You know what I want? I want to look at you in silence. And when I say something to myself, I will swear you heard it too. I want to make these demands with my eyes and you to grant them with yours. I want the intensity to overwhelm me, so encompassing that it becomes tangible, yet visible only to me. I want it to only be real for us, but more real than anything ever felt. I want the moment to stretch into eternity.
Soundlessly, I will say: look at me.
And you will.
**
Tuesday, November 24, 2009
Monday, November 16, 2009
the ostrich method
Should we ever apologize for the past? Australia has apologized for its history of child abuse, while the Japanese prime minister has refused to apologize for the torture of Chinese citizens during WWII. For myself, I stand on the side of "why should they"?
Why should people take responsibility for a world in which they were not part of? And even if we are not talking about a society here, but ONE PERSON. Why should that one person take responsibility of a past action, if in fact, she knew the stupidity of it as soon as it was over?
Do we really have to claim these pieces that lay abandoned on the sidewalks of our minds, slapping a label on them as others call "next!" on judgement day?
This is the cruel, inexplicable, frustrating side of the world, isn't it? It always brings the past to the surface to haunt me. Its bubbles slow and threatening, splattering droplets as I turn my back.
Let the sediments of what's done drift to the bottom. What need is there for the Before to bleed into Now?
Something like responsibility floats here, but I close my eyes to it.
**
Why should people take responsibility for a world in which they were not part of? And even if we are not talking about a society here, but ONE PERSON. Why should that one person take responsibility of a past action, if in fact, she knew the stupidity of it as soon as it was over?
Do we really have to claim these pieces that lay abandoned on the sidewalks of our minds, slapping a label on them as others call "next!" on judgement day?
This is the cruel, inexplicable, frustrating side of the world, isn't it? It always brings the past to the surface to haunt me. Its bubbles slow and threatening, splattering droplets as I turn my back.
Let the sediments of what's done drift to the bottom. What need is there for the Before to bleed into Now?
Something like responsibility floats here, but I close my eyes to it.
**
Wednesday, November 11, 2009
feedback loops
This is the most abusive thing I've ever been in. Is there anything worse than loving something, and that thing, it turns out, not only doesn't reciprocate, but laughs at what you offer, carelessly tossing it away in front of your own eyes?
I would like to get to that point. That point where I can talk about this without crying my eyes out, with the faucet on in the bathroom, so that my sobs are drowned out by the running water. Of which held more droplets, I'm not sure.
Is there a limit to how much can drain out of me? Have I reached it yet? Can I reach it before the last shred of my dignity is torn away as well?
Here I am, waving the white flag. So when will you stop firing?
**
I would like to get to that point. That point where I can talk about this without crying my eyes out, with the faucet on in the bathroom, so that my sobs are drowned out by the running water. Of which held more droplets, I'm not sure.
Is there a limit to how much can drain out of me? Have I reached it yet? Can I reach it before the last shred of my dignity is torn away as well?
Here I am, waving the white flag. So when will you stop firing?
**
gamble
Congratulations 11/11/09, you go down as the day that's second most detrimental to my self-esteem at UChicago.
I'm not even sure why I care this much. Is it simply a matter of pride? Or do I really believe I deserve better?
Ultimately, who's a better judge for what you deserve anyway? It seems that, when it comes to either them or you, there are these huge, gaping holes that blind the decider. How can anything be made right? Do you just put on a blindfold, spin around three times, and hope the dart hits somewhere close to the bull's eye?
It seems too big a trust, especially when the stakes are such a part of you.
**
I'm not even sure why I care this much. Is it simply a matter of pride? Or do I really believe I deserve better?
Ultimately, who's a better judge for what you deserve anyway? It seems that, when it comes to either them or you, there are these huge, gaping holes that blind the decider. How can anything be made right? Do you just put on a blindfold, spin around three times, and hope the dart hits somewhere close to the bull's eye?
It seems too big a trust, especially when the stakes are such a part of you.
**
Saturday, November 7, 2009
mousetrap
You see? This is why. This is why I can't get into things. Because I care, all the caring on my side, unparalleled by yours. It's too much for me to handle.
Even if I think I have gotten the upper hand. It always turns out that my hand is somehow pinned under by some mysterious force these incidents have on me. I'm like a mouse who wants the cheese from a trap, and yet, always forgets that I become irrevocably pinned after some gluttonous indulgence.
When the snap of the metal bar clams down, unannounced and unforgiving. I'm always caught off guard, somehow, I never manage to outsmart it.
**
Even if I think I have gotten the upper hand. It always turns out that my hand is somehow pinned under by some mysterious force these incidents have on me. I'm like a mouse who wants the cheese from a trap, and yet, always forgets that I become irrevocably pinned after some gluttonous indulgence.
When the snap of the metal bar clams down, unannounced and unforgiving. I'm always caught off guard, somehow, I never manage to outsmart it.
**
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