but I needed some quiet. a few nights later, I turned my phone off, ignored everyone. confusion burned a hole through my heart and I didn’t know what to do with myself except to get lost in the red district. I made all the wrong choices, blaming them on my trust issues. I am not sure, which was worse. I wished to disappear; wanderlust of the worst kind. fortunate fool made its way back into my life but it is different now. no more teenage tragedies. first rain of the season arrived earlier than usually; I welcomed the rain and the fresh air afterwards with gratitude. in a way I was hoping the rain would wash everything clean. not just the streets.

father and I spent a couple of nights at the roadside bar, sans tsu tsou playing in the background, thunder storming outside. french music, a hat and a little black dress. I wanted to move to paris that night. nights turned into mornings, days turned into weeks with an ease that I didn’t expect at the beginning of our story. but I also didn’t expect to feel homesick and lonely whilst being with someone who can offer me a world better than my own. I made myself feel guilty over nothing; I wanted to share everything but I was afraid. I spent most of the nights intoxicated, trying to drown my mind in darkness, trying not to feel anything. it made sense to no one and least of all, to me.

I am clinging onto my self-preservation ways as if it’s the only thing that matters in this world. but I am losing it. slowly, the grip is disappearing and I feel there is nothing else to keep close. I am struggling with the meaning of my own philosophies and way of life. only because we combine intimacy, laughter and comfortable silences in a way I’ve never known before. I am not sure what I am trying to prove to myself. that I can stand on my own? by yourself is not enough. maybe.

april started with a delicious dinner at the boathouse and a couple of bad photographs that I am keeping in one of my photography folders just for the memories. we were surrounded by the color blue and salty scent of the ocean. I was reminded of home and my mind kept drifting away. still, many details stayed with me. I wore red jeans that night. then the mattress on the floor and chocolate fudge cake with white english breakfast tea; our minds clouded with elation.

april fool’s day was supposed to be different but it wasn’t. if there is one thing I could change, it would be that day. cidade de deus was screened at joyce is not here. filmmaker was asleep in a drunken slumber on the couch. just like many years ago when I met him first. I sat quietly and waited for the film to finish. that night I walked around the streets with nowhere to go. I stayed out until the small hours of morning and crashed on a couch at someone’s place. someone I don’t speak to anymore. gypsy’s night, gypsy’s heart. I wrote in the morning at the bus station; the three palms in kowloon city. a paper cup with cheap coffee and seven dollar noodles for breakfast. I spent the last coins on a pack of cigarettes and walked home four kilometers; simply because I could and it did not matter. later that day I purchased chanel’s chance. simply because I could and it did not matter.

one night at joyce’s, a stranger said to me: keep writing. I sat on a high bar stool with a journal and a glass of red wine and thought this was the life I was supposed to live. in my mind I named the man Joe because he looked like one. strong american accent. he was surprised when I went to use the restroom leaving all of my belongings unattended. I said to him, it’s okay. we’re at joyce’s. the real joyce laughed at this and offered us a free drink. that night I was alone and didn’t mind at all.

all photography by my beautiful friend hannah grogan. you are my favorite and I love you. thanks for the gorgeous day and cupcakes.

april 22, 2012.

april twenty second is always a special day. I turned twenty one this year. I share my birthday with jack nicholson and that makes me happy. it was a beautiful day. it’d been a rainy week but on sunday it was just sunshine, blue sky and warm air. perfect summer afternoon. on that day it felt good to be alive.

Buy her a cup of coffee. Remember the coffee she drinks. One day it will come in handy knowing her order without thinking about it.

Give him a book written by Georges Perec without a single letter e. The geek inside him will adore you for this and his messages about the book will keep coming for days. Pretend to be mad when he ruins the book.

Let her wear your shorts to bed and your cologne the next morning. It will make her miss you throughout the day but she will keep it to herself because in a way you will be constantly present.

Kiss his shoulder while you are standing in a line, waiting. Smile a little but don’t say anything. He will look at you a little closer.

Let her have your Kindle even though she swears she will always stay true to books. Then ask her every week how many books she has already read. Watch her hesitate with her answer because she doesn’t want to admit Kindle is actually a great thing.

Give him your jumper that is a little too big for you but fits him just fine.

Invite her for a game of Scrabble when you are hangover. Instead of playing against each other, play together. Laugh. But not at her. English is her fourth language.

Suggest to him to play tennis with you. He knows about your passion and love for the sport and he will want to see it in person.

Ask him to come to the beach with you. Let him buy you dinner; in turn you can buy him a cup of frozen yogurt with chocolate sprinkles. Let him feed you spoonfuls.

Tell her about your day. She wants to know.

Tell him stories from your childhood. The smallest details you can remember and things that are important to you. He wants to know. Leave out the negative about your family.

Watch the Lion King with her. That movie means more to her than you can ever imagine and sharing the experience with you will become important to her. Embrace her softly when she gets sad after Mufasa’s death. No matter how many times she’s watched it, she’s never ready for it.

crisp air; the air of changes. I am getting lost in the fading mortality of our age, forgetting about time, about its meaning. I have been wandering, floating around for the past few weeks, trying to remember. trying not to forget. they keep saying the 20s are the best times in your life and I am just at the start of it. are they lying? I guess I am going to find out. each day, each hour gets its own attention and I am incapable of thinking about future. I don’t want to. how long has it been. two, three weeks? the relativity of that expression borderlines with dangerous. my inner chaos and his composure holding hands, our shadows smiling.
and those few sunrises in my favorite neighborhood, the soft light entering through the blinds, cutting the shadow constellations like cheese. mornings like those make me hungry for the outer world. I want to experience it all. and the fact that there are almost seven years between us gives me a false sense of stability and balance. it is better than nothing. don’t get used to this.

I have been writing every day. my head is filled with ideas and words; I can taste them on the tip of my tongue. I can see them printed out. what the paper feels like, the texture of each page. but I cannot escape my own pathos. eventually it creeps between the lines and melancholy fills the room, lingering above like a heavy cloud before rain. it has been raining lately but not enough. the city streets need to be washed, wiped clean of everything. the burden of nights out, confused mornings and those few afternoon moments that I am allowed to have to myself. I need a fresh start. turn to a different page. perhaps skip a couple of chapters because I am already very well familiar with the storyline. how it goes. girl meets boy, girl likes the boy. we all know how it ends.

I am homesick. homesick like I haven’t been since I was five years old. it is consuming me. eating me up inside. I cannot stop looking at photographs from september. I keep re-reading my entries from that period of time, wishing I could simply go back. I need this feeling to go away. the sadness consumes me in a way I cannot fight or do anything about it. the twentieth anniversary and the fact that the news are flooded with it, doesn’t help at all. I was surprised how personal it actually all is without even realizing it before. sometimes I would like to detach myself from this world. simply disappear. in a physical and spiritual way. sometimes I think it would be sweet to just cease to exist. dissolve into nothing. because the endless question of belonging wears me out. not to mention that I don’t know what to do with all this happiness.