I had the most liberating nightmare. I dreamt I was back with a person. It made me scream and I woke up, laughing. How sad, is it, that the person is on my mind without my knowing. However, all is not lost. I take absolute refuge and comfort in the minder that dreams are always displacements and (displays) of a deeper unconsciousness. That is, what you dream
of, can never be what you are thinking about.

*

当我想起你 有一种绝望的灰心

I used to wonder, had I been more clear and more certain, would things have worked out differently. Has the person seen (I believe so, this is rhetoric) my hesitation, my doubt, my inability to move on completely and after calculating his odds, gets scared, decides on me as a lost cause and gave me up to go after someone who can be entirely his with less investment, effort and time?

I think it was an intelligent assumption on his part. It is a lost cause. Because I'm stubborn. I find it hard to care a lot about someone in that way. And when I really, really do, I'm rendered helpless, like totally because I have to not to show that I care that much, in that way. And I find various things better to do to distract my treacherous heart that no longer heeds me (now, blogging) or people to take place of a more desired, and much preferred company (that I deny it ever happening when I remember to protest).

When I'm with him, I talked about him.
When I'm with him, I forget what I talk about and I don't care.

I just want to walk beside him, feel his silent smile and bask in the mutual beaming that we try so hard to conceal from each other.

笑 就歌颂 一皱眉头就心痛
我没空理会我 只感受你的感受
你要往哪走 把我灵魂也带走
它为你着了魔 留着有什么用

I just want to walk deliberately slowly behind him, so that he would look back anxiously every now and then to check I'm still there and haven't (yet) run away from him, like I always threaten I would, one day,
at the rate he is going, literally.

手 不是手 是 温柔的宇宙
我这颗小星球 就在你手中转动
请 看见我 让我有梦可以作
我为你发了疯 你必须奖励我

I want to see his tall frame better at a distance. I want to sit down by a table so that he can look into my eyes. I want to place both our hands side by side so that he can say again what my Mum always says about my hands and I won't mind this time. I want to see his, yeah, beautiful veins and being mistress of myself enough (and not his enough :) not to reach out. I want to see what we'll do if we are put in a spot long enough and still enough without stupid things breathing down our necks like work and school.

The substitute will never be the original (to hell, Derrida! There's an origin in my world!). I was lying when I declared otherwise. It was most impetuous and unwise, and probably because I was so mad at him.

What happens if this does not work out?

火 你是火 是我飞蛾的尽头
没想过要逃脱 为什么我要逃脱
谢谢你给我 一段快乐的梦游
如果我忘了我 请帮忙记得我

Life goes on, like it always does.

I'm proud; I'd rather die first than confess I'm dying.

I will write as my last act of defence and defiance, since he hates me doing that and I shall die writing.

你是电 你是光 你是唯一的神话
我只爱你 You are my super star
你主宰 我崇拜 没有更好的办法
只能爱你 You are my super star

Love may not exist, but it can be experienced but this may be the closest one can come to yet.

(My patented line: I don't think it exists but l like to believe it does.
Ack! What nonsense is this?)


你是意义 是天是地是神的旨意
除了爱你 没有真理

I should stop listening to S.H.E songs. They are so bad for me. It's quite obvious, I hope, why.