"I should set up a fortune telling booth in the mall. At least then I'd get paid when the things I see about to happen do come to pass," she muttered under her breath as she angrily flipped through her Facebook posts. Just as she suspected. Yet another guy she liked finally got a girlfriend, and it had every indication of being serious this time. Yet again. It just didn't seem fair! She could be close friends with these guys, have great conversations, do fun things, hang out all the time... but in the end she was just one of the boys, loosing "his" attention to another pretty girl who came along. It was a terrible, crushing feeling, being able to foresee what was about to happen. She could pretty much pick out who "she" would be, long before "he" ever seemed to show signs that he was aware what was going on. Why was it that when she knew him inside out, it never occurred to him to stop ogling the pretty girls and look at her?
She was tired of this cycle repeating itself. Tired of the heartbreak, of being the only one hurting alone. Tired of patiently looking on, trying to be supportive, smiling to cover up the tears that threatened to spill over and would inevitably drowned her pillow when she got home at the end of the day. Tired that no matter how much she loved "him", he'd never be hers. Change her clothes, change her hair, loose some weight, take up new hobbies, give him all her time and attention... all for what? An empty heart and the weight of the world crushing her down... down... down... She wasn't herself, but she still wasn't good enough for him.
But what she was tired of more than anything, was being bitter.
How does one cure a broken heart that has turned bitter? How does a person regain their hope when every time it glimmers it is stamped down, buried deep and washed away by a river of endless tears? What do you do when everyone else gets the very thing you desire most?
How does one find joy again?
Exhausted and emotionally barren, she drifted off to sleep. Time did not heal this wound; it only allowed it to scab before someone would scratch the surface and allow the fester to be released. Healing was the only thing that could save her now.
Wednesday, October 3, 2012
Sunday, September 30, 2012
2. Beautiful Moon, Blue Moon
Staring out at the rain drizzling down her window pane, she knew that yet another year would pass before she could see the famed "most beautiful" full moon of the year. Tonight, many people across Asia will celebrate with special sweets and take time to gaze at the moon in all its glory. The perfect time to pluck a piece of pampas grass, hand it to the one you adore and stutter "su...suki", a play on words involving the word for pampas grass and "I love you."
Unfortunately, a typhoon swept passed the island earlier on in the day, leaving behind rain and cloud cover. And the guy who first told her that crazy pun, well, he was trying it out on another girl tonight. Maybe it was just as well she couldn't see the moon.
Unfortunately, a typhoon swept passed the island earlier on in the day, leaving behind rain and cloud cover. And the guy who first told her that crazy pun, well, he was trying it out on another girl tonight. Maybe it was just as well she couldn't see the moon.
1. Orange Peels
Rubbing her eyes and yawning, she stretched, nearly brushing the ceiling with her fingertips in her cramped, miniature size apartment. Feedback from her contacts on social networks who made such absurd allusions to living overseas being romantic and an endless adventure had clearly never lived there themselves. There was nothing entertaining about overpriced food or scrubbing mold out of shower tiles after a particularly hot and humid summer. Most days were simply, well, ordinary.
Other days were extremely aggravating. Like today. She didn't know what was up with Mercy, but did she always have to nitpick over every little thing she did? Of course it is important to adapt to your host culture, but more often than not, it seemed like the citizens of her host culture liked to view the concept of "cultural adaptation" as "you moved to my country so do everything exactly as I do, regardless of whether anyone else does." Only so many people can have the "right" way of doing things...
She liked Mercy, most of the time. But today, well, she had already had enough stress to last a week, and when Mercy told her that by not folding her orange peel back into an orange shape that she appeared like a child, the last residual attempt at polite interest vanished completely. SERIOUSLY?! Its a freaking orange peel! About to be thrown in the trash. She knew that this country was ridiculously obsessed with form and rules, but this was taking it one step too far.
And she knew Mercy was trying to conciliatory when she followed up the conversation with concerned inquiries about whether or not her eye was healing, and by mentioning she looked tired... but she couldn't swallow half-baked apologies anymore. Not from someone who managed to alienate the one man she swore she would always love by flirting with the guy she had her eye on for some time. She didn't know whether to think Mercy was naive, stupid, or a backstabber. It didn't matter though. Its not like Takeshi returned her feelings. And you simply can't make someone love you, no matter how hard you may wish it.
Feeling her irritation mount, she slipped on her jogging shoes and headed for the beach. There was something soothing about the cool evening breezing toying her hair as she dug her toes into the still-warm sand as the surf played around her ankles. And nothing relieved stress like yelling irrational diatribes at the sea. If only such easily attained relief would bring lasting peace.
Other days were extremely aggravating. Like today. She didn't know what was up with Mercy, but did she always have to nitpick over every little thing she did? Of course it is important to adapt to your host culture, but more often than not, it seemed like the citizens of her host culture liked to view the concept of "cultural adaptation" as "you moved to my country so do everything exactly as I do, regardless of whether anyone else does." Only so many people can have the "right" way of doing things...
She liked Mercy, most of the time. But today, well, she had already had enough stress to last a week, and when Mercy told her that by not folding her orange peel back into an orange shape that she appeared like a child, the last residual attempt at polite interest vanished completely. SERIOUSLY?! Its a freaking orange peel! About to be thrown in the trash. She knew that this country was ridiculously obsessed with form and rules, but this was taking it one step too far.
And she knew Mercy was trying to conciliatory when she followed up the conversation with concerned inquiries about whether or not her eye was healing, and by mentioning she looked tired... but she couldn't swallow half-baked apologies anymore. Not from someone who managed to alienate the one man she swore she would always love by flirting with the guy she had her eye on for some time. She didn't know whether to think Mercy was naive, stupid, or a backstabber. It didn't matter though. Its not like Takeshi returned her feelings. And you simply can't make someone love you, no matter how hard you may wish it.
Feeling her irritation mount, she slipped on her jogging shoes and headed for the beach. There was something soothing about the cool evening breezing toying her hair as she dug her toes into the still-warm sand as the surf played around her ankles. And nothing relieved stress like yelling irrational diatribes at the sea. If only such easily attained relief would bring lasting peace.
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