug, and create. I want to create. I want to love, I want to live. I know I can. I've got hands. And these hands have got hands, too.
We'll be okay.
I'll try to believe less, and believe more. In the right things. In this world, in morning sunrises, in the light, in Skype calls, and hand holding. And in adventure. Where there is hope, there is ability... and it's beautiful.
It's been awhile!
There have been many things that I've been wanting to say. For some reason, I kept putting things off... is it because my fingers are getting lazy? I don't want to type anything-- or rather, it's more like i don't want to make an effort-- but because of that, my heart is staying closed... it's hard to breathe, it's about to burst, but not like that, not in a romantic way or anything... it's a little painful, really. So let's start with right now.
Right now, I'm scared......
Because of my beliefs, because of the future, because of things that should be working out but aren't....
Because of my irresponsibility....
(Exo keeps telling me to stop crying, but the tears keep falling, because seeing them cry, that's ten times worse for me, you know? Haha....)
I feel sick. And I'm terrified. Of a lot of things. I feel like I just escaped from a monster, big and dangerous, only to be met not even three months later with one twice as big, and twice as terrifying, but this time, I don't have the strength to fight, because once again, I don't believe in myself. And there's nothing I can do. And I want to throw up, I want to let it out somehow, but there's no way, because things that you see once, hear once, feel and think once, they never leave you, they're always there. And i'm here, sitting with toxins inside my stomach and poison running through my veins, unable to think clearly because my mind is always elsewhere. And it's so, so scary,
because I want to be somewhere else, I just want to fly away
but I can't. And I'm trapped. And it's terrifying.
Not even words can tell you how scared I am... How worried.. you'll never be able to feel what's in me right now, all this confusion, and pent up anger and frustration, and worry, and hope, there's still a little bit of hope, but it's losing this fight, because it isn't easy....
There are so many things I want to do. To touch, to see, to feel. Hands I want to hold, skin I want to touch. I have so may regrets, so many sorry's that still need to be said. So won't you let me live?
Can't I live? For just a day more, and then a few more, and then a week, then a year, then ten years, then forever... Can't you let me live, like that...? Please?
I just want to live.
I want to believe that...... I want to breathe......
Please, just let me breathe?
Hello! It's been awhile. I haven't been writing-- maybe because I haven't had anything to write about, but I just thought that tonight, even if it's a short piece, I would like to try again, and see if something good comes out of it.
It's so wonderful when you see two people in love; when you see two people falling into it, when you see two people basking in its goodness, Even parting is beautiful, the bittersweet kind. I would like to know it, to finally understand. There is a boy, whose heart doesn't make me do flips, but he makes my knees weak, and turns the word "nervous" into "tired", and has a thousand-watt smile, and the kindest demeanor. He's so good. I wonder if he would ever be willing to be good to me. I know that I'd give him what I could, cherish him as much as I trusted myself to, explore the world, ourselves, learn more about me, as a person, as someone who can finally be proud of who I am.
I've changed a lot since this year began. I'm learning to love myself; I've been taking baby steps, but they've definitely gotten me somewhere, and I'm so thankful for it. It feels so good to be able to say, "there's no one I'd rather be, than me" alongside the villains in Wreck it Ralph. And as I embrace myself, I also long for the embrace of another, though not to the extent that it is dramatic.
For the first time, though, I'd like to try. I want something, anything to happen, and if not, there is another lesson learned! Sometimes it has to be done the hard way... but at least, it is 'done'.
A song came up today; Joe Hisaishi's "Summer" from the film Kikujiro. I was pleasantly surprised by my abilities to recognize a song that meant so much to me in my younger days, alongside my slow but sure improvement in reading hangul. The story of "Kikujiro no Natsu" goes something like this; a boy finds a photograph of his mother, someone he's never known, and her current home address, and decides (on his own) to go searching for him. Before he leaves, he meets his neighbor and his wife, a sour man who equips a scowl and crosses his arms often. Kikujiro-ojisan wears button downs and slacks and is definitely not cut out for a month-long babysitting job. His wife puts him up to it anyways. And so off they go, to find young Matsuo's mother, but things are not as they seem, and they return home empty-handed... or, perhaps, not as unfulfilled as we assume they may be?
Truly a profound film with a firm, quiet, sad, between unsettling and not message. I remember watching it once with my mother, wondering if she understood it, because I definitely didn't. It wasn't a film for a kid my age, at the pinnacle of my years before transcending into teenager-dom. Still too young, but I thought I was already so big. I'd like to see it again. Maybe then it'll stand out to me in the way that it meant to; fully, completely, itself, with me understanding, finally, after a long time.
I've been suffering from a lack of inspiration... I see emotions, I feel for others, but I haven't really felt that much within myself. It's been a while since I've stirred with excitement for another, since my heart ached for someone else's loss, since my fingers burned and tingled with love and passion and excitement and confusion. What is this? It feels somewhat like... impotency, if I'm being over-dramatically honest, haha. I wonder... when will it go away... I know for one that I'd really like to feel something again...
It's been awhile. I'm on summer holidays, waiting for the humid heat to transform into a plane ticket back to time and fallen leaves. Then this trip will just be another visit home, another fragment of the past... I wish it was easier to live in the present, to come back to this present, that now, after a second, has suddenly become the past... with each letter I press, I am writing alongside time, I am making history, to some extent...?
Huh... I just want to feel again. Any advice? On finding one's heartburn... I am currently lacking in that department, I think...
You're too good, too good for sadness. I hope you find what you're looking for, wherever you're going, I hope i've helped you in some way, though I probably haven't... just by being here, I hope I've given you something. To have done so, would be one of my greatest honors.
Funny boy, you're destined for big, big things.
I hope you find yourself again, soon.
I hope you find the answers you've been looking for.
Who knew that deep talks could come so easy, before?
Who knew that some people could be so sad, could be so upset... Of course I knew, but it was something i never wanted to acknowledge, really... So many people in this world deserve so much better.
I'm going to make things better.
Starting with me.
(Wow, way to be up front!)
I was told once by a friend that, if you ever need to take the time to be by yourself, or to think a little, or maybe to breathe (and not like the everyday breathe, but actually breathe), then you should bring yourself to a cafe and sit there, without anything, no technology, no people. just yourself. And i'm not too far from my familiar place, nor am I without technology (here I sit, on my laptop, with my headphones on, listening to Clara C sing me into the stars and what lies beyond this universe).
It's amazing how many familiar faces you can come across when standing still. Despite being in such a big city-- surely one that is bigger that me myself-- I still come across those who I have formed connections with in one way or another. I watch as families interact, I watch as people drag their heels across across the glistening asphalt (what are they thinking, I wonder? What inner struggles are they fighting today? Perhaps today is different... perhaps it is a better day than others).
But of course, not everything is perfect. Just earlier today, I saw a rugged old lady shouting at a helpless clerk for the way her bread was being cut-- what a menial little thing to be cross at! I am learning more and more about life and other people every day. America is very, very different from back home...
Speaking of, I'll be back in a little while. Huh. So many things to do before then, though. I will be patient.
I don't know how mother is doing in the hospital today. Hopefully she is doing much, much better... I miss her.
The truth is that there are places that you cannot be sometimes, because you are miles away trying to turn dreams into goals.
The truth is that there are people who will not cooperate, but always know that they are doing so not willingly, but because sometimes, time does not cooperate, and over being upset, you must be patient, and understanding, and kind, and willing to learn. You must support them-- for inner monsters they have fought and some battles may not have been won.
The truth is that there are people who do things that you do not understand, and may never understand. Realize that these people are their own people, and they work in their own ways, and have gotten along up until now, so what says that you cannot either?
The truth is that everybody goes through bouts of pain-- but these memories, though they will always linger, will always be a backdrop against which beautiful memories tend to shine. You will pull through. You always do. So does everyone else.
We always do.
The truth is that you will doubt yourself-- and look at you, you are doing it right now, you do not believe that what someone has told you was true, that it came from his heart, but what you must do is believe in him. Trust his words, for he is someone you admire, and respect, and want to understand, and to do so, you must learn to trust, and in turn trust yourself. You are good. You were never ba. You are always trying... so keep doing it.
For our sake. For their sake, back home. For his sake, for her sake, for the sake of everyone around you. For those who call you a friend-- for those whom you call a friend, too. But most of all...
Please, do it for me.
Do it for you.
These are a few questions that I have. But they aren't about love yet-- I'll get to that eventually. Just give me a second.
Today while studying for Macroeconomics I realized that John probably has a bunch of wonderful study techniques. I wish I could nab them from him somehow, but I don't ever know if he'll take me seriously at all. If I tell him that I need help desperately, maybe he will...? Is there a way to get that out of him? I wonder.
Olivia is growing distance and it's frightening me, a little... I don't want to lose a precious friend like her. I read something awhile ago, where a girl said that her greatest fear was for the person who fell in love with her to fall out of love for the same exact reason he fell in love. Do you know what I am saying? It's like becoming a star that has lost its luster... I have not been as nice to people as I feel like I should be. I have lost myself in something... and I'm still trying to recover my missing pieces.
I wonder what will happen when I do? If I do? God, I hope I do... soon... I'm tired of this "me"... I want the old "me" back...
And here we are, finally, to the questions about love. Today I asked Stove for advice, and he gave surprisingly good ones. I took a chance, and luckily enough, got one in return. I don't know if I'm doing anything wrong... but it's like what Michelle said. Love should be comfortable. Don't let your lover make you insecure, don't let them give you all the wrong feelings when everything when you're with them should just feel so right. You heard it from Stove, too. It's good having somebody with you who is similar to you... and I think he is, in some ways. I want to get to know him more. I Hope he gets to know me more, too... Maybe something will happen... but is it wrong to be afraid of what exactly that "something" may be?
Because I don't see myself standing on my tiptoes, wrapping my arms around his neck and breathing into his skin. I don't see that, and yet, I wouldn't mind...
Oh gosh... what am I doing...?
Am I falling in love, then? And am I doing this right?
There's that thing, that bubble stuck in my throat, there's something I want to let out.. I'll wait for the thought to process, and I'll get back to you tomorrow.
I wish I could paint the sunsets I see everyday as I peer out of my window, hovering 26 stories above this great and complicated city.
I wish I could trace the lines of those flower petals perfectly, each imperfect crinkle and cut, each graceful curve as they bend against each other like parabolas.
I wish I could capture the shadows that graze my the skin of my hips, that turn out rather than in,
I wish I could breathe easier, I wish I could tell someone I was struggling.
(And I can, but I don't want to. Not now, not yet, not ever.)
I wish there was a place I could go to be alone, to relax and breathe with a cup of something steaming, and paper at my fingertips.
I wish there was a mind that thought of me, a hand that wanted to give me flowers, too.
I wish there was someone who could grasp my shoulders, fingers that would trace my collarbones and my spine.
I wish I could care less for that mindset. I wish I was less bothered so that I would not be worrying about these feelings, about wanting them, about why I cannot have them just yet.
I wish everything would just go away, sometimes.
I just want to be me again.
She is a cruel mistress, she is out of control.
I don't know what to do with her anymore.
She does not mean to harm, but does it anyway-- selflessly, uncaring. She stops me before I get to the good part, she pushes me towards the ending that isn't good, nor bad, just neutral. "You aren't worth it," she whispers into my ear, smiling as she holds my shoulders in a loose grip.
The hairs on my neck stand, and I inhale sharply. My fists tighten. Because she does not own me.
Someday, I will run. I will be okay. I will be free. I will learn again, I will leave the beasts behind.
The beast that lives within me, with me, underneath my bed, among the dust and boxes and wanderlust. She is there. But I am better, better than her.
how lucky i am, to have you by my side.
This post doesn't necessarily apply solely to my father; rather, I would like to dedicate it to my entire family, my mother and father, my grandmother, my brother and sister. There is never a day where I do not think of you, of whether you are happy, or safe. I wonder if you think of me, I wonder if you are lonely. I always wish there was more that I could do to make you proud, that there was a way I could pass these emotions as nothing and push forward to be the person I've always wanted to be to you. I'm really working on it... I don't know why I am in this hole right now, though. I don't know why I can't get out. I keep climbing, but the dirt at my fingertips crumbles with every touch, with every pull, I'm dug a little deeper, and even though I laugh, even though I enjoy, there is something missing, a little bit of sensitivity and consideration for others that I once possessed and lived through with fervor. It's gone. I don't know wher eit wen't. I'm trying to find it, to get it back, or at least, to rediscover it, build it from the ground-up.
I'm sorry I cannot be all I need to be right now.
I'm sorry that I cannot come sooner. I want to be with you, to be home, but I have a duty here, and it is to make you proud-- and I will.
Please believe me. Thank you for believing in me now, even now, even when I'm like this, empty, hollow, a failure.
I journey along a narrow path that has been blocked by a large cliff, but I will overcome it, climb over it. Get to the light, to the heart. Get to you. To be with you.
Thank you for waiting for me, always. Thank you.
Smooth sailing, that's what I'm looking out for. Love is so funny. I don't know who half of me is anymore.
I can't wait to feel better... but I don't even know if I'm hurt...
Tomorrow, a post about filial piety, and places I call home.