Still here, alive, nothing works. I'd be lying if I say I'm moving on. Nothing moves on. I yearn and yearn. Constantly. I torture myself endlessly, banging my head on solid ground. Is it because I am so deeply in love with her? It's brutal, this love is. My love for her, I feel, is eternal. What was done was done, Amie. Nothing else matters, and I'd give up everything to be with her one last chance -- not that I haven't already -- and yet, all is seemingly lost. Lost like a falling petal in a forest with no one in sight. Like a bird caught swimming in a swamp, haunted by the ghouls of the arborical bogs that catches our hero unawares.
Saturday, 22 February 2014
Thursday, 13 February 2014
Any way the wind blows.
I've been dealt a strong hand here. Celebratory days affect me the most. It started with the fireworks festival in Busan. Halloween came and nothing. Pepero Day pierced me within me like a sod on a spike. If a corkscrew could tighten a grip over the situation between me and my life, I'd be drowned in a bottle of grape juice. Nothing prepared me for anything. Living spontaneously is a hit and miss. It went on until Christmas and New Year. I went home as a bottle of bitter tears clinging to the rage and hopes and fears that keep me alive.
Tomorrow is Valentines. What use is it now to worry about its significance. Pepero Day was the same. I remember the look upon the mother when she found me from behind the glass door. She was stressfully dialling for someone, I don't know who. But from then on, time slowly greased away from my grasp tenfold. Weeks passed without any update. I was left to rot without a chance to know why.
Tomorrow I wonder if on the other side of the world a woman is happy that someone appreciates her love. A love so deep that the past pains will just subside and no sooner than later perish in an ecstasy of affection and sex. My date with time is full of stress and doubt. How much of patience should there be before an event transpires? Should I be worried and let go even if I cannot? I cannot, I just cannot, I will not, and I should not.
Not while the fluids in my body scream her name every step of the way.
Tomorrow is an opportunity to let go. With my bicycle, I shall rule the world, and all who cried with me will have salvation.
Saturday, 1 February 2014
Apparently there isn't anything particularly of interest for me back here in London. It's been a week or two since my return and it hasn't contributed to my ever-improving feeling of longingness for that one person. I try to stir something in me, but so far nothing has helped. There is no sign of depression, only a weird sense of wanting to find a valuable friendship with someone, anyone. Nothing. And it seems to me that there is no sense of interest coming from the world to do just that. So I contribute to myself however way I can, making sure that my sanity stays intact for the remainder of my days.
I try not to think of the other party -- I'm pointing my finger at Mioseon -- but most of the time it only reminds me how much I still want an answer. The why to my now, and even though my rage is still fresh, some part of me still wants that sweet, masochistic hardship back into my life, while she now revels in an orgy of self-fulfilling happiness. She finally figured out that I was the one holding her back.
I hate myself. I hate myself but I'd always forgive myself. The same way I would forgive Mioseon if she could forgive me. My life moves on from here, but the scars are forever. Etched like a tattoo, forever and a dream. In a life of what could have been if she'd conceived my child from her womb. The abortion stings me to death, and so does the sex, and I constantly find myself in a tantrum of insecurity, desperation, and constant paranoia.
There's nothing from her for me now. Please remind myself that constantly. It is only through her that all of this will have any desirable resolution. I hope in time she rids herself of fear from me, I hope she doesn't. I don't know what I hope. Pero que sera sera, I will bounce back with or without her, and there's only one way forward: vindication.
We see our hero fall from grace
He was ne'er happy in the first place
He sits and loathes and kneads the pain
He drives and feeds himself insane
His love has flown away from him
She left him cold as ice and dim
She never even said goodbye
She stole his phone without a why