I didn’t cry during Stand By Me this time, not even during the teariest scenes where Gordie and Chris are crying in each other’s arms. I probably need a higher dose and move on to Dead Poets Society – which always works, but it’s not autumn yet.
It’s interesting to experience someone hurt your pride rather than your heart. At present, I can’t even force myself to cry. I shouldn’t complain because I wanted this.
Years ago, I used to feel an imaginary itch, which, once scratched, everything was ok, and the tears would flow from the mountains and wash away the unclear.
That’s now gone. The river’s gone dry.
Deletion time. I’ve been quite brave for emptying my phone inbox, email inbox, etc. Why keep disappointments from 2011? For remembrance?
Never has indifference levelled up that high inside me. I’m even prone to telling white lies recently as it saves time and explanation.
Yet, I’ve failed to blend in the last couple of days, which may have caused some suspicion, particularly today. I couldn’t ignore my hurt pride, which is another aspect of not being good enough to people. It feels familiar.
If only I could dig out Ernest and punch him hard in the face. I play that scene in my head sometimes. He and I have a tea party, and I condemn him for publishing “Men without Women.” At the same time, we would be listening to Chris Cornell (a living version of Ernest) in the background.
In the name of the God of Harvest–the leader of the Titans and ruler of Saturn–this numbness is unbearable. Enter me now and give me strength. If I’m a wimp again at the tattoo parlour on Sunday, I will ask for more needles and no more numbing cream this time. Take the pain as punishment or endurance. I can take some more like Buk and still stand straight. I will prove it to you.
(God! What do breakups make me do these things!?)
People ask me why I invested money in a scythe. I said for harvest.
Today I looked the Norwegian in the face and sensed nothing, except that I imitated his grin – a very unsettling moment at first.
If empathy or even antipathy, I don’t really care, but there was a short moment of a mutual sentiment.
No, not evil.
Four more months. And I hope the smile will become bright again. On my face. A smile that they can understand.
Right now, I feel sad and alone because no one understands this smile.
This is the main reason why I want to be somewhere else, for nothing is holding me back here.
However, the hole is growing deep. There’s not much time left.
I shall be leaving.
Follow that smile, so far away.