Mar. 12, 2010
I've been working since the moment I woke up in the morning. Seven and eight hours of staring at the computer screen and dealing with mechanical and chemical terms in Chinese and English really exhaust me. All work and no play makes Mags a dull girl.
Jen came to interrupt me from time to time.
"Do you wanna smoke some weed Mags?"
"Have this half of orange Mags."
"Stop working Mags!"
She reminds me of my mom, who used to come to my room and tell me to take a break while I buried my head in millions of homework. And she also reminds me of my dad, who would cut different fruits in little pieces and brought them to my room when I was too busy with studying. The strange thing is that when my parents did these trivial things, I never felt grateful to them. I was even slightly annoyed since they constantly came to "bother" me. I was an ungrateful child, a child often praised for her talents and achievements that her attention was exclusively focused on herself. But when this loving gesture comes from Jen and my other friends, I notice them immediately and put great value on them. Maybe because after all, your friends love you for a reason--they expect your friendship back, and you're instantly made aware of this so you can pay them back with love and care. But parents, they want nothing from you. They gave you your life and also their own life, only hoping that you could get what's best for you. On my 19th birthday, my mom wrote me a letter. At the end, she said something like "We watch you fly up high in the outside world, and we don't expect you to come back, but just remember that we're always here for you."
I'll remember that, for all my life.
I dreamed of Jo last night. We were lying together in the bed, and she was acting like nothing had ever happened. I was very confused so I asked her, "How can you be with me like this after what you've done to me?" I woke up before I ever heard the answer. Of course, there wouldn't be an answer because dreams come from the fragments of reality, memories and subconsciousness and the answer doesn't lie in any of these areas. After I opened up my eyes, for a moment, I wasn't sure which bed I was lying in. Then I sat up and saw clear that this was my bed in my apartment in New York. I guess right then I felt that I'd lost something. I wasn't sad though, nor relieved. I was just facing a fact in my life that I will have to confront with every day for a fairly long time according to my estimation. So what could I do? I got off bed and took a shower.
I have this feeling that the worst days of my life is over, that from now on, it's only going to get better and better. Sunshine, flowers and dark chocolates are waiting ahead.
But maybe, the worst hasn't come yet. There will be many more obstacles when I really step out of school and enter the beautiful and cruel world on my own. And then, when I think back to this period of my life, I will laugh and say "That was nothing."
I know for sure that by then, I won't be able to remember what I'm feeling now, and probably all the details that now I hold as important bricks that build up the pyramid of my daily life will somehow have escaped from my overwhelmed mind. That's why I'm writing them down.
You might think people write journals because they don't wanna forget. But what I do is, I look at the things I wrote months and years ago and see the drastic change in me. Then I reflect upon those thoughts and events and try to re-experience what I was feeling at that time and always fail. So I erase them, all of them and write something new, because I don't live in the past, and I don't dream about the future either. I do what I need to do for the moment, grasp every opportunity to truly live and experience all the sensations in depth.
I only have one chance to live. I feel lucky though since I've been able to change myself completely for a couple of times, and every time it felt like I was starting a new life. A new life indeed, but nobody guaranteed it was going to be a good one. In the end, it's returning to the self that's most comfortable and soothing. In the end, I'm still who I am.
Jen came to interrupt me from time to time.
"Do you wanna smoke some weed Mags?"
"Have this half of orange Mags."
"Stop working Mags!"
She reminds me of my mom, who used to come to my room and tell me to take a break while I buried my head in millions of homework. And she also reminds me of my dad, who would cut different fruits in little pieces and brought them to my room when I was too busy with studying. The strange thing is that when my parents did these trivial things, I never felt grateful to them. I was even slightly annoyed since they constantly came to "bother" me. I was an ungrateful child, a child often praised for her talents and achievements that her attention was exclusively focused on herself. But when this loving gesture comes from Jen and my other friends, I notice them immediately and put great value on them. Maybe because after all, your friends love you for a reason--they expect your friendship back, and you're instantly made aware of this so you can pay them back with love and care. But parents, they want nothing from you. They gave you your life and also their own life, only hoping that you could get what's best for you. On my 19th birthday, my mom wrote me a letter. At the end, she said something like "We watch you fly up high in the outside world, and we don't expect you to come back, but just remember that we're always here for you."
I'll remember that, for all my life.
I dreamed of Jo last night. We were lying together in the bed, and she was acting like nothing had ever happened. I was very confused so I asked her, "How can you be with me like this after what you've done to me?" I woke up before I ever heard the answer. Of course, there wouldn't be an answer because dreams come from the fragments of reality, memories and subconsciousness and the answer doesn't lie in any of these areas. After I opened up my eyes, for a moment, I wasn't sure which bed I was lying in. Then I sat up and saw clear that this was my bed in my apartment in New York. I guess right then I felt that I'd lost something. I wasn't sad though, nor relieved. I was just facing a fact in my life that I will have to confront with every day for a fairly long time according to my estimation. So what could I do? I got off bed and took a shower.
I have this feeling that the worst days of my life is over, that from now on, it's only going to get better and better. Sunshine, flowers and dark chocolates are waiting ahead.
But maybe, the worst hasn't come yet. There will be many more obstacles when I really step out of school and enter the beautiful and cruel world on my own. And then, when I think back to this period of my life, I will laugh and say "That was nothing."
I know for sure that by then, I won't be able to remember what I'm feeling now, and probably all the details that now I hold as important bricks that build up the pyramid of my daily life will somehow have escaped from my overwhelmed mind. That's why I'm writing them down.
You might think people write journals because they don't wanna forget. But what I do is, I look at the things I wrote months and years ago and see the drastic change in me. Then I reflect upon those thoughts and events and try to re-experience what I was feeling at that time and always fail. So I erase them, all of them and write something new, because I don't live in the past, and I don't dream about the future either. I do what I need to do for the moment, grasp every opportunity to truly live and experience all the sensations in depth.
I only have one chance to live. I feel lucky though since I've been able to change myself completely for a couple of times, and every time it felt like I was starting a new life. A new life indeed, but nobody guaranteed it was going to be a good one. In the end, it's returning to the self that's most comfortable and soothing. In the end, I'm still who I am.
