12 July 2013
Throughout my almost reaching the neutral zone to the end of
my non-extended contract, it was Micai and her passion for reading bolstering
me up. Sam was of course my main support system but outside the family circle,
Micai was my to-go gal. She lent me David Levithan books.
Everyday was refreshing. It was written simply but
lyrically. It was open and was androgynous. It spoke of longing to belong and
wanting to have someone to be intimate with. Isn’t that something everyone
desires? In my flat dimensional
existence before this period of grief I found it non-compulsory to have someone
to spend the rest of my life with. The downfall told me otherwise. Suddenly I
wanted to belong to someone. I craved acceptance and always felt how I stuck
out, how I was always the onlooker, the part of the crowd who was there but who
never was one of the crowd. I wanted to be surrounded by people. I wanted to be
liked. I wanted to belong. I wanted to be comfortable around people. I did not
want the feeling of being alone in the crowd any more. It’s as if I suddenly
can’t stand it. I want to continue to talk on and on and be listened to. I
wanted to be acknowledged for who I am. There’s this longing for companionship
and socialization. It was a need I never recognized before pain as
self-destructive as this.
It was brave of A to give Rhiannon away to Alexander Lin.
Then I was castigating myself again, "If someone has the right to complain his fate,
it was A than you dearie. You still have a shot in life though you do not know
where that is." As for the bodies he inhabited, they were universal-the fat, the
addicted, the very beautiful, the recently from an accident, the athlete, the
aspirant, the responsible, the obedient, the brute. It was a wonderful way to
earn back one’s self respect. A was sublime in a way. He was admirable because
he held out on his own all his years. He developed principles though no one
directly taught him. He knew respect and love though there was no one to give
those to him directly. He was knowledgeable and responsible, considerate and
sensitive. He showed me how the vacation from myself would have been. Flash-pop-pop
emerged my motto: you still have today and this today, you still can change. I
am not that entirely hopeless. If in my lifetime, I wouldn’t see God moving the
rock I’ve been pushing my whole life long, the fact that He called unto me to
push it is enough.
Micai also sent me the Lover’s Dictionary to peruse. I read
it twice. If that was love, losing oneself in a togetherness that was as
precarious as our passing days, what happened to me wasn’t love. It was
destructive. My life seemed to have been summarized to those five months that I
don’t stop talking about it at all. I’m still trying to find meaning in any of
it I can’t go on to think of anything else. I know I haven’t been all too
disadvantaged at that time but there was no joy at all, I was constantly
silenced and wronged I was lost at always thinking that what was right would be
something I would not do or would not think of doing. I have to stop. If I
continue to see things in light of that experience, I will continually allow it
to mar the rest of my still fresh and splendid life. I do believe that I will
laugh at these remembrances. Time will come when I will only laugh at how I
meekly trudged on like sheep for slaughtering. They butchered me into a
weakling. I can be like that. The possibilities are still endless. I can turn
my life to whatever I want to be. It’s scary-amazing!
I do not wish to be back the way I was. All that was is not
for nothing. I have never been through an emotional blip blop as I did. The
range of my emotions were never this overwhelmingly powerful and their
transitions weren’t as instantaneous. If for anything, it would be a wellspring
of emotion should the time come that I would need to manufacture emotions for a
living.
The idea of writing non-chronologically thoughts and instances
on love and repeating some of the entries with variations under different word
entries–unassuming genius. What’s with David Levithan’s writing that makes it
easy to relate to and very heartfelt regardless of the simplicity by which he
writes? Nick and Norah’s Infinite Playlist was also an affirmative rebuke. By
golly they’re only 16 and they have undergone as out-of-self pain and move on
as fast? In comparison, why am I so hang-up and slow to progress? Fictional
characters they may be but their rants are easy to identify with. They have each
other. They try to come out of it. They are confused. They don’t know what to
do. They are honest to each other, revealing themselves openly. They are
fortunate that they both listen, that they both accept.
What am I doing and who am I doing it for?
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