Look, I know when I have made a mistake, I know what I shouldn't do/have done. And I hate myself for doing it. So please don't remind me, because I know them all, and I know them all too well.
But then, what right do I have to tell you how to help me? Is it not enough that I ask for help, that I must also demand a certain kind of it?
When it comes to being a friend, is it better to be a mirror or a diplomat?
And when we are asking them to listen and accept us as who we are, do we first have to accept them?
**
Monday, April 27, 2009
Tuesday, April 21, 2009
photoshop
After our non-encounter, I still can't get you out of my head. Or should I say, because of our non-encounter, I can't get you out of my head.
Somewhere along the bridge between the disappointing reality and my mind...I got lost.
So here I am, wandering without the compass of logic and reason. Where images are laid out exquisitely around me like autumn leaves, fanned out with the utmost care, so that the whole constructed, artificial scene can hold a natural charm.
The irony here, (because I'm so fond of finding it everywhere), is that even the natural is made-up, what happens with careless abandon are so rarely beautiful, that we often take them back to the editing room, paint on the artistic touches with painstaking detail. And when those lovely, truly natural moments do happen. We do everything to preserve them, including tampering with the very essence of what made them so magical in the first place.
These artificial ideas, with their subtle enhancements, saturated with hope and tints of naivety, of wishful thinking, of idealistic foolishness...these painful, indulgent ideas, I want to let go of each and every single one. But most of all,
I want to let go of the idea of you.
**
Somewhere along the bridge between the disappointing reality and my mind...I got lost.
So here I am, wandering without the compass of logic and reason. Where images are laid out exquisitely around me like autumn leaves, fanned out with the utmost care, so that the whole constructed, artificial scene can hold a natural charm.
The irony here, (because I'm so fond of finding it everywhere), is that even the natural is made-up, what happens with careless abandon are so rarely beautiful, that we often take them back to the editing room, paint on the artistic touches with painstaking detail. And when those lovely, truly natural moments do happen. We do everything to preserve them, including tampering with the very essence of what made them so magical in the first place.
These artificial ideas, with their subtle enhancements, saturated with hope and tints of naivety, of wishful thinking, of idealistic foolishness...these painful, indulgent ideas, I want to let go of each and every single one. But most of all,
I want to let go of the idea of you.
**
Thursday, April 16, 2009
It's all in your head
You know how there are these inevitable events in the future that you sort of just SEE...awkward and unavoidable?
And you build them up with all this tension and full, brimming silences...and when they finally happen, it's as ordinary as peeling a banana in the morning, or taking the ponytail out of your hair...I think this must be what inspires existential crises.
Reality is very disappointing.
In any case, I thought it was the exact closure that I needed, but it turned out, it's the beginning of yet another wave of agitation.
Why do I create stirrings when reality has made it so plain that there's practically nothing to work with?
What is it about emptiness that makes us want to fill them up?
**
And you build them up with all this tension and full, brimming silences...and when they finally happen, it's as ordinary as peeling a banana in the morning, or taking the ponytail out of your hair...I think this must be what inspires existential crises.
Reality is very disappointing.
In any case, I thought it was the exact closure that I needed, but it turned out, it's the beginning of yet another wave of agitation.
Why do I create stirrings when reality has made it so plain that there's practically nothing to work with?
What is it about emptiness that makes us want to fill them up?
**
Sunday, April 12, 2009
the paradox, cont.
Ok, here is something that I desperately needed to learn but only began to realize now: you can’t change people. They are who they are and the only choice you have is whether to love them, or move on.
I used to believe that communication (or demands) can change a person’s behavior, but the crucial—and the only—difference is that now the person will simply tell you what they are, instead of changing it.
I fought against this inevitable truth for a long time, but it’s kind of liberating, in a way, to know that this is your only job. To decide if someone is good for you, if there’s something there worth staying for, or to cut your losses and move on before—as life’s cruelties will inevitably have it—getting hurt.
It’s also kind of sad, with millions of years of human history behind us, with the benefits of progress staring us in the face; we invariably turn our backs to the past, and choose, against all wisdom of our predecessors, to not change. To stand still, stubbornly waiting for someone else to accept our imperfections. And the tragedy here is not our childish tenacity, but the fact that it’s so hard—so hard—to accept someone else’s.
Here is the paradox all over again, the self-loathing mingled with pride. Only this time, the irony weighs heavily upon the world, and becomes universal, too great to laugh at, yet too ordinary to be seen.
**
I used to believe that communication (or demands) can change a person’s behavior, but the crucial—and the only—difference is that now the person will simply tell you what they are, instead of changing it.
I fought against this inevitable truth for a long time, but it’s kind of liberating, in a way, to know that this is your only job. To decide if someone is good for you, if there’s something there worth staying for, or to cut your losses and move on before—as life’s cruelties will inevitably have it—getting hurt.
It’s also kind of sad, with millions of years of human history behind us, with the benefits of progress staring us in the face; we invariably turn our backs to the past, and choose, against all wisdom of our predecessors, to not change. To stand still, stubbornly waiting for someone else to accept our imperfections. And the tragedy here is not our childish tenacity, but the fact that it’s so hard—so hard—to accept someone else’s.
Here is the paradox all over again, the self-loathing mingled with pride. Only this time, the irony weighs heavily upon the world, and becomes universal, too great to laugh at, yet too ordinary to be seen.
**
Sunday, April 5, 2009
mirror
Why is it that we can never believe in our potential?
We see so much of it in other people, sometimes exalting in it, sometimes envious of it, sometimes thinking they don't deserve it, but rarely do we see it in ourselves.
And the way we look for validation? From wanting what we can never have, so that we inevitably fail.
Sometimes I think there's so much loneliness in the world, because we look right through what we can have for what we know we cannot.
Sometimes it's a miracle that we get past our egos to form the connections we want at all.
It's such an odd mix, self-disdain and pride.
**
We see so much of it in other people, sometimes exalting in it, sometimes envious of it, sometimes thinking they don't deserve it, but rarely do we see it in ourselves.
And the way we look for validation? From wanting what we can never have, so that we inevitably fail.
Sometimes I think there's so much loneliness in the world, because we look right through what we can have for what we know we cannot.
Sometimes it's a miracle that we get past our egos to form the connections we want at all.
It's such an odd mix, self-disdain and pride.
**
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