It's not about the sleep deprivation, it's about the fucking feelings, man. Those stupid things creep up on you and when you turn around, they're gone. And then you just wonder if they were there at all.
It seems so important now
But you will get over
And when you get over
When you get older
Then you will remember
Why it was so important then
Now it's just another mini movie in your head. You'll put it on sometimes before you go to bed.
I don't know why I like to rhyme
It's just a bloody waste of time
What was it like? At one point it seemed like all we wanted to do was dive headfirst into somebody else's so that we could get our feet caught in the muddy soil. It felt good sinking into the cool mud, then. It was slow but it was also very quick. Measuring time is one thing, feeling it is another. I poured the rest of the wine into the sink. People take up cigarette smoking because it gives you something to do while you wait, or a reason to delay. We don't have to go back inside so soon. I'm just heading out for a little bit.
The answer was "no", and for some reason it made her feel like weeping. The reason she felt that way was not so much because immediately, the answer could be construed as betrayal, of the person he was supposed to mean to her. But rather she felt like weeping because "no" revealed something else to her. Of the failure on her part as well as his. The failure to remain as much as possible, the person that they would have spent their lives together being. The person who grew with him, rather than apart from. The person he would have grown with, rather than apart from. It was late, anyway. They were now very separate. And neither felt a strong urge to do anything about it simply because there was nothing to do about it. Time had passed and confirmed this.
She was just lying in bed looking at the ceiling. These were just the thoughts that crossed her mind, as she looked up into the ceiling, with perfectly dry eyes.
“To direct one’s heart towards Heaven and Earth, to establish the Way for people, to restore the teachings of past sages, and to build a peaceful world for all future generations.” - Zhang Zai
We were standing at the edge of the carpark looking into the balconies of Golden Mile Complex. We were talking about something else but I was thinking about this. The most important thing I learned recently is that life just goes on and on. Every moment is equally continuous or discrete from the past as the one earlier. Or rather: nothing is safe from the past, nothing is sacred. Wounds heal but still existed, that's true even after the scars disappear. Understanding is so important. Objective truth cannot be empirically accessed. But what about mathematical and logical arguments? If you don't know what you know is true then how do you understand yourself? Much less another person. Some things are too bleak to discuss.
It's been so long since I had a long conversation with someone (x excluded). It was like climbing a step ladder and reaching for a box that's now covered it dust. After I wiped the dust off the lid and opened it, I had to close it very quickly because the box was full of maggots.
There are things I was born to do and it's very clear to me now. Even if it's a small thing, there's a good reason and it was an important choice. I'm only my mother's daughter after all.
Everything is better when x is around. If anybody can understand who I am in the world there is really only her.
The trip was very good. Slept. Drank milk. Italian restaurants. Hung out with A and family at the most beautiful wedding weekend. Drove around Los Angeles. Ate a block of cheese with Xiu on the plane. Read 2666 and was sorry when I finished it.
Coming to the U.S. to see X is really a no brainer in the sense that I don't need my brain when I'm with her. The itinerary is always super simple. We wake up and wake the other person up and then we throw something on top of our pajamas so that we can go outside to find something warm to eat and or drink. After we eat we walk to the store and buy a few things. We go home and change into proper clothing and laze around. We go to a museum or a pizza store or a thrift store. We might meet up with a friend. When we get tired we go sit down in a cafe. We look at little children. We wait for each other outside the restrooms. On the sidewalks and in various app-hired cars we talk and talk and talk and talk about our parents and big sister and the past week and the last three months. We go through all the thoughts that have crossed our minds in the time apart as if we have not also been continuously texting each other the past three months. "Those are brain farts, it's not counted", said X this afternoon. We sit on the carpet eating Doritos Cool Ranch and chocolate chip cookies. We talk some more and we disagree and then we talk some more and change our minds. We turn on the lights when it gets dark. I talk about all the anxieties in my head all the time. X says let's make a list then we can do something about them one by one.
At dinner I tell X and A that I'm terrified of something terrible happening at work while I'm away and it being all my fault. Everybody shouting "AAAAGH Y, that stupid bitch!" A laughs and assures me that everything will be exactly the same when I go back and nothing disastrous is going to happen. Later I get into bed thinking well, even if it does, it's not like I can do anything about it.
Things have been violent. Driving makes me feel sane because it's the only time I know what I'm doing. Having something to focus on in the moment is the best distraction there can be. I like things to change and now they have, but the feeling of inertia doesn't go away. Everything feels like going backwards.