Facebook Mirrors & Confessions

Wow. Just realized how losing 7 lbs has changed me from a year ago.

Looking at old pics of me tagged on Facebook, I realized I hadn't noticed the difference. Which explained why I was always surprised when other people said during the year that I lost weight and looked good. I look in the mirror everyday, and I always feel the same. This summer I've worked off another 5 lbs and toned up from yoga... I wonder when I see new pics of myself with friends if I'll have another surprised "wow" moment. Or if, I'll have to wait another year before I see a difference?

I've plateaued at 139 lbs (goal is 132). Damn, those last 7 really ARE the toughest, especially because I've always had a small tummy since the 6th grade when I stopped swimming competitively (and finished my growth spurt).

Reminded that I need to trim my hair. I've been abuliating about having bangs again for a MONTH now. I oughta just make the damn cut, so that I have some weeks to grow it out a bit if I don't like it. Really wanted to try something new, but am impatient at growing bangs out. Perhaps I'll be able to come to a compromise and try long bangs...? Eh, we'll see.

Ack! Okay, and I confess to looking at his Sweden pics. I was apprehensive of the aftermath feelings, but they were more sweet (surprisingly) than anything else. I don't want to label another entry in his name (because he is the #1 topic I post about, again due credit goes to my Tag Cloud), but...had to be honest, especially with myself. Grrr.

I also confess that I've been thinking of skipping out on my 6 AM yoga class tomorrow. *guilty eyes*

This is why I'm stuck on 139, hah.

5 Signs of Serious Attraction

Well, at least the 5 tell-tale (physical) signs for me.

Often in (and inclined to be protective of) my own world, I’m a hopeless case at being a flirt…I’m much better (and more at ease) with the aim of making friends and sharing laughter. Shoot, I’m usually the one being teased instead! But IF I start to like a guy after getting to know him a little, well see, something happens...

And this something turns on this flirtatious drive to seduce (and to be seduced).

My body language becomes directed towards and focused indirectly on him. Just him. In a crowd, he’ll stand out and everyone else is a blur. Beyond simply sharing laughter, I want to make him laugh. I become hyper-sensitive to him and any touch of his makes a lasting impression. And so you see, common parts of his body suddenly become of Much Interest to me.

For fun (and for my own future reference), I’ve compiled a list of some tell-tale physical signs my crush is getting some kind of serious.

And, because I’m on a list-making frenzy, apparently.

1. I like his hands.
2. I get caught up in his smell.
3. I think his butt is cute.
4. I like touching his hair.
5. I find his voice sexy.

His Hands

There is just something about male hands which simply slays me. And, I’m not exactly sure why this phenomenon exists.

Something in my female psyche gets hypnotized by how they’re bigger than my own and will always win thumb wars, no matter how many times (and ways, for when war is declared some old-fashioned, good-natured cheating is never beneath me). I like their slight roughness. I like being surprised by their versatility. I like watching them in action, whether it’s dribbling a basketball, wielding a BB gun, holding an umbrella (or me!), fixing things, waving in the air to emphasize a point, preparing food, or just lightly touching my hair.

The list goes on…and will probably never end.

As I become more aware of my self, I’m realizing the extent of this rather primal fascination, especially if it’s with a guy I like. You see, with my former lover, sometimes when we cuddled, watched a movie, or were simply pillow-talking, I’d like to feel his hands, run my fingers over a healed blister. As I say how nice his hands are to me, I’d absently press into his palms in a sort of mini-massage. I liked the sensation of my hands being held by his and of his fingers gently tapping against my bare skin to a tune of his own whim.

Okay, I’m starting to veer off in nostalgia…

Basically, as I become more aware of my self, I’m realizing the extent to which I’m a complete sucker for a guy’s hands.

His Scent

It’s something I recently discovered and really, really cannot deny. Not a strong smell per se, rather it’s something I can’t quite put my finger on…but I know is his personal scent.

Case in point? Kenneth Cole Black smells good, but smells that much better on a guy when it mixes with this basic masculine scent. It’s different and somehow more powerful. I know I really dig a guy when I randomly sniff him. Hah, I must sound like an animal, huh? I will rest my head on his shoulder for the sake of breathing him in. His hugs are special…are memorable…not just for the way his body feels against mine, but because his scent will dominate my sense of reality.

Guys worry about their B.O., especially if I smell nice. But honestly, when a guy is sweaty, that’s the last thing on my mind. Watching a guy work out is hot (as I discovered for the first time last Spring when a friend introduced me to the beauty called the weight-training room…yes, I am behind the times). Hot damn, sweaty skin is sexy as sin.

Hm. I’m making this an addendum to my list: if I want to watch you work out, I am thinking about jumping your bones…and if I’m thinking that, boy I really like you.

His Butt

Really, need I say any more?

Okay, I do.

In jeans (please not hang-low baggy, we're not high school wannabe thugs anymore) and in boxers or briefs. When I'm at the stage where a guy and I are comfortable enough with each other, I'll take that teasing swat at his gluteus maximus. Usually that means I won't mind a playful pat on my own derriere (read: hint, hint). And I'll confess, I've only recently realized this newfound love for holding a guy's behind, particularly if said guy is naked.

When I'm attracted, I love every opportunity to look at his behind. Apparently, I tend to do this thing where I'll sometimes fall back a few steps to just watch him walk. When he turns around, I look up to meet his eyes and smile, letting him know that yes, I was (again) totally checking out that mighty cute butt of his.

*cue Cheshire cat-like grin*

As I said, something seems to get...unleashed.

His Hair

I know it's something else when I have an urge to touch a guy's hair. Preferably while he’s resting in my lap.

I like the slightly gelled hair and cute spikes as much as the next girl, but what I like more is hair I can run my fingers through, over and over again. It’s intimate and relaxing, my guilty pleasure that satisfies some mothering instinct.

His Voice

This is another one of those things I am a complete sucker for. Which is why if I can't stand a guy's voice (it's nasal, high-pitched, sounds whiny, etc), I'm sorry--but the most that he and I can hope to be is friends.

And, once my heart is engaged, I will love how his voice sounds. Whether it's on the phone, first thing in the morning, during an argument, whispering something naughty by my ear, giving me a compliment...saying my name. I will remember all the tones for when he's surprised, pleased, proud, frustrated, tired, sad, hesitant, worried...or, aroused. I will remember exactly how his voice can shoot straight to the heart center, to overwhelmingly stun my senses. And, I will know just how attracted I am to him.

Hit all 5?

Well gotta say that's Some Serious Attraction, indeed.

10 Non-First Dates

...that I would find appealing.

1. Kayaking
2. Or, canoeing
3. Mountain biking*
4. Spelunking
5. Shooting range
6. Or, archery
7. Go-karting
8. Camping
9. Rock climbing*
10. Motorcycle ride through the countryside

*have tried, and confirmed as Very Appealing.

Basically, 10 things I’d like to do with someone I’m dating or at that implied exclusiveness stage with.

Then again, if I’m at the implied exclusiveness stage, I'd also be thinking about strip poker. I've no idea why this is so, but ever since the idea piqued my interest, it's not only stuck....

It has become a must-try.

That Dylan Ratigan...

Takes no bullshit.

My favorite question was when he asked, “By that [risk is being repriced] do you mean the market is riskier?”

Henry 'Hank' Paulson wasn’t a former Goldman Sachs CEO for nothing, and gave a good (and valid) response.

But jeez, this is why I love watching Dylan Ratigan in action.

I don’t watch much television. And during the school year, barely at all. Hell, I don’t even own a TV! When I do watch (which is always more during the summer), it mainly consists of Oprah re-runs and CNBC, the favorites being Closing Bell (Maria Bartiromo), Fast Money, and sometimes Morning Call. With the occasional Food Network, Travel Channel, HGTV, and Good Morning America.

Wow. Just realized I sound like my mother. Who, by the way, is sharp as a whip.

More so, it seems these days. After watching this morning's Whitehouse Summit on CNBC with her, I sighed with satisfaction, “Dylan Ratigan is one of my favorites.”

She surprised me by replying, “I don’t really like him, his face looks too hard.”

So some meaning gets lost in translation. But my guard was up… you see, I remember who else she claimed looked too ‘rough.’

“He must have some German background in him, somewhere.”

Aha, there we go. Guard is now FULLY up and buzzing.

My reaction was a careful, “Oh, really? Huh.”

Not the brightest response per se, but I maintained just enough nonchalance to get the subject dropped. If I got defensive, she’d seize the opportunity to poke me about him, you know who...my Formerly 365. Like the time I got all riled up when she called him less manly for not working while he was studying abroad. His driving ambitions is one of the things that always appealed to me. And, I heatedly pointed out to mom, I don’t work either except for having been a RA and doing volunteer work.

“But he’s male.”

Right, gotta love how modern yet in some ways still very traditional my mom is.

She, whose sixth sense is never far from the mark, has been trying several months now to confirm her suspicions that he is not simply a good friend of mine ("What do you mean he's coming by the house?" and "Why does he need to see you before he leaves for Europe, if it's just friends?").

It is utterly pointless for me to lie to my mom, I just can’t do it. That doesn’t mean, though, that over the years I haven’t learned how to deal with it. I have, and picked up quite a few other things as well.

I can honestly--and thus convincingly say--that we never dated and that he’ll never be my boyfriend. I know when I couldn’t stop laughing because she had said, “...going to an international school, he must’ve played a lot of girls,” allayed some of her worst fears (or maybe worried her more?). Anyhow, that we are just friends (now) is undeniable. It's my gold card that I hide behind, the golden line I use to keep my mom from digging up the past.

But who do you think I learned to pay attention to the small things from?

She noticed, and promptly verbalized, that I seemed to be happier after receiving his postcard. Carefully watching me when she asked if I kept in touch while he was in Europe, and oh, did he send an email? Really? What did he say? Ahh, hm.

Because she understands who I am (sometimes better than myself), she knows and sees all those characteristics I find attractive in him. She’s comfortable with us being friends, but is constantly on the look-out that I haven’t fallen for him.

Because her mother's instinct knows it’d spell disaster for me, the daughter who is like her younger self in many, many ways.

Oh, the irony.

Playing Favorites

“Aw babe, you know you’re my favorite sister!”

To which my kid sis rolls her eyes and responds with, “That’s because I’m your only one.”

“Well, you know, Mom taught us to make the best of a worst case scenario.”

Then, one time she surprised me by replying slyly, “Then you do know that I’ll ALWAYS be younger than you.”

HA! Sheesh, the punk makes a valid point. Now, when did little Miss Smarty-pants grow a smarty-mouth?

On The First Rule of Courtship

[Second Rule of Courtship: here]
"You don't sit down and write a wish list about the person you are going to fall violently in love with. It just doesn't work like that. " - Stephen Fry
I've decided. It’s quite simple, really.

And no, I am NOT writing on this subject with the inane idea that some dream guy (especially since I’ve no idea what one'd look like, my fantasy guy is usually this dark blur...) will for some reason read my blog and then proceed to ask me out (which'd be slightly weird). Ha! Though it’d make for a rather interesting Korean drama story line, I'll admit...

No, I’m selfishly writing this for myself, from what I’ve learned about relationships, especially this past year. About what attracts me and would keep me attracted.

See, I am confident in possessing a fair amount of practical good sense, which means I ought to admit to being very naïve at times.
Okay, most times.
True, I am this idealistic optimist and hopeless romantic. I don’t learn until I personally experience it...and after I inevitably encounter a tough lesson, I do become a more realistic of an optimist, but still entertain the same hopelessly romantic notions! It’s like how when parents explicitly tell their curiously rebellious child NOT to play with fire matches behind the family's incense urn. You don’t learn to be careful until after you’ve been burned several strands of singed hair, resulting in the most mortifying bowl cut. Ever. And then! Even after learning your lesson, you continue to play with fire...but are just a whole lot smarter about it (and tie hair back). Or find acceptable substitutes, like sparklers!!!!

Whoops! I’m digressing from the whole point of this post. It’s just that adore sparklers! You know, if a guy gave me sparklers, I’d be just as delighted as if he’d given me flowers, probably even more. But shhh! I'd want the flowers, too.

Right, back to the point.
Basically, I'm writing this to get to know myself better. Since I have quite a lot to say (and really, when have I ever not?), I’ll run them by one post at a time.

1. BEING A GOOD-LOOKING SCHMUCK DOES NOT GIVE YOU A GET-OUT-OF-JAIL-FREE CARD.
Because if love were a game of monopoly, then you'd also be paying me rent for even stopping by my doorstep.

But, you also shouldn’t have a beer belly, okay? Not paying basic attention to your physical self is a flag for me. If you can’t treat yourself right, why the hell should I expect you to be able to treat me right? How you love yourself speaks volumes not only about you as person, but also how you might love me as well. If you don't care enough about things like good eating habits or staying healthy, then I'd be more prone to assume that you're likely to be lazy in other physical acts... catch my drift?

On a different but related side note, beauty is also highly subjective for me. Yes, Pierce Brosnan is a sexy son of a gun (and makes the teen part of my heart fall into a heap of sighs), but that sort of attraction is fun for its utter superficiality, you know? Pierce Brosnan is occasional eye-candy. Eye-candies get rotated. And so you see, I've been feeling mighty partial to James Franco these days. ;)

For me, physical attraction means you also send this certain tingle to my heart or exhilarate my mind in ways that serve to magnify my body's response. And such a tingle can only come from knowing a person. Knowing and respecting him. Sounds cheesy, but being sexy is all about how a guy wears it.
And, it’s not something you can just put on and expect to work miracles if it's not who you are. It’s whether you have any substance to back it up. Whether or not you can make that sexiness work in ways that are decidedly you. Why else is emotionally-invested sex so much more rewarding than the casual hook-up? I mean, I'll be honest here, I've never had a one-night stand (or even a one-time kiss for that matter), so maybe I'll like the random hook-up...but I highly doubt it, and do think it'd be an utter waste of time to try to prove something I already know is right.

Anyhow. It's a major turn-off when a guy depends on how he looks physically or thinks it should make up for what ever else he's lacking. I don't date gigolos. Plus, if a guy decides to act like a twit, I don’t give a shit how many girls think he’s oh-so handsome (that’s their problem). In my books, being inconsiderate, vain, weak-willed, insecure, dishonest and/or a hypocrite means he's lacking as a man (not mention as a decent human being as well)...and I'd think he's an asshole.

And, assholes are unanimously Ugly.
Don't believe me?
Check this one out. Actually, I dislike this one more.

To Haloscan or Not?

Abulia has taken me over. I know, again.

Really, it was only a matter of time before I reverted back to my natural state of impulsive indecision. Currently, I can't seem to decide for the life of me whether I should add Haloscan to my blog or not.

Here are points of interest: (1) the picture in my header disappears when I upload the template with Haloscan, (2) I had read in the forum that if you don't post (or have comments) after awhile Haloscan stops working and deletes old comments (this has neither been confirmed nor refuted, but still...), and (3) I really, really dislike having ads.

Now, I don't mind paying the $12 bucks to import old comments (because it's a huge annoyance to have the Blogger comments and the Haloscan comments on completely separate platforms) and to get rid of the ads....but there seems to be so many kinks Haloscan needs to work out that I'm hesitant to make the final switch. I mean, WHY WOULD I INVEST MY MONEY IN SOMETHING THAT'S LIKELY TO EXPLODE IN MY FACE?

Plus, if one day I decided to no longer use Haloscan, I'd LOSE all the comments I had during that time! And, I'm wary of ultimatums like that.

I want flexibility. I'd like to have the option of having options when I'm not 99.98% sure I'm willing to take that chance.

Since yours truly can't control her heart, control over any and everything else is...appealing, to say the least.

All in all, compared to the blissful satisfaction with my Feedburner experience (which just gets better and better now that it's been acquisitioned by Google), Haloscan has been quite the disappointment.

Alas, I must say no to Haloscan with a twinge of regret in my heart (comment-box layouts are SO very pretty and the dashboard options are useful)...

Maybe Google'll think about buying Haloscan...ya think?

*hopeful eyes*

I ASK YOU

I’ll ask you this. Because I happen to do so much thinking of you.

Have you thought of me?

I miss you, I admit. Tremendously. But it doesn’t hurt as much anymore when I do. Instead I feel restless, like something’s...missing.

And, I wonder sometimes.

Well, okay. I wonder quite often—

…are you thinking about me?

Because I’ve slowly been doing less and less thinking of you.
Yet wonder how I can still miss you all the same.

So, I’ll ask you only when I’m wrapped snugly, within your arms, under your chin. When missing you is just a phrase. When we’re swaying slightly, to the flow of our breath. When your scent conquers every last bit of stubborn sense left in me.

I’ll ask you all of this and more, if you were to hold me again like our time together wasn’t running out. Like time didn’t matter.

Like nothing mattered, even though everything did, too much.
Like everything mattered, even if I didn't...at least, not enough.

I’d ask you.

If I believed we were to ever have such a bittersweet moment once more. Yes, I say I’d ask you this. But only because I know that moment when I can...will never again come to pass.

I lost my heart to you and watched...as you lost the very same heart I gave you.

And, I’d ask you why—except it no longer matters.

I don’t want to know that much.
I don’t need to know anymore.
And, I don’t care to know so urgently.

Why would I ask at all?

Why, indeed.

Chronically Late

It’s almost been a week since this surprising voicemail, I know.

Trust me, writing about what happened afterwards is definitely not the only thing I’ve been putting off these past couple of days. I’m pretty damn sure I'm pissing Zig off (the older-brother-like friend I used to be sweet on, mentioned here in Houdini's Act III) by having yet to respond to his two voicemails left this week. And, I’ve yet to respond to Olivia’s kind email, or yap it up with Holly as I promised last week.

I guess now it’d be a good time to stop procrastinating. To ‘fess up.

He actually called again the next day while I was taking a nap. And, I made the split-second decision to pick it up.

So, we chit-chatted. For FORTY MINUTES.

I’ve been mulling over it (as per usual), and was trying to figure out…yes, it seems to have taken the ENTIRE week…how I felt about it since my initial reaction was decidedly good, with only a tad(?) bad.

When I finally felt ready to write some semblance of coherent thought (and even possibly a tentative self-summation of the current situation).....

.....BAM! I received another postcard from him today.

SNAIL MAIL!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

As if you can't tell by the overuse of exclamation points, I LOVE snail mail. Which I gushed (and thanked him for) via email when his first postcard surprised me sometime late-June.

On the down side, I’m back to being unsure yet of how I feel. Interestingly, my efforts at moving on have made headway, but...something is still bothering me.

I'm not sure what exactly, but given my track record, it usually ain't something good. That much I'm at least sure of.

Dangerous Ground

I found some old handwritten journals. Actually, just 2.

One I kept for 1 ½ years during high school, the other only managed to survive the summer months of last year. I noticed a surprising correlation (yes, besides the utter brevity)—both journals ended at the end of summer, but most notably, the year before a guy came into my life and turned it upside down.

I'm not particularly glad to find that coincidence.

Let me explain, I'm against being one of those type of girls who define their life by guys (even if done unintentionally), so it's ironic that my journals revealed an uncanny truth about myself. Writing helps me define...and perhaps, in many ways, find myself again and again. So, the scary thought to me is...well, then why do I tend to go on these long journal-writing hiatuses where I end up losing my heart, my mind, and all these precious and sometimes unknown parts of myself?

Oh, bother. I always try to pay careful attention to Life’s coincidences (such as this one just discovered). And, I wonder about the reasons...

I wish I didn’t let school, extracurricular miscellaneous, and my social life take away from my journal writing. You see, I’m quite curious to know what I may have been feeling during those missing gaps of the school year (both happened to be my junior year, too!) in my journals. Like, “What the HELL were you thinking?!” and “HOW do you manage to fall for someone so…easily?”

You'll agree, this is valuable knowledge to have when I fall—suddenly and completely—for someone yet again. Because obviously there are some things simply too inherent, too basic. Some things just don't change that easily.

Matters of the mind are tricky enough to decipher…and, matters of the heart? Even more difficult to decipher, much less understand. If even possible.

Therefore, I find writing helps. Seeing my stream-of-consciousness transcend into black and white, I am compelled to finally accept it. It helps to organize thoughts, to get those feelings out there, so that I can’t deny, ignore, or refuse the reality about how I deal with things…

About who I am.

Blogs Don't Lie

Once again, I’ve made some more minor tweaks (notice the various quotes littered thru-out the sidebars?). And some major tweaks to the site. Most notably, scrolling link at the top displaying a number of my recent posts and…*drum rolls*…the tag cloud!!!!!

Tag Cloud, n.

1. one of the sweetest, neat-o widgets created. ever.
2. a personal favorite and new love of yours truly
3. organization of labels (tags) in alphabetical order with the more popular tags in larger font, respectively.

Isn’t it beautiful? *sighs in pure bliss* Much thanks to Frivolous Motion for freely providing such awesome code.

For someone who has near zip experience with HTML coding, it took some time and a bit of research, but mostly trial and error and a ton of both analytical/logical thinking to see how things might connect correctly. Let me say this, it totally ROCKS that these other coding geniuses create such cool widgets and stuff for Blogger and spread the joy with free code. All I usually need to do is make minor adjustments to suit my layout. Sometimes, it takes awhile, but the result is so worth it.

And, the Nerd Egotist in me feels so damn proud of herself.

Now of course, I’ve been doing some admiring of my new tag cloud, so I’d be a big, fat liar if I were to say I failed to notice how absurdly ginormous the tag, “Formerly 365" is.

Which means I post about him the most frequently. Which also means he’s in my thoughts far too much. Which is unnerving.

Sheesh, I ought to dub it the Tag Cloud of Truth.

Phone, No Can Do

Right before bed last night, I accidentally heard an old voicemail that didn’t get deleted.

Hearing his voice so suddenly and after so long, my heart quaked. Hit repeat. Yup, I am completely seduced by the way he said my name. Another repeat. And, I’m somewhat…ridiculously delighted it wasn’t deleted. Repeat, again. Because dear god, I still love how his voice sounds.

Then an arrow of clarity manages to slice through my silly cloud nine...

“This message was sent today at 3:23 PM.”

Holy SHIT.


Please stay on hold while I flip out.

Case of the Common Schoolgirl's Crush

I am an expert at developing crushes.

I always have those secret crushes where some random guy is my harmless eye-candy. You know, that funny lab partner with both brains and mesmerizing eyes to back his wit or the cutie at the coffee shop who accompanies my 16oz Earl Grey with the most adorable smile.

I am also the queen of one-sided crushes. I know those so well that a part of me is used to being the person with more feelings.

He said to me one time, in a moment of shockingly insightful observation of my character, “I think deep down you’re afraid of someone liking you.” I couldn’t quite form a coherent reply, not just because I was surprised by his perceptiveness, but also because I knew him to be somewhat right.

Having lived in 7 different states growing up, I tend to get along with most anybody with a friendly smile…but I had to learn the hard way (several painful times) that there is a decided difference between acquaintance, friend, good friend, and close friend. I stopped calling closer friends ‘best friends’ ever since elementary school—my best friends in life have been and will always be my sister and mother. Nonetheless, my closest friends today are just as special, have been chosen wisely, and are unconditionally treasured...

When it’s decided, I give my all. So, I know that in a romantic relationship, I’d also be all or nothing. It would be like my closest friendship PLUS my heart, and then some. It'd be a sort of unconditional giving that's equal, if not (in some ways) more than, the love I reserve for my family.
My #1 is...well, you know...my #1.

That knowledge scares the living daylights out of me.

It shakes me to the core.

Updated

I'm almost done revamping the site.

Quite proud of the minor changes so far. And, I renamed (yet again) the blog to Laidback Buddhist--I promise I'll settle on one, um...eventually. Taking it all step by step, ha!

Interesting side note,
A certain annonymous commentator left some comments (for this post) pretending to be the guy I'm currently working out my old, unhealthy feelings for, the guy I'm trying to move on from. I know, life can be *so* RANDOM.

But that's not what struck me as interesting... Instead it surprised me was how it protective and immediately defensive I got of him. It was like, yeah I'll sometimes call him an asshole when I think he's acting like one (because I know he actually ISN'T one), but don't ever let me hear you call him that!

Even to myself, I feel a tad ridiculous, huh? Ah, well. I'm just like that, fiercely loyal to my friends.

Plus, a lot of my relationships (both female and male) are indeed, very complex, but I've found that it's the good and the bad that bring the friendship closer. Nobody's perfect. Haha, and most times my closest friends don't understand how I can be good friends with certain people (like him), but I just shrug and say, "My friendship is with that person, and our friendship is not with you." There are some things that can't be explained to a third person...and sometimes, I don't see the need to or perhaps, want to.

And, you'd be surprised, while many of my friends seem completely uncompatible on the surface, I think a lot of them have much more in common than they initially thought. It's whether you're willing to see it. Or, have someone else see that part of you. As Confucius said, "Everything has its beauty, but not everyone sees it."

But, I'll eventually devote a post to explaining the basis of our friendship to the complex ambiguities of our...non-relationship of a relationship. I haven't yet because I don't want to touch that until I'm ready...when I'm sure diving into exploring those feelings of the past won't make me want to go back to it, you know?

Time to sleep. I took a 5-hour medical exam today and boy, am I WIPED.

Said and Done

Well, I wrote this emotional rant last week.

Yes, about the person who’s mentioned in probably half my entries, if not more. But I never got around to posting it.

Then, the week passed with lots of self-reflection and less reflection on him. So suddenly, I didn’t want to post it anymore for I had already gotten the resentful feelings all out and didn’t want to be reminded of them. I want to keep believing that every step I take is continually one step forward.

Overall, I think I am doing better by the week, but that doesn’t mean there aren’t times when I wonder if I’m again getting ahead of myself. I must let go of my need to control outcomes...

Anyhow, today’s horoscope on my iGoogle homepage caught my eye: “although you might be rather distracted, it's crucial that you tie up as many loose ends as possible prior to the Moon's return to your sign this evening. You are on the edge of a whole new emotional cycle, yet your attachments to the past can continue to prevent you from moving forward.”

Hmm, pretty much bull's eye, huh?

And so I figured…well, what the hell, I’m not going to dwell on it any longer or attempt to ignore what the past me wrote. I’m just going to post the damn emotional rant as is. And, I’m going to send him that email reply I’ve been holding back on, too.

----------------------------------------
(Sunday - July, 8th 2007)

I’m not going back on what I said (Left Unsaid).

I meant those words, without judgment or malice. Though, I won’t deny it irks me. A lot more than I’d like it to and probably much more than it should. I don’t want to resent these things that you do anymore. It’s always so much effort. I want an easy-going, uncomplicated, unfettered friendship. But there’s no way I’d bring this up on my own.

WHAT'S DONE IS DONE...AND STAYS DONE.

Although I can’t help but think…is it so much to ask of you, as a goddamn friend. Is it so hard for you to even fucking remember? It might annoy me if a close friend forgot, but it’s never beneath me to forgive (especially since I naturally and easily forgive those close to me). Plus, I forget these things, too, you know. Guys aren’t the only one who can be clueless.

Now a gal’s starting to wonder…

How long is it going to take before you even realize? Don’t tell me you’re simply not going to mention it, that it’s going to be yet another thing left unaccountable. See, I don’t understand. Maybe I’m unable to understand. Maybe it’s all a façade and we’re not as close as I thought. But then the thought of all my belief in you going down the drain is such a disappointment. It seems such a waste of a friendship. So much so, I ought to demote your ‘status’ to acquaintance, ya think?

Unfortunately, I’m not that petty—I always strive to be as much of a tolerant and generous friend as possible. I may vent over things to myself, but I don’t freak out over minor things to others (usually). And, yet. It sure does sting that you wished some other girl on Facebook happy birthday 4 days before mine (yes, this is why it wrecks havoc on me to accidentally read other people’s messages on his wall and why I pinky-swore to stop looking at his profile completely). I know you're aware that my birthday is in the summer. I mean seriously, did you not see my birthday coming up!? And afterwards, did you not see the many well-wishes left on my wall? Seriously!?

I know, I know. It’s just some words, so what’s the BIG deal, right?

Exactly right. Then can someone please, please, please explain to me why I am so strung out about it. Even though I don’t want to hear the answer I already know. I don’t want to hear again and again that it’s because I still care more than I should, damn it. So maybe, just maybe, it isn’t beneath me to resent this action of yours after all. Maybe it’ll cut my longing for you to be a worthy part of my life…

You see, I can no longer be a masochist in my affection towards you. And, never have I remained a masochist in a friendship…with anyone.


Yes, boy…she’s talking about you.

Seeking Male Approval

They say that guys never grow out of seeking their dad's approval.
And, I believe it. Know it.

Well, of course not 'know' as in from the personal male experience (duh), but from the female perspective. Hell, I have to contend with seeking both my father's and mother's approval. Hm, and come to think of it, my kid sis' too…now that the little punk has become a sassy smartass (and I do mean that in the most loving way).

But back to the subject on hand.

Approval from my dad is rare. Approval that I can quote verbatim is even rarer. Therefore, even a nod of approval makes this daddy's little girl feel extra-special. Rarity creates a certain appeal like that.

So here's the latest instance: the other day over lunch, my dad had me take a look at some stats in TIME magazine he found noteworthy. The numbers on the World's Wealthy. We are not surprised that Singapore has the most "Rising Rich" (aka highest growth of millionaires in the population). And I betcha, another batch will come from a breakthrough in stem cells, also from Singapore. The next column lists what TIME termed "Ultra-Affluent" (aka at least $30 million), and it’s given as a percentage to the total rich people living in a region.

That is where the numbers get interesting...

Latin America has the highest at 2.4%, followed by Africa at 2.0%. Which is understandable given the wealth disparity of many countries in those regions. But, these are BAD numbers, to say the least. If you’ve a high percentage of Rising Rich, congratulations! Your country is prospering! However, holding one of the top three spots of the uber-rich is not something to be proud of…it means you have alllll this wealth tied up in the (most likely greedy, corrupted) hands of a few. And, don't try to convince me otherwise, the world's millionaires gave LESS THAN 1% of their net worth to charity.

Selfish bastards.

So, wanna take a stab at who's #3 of TIME's "Ultra-Affluent"?

North America.

Which basically points to US (of A). Because honestly, what Canadian billionaire can you name off the top of your head, EH?!

Yeah, that’s what I thought.

*sigh* The uber-rich of the world’s ‘superpower’ is in the same percentage realm as third-world countries. Just another confirmation that our country is in deep, deep shit (and not just because we're at war).

And, it irks me that whenever I argue politics/environment with A-hole (yes, when I’m criticizing the guy who took my heart and wouldn’t return it or give it up, he becomes A__ the Asshole), he never says ‘our’ country. It’s always the American public, the American people, etc. Look dude, I know you're bonafide European...just like I'm pretty damn sure I'm Chinese last time I checked. But whether you like it or not, not only were you born in this fucked up country, you also grew up and are being educated in it. So, show a little goddamn love...and humility.

"Patriotism is supporting your country all the time, and your government when it deserves it." Mark Twain.

Anyhow, moving on from minor side-rant (I've no excuses for what my broken heart causes me to say). My summation of the numbers got the nod from dad, who was satisfied that his investment in my college career has not been in vain. As a result, the Nerd Egotist in me was again feeling quite proud of herself, and I continued eating, free from care.

Then, my sly old man joked (albeit half-seriously),

“Gaogi-ah, my hope for you is to become a millionaire."

I almost snort a grain of rice up my nose. (yes, very lovely imagery, I know)

But I don't give a damn because...this means that the next nod from dad is now a million bucks away. LOLs! Damn the rapid rise of world’s millionaires! Well, unless I’m one of them ;)

I know my dad joked that not to give pressure but because he knows it shouldn’t be an out-of-reach goal for me or anyone who is on paper as young, educated, and with opportunities, and especially if I’m smart about my own money.

Sooo basically he’s made it an expectation…good god, what a sly fox, that man!

Philosophically Speaking

HYPOCRISY is one of my ultimate pet peeves, like *insert shudder* limpfish handshakes. I relish in finding paradoxes, but hypocrites...a big no-NO.

So am now working on correcting this dastardly realization in myself.
Damn you sudden epiphanies!

Which led to a surprisingly lively drive to re-think (expand upon?) my "laidback buddhism." Apparently, yours truly overlooked the Confucian and Daoism philosophies, taught indirectly to me by my father. Buddhism to me is more a way of life, a personal thought process...as is Confucucian and Daoist thought. So, I'm working on somehow meshing it all together. I'm very curious as to what I'll end up terming it b/c right now, I'm very partial to the name of Laidback Buddhist.

I mean, intellectual vanity aside, it is rather accurate.

And apparently there's ALSO this whole yoga philosophy that I haven't even tapped in to yet (currently reading up on the 10 different yoga schools of thought...seriously, TEN?!!). After absorbing this new information, I will then be able to proclaim to be a true student of yoga!

You know, rather than keeping up yoga for physical vanity's sake.

On a side note, I read Sun Tzu's The Art of War today. Maybe his thinking will help me lose less devastingly to my dad when we play Go.

Ya think??

Two Brick Walls Nodding

This is the problem with being both the emotional feeler and the analytical thinker. On one hand, I feel too much and too deeply. On the other, I think too hard and too long... It pretty much sets the perfect stage for a never-ending battle between the two selves.

So then, when I somehow hit upon an epiphany worth mentioning in eloquent This-Fish style, the Nerd Egotist in me simply can't wait to share...er, boast.

I think you’re torturing yourself.
I think you’re right.
The whole point of playing devil’s advocate here is to have a DEBATE. So you can figure things out.
Well, I got tired of it.
You knew this would eventually happen…
Yeah, I knew.
Will you stop agreeing! What happened to the girl who won’t go down without a fight?
I told you, she got tired.
Then pick yourself up, you hear?
And, is it so easy…to just cut it like that?
It’s not only easier to, but better for you. The cleaner the cut, the less of a scar.
Whoa. Wait, please say that again.
I said. The cleaner the cut, the less of a scar.
Hot damn, you're absolutely brilliant!
Of course. Now put some gutsy spirit back into yourself. It’s boring to talk to someone who has lost her wits.
I haven’t lost my wits, mind you. I just…lost my heart.
You mean a broken, useless heart?
It can be fixed...I think.
You're better off building a new one.
No...not a new one.
Oh, now this is interesting. Dare I believe we're back to debating?
Only because you're wrong. I can't erase the scars, it'd negate the whole point of going through all that pain.
Point being?
That I'm better off using the experience to build a better, stronger heart.
Atta girl.

I struggled because I know that when I finally do say good-bye, it’s for good. And, on some level, I didn't want to...though it was obvious (even to myself) that I needed to.

So I s'pose this turned out to be a good epiphany after all.

Left Unsaid

Why didn’t you say anything?

I didn’t feel the need to. I mean, these things happen. And, there’s no point in going out of my way to remind every person who forgot that they forgot. If they care that they forgot, they probably already feel bad enough as it is. For me to then say something is rude and…honestly, kinda OCD-like, you know?

Don’t worry, I’m really bad at remembering, too, except for my VIPs and family members. Even then, I was a week late for Stephen’s (which he kindly rubbed in my face when he wished me happy bday, on time, haha the punk). B/c my friends cut me slack, I know to be tolerant of forgetfulness here and there.

Although, gotta say…you’ve set quite the record for belatedness...

I wonder. Now that I know what I’ll say if really asked....if I’ll ever get the chance to even say it, you know?

Houdini's Act III

The Love Life

In my 21 years thus far, I’ve fallen for four guys worth mentioning—the degree varying from first crush to first lover.

At age 12.

Red-haired, with freckles, amazing green eyes and an absolute wicked sense of humor. My first crush. We rode the bus to Safety Harbor middle school every morning. I was the bookworm who (yes, voluntarily) sat in the front seat behind the bus driver while he…? He was the rowdy upstart who got moved to the front seat behind the bus driver. This boy could tell stories that I’m pretty sure even Ms. Bus Lady cracked a smile at every now and then. He was charming in a very sweet way, and he liked to teasingly flirt with me. I wouldn’t be surprised to hear he grew up to be a heartbreaker, but the kind you just can’t get mad at. Of course, the crush faded and was replaced by others when we moved from Florida to New Orleans the following year, but my memory of that first crush remains vivid.

At age 17.

I met him over a summer leadership conference my sophomore summer in high school. We kept in touch throughout my junior (his senior) year and before I knew it, I somehow developed this enormous crush on a guy several states away. It was honestly the most idealistic form of affection. There was the usual banter over AIM and sweetly teasing emails, silly pictures sent back and forth and 3-hr long phone calls (talking even in Chinese and singing songs to each other. Yes, we were dorks of the same kind). Call it puppy love through the intellectual mind. Then he was off to college and I was wrapping up my own senior year. Our naive fervor for each other ended amiably and naturally, so our friendship was kept. I love how over the years, we maintained a comfortable bond. Granted we don’t talk a fraction the amount we used to, but I’m always pleasantly surprised by how easy it is to still strike up conversation with him over the phone on occasion. I take it as a good sign for our friendship that I still laugh until my cheeks hurt.

At age 19.

I remember the first time I felt myself being drawn into his easy-going humor and natural charisma (after I got over the initial shock of "Holy crap! It's an asian guy over six feet"). He went on to become the big brother I always wished I had, even though I’m so glad he wasn’t really for I was totally sweet on him. He already had a girlfriend (who is an awesome girl, by the way) that year we first met. They separated the next year when he graduated and started working. But we all keep in touch. In fact, he and I continue to have the laid-back friendship we had from the start. Funny how these matters of the heart operate, I thought my warm affection towards him engaged all, if not most of, my feelings. That it meant my heart was safe for the time being. I truly believed it and thought that way until one day I suddenly gave my heart away to the person I least expected.

At age 20.

It’s odd to talk about our past history together when it’s pretty fresh, when how our friendship will develop is still left to be seen. So, I can’t offer any I’m-past-walking-down-this-road reflection or insight. But, the basics don’t change. Blonde hair, blue eyes...he was the first kiss who went on to become my first lover.

Looking back, I realized they all have several things in common. (1) I was always quick to smile around them and they could effortlessly make me laugh, (2) Each had a good heart, (3) We had excellent friendships, (4) They all pushed me to be a better person or to try new things, and (5) I knew that one day my romantic feelings for them would dissolve into something platonic.

Bullet 5 is the trigger-shot one…
And, it leads to the third disappearing act:

[3.] To cutting off my romantic attachment with a friend. See here’s the thing, I can control my emotions but I can’t control which emotions I feel. He fit the role for my escapist tendencies perfectly, in other words (and in the words of all the people who cared for me), he was bad for me. We are fantastic friends, we had this sexual tension that loved to flare up, and we each had our own issues. He is great as a lover, but disastrous as a romantic interest. I knew this, and this is probably the reason I felt it safe to let go. I loved to escape into what I had found with him because I knew it would end.

He’s currently in Europe for the next two semesters and our friendship is at its best because there is zero chance of the physical chemistry blurring things. We are back to being great friends, and only that. I can’t make him my escape again because I only escape into what I expect to end. And, I’m not willing to let our friendship to end. So, I better get my act together and start seeing him not as an escape but treating...getting used to seeing him as a friend.

However rare true love may be, true friendship is even rarer – La Rochefoucauld

Act I - The Johnson Ladies
Act II - The Academia Nutcase

Houdini's Act II

The Academia Nutcase

I think I’ve always been escaping from one thing or another. For someone who strives to be accountable for her actions towards others, it’s a hard thing to admit that I was escaping from being accountable to myself.

It's an even harder thing to admit why...

I need my second disappearing act:

[2.] To focusing more on my studies and building up clinical work. Is this what I really want to do? To be honest, I always put in average or slightly above-average. If something was going well in one area, I’d let another area slip a bit so that overall I’d still be the same person.

I was afraid. I was lazy. I wanted to push the limits of mediocrity and below as much as possible when instead I should’ve been pushing forward. I excel in every other aspect (standardized tests, sports, being well-rounded, extracurricular, being a daughter, big sister, friend, etc) of my life except for my academics. Why?

I put my heart into what I want to do, into everyone I love and care for. I am what can be termed as the characteristic ‘bleeding heart humanist.’ But I had trouble finding that same passionate heart in my studies. For some reason, I felt obligated and I resented such sort of obligated feelings. Such turn of thought caused me to wonder often that perhaps I’m in the wrong major? I had an idea, but not a well-formed one, of what I wanted to do. So, I said I didn’t know yet and time flew by. Now, I do know…I cannot live without being driven by my own passion for it.

Good thing I believe in it's never too late.

“As soon as you trust yourself, you will know how to live.”
-Johann Wolfgang von Goethe

Act I - The Johnson Ladies
Act III - The Love Life

Houdini's Act I

The Johnson Ladies

All things come and go.

And, I love escaping into the moments. So much good fun and unexpected joy was brought into my world by my girls and others. It's going to be hard, hard, hard to say good-bye to this part of my life. Although it's somewhat easier that most of the people I connected to this period of much happiness have already left. Both Holly and Tony graduated, Megan’s left but with a lasting memory, Olivia also made the tough choice to go, Tricia would still be on maternity leave, Mickey’s done and so is Trot, while A is in Europe (and even if he wasn’t, he didn’t plan on coming back because of his building assignment). I adore these people and another year in Res Life without them would be so…odd.

Despite initally hesitating, it seems to be the better course...

For the first disappearing act:

[1.] To no longer being a RA. This one’s tough for me to make. Despite all the paperwork and bullshit extra stuff we were expected to do, when it came down to it…god, how I loved being the RA to my girls. I was so damn lucky to have my first 30 residents be such a kick-ass crazy, fun-loving, loud-mouthed bunch. I could not have wished for better because they were the best.

People think being a RA is a power status, it’s totally not. You're thrown into so many situations and sometimes, it’ll be a scenario never previously encountered. You learn that the best way to deal is to depend on each other. Because of my title, I was seen as the leader, but often I found my girls teaching me, helping me see things I didn’t realize existed. They were the best mentors for my first-time experience of being a 24/7 live-in mentor.

"Make it a rule of life never to regret and never to look back. Regret is an appalling waste of energy; you can't build on it; it's only good for wallowing in." -Katherine Mansfield

Act II - The Academia Nutcase
Act III - The Love Life

In Some Ways

In some ways, I'm relieved. In others, more worried about the disappointment. I didn't know how else to tell her...

It was coming sooner or later, and so, I’m relieved that it finally came sooner. That she finally knows and in the end, understands. Supports it despite everything. It's almost funny how we both didn’t want to say what we actually thought because we believed that’s what the other wanted.

It's funny how love is sometimes.

I can't change these things. My mother really does know me the best. I don’t know why it has to be this way. I guess things really do have to be learned the hard way. Really, I wish it didn't have to be. Now that I’m older and understand, I want to spare you every second of worry and concern.

I'm taking it for the better. I'm acknowledging my limits, but I’m using it my advantage. I’m using it to strengthen myself in order to set new limits.

And, I'm so, so sorry.

Lessons of an Impromptu Garden

I’m slaving away at my computer when I happen to overhear a phone conversation my mother’s having with my grandaunt, currently in Atlanta. In a mix of Chinese and Taiwanese, they were discussing how to grow my mom’s winter melon, which was starting to show signs of emerging. I didn’t even know our garden was growing winter melons! Then, I’m not that surprised…twenty-one years of experience as her daughter has taught me to be ready for anything.

“I dried some seeds for a full year before planting them. I think that helped.”

Good god! A whole year, and then another year before you knew whether the seed you planted was going to survive or even grow to a respectable size. Talk about patience. And, trust.

“How did I plant them? Like I planted everything else, I just threw a handful of the seeds into the ground and patted some dirt and home-made fertilizer over it.”

I bite back a smile. Through the phone, I can hear my grandaunt’s laughter of exasperation, and I understand how she feels.

A garden is associated with neat little rows and careful planting. I always thought of gardeners as very serene people who were patient and/or possessed a diligent green thumb. Or, they were rambunctious kindergarteners in the school garden. Whereas our garden started out as a whim of my mother’s, a person who liked very much to experiment and didn’t believe in boxes. Who knew I’d start associating the word garden with daily battleground?

Think 53-years-old Asian mother versus the suburban squirrels. Oh, it was awesome.

Okay, I’ll admit. Over the past two years, this whimsical garden behind our house has yielded some tangible and yes, even edible goods. Branching out from the herbs, my mom now tries to plant anything and everything she thinks might be suitable in our climate. And it has certainly been amazing to see what sprouts up because sometimes she forgets what she planted where.

In fact, I’m always some kind of amazed that things are actually sprouting. It goes to show that while knowledge can take you far, a willingness to keep trying is a true confirmation of the words, ‘you reap what you sow.’

Kudos to you, ma.

From the Side

Conversations of Note:

“You want to know what I think?”

“No, not really.”

“You can think like a guy, but you’re a girl.”

“I’m confused, so are you saying this as a good thing or bad thing?”

“I’m saying it’s the thing that screws you over.”

“I almost resent that.”

“Should I continue?”

“By all means. Enlighten me as to why I’m so screwed, please.”

“You can see both sides but like a typical girl, your actions are driven by your emotions. You’re controlled by them. THAT screws you over.”

“I resent being called a typical girl.”

“You don’t resent being screwed?”

“Oh, I love being screwed.”

“Top, bottom or behind?”

Truth Of The Matter Is...

…you can’t just passively hope that the time frame for moving on will somehow miraculously shorten. Because when reality reveals again and again that this is not the case, it fucks all sorts of shit up. All sorts.

…blindingly trusting both yourself and time to heal things is not the way to go. It’s also a form of avoidance. You need to know where you want to go, and then...purposefully trust yourself to put that first step forward. Otherwise, as time passes you by, you’ll just realize that your fears held you back. That they held you even tighter to the past you're trying to progress from.

…being able to give yourself to another person is a wonderful thing and a precious gift. But! Just because you gave a part of yourself away does not mean you’ve lost yourself completely. It’s a chance to rediscover yourself, stronger and better than before.

…when you make a decision and have all the intentions to stick with it, you best make sure that it’s not only because you know it’s the right decision. It’s one thing to need it, and another thing entirely to want it as well.

The HEART of the matter is…

The fact that I don’t want to let go of our close friendship really meant I didn’t really want to let go. Period.

Some things really are all or nothing.

So, I want it all.

And, it will have nothing to do with holding on to the past anymore.

Debatable Debacles

Yes. I am a nerd. This has already been established.

So really, it shouldn't come as a surprise that sometimes I like to play a little devil’s advocate with myself. This format of expressing thoughts is taken from This Fish, whose writing I adore. It helps me shift through the emotions a little more smoothly. Just a little, mind you.

And sometimes, if I’m lucky…I’ll hit upon an epiphany.


So, are you secretly wanting more?
Well, I've sent him the email where I admitted some things, guaranteeing we'll both step back.
This is a yes or no question.
Um…
Well?
Yes, damn it. Of course, I want more. But silliest thing is that I don’t even know what I want more of anymore.
Then why keep torturing yourself w/ such close communication?
It’s just called keeping in touch.
Okay, then. Who else do you ‘just keep in touch’ with daily and with over page-long emails?
Um. No one else. Ever.
Then why are you doing it, you idiot!?
Fine! I’m a masochist.
That’s an excuse. Old and lame.
Maybe so, but it’s forcing me to get used to thinking of him as just a good friend and not my lover anymore.
Or potential significant other?
Or potential significant other.
So, you mean if he found a hot Swedish girl, you’d be alright?
NO!
You’re pathetic.
Shutup. I’m honest.

Okay, so not quite the epiphany I had hoped for.

Months x 3

-------- Sometime in May 2007 --------

It’s that silence.

I utterly despise that kind of unexplained, sudden, and complete silence. I don’t care if it’s brief or stupidly one-sided or even irrational. I hate it because every second is so damnably…tense.

I can’t relax in that sort of silence, that kind of not knowing.

With other people, it’s not like that. I cut all my friends a lot of slack because they’re tolerant of me in all my crazy entireties. And, for the everyday people who don’t claim an emotional part of me.

Bluntly put—with others, I don’t obsess. We all have our own lives to tend to. Shit may (and will) happen, and we are totally allowed to lose our minds for a moment.

But it bothers hurts me like no other when it’s from you. Because that’s exactly what you’re doing. Hurting me. I don’t fucking care if something came up and sorry, you got busy and forgot.

Because under all my layers of bravado, I do care.

Too much.

-------- Sometime in June 2007 --------

I don’t want to realize that your indifference and at times guarded distance is for me, for my damned pitiful sake. Then it takes all the justifiable steam out of my anger towards you. Self-pitying SUCKS and tears make my eyes hideously puffy. I’d rather have that anger back and a fighting will.

You once explained to me that when you worried, it wasn’t for yourself. You said you worried for me.

God, how I despised and loved those words. In that instant, I realized you held in your hands the power to melt away my anger, my frustration, my fears…and my heart.

So, I hated that. And, you.

All the while wishing you’d do that again.

Again and again and again…

-------- July 1st, 2007 --------

I want to hear that you’re hurting as much as my heart is bleeding. I don’t care if that means you’re exaggerating. I want to hear it, damn it.

Sometimes, I fear all that bleeding will cause my heart to dry out and shrivel up into an ugly prune. So, I beg for a quick-fix and say fuck the consequences.

I beg that somehow you’ll let go of me. Then beg for you to be unsuccessful.


I don’t want to hear that you’ll hold back because it’s what I need to move on. I secretly wanted to hear you say how much you wished you could hold me instead.

But then again, I know that if you were to actually say so, you wouldn’t be the person I adore and cherish. No, you wouldn’t be the person who’d respect my wishes to avoid certain topics because they reminded me of my past…with you.

You wouldn’t be the person who’s anxious that an ocean away, I might be sad because of the hurt you’ve caused. The person who’d send me hilarious YouTube videos to make sure I can still laugh and smile because of you.

Once more, I hate you for melting away my frustrated anger and my broken heart.


And yet, I can't help but still...somehow...wish to thank you.