There are ten days left of this semester. The next one, the last one of this year, does not begin until mid-October. After that I am going to be a high school graduate. Oh wow. It was typhoon eight two days ago. It’s raining constantly. September is not supposed to be like this. But then again, I am not staying up till the crack of dawn either. Ten more days in hong kong.
And then we’ll see.
I am working on a screenplay of sorts. I have a few new short stories that I am in the midst of developing. But I am also in the middle of an exam week right now. Today I woke up with a strange need to write. I haven’t felt this urge for a couple of months now. I am dreaming of filling up this space with thousands of words and photographs. I would never let this go even though I’d tried in the past.
Reasons are not important. My motivation is. There are ups and downs and sometimes I wish I didn’t have them, but there have been part of me for as long as I can remember. Maybe I was looking for wrong reasons. Maybe I asked the wrong questions and I received no answers. It makes sense.
But I am right here. I am breathing and I am doing something.
Sometimes if I am focused, if I am completely still, I take the moment to observe the world, what I like to call, internally. I stare into the space before me I simply don’t move don’t blink just observe. These moments tend to be intense. Silent. Sometimes hard to process because all my energy is being centered onto not moving and not blinking. During these moments I feel like I am watching the world fall apart. I can see the single particles move away from one another and drift away. The world falls apart right in front of my eyes, if I want it to.
Today I want it to fall apart. I am tired of the world. Everything is a lie. Nothing seems to be real. Greyness surrounds me at all times. My heart feels empty there is no one to love. I am dreaming of my future life. It is very different from the life I am living currently. And I am wondering whether it’s because I am so unhappy right now, or is it because I am just growing up and my opinions and lifestyle are just getting different? I think I know the answer, I am not really unhappy here where I am although I do want some things to change.
I am still stuck here. I hate it. I don’t know. I wish I could speed up the time and be somewhere else, with different people. With people who interest me, with people are not so fucking boring.
Typhoon 8 put me in a strange mood, state of mind. I am sitting with study books the whole day, in part I am actually enjoying it. I am back to Italian. It’s kind of like taking a break from Chinese.
To take a break.. where would I end up.
so this is where i state the obvious. one two three. this is the third one. i’ve been keeping up with the tradition although i don’t think i understand its meaning anymore. it’s just become something i do. i’ve become the person of meaningless empty repetitive phrases. and no i don’t believe in commas.
reading on the road by kerouac made me wish i was on a road myself. with a certain person. images of him holding the wheel driving away from the capital checking me at the back seat keep popping up in my head. these days are those when i realize how much i actually miss him. sometimes i think it’s just a habit to think about him but it’s not. it’s real. very very real.
but the thing i am too far away from everything. i am living differently than him we are very difference from each other yet the same. i miss that feeling because it seems there aren’t many people with whom i am able to share a similar connection. or any kind of connection at all. until recently. another twin. i’ve always had a thing for twins. we share some classes together he makes me laugh. it’s been a while since somebody made laugh the way he does. but it has no future because i hold no real interest. although i am not going to stand too far away. i am too good at playing this game. a game, which involves me leaving at the end. no hard feelings. but i am not sure about it. there are other people in my life. people that i care about. maybe little too much. but i am the one that wears their heart on sleeve, not them. i am standing on my own. i am my own everything. we can play the game, it’s alright.
but i won’t let april repeat itself. you may think it needs an explanation, but it really doesn’t.
I bought six new books last night. it felt incredibly good to be walking home with a bag full of new books waiting for me to read them. I stopped at the waterfront, just like almost every day, sat on the bench with a water bottle. I stared at the island, thinking of all the things going on right now.
one of the books I bought is about refugees from around the world, but mainly from bosnia and croatia. I’m not sure what I am feeling. I feel like every name mentioned in there is someone I know personally, every time banja luka is mentioned it’s like someone stabs me. a girl next to me is saying something in cantonese with fake nails on her fingers. of course, I am not able to relate to it. but it’s too familiar, too real and too close. too personal.
I feel like an outsider but my passport says something else. I never knew I was fighting a battle until it was over. I can’t even remember whether they ever told me this is not the place you were born in. it feels like I have just always known I am a stranger. I’ve accepted the title of a child of this planet only because it’s easier than to try and identify with people. with nations and cultures. I say I don’t have a home, my home is everywhere. but I think I am just bullshitting myself, not wanting to deal with things, because it might be a little too personal. and yet I am doing my extended essay on the Srebrenica massacre. everything is a lie.
what am I really thinking?
even more often I say I don’t care. but I do care. I care more than anything else. I think about these things, I stay awake go through personal experiences of other people. hoping I might find something that will bring me a little closer to an answer. but I don’t even know what I am asking. people think I am somehow advantaged by being able to be everywhere, by wanting to be everywhere. but what they don’t realize that most of the time I am just ambivalent to the changes of locations. sometimes I wish I could just have a straight answer when someone asks me where are you from? and if not that, well then at least what do you most feel like? but still I secretly hate it.
ambivalent, have I mentioned that?