시간에 지쳐도 사랑에 아파도

He did not ask me a trick question yesterday. He did not laugh to his heart content, at the mere thought of my absolutely annoyed and frustrated face trying to figure out the answer yesterday. He did not send me the sweet goodnight wishes yesterday.

I saw it all coming. I laughed proudly at my ability to read people – men especially. However, my heart aches till this moment. Not for him - lol, He should not take that much credits for nothing but for the bleak picture of dating on earth.

He must be mad – lmao. At the age of 30, isn’t it hard to accept the rejection of a 20 year old girl? Surely he is desired by many. Surely he is proud at his ability, family background, the number of instruments he can play – and all that jazz. Surely he could not understand why I don’t line up in that long queue of girls who could not wait for his smile.

Midnight, an apologetic sms came too late to restore my last bits of grace and kindness for men. Aren’t almost all of them the same? Isn’t selfishness man’s infamous trait? I don’t forget, though I may let things slide. Number … some 2 digit number, that maybe something for me to remember him by. The list will go on.  Over-confident boys they are, who love me, chase after me not for who I am but for the triumphant and egoistic thought of being able to tame, to possess and control this wild soul. I am not ugly, in fact pleasant looking - some may even say pretty, I am flattered. I am not awkward, in fact confident and dignified. I can surely talk to anyone – if I desire to and I have manners. Don’t you wonder why I am still single until this moment? Especially at the peak of my youth?

I believe in weeks to come, his good intention, attention and crushes will soon crash like those ignorant waves smashing into hard – sharp – indifferent cliff.

If you have  never ever read my blog, never talked to me when I am freaking mad/out of my mind – in my better language English, never knew/memorized my 5km to-do/future plan list – all of which have priority over nonsensical dates… then don’t you even think of messing up your life by shoving it into mine. I am old-fashioned. I hate pretty and expensive coffee shop. I loathed watching movies for dates and I feel like vomiting when guys- who barely know me, do that thing they think they do best - sweet talk. For crying out loud... do I look stupid and naive - do I look like I will faint just because they pretend they care at all?

Since when love, relationship, all those precious and pure feelings have become this cheap and pathetic?

Never before have I been this sure and happy about my relationship status. Single.

Damn proud I am single.

시간에 지쳐도 사랑에 아파도

turned around...

Turned around ...

and I did not see you anymore. You were not sitting there.You were not looking dazed like you always do. You were not waiting for me to return with our cups of coffee... I wanted Latte..  but for a second, I forgot the desire to taste sweetness of milk blended in the bitterness of coffee... what I did want more?... what I do want most, even now: that taste of the final latte with you or the taste of your lips, in the field, with winds enveloping us...

headstrong, totally disastrously the one and only you

I did not see you, I could not see you... chances were I would not be able to see you again

turned around...

And I was frightened... and I was traumatized... and reality hit me hard, I was at that very particular moment, lost again. I had been clueless in the maze of my grief after he passed away, but you came, held my hands and led me out of misery. My frantic mind became clouded with all the possibilities of the better - as you think it is, and of the worse - as I am so sure, even in this moment: losing you was the hardest part. Isn't it too cruel? You, the only person who bothered listen to my mumbles and chants messed up in uncontrollable sobs, now left me crying my eyes out alone on the roof top of our lighthouse... Why weren't you here to hug me like before? Why weren't you here to hear me confess: I really did not like you. The truth is, with every fiber of my being, I was in love with you.
Isn't it too cruel?

turned around...

and it all fades away... slowly, but it does... you and that curious stare I love, you and that hug when I was drown in those letters to heaven, you and that kiss in the plain plain green field... next to the old red post. Everything starts with you. Everything was beautiful because of you. Because all that perfect frame, perfect lips, perfect and strange mind belong to you, I get myself back in the sunshines

as simple as it seems
as heartbreaking, as excruciating as it actually is
you
were
gone

...............................................


turn around

"have we... have we met before?"
"where as in ... where?" - Reality checking and sanity checking... even in my wildest dream I could not imagine seeing you again. I am waiting for you, though my conscious mind reminds me you are gone. Though it sounds ridiculously unsound and obscure ... I am still waiting for you, with the couple of cherries around my wrist where you used to hold me firmly and dragged me out of pain...

turning around

"in the plains... old post... a mail box in the green grass..."
we trail off, and away...

welcome back...
This time, I won't turn around, not ever again, not away from you

from Hana to Jaejun

Hanoi, winter '09

inspired by Hana, and Heaven Postman

crying my eyes out

.:but I remember:.

...then I grew up, from the day-dream that things would never change - that I, mighty me, would never wear make up or torture myself in high heels, that my best friends in high school would still be my very best friends when I am close to death... I am sure everyone is fine with this radiant transformation. People change - how cliche'- yet how true, we know it too well that no one want to admit how hurtful it actually is: our memories gradually fade away like the calendar flipping, thinning and being torn restlessly... The day I walked out of my house 29th Sep, 2005. I never knew I would return home today in this metamorphosis, 6th Dec, 2009. My once-upon-a-time-ear-shot hair now passes my waist. My half-hip pants now are now buried to the very bottom of my closet - getting ready to be given away... I wonder what will happen in 4 years time, after college... I still don't know, and I do not desire to make such undesirable assumption of miracles and surprises -  what supposed to be life's gift to me. You may discard these bits and pieces of the past - the days when we qualified the very definition of what we now laugh at: "country pumpkin". You may jolly well do it, but i

but I remember

I remember clearly the way I looked in secondary school and high school. As if it matters now, but somehow these memories complete the picture of my childhood - of the relationships I had with the people around me. I am sure I have always been one of the most undesirable girls in class, may be not the worst, but among the big NO-NO thanks to my dad who always cooks delicious food... How nice it is to blame it on someone else, especially my dear father who takes pride in this cooking skill... In short, rudely and shamelessly I was really fat, in the Asian definition of Fatness -  which in another word, I refused to believe I am any chubby in the West - though that was not the point. The point is, I remember how I once had to buy a guy shirt, in stead of a girl shirt as a group uniform with my 6 other close friends - who of course, finds size XS a little too huge. I was definitely humiliated and bitter. They did not know much, and I guess even Huyen Anh, who witnessed my tears rolling down on the way back from the stupid shop, would not remember but i, but I remember those days... Now I wear guy shirt, still. Loving it. Not by force or desperation like the sad old days but by choice, fashion anyway. With a tiny belt around my waist and there I go.

But then again. you may wonder why I am writing these things down... I am not a intention-less writer. Yesterday, I saw a guy who claimed to take interest in me - the new me - the already transformed me making a cruel joke about a chubby girl. She was not that bad, maybe she was like me, back then, I did not care that much and knew that much. I laughed - cruelly and bitterly at him, brain-dead him and left the table, without leaving a trace of my existence.

I may look different now... I may feel things, perceive things in a different way now... To make it simple I may not be the same girl I used to, once upon a time. But i, I remember...

I remember how hurtful it was to be laughed at because you are a plus-size chick, living among these sickly thin people - I still am FAT - in your very definition of Fatness. If I throw to u the i-don't-give-a-damn-if-you-think-I-am-fat attitude, it does not mean: I am not aware that you are rude. Just that your remark cannot hurt me like before.

They can change a girl's body shape - even in the most desperate method i.e. plastic surgery - I have NOTHING against it. But bloody hell, why can't they freaking understand that there is nothing they can do to de-stupid-ize a brain dead girl with perfect body? They can't replace her heart either - for a kind heart cannot be bought and shove into that perfect body they desire.

So I watch friend after friend going for body instead of soul... Ended up complaining to me their unlucky love life - well... well, well, well... they don't but i, i remember...

I remember their choice of partners, with much compromise of "buts" and "ifs" ... Since you treat it as a bargain, this is as much life can give to you... seriously why is there a need to torture yourself and make alibi for why he is NOT freaking there when you need him the most, why he could not say anything decent - or anything at all while you are sobbing uncontrollably? Is it a crime, for him to be himself and not the "him" you assume he is?

Being single is seriously not that bad, even in winter when people complain they need bodies to hug, to be hugged - I wonder where goes the need of clothes and scarf.

Instead of getting myself anyhow a boyfriend for the sake of being "warmed" this Christmas eve, I got myself a Zara basic, navy blue long coat, chick and class.

and I am good, sipping hot chocolate in my room, reading a few poems by Margaret Atwood

p/s: watch out Hanoi, I am learning to drive this afternoon. My dad is proud, mom rolls her eyes, complaining: "first bicycle, then motorbike and scooter, now CAR... when will you buy her a TRUCK or a TANK?" Dad and I sharing a tiny wink, thinking more or less of boat or plane rather than tank,we swear,but well,not to shock mom yet... say we are good with car. I am so excited