Posts in category "Thoughts"

nothing gold can stay

The tears and the smears on my glass­es which I look through to type this are telling me I’m still not over her. Or per­haps, the idea of her, because she had always held back a part of her­self from being mine com­plete­ly.

This is what hap­pens when a true friend stabs you in the front. I guess I’ve been avoid­ing these thoughts for a while now, and con­front­ed with them in con­ver­sa­tion, the real­i­ty has nev­er been more clear.

I’m still a bro­ken man.

Even with the mixed sig­nals, the incon­sis­ten­cy, and the pain, it was still the most sig­nif­i­cant rela­tion­ship I’ve ever had, and that’s what makes it so hard to let go. My oth­er rela­tion­ships may have been free of all the dra­ma, but they also lacked the depth, inten­si­ty, and inti­ma­cy.

There’s noth­ing I would have changed but the end, which dragged on for a year, one suture ripped out after anoth­er. It was far from a clean break, and any­thing but res­o­lu­tion.

I know I was­n’t the only per­son to go through the pain of sep­a­ra­tion, but the break was­n’t sup­posed to last for­ev­er. I was will­ing to step away so I could heal and be strong enough to be friends in time, to be there for her, to be ready to accept the next guy. And most impor­tant­ly, I was will­ing to come back.

She was sup­posed to be strong enough to let me go until I was ready.

Letter

I believed her.

Why could­n’t it have end­ed that night, instead of the mind­fuck that con­tin­ued for months after? Why could­n’t the last thing for her to leave me be the let­ter she wrote on the sta­tion­ary I gave her? Why could­n’t she have kept the promise she made to do what­ev­er it took to keep me in her life, and stayed away?

We haven’t seen each oth­er in over half a year. It’s been even longer since we had an actu­al con­ver­sa­tion. It’s time for me to wake the fuck up. It’s time for me to deal with my emo­tions and the real­i­ty of the sit­u­a­tion. It’s time for me to move on instead of hold­ing on. It’s time for me to under­stand that I’ll nev­er be what she needs, and she’ll nev­er accept me as I am.

It’s time for me to real­ize that it’s over.

29 9/12: The Rocker

Music has always been a big part of my life, so it’s strange to con­sid­er the fact that I only seri­ous­ly took up an instru­ment the year I’m turn­ing 30, which I gen­er­al­ly con­sid­er late to be start­ing any­thing new.

I used to play piano and flute, but that was nev­er real­ly my choice. For the for­mer, it was more of my mom want­i­ng me to be a good Chinese boy, and me not want­i­ng to let her down. When it came to the lat­ter, my school had a strong empha­sis on arts, and either visu­al arts or music were manda­to­ry. I chose music1, and played the flute; far from ide­al for a teenag­er going through puber­ty and an iden­ti­ty cri­sis.

I bought my first ukulele a few months ago, and I don’t think I’ve stopped play­ing since.

Self portrait at 29 9/12

Jammin’ in my jam­mies. With what may pos­si­bly be an erec­tion.

Photo by Jess.

So much of my life has been filled by those four lit­tle strings. It’s an entire­ly new medi­um I’m still explor­ing, a mus­cle I’d yet to flex, a way of express­ing myself that’s so unlike any of my oth­er out­lets.

I get pains in my fin­gers and wrists from play­ing too much, so I struc­ture my life around the breaks; doing laun­dry, writ­ing, clean­ing my room, sort­ing my paper­work until the tin­gling or pinch­ing goes away. The pads of my fin­gers are dead. I used to fall asleep think­ing of her — now I work out scale pat­terns and chords across the fret­board in my head until I pass out. I even decid­ed to make the ulti­mate com­mit­ment and grow out the nails on my strum­ming hand because the longer they get, the more pleased I am with the sound (and I find both long nails and asym­me­try absolute­ly dis­gust­ing).

It’s come to the point where I’d rather play ukulele than play games, or go out, or talk to peo­ple. I love play­ing so much that I enjoy it even though I’m still no good at it.

I turn 30 in three months, and music is my hot hot bath, my dead end, and my girl­friend.

The Turning 30 Series

  1. Ironic that I’m so much more of a visu­al artist now. [↩]