January Light

"it was like being seen after perpetual darkness, after a lifetime of silence"

From Chang’an by Wena Poon

Liu Yong:

In the tiny winding ways of the city’s pleasure quarters
Roam the queens of silk and brocade
Among the girls beckoning from balconies
I have eyes for only one—
My Little Bug

No painting can capture your poise
Nor flower represent your face

How many times have we gone drinking till dawn
Only to fall exhausted on warm pillows
And embroidered duvets drenched with scent
Two hearts in tandem—neither Heaven nor Earth
Ever saw a more splendid pair

But lately, madam, storms have driven us apart
I can no longer afford you
But still you agree to meet
For hurried trysts that left us desiring
When all we ever wanted to do was marry and grow old together!

Dry your tears. We have to bear what the heart cannot bear
I swear I will return to take you away from this life
And pen a proper ending to our years of love.

I dread this time of the year

Neglect is a feeling I have always known. To me it’s not a verb, it’s a noun.

It’s been with me since the beginning of toy trucks and barbie dolls. To when they disappeared, sold to the salvation army. Much like my spirit to all of you.

From the age of 10 I cried every year on my birthday. And just when I thought I had completely detached at a ripe age of 18, I received a string of “sorry I couldn’t make it” messages. Make what?? I’m not sure either. Probably as friends.

Good to know you’re being put on a pedestal of insignificance, a successful turn-off.

Running

Is it a paradox. 
Always running and hiding and avoiding. Escapism and life has merged into confusion which, only really surfaces when the question is encountered: what are you searching for? 

To be subconsciously on the move to the extent that I am mentally crippled from getting up, getting out, is ironic. 

The answer to what are you trying to run from cannot be described; only experienced, not explained. 

I want a war in outer space, I want galaxy with people speaking in tongues, I want a farm in constant sunrise, a day that never ends.  

I want to walk on the Milky Way and wrap myself in vines. Bathe in vin santo and climb up a cumulonimbus to fall into water that doesn’t hold. 

Escapism is a mind game. 

June 2012: the single comment that broke me, sparked a fire and changed my life forever. 

[49, 48, 45, 43, 44]

No

Tonight I see. 

All I’ve been doing is try to please you. Lying on the floor waiting in the dark. From the very beginning complying, giving in, saying yes. Always okay – I will follow you, I will wait for you, I will talk to you. Now it is going to be past midnight again. You have taken this year. I don’t know what more I can give. Yet I’m made to feel guilty for not giving enough, for not being there enough, for not being pleasing enough. The truth is I am not good enough for anyone or anything. But to have someone you love and care(d) for disregard and push you away, or worse, place a guilt price on you, is pure anguish. An emotion stronger than adrenaline. I may just keep going until tomorrow. Fall deeper into sorrow. Maybe because this meant more to me, considering my narrow and shallow scope of interactions. Guess it’s time I be realistic and understand that your past and current friends are the active ingredients in your smoke, me – a bud. Yes I am too quiet, too soft, too tired, too weak; far below your expectations. So if you want me to go this 6 months and more, okay, I will go. And let go of all the things I wanted to do for you. 

我這麼小

沒有什麼

看著這一切

Sick of feeling sick 

“Hey, the last time you briefly mentioned that you were taking the pill, would you recommend it ?”