I wish that we were magnet and metal, so that the force of attraction would be present. Hopefully, the bond is strong, and that we will cling on to each other for a long time. However, I think that the simile of the moth and the lamp would be more apt in our case. Yes, there is attraction. It is, however, fatal to the moth, who realizes too late his mistake. The flame keeps on burning, kept alive by petroleum and the bodies of around a dozen moths who flew too close.
I wish that the world was always being agreeable. I wish that I could always get what I want. However, Augustus Waters in Green’s The Fault in Our Stars made me realize that the world is not exactly a “wish-granting factory.”
Wishes often remain wishes. I should remember that.
I believe that I am bad at hiding my emotions, because I tend to overcompensate. I smile too much when I feel depressed. Quite ironic, if you think about it. But it helps, because I believe that you have to put your best foot forward whenever you are out in the world. In other words, the world expects you to be cheerful, to be satisfied with your lot. People want to see you smiling. Therefore, I put on my biggest smiles for the world. Nobody wants to be with someone who is lonely.
I go through the everyday motions of being a normal person. Sometimes, life becomes a mere masquerade for me. I hide much of what I feel, for people may not understand me, and I assume that the others also have skeletons in their closet. Much of me becomes a facade, and I judge people by the same standards I judge myself. Of course, that would be an erroneous analogy. But I can’t help it.
I want to be truly happy. I want to find people who are also tired of hiding behind falsified personalities, behind metaphorical masks. I want to know what it feels like to be free, to be uninhibited by norms and conventions.
Yay me. Jamie An Lim’s The Homing Mandarin Or, After the First Death There Are Others comes to mind. “Now we could finally lay to rest our dream of his return. It was over: the hope, the uncertainty, and the silent wait by the window for an old man leading his long weary shadow home.” Finally, the wait is over. The relief is enormous. I feel really thankful for everything.
I wanna see my grades. Right now. And I have this strong urge to write about it. Let’s see where it leads us.
I should’ve known my QPI last week. I don’t think I should even be thinking of school, not during my sembreak. Well, there’s LSAT, but that’s a responsibility I undertook willingly. I hate being left hanging. Yes, a little suspense helps. But this is anything but “little.”
I am panicking on the inside. Three. More. Hours. Of. Waiting. My Twitter and Facebook accounts are surprisingly quiet, and I am not used to that. Usually, people are fretting. M04 people, usually, about the tons of papers and schoolwork assigned to us. Sometimes, I wonder whether being in a merit section is a curse or a blessing. It can be both at the same time.
Friends. I miss my friends. Nothing beats being physically with them. It’s different. I don’t know why exactly.
I miss my classmates, my EN/LIT classes, and Bel 307. I miss the ten-minute breaks. I even miss the awesome vending machine coffee. But I miss my grades. I want to know if they are okay. I want to know if I will see them again.
At Faura Hall, I see a whole bunch of molecules. No, really. There’s this whole case of molecule models of different shapes, colors, and sizes. I’m no good at any of the sciences I ever studied (Chemistry included), so I could not identify any of the molecules. To me, they look like a bunch of grapes and cherries linked by their stems.
There is eerie silence. There are few people, mostly security guards and staff. It would’ve been a good day to jog around the campus or something like that. Being the introvert that I am, the silence is really scary. But it isn’t as scary as the noise I hear to my right, the sound of conversations. I don’t know anyone here. Not a single person. I should’ve brought someone I knew, I guess.
The stairs to my right are fascination, with contrasts of black and white. I think of how countless people have walked through them. I marvel at the simple, yet functional architecture of stairs. They have brought us to new heights. They have allowed us to see things from a new perspective. Literally.
I do not have the guts to talk to the people beside me. I guess that’s just not my thing. Yes, I want to talk so badly. No, I can’t. It feels as if I’m trying to prevent an imminent explosion; I feel pressure building up in my head. I look in front of me, looking for some form of distraction or diversion.
I think I was wrong when I said that I am an introvert. But, in reality, I think that I’m an extrovert with the social skills of an introvert. The cacophony of sounds grow louder, and I feel ill at ease. I focus my gaze on the molecules which looked like a bunch of cherries and grapes. I still cannot determine what they stand for, what they mean.
This is really annoying. Every time I try to write about something, it gravitates to you. I wanna write about many things like pizza or unicorns or the beauty of rainbows. I try, but I only end up making it some sort of analogy about you, or how you affect me. You are the greatest writing block since I ever started writing, because I can’t distract myself from you. I can’t sleep you away. I can’t even divert myself enough. Binge eating doesn’t help, either. Again, this is really annoying. You must be magical or something, I guess.
Your absence fills me. It would be more accurate, however, to say that your absence consumes me. At times, I think that it becomes me, and it is all that I remember.
I remember how music is punctuated with rests, with brief moments of silence. In the same way, the distances which separate us might be necessary, albeit painful (to me at least). I know, however, that such distances are temporary, and that I will soon see and hear the music that is you. Nevertheless, the wait is still long and painful.
It is a bummer to realize that something important is missing, especially when that something seemed to be ordinary, commonplace. Sometimes these things are really common and ordinary. You realize how many of your habits revolve around that person or object. Without him/her/it, many of these activities and traits become pointless, lifeless even. You wonder whether you could have done something to avert or delay your loss, or whether you could have spent more quality time with him/her/it. Yet nothing short of a miracle can bring him/her/it back, and that is the harsh reality of life.
At the end of the break (three weeks is quite a long time, but I digress), I know that I will see you again. I should be happy, ecstatic, jubilant. But I feel ambivalent about our upcoming meeting. I miss you now. And yet I feel distressed and irritated. I may be much more outgoing and physically much more visible than you are, but I think that you may still look right through me, even though I may literally be in front of you. I do not think that I intrude your thoughts every once in a while. Unlike me, people will miss you, whether or not you are present. Well, at least I do.
Your absence fills me, and sometimes your absence becomes me , a part of my being. It is a thought which consumes me alive and whole. I miss you. I really do.
Favorite country: France
Favorite food: French fries
Favorite animal: French poodle
Favorite people to hang out with: Friends
Favorite play: Les Miserables
Favorite revolution: French Revolution
Favorite colors: red, white, blue
Favorite economic principle: Laissez-faire
Favorite pick-up line: Are you a tower? Because Eiffel for you.
Walking is a great hobby. It takes you places (literally). It acquaints you with the sights and sounds of your environment, and seeing a friend or two on the way really helps things. It is so much better than sitting in front of a computer screen, wasting your time on trifles. But here I am.