Can I be your heartbreaker?

It's been a long long time.

2009-12-08T18:21:00.000-08:00

I confess. I did read through my boyfriend's email that he sent to his ex-girlfriend. I was so upset because of the idea that she had broke my boyfriend's heart, I felt my body tremble because of anger and despise.

I first saw her at my boyfriend's third drawer. I picked up the small transparent plastic bag that was filled with expired memories. I held it up like an innocent girl who never intended to find such thing, and gazed at the pictures for a while. I suddenly became furious that my boyfriend wanted to go where he had been with her and to do things he had done with her. This was when the unsettling anger began.

I wrote a letter to him right before this happened, but I decided to hold onto it. I wrote that I wanted to love him bravely, fearlessly. I didn't give the letter to him because I knew I couldn't.

We had fights over her ex several times. Most of them began because of me. I thought I could never overcome such feeling and I began to hate what I am becoming. A monster who hates someone I don't even know.

It wasn't until this morning at 4A.M. that I realized, I felt really, really sorry for the girl. My anger cannot diminish by forgiving what happened in the past but by embracing it. How is it that a feeling that was so real and something that one had never felt before can be replaced by another person? It's simply impossible. And I chose to accept that.

All I want to do is love him like no other.

Enough

2009-11-16T12:01:00.001-08:00

If there's only one thing that I can give, and that's enough to make one to get through a rough day, that's more than enough for me.

Tides.

2009-10-18T20:57:00.001-07:00

Love comes, doubts fade away.
Winter comes, summer flings by.

I was furiously packing my belongings from his place and said, "I don't like lazy persons" looking directly toward his eyes. He held me close. I wondered; why do my mornings have to start at 12P.M. because of this guy? Why can't I have a breakfast with him at a crepe house? Thoughts and emotions intertwined. It was an overwhelming moment. I continued to pack. He went to the bathroom with a cigarette and a lighter on his hand. You can say that I'm taking advantage of him because I know he is insanely in love with me. That's why I kept packing.

But please, no judging here. The way I love him isn't exactly the same as he loves me.

Ready to be heartbroken.

2009-09-09T23:57:00.000-07:00

I said that I don't have anything to give him other than holding hands. He said that he's ready to be heartbroken (while he still falls in love with me). I want to thrust him out of my life so that there is one less person without a wasteful heartbreak in this world. I have no clue why I am writing this as I melt the dark chocolate with my tongue he gave me an hour ago. Maybe I'm ready to be someone's heartbreaker.

Hopeless.

2009-09-02T22:47:00.000-07:00

I am trying to find what made me smile at a different place. I am saving my three words til the perfect moment awaits.

"I love you."

Another Monday.

2009-08-24T15:32:00.000-07:00

Here I am, sitting in front of my desk and cutting the edges of more Renaissance slides. This time, Leonardo is in some of them.

I was a little excited in the morning while I was skimming through my Astronomy power points for the last time because one of my dearest friend will be in the States today. I called him as soon as I was through with the exam and he picked it up with his usual, disinterested tone. Everything that is so used to us that we sometimes get tired of are usually what we are most nostalgic of.

I am beginning to feel aloof, and those feelings leave me to plan what to do tomorrow, what I should think. I can be happy right at this instance because happiness is paying attention to every tick-tocking seconds that passes us by so easily. It is important to never forget that as easy time passes by, it is as much easy to find happiness in life.

And here I am, spending my afternoon in front of my desk. Another Monday goes, another Tuesday comes. What's next?

Wait, was it Piero della Francesca?

2009-08-21T18:42:00.000-07:00

So yes, I totally got confused Piero della Francesca and Giovanni Bellini in my Renaissance art midterm. As I was flipping through the fucking index cards for the last time, I felt like throwing up. How did that happen? Peiro and Giovanni have totally different styles.

This is Madonna and Child with Saints by Piero.

And this is Madonna and Child by Giovanni.

There was an interesting--yet translated in difficult words-- article by Julia Kristeva about Giovanni Bellini's personal experience with his mother and how Giovanni's inner experience affected his Madonna and Child paintings.

Speaking of childhood, I used to tumble down the hill that was filled with grasses and dandelions here and there with my mom. I laughed so hard till I couldn't breathe. Mom and I must have been waiting for dad, cause the hill was where my dad's graduate school was at. Few days later, I got chicken pox. Mom looked at my face and my body that was covered with chicken pox and said that this must have happened because of the bugs on the grass. I still have scars from the chicken pox. It was horrible. But the scent of grass still makes me peaceful and calm.

More than ten years passed since then. I grew up, wasn't a little girl anymore, and attended the school where it had the hill I used to tumble down. I often thought about trying it again, but I simply couldn't. Since when did growing up meant caring about what other people think about you?

Anxious

2009-08-20T11:22:00.000-07:00

So, things didn't turn out favorably. Four out of five of my general education petition form was denied, and the idea of staying here longer than I expected makes me depressed. Los Angeles is such a large city and it feels like I could sink until I drown to death without anyone noticing. I can't see what I used to see, think what I used to think anymore. This is just disturbing.

"But wasn't it your choice?"

We all long for the wrong.

2009-08-18T18:16:00.000-07:00

You know what I want to hear, but you give me a heart-crack by saying the opposite. Instead of thinking the right words, I quietly continued to cut the edges of my Renaissance Italy images with my pair of sharp scissors.

I am still a child and you are not yet an adult to understand me.

2009-08-16T13:44:00.001-07:00

Recall the moment when you said "I'm leaving." If she begins to cry, most of the times it is because she will miss your presence by her side rather than simply because you are leaving. Eventually, she cries for herself. Knowing that another person will be leaving her.