Stalemate

The verbal articulation of mind is difficult indeed. The speaking words once uttered helplessly get entangled as mind gets messy and perplexed. Words can hardly make oneself understood properly. Then we write letters but they aren’t perfect, either. Michael once talked about easing of relationship and I stubbornly refuted the attitude though apparently knew what he meant. I might have just shifted some emotional burden of mine on to Michael by contradicting him. Or maybe I found someone I knew in Michael, even though the two were absolutely strangers and different from each other. I was not angry with Michael but with the other.

Their thoughts about the relationship conflict with each other. One is totally different from the other, but both are emotionally responsible for each other. It is not important that who first provoked and started the war. Definitely they started at the same time. Now the problem is that they cannot stop the battles and often embarrassingly hurt each other on their own whims. Nevertheless, they don’t want to lose each other and that is more serious problem. Maybe one has thought that the other could be changed (deluding themselves in many respects). Seemingly they don’t want to face the situation as it is. Even if they finally face it, though, and it’s probably hard to make themselves be rationalised. We can say that they love each other, as far as we recognise that love has two contrary faces. They mightn’t know how to deal with each other in their minds. At least there is something they don’t perceive, let alone absurdity and arrogant pride. They cannot be everyone in their minds.

Everything would go on as ever with nothing changed. The war game would be going on, too. Someday they would consume all the feeling and become tired. Then the exhausted souls will put their arms down and regret lost time with which they could share for many things together. On that day, the two broken hearts would cry for the precious illusions that they had to make realised in their lives. Therefore, they would have to dream further.

Brit…

(30 March 2011)

Fragments of Memoranda in months

1. A friend is only a friend, cannot be more or less. (Then just more than that: 27 Oct. 2010)

2. If there’s a guy who makes me totally forget about my age, that is, who makes me feel like just a girl, I think I cannot but love him. (For me really younger than anyone else: 11 Nov. 2010)

3. Sometimes she asks herself if she’s a woman, indeed. Well, she’s seemingly a lady, but I cannot tell about “a woman,” though she provokes someone at times. (Whenever perceiving her, he’s struck and becomes honest as he is: 14 Nov. 2010)

4. My inside frequently rebels me, so more these days that I’m overwhelmed at every moment. What am I supposed to do? (Let it be or flow: 24 Nov. 2010)

5. Virtue disguised morals is often much more hypocrite than vice itself. It isn’t honest at all at times. (So, can it be a excuse? 24 Nov. 2010)

6. Love never demands pay, and it won't as ever. (It’s O.K: 3 Dec. 2010)

7. About the procedure of their relationship, there are separately two ways, at worst two ways and at best two ways. At worst, she falls in love with him, or she breaks her fantasy and stops making the fairy-tale. At best, she makes an affair with him, or she wakes herself up from self-delusion and recovers self-consciousness. He constantly encourages her amnesia, but often her self-consciousness interrupts in, which where her identity is embedded in and engraved on. I think she won’t make an affair with him, because love is blind and foolish but an affair has eyes. Definitely it’s hard for her to accept him embracing all the things she cannot understand about him. Not only he is in the realm of a haze for her, but also she doesn’t like to be in the same basket bustling with his girls. The roué's girls! (I’m blind / Pardon? / No, nothing: 12 Dec. 2010)

8. I think he can’t give her what she wants. I know it so well because he even doesn't know about what she wants. She knows about what he wants, though, she doesn't give it to him. In that sense, he is a fool and she an evil, but in reverse, in different sense, she is a fool and he an evil. The poor girl is dreaming of something romantic whatever it contains. (I don’t agree yet I know: 12 Dec. 2010)

9. I advised her to spare a little distance from him because he was so cruel. Without loving her (as far as I think), he woke up her deep and long sleeping instinct and fired on it for her desire to flame up. The poor girl doesn't know how to control it and how to take her composure back as before. She is helpless at times. She wants to hate him, but can't do that. Rather, she likes him and doesn’t want to lose him. She needs him as much as he does her. He is the knight in her fairy tale as well as the fierce demon of inevitable reality. Then she must harmonise the fairy-tale with the reality and keep up with her purity simultaneously compromising her instinctive vulgarity. (I understand: 15 Dec. 2010)

10. Is saying longer sentences such hard? It makes you look blunt as if being angry with me. I want my man to be tender of my feelings. (Ok, promised: 12 Jan, 2011)

11. Generously granting for the knight’s storage! Take one whenever she asks something! Not bad would be sharing with her! (Actually good it is: 18 Jan, 2011)

Did I need to write them down? Well, I don’t know, but for a catharsis.

Brit…

The End of a Story

It’s been nothing, nothing but pastime. So it’s not me, absolutely not my style. I didn’t start anything for it though I was thought to have done something. Rather I’m the one who was led to this ridiculous position. I know it’s cowardly to shift any emotional responsibility on to the other, though. Maybe we both started at the same time. Indeed we did. If I’m obstinately imputed to, however, then I’ll quit from now.

I’m not accustomed to be nothing because I’ve been something in particular or someone special all the time. Excellent student for teachers or professors, uniquely precious love for lovers, proud girl for parents, adorably loved mom for children, respectably idolised one for certain persons, it’s been me. There can be some negative reactions, of course, but in most cases it’s true. I don’t have to make myself miserable. No one can make me so. Nevertheless, I myself have been making me frivolous. All’s been on me.

Nothing has changed. I’ve been changed, in other words, awakened. I cannot make myself disappointed any longer. The time has come and now is the time to stop the game. Too tired to continue . . . it'll hurt me.

Brit…

At the beginning

Been exhausted, though it’s just start!

‘Messy’ and ‘flurried’ are probably two adjectives which can describe my first day. It doesn’t mean that I did so much work, that is, I was physically busy. Rather, it was closer to emotionally stirring or mentally bustling. I’m totally groggy feeling deserted.

When P said “Good luck” to me just as we came across this morning, I felt the word “Good luck” exploded and hatched on all sides and then swayed in the air like dancing goblins. Did P abandon me with the word and have left, and so did my feeling wander about? Nonsense! The word seemed to call an irony, though it was definitely a kind of blessing. Absolutely P wouldn’t know my mind, even couldn’t imagine it.

Did I have a tough day and was it bloody hard for me? No, I cannot say so, because I have little things to have been done. So . . . so was my day. My exhaustion is from some drifting that I can’t make head or tail of my state. Maybe I’m weak in all aspects. That’s perhaps why I’m deadly feeling lonely now.

Brit…