I miss the things that I don’t remember

“I have a grand memory of forgetting.”
– Robert Louis Stevenson –

On my visit to my friend’s office who moved overseas, I found one of my favorite photographs of the Adriatic sea on the wall that I had taken and printed on the plexiglass for her before. I forgot about it. Totally forgot.

I forgot many things. I miss those things that start to disappear from my brain. I want to run and catch them and put them in the deep drawer of my memory cabinet, labeled “shouldn’t forget”, but the things are fleeting at the speed I can’t keep up. The only thing I do is that I really miss them without knowing what I have lost. Really really miss them…

Turning the page

Weirdly, everything felt as the past. As if she released the grip she held so tight not to lose; not to lose the pain, not to lose the beauty, not to lose the moments, not to lose a single breath.

A peace, even momentary it may be, landed. A chapter ended. She is not dead yet so there will be another. And she will write with the care, with the full consciousness, calm and grounded.

The outer world will shriek again. Tremble and shake. The ground stepping on will crumble under her feet. Again and again. She knows it will. She will be desperate and cry alone at night. All day. But this will come again. A piece of peace, like a slender feather lands in silence.

Jump to end/start

“The bird that would soar above the level plain of tradition and prejudice must have strong wings. It is a sad spectacle to see the weaklings bruised, exhausted, fluttering back to earth.”

– Kate Chopin, in “The Awakening” –

It must be a pity to watch an immature bird falling. The vulnerable body and the underdeveloped wings. The shattered pieces of the broken one would be impossible to be mended. It would evoke heartbreaking feelings to someones close to her. And they’ve already warned her many times. “Don’t fly until you develop your full wings. I will be very sad to watch you fall.”
But she knows that she would never be ready. She would be old and die with a remorse. Her flesh would be too dry to chew by then.

As she climbs up and up, she tells to herself. “Once is enough. Just once.”
The sun was bright. The sweat trickles down on her forehead. As she lifts her head up, the whole sky melts into her eyes on the top of the hill. The wind blows from the South and tousles her hair gently. She feels the air stretching her arms wide with her palms open.
“This will do.” She whispers to herself and spreads her wings. The delicate white fragile dream she has woven for a decade. Then, she jumps.

Manifestation

Kachina. Ah, Kachina.

My pain. My suppressed pain seeped through the pores of my skin and soaked the others. Can I retrieve it? Please? If only I can take it back at whatever cost.

Frozen wheels. Tears. Melting. Pouring. Start to move. Where will you take me?

The hearts are broken. The flowers in this house are blooming. The wind is blowing. I am standing, outside in the downpour. Why do I love the sky when the storm is coming? Why do I love the roaring sound of the trees under the mean wind?

K. What are you saying? Did I hear you right?
New people. Are they the same people in disguise?

Kachina. Ah, Kachina.
You’ve been surely working.

Self-examination is healthy sometimes

drift and cry

Whispers and Cries – Bergman’s film
even the dead weeps for loneliness.

dig, dig, dig
rain
swamp

mother, daughter, father, son
K said, family is another “f” word.

moved 10 times in 10 years
still can’t find a place to call home

my caprice

pride and prejudice – I hate Jane Austen’s novel but the title fits me well

self-defense, self-doubt, hypocrisy

a blue hole in the sky
I want to be sucked up into it someday

naked – a trickle of innocence in that word
I love that.

I don’t mind alien’s attack
but I do mind God’s judgement

“You should work on mindfulness and openheartedness,” should I?
what’s wrong with being a pessimistic, cold, loveless person?
We should accept who we are. Shouldn’t we?

my ambition is drop-dead.
should I get a job?
what am I doing here?
Until when?

Until my dog dies after his happy life.
I will not get another dog.

that homeless guy with a brown dog
can I stand being poor?
I should ask him.

That needle poking my heart
please stab me with a knife instead.

I have my limbs. Bless me. I can do yoga.

Blame everyone around except me.

Now I am thinking that friend is another “f” word. Ha-ha.

Life goes on.
On and on. Too tedious. Alien should come now.

Get excited. For what?

we ate too many animals.
make them do their revenge.
They can write a novel called, “Human Farm”.

hanging, drowning, falling, shooting
aren’t my thing.

I love my left wrist. A little thinner than my right.
I will slash it someday
clean and calm, calm and content
All “C” words.

when the pain exceeds the resources, bullshit!
hate people preaching.
Shut the “f” up. This is not the “f” you think. Put other words starting with “f”. Use some imagination.

Inner dialogue circling crazy.
Another “C” word.
crazy crying, crying crazy

do whatever you have to do.
well.

I shredded my ID today.

Waves, waves.
Drift, nowhere.

I am just fine. Really.