a blue evening.
a blue evening.
the first four parts were written during april and may. I never expected this to become a series of explorations of weekly emotional fluctuations. it wasn’t supposed to turn out like that. two faces, completely different from each other, but sometimes in my mind they become one. what one cannot give me, the other supplies without hesitation. they take care of me. sometimes I wonder whether it’s all just a product of my immense imagination. or maybe it’s real. a few nights ago. accidental encounter that later got cancelled. it hurt me in a way I hadn’t expected. my frustration grew in shapes and intensity with each passing minute of silence. there is nothing worse; having to pretend that everything is fine. it’s not the fake smile or the stiff body movements, but the actual need to believe that everything is fine. the betrayal, which comes with fooling yourself into believing. I abandoned my plans to return home and sleep. I abandoned everything that night. chinese man made a difference but only for a short while. the girl with short hair kept me company for as long as she could, but eventually she needed to go. I stood in front of the headquarters, alone. starless night above me appeared full of promises. they turned out to be empty.
peel st. became the most obvious choice, as always. it was good to see them again. the whole family. I felt bad about missing papa’s birthday, still nowhere near as bad as I felt back then. when things were actually important. because now everything is poles apart. yet the night continued as usual. all of south hollywood at my palms except for a single missing person. I hated myself for not letting it go. at the same time I wished to burn everything with me. d and j were happy to see us. I could see the question marks in their eyes. I thought you said it was over. yeah, but we’re still friends, I think. not like anyone cares, though. it is all a game we learnt how to play and win a long time ago. I wonder why things are easier without strings attached. what is wrong with caring? with having emotions? being able to love someone but not allowed to express anything on the surface. it’s how it is.
we lay flat in the middle of the road, gazing up on the sky, slowly drifting away. sleep, delusion; what difference does it make. what if a car comes? we die. the clock struck five o’clock and we listened to t-pain’s version. it became a tradition a while ago. after some time, we moved closer to the water. the pier offers a wide view of the dark side, which had already gotten much lighter. twilight. changing sky. and then the rain. it just poured down, washed everything away. I couldn’t stop laughing. another eight people around us; early sunday morning is the strangest time of the week. I remember thinking it is as if people reach a certain level of insanity, and then they lose it before monday morning. at least most of them.
nothing has been the same since.
the last few days.
tears, then the chaos. sadness. raw images of emotion combined with an incredible soundtrack, mostly just piano. constant grey of a city in scotland. perfect sense. I walked out of the cinema deeply moved; the kind that evokes silence and a few hours of walking around. I tried to sort out my thoughts but the only thing I kept thinking was, I am glad I can hear and see. neon colors of hong kong around me had a bigger impact than usually. I focused on everything. to live my life in any different way would be impossible. the artist vs. the addict. dreams, so many dreams. I miss the little things and I keep thinking on how many big things I am going to miss out, simply because I am stubborn. but mostly just hurt and disappointed. do I even have the right to feel that way?
quiet days. I’ve limited my social life to almost a minimum. I go to sleep early, I wake up early. I spend my time reading and writing. reading mostly. anything that I can get my hands on. hong kong has seen some of the most beautiful days in the past few weeks. sometimes when the rain goes away, it’s like seeing everything from a different perspective. lunches with the father, drinks with the filmmaker. I have grown exhausted of the red-light district, of south hollywood and of everything in between. the clubs, the music, the people. I don’t feel the need to be a part of any of it anymore. it’s somebody else’s playground now. at least for a few weeks.
for now I am okay with the quiet, solo take out dinners, cream pea soup in a paper cup and reading a newspaper fresh off the print at six o’clock in the morning. I am okay with being on my own, but one thing I know for sure: I hope it won’t last.