Umtilted

Not like I wanna be a bad person or anything.

It’s just exhausting to constantly think that I’m not good enough.

And I’m NOT saying that I’m a perfect person, that I’m good enough.

No, I’m not. But “we’re not gonna work on me anymore”, misquoting Bill Burr’s joke.

Life isn’t too short. I don’t have to carpe diem. I don’t need to do anything fun.

I just need to stop doing things that aren’t.

Listening to and being patient with people who clearly are not worthy counts as one.

They are not worthy because they are not listening to nor being patient with me.

I’m not EVER going to try to be a bigger person for the sake of “I should do so”. No, I shouldn’t need to compare myself to others.

What I WILL do is I will assess how I feel at the time, what benefits it brings, whether it’s worth it.

I’m not on any moral high grounds. Bish I ain’t no holy. I’m just a dumb specimen of Homo sapiens.

If there could be tags I put on myself, I’d go with:

我又何尝懂呢？

我有努力学习博得他们的关注吗？没有，我学习从来都只为了自己有兴趣。我有为了离他们近点选择留在一个我终日觉得憋屈的地方吗？没有，我只记得她说好男儿志在四方。我有站在他们的角度想过我小时候会是一个多烦人的小孩儿吗？没有，我就只记得我拉着他们的手，走在一个远远低于他们的世界的高度上。我有尊重过他们的婚姻是他们自己的事吗？没有，我只是问他们为什么不离婚，狠狠伤了他的心。

他是为了我不离婚的吗？ 不见得，但我知道他被我伤了心，念念不忘很多年。

没关系，没关系，也不是第一次被背叛了。我是恨被背叛，但我被背叛的事，我有多受伤的事，我告诉他们了吗？他们又会懂吗？

我又何尝没有做过背叛的事？

偷删他情人的短信，不告诉他的私房钱怎么挪了地方，不告诉他为什么她不喜欢被抱，不告诉他我其实很同情他。

不告诉他这一切，却只告诉他我恨男人。

除了追求年轻时不得追求的灵魂契合，他又做错了什么？他为什么不可以心猿意马？

至于她。

我竟不知要说什么。

我以为我很爱她的，但我也没有真的忽略她的自私和武断。我心疼她知道他外遇时一个人在莲花山公园里走了一天，最后忍了下来，却在她要给我介绍对象时，憋不住心里的话，冲她失心疯了一般的哭叫。

她被她父母那样对待，却成长为一个独立的人，为什么我不行？

至亲至爱什么的，都是虚妄的概念，不过也是萍水相逢，两个独立的成年人的灵魂，迎接了一个不知道原本是怎么样将来会变成什么样的灵魂。

多少女孩子都是生下来就被至亲抛弃了，又有多少女孩子生下来就被至亲弄死了。

我总比这样的女孩子强了百倍。

虽然我脆弱的内心未曾被安抚，但我至少也活下来了，我爱诗歌爱音乐爱故事地活下来了，我还养活了一盆枯萎的兰花，看它们骄傲绽放，我的内心何曾枯死过。

不被爱又能怎么样呢？ 一个巴掌又拍不响。

都是他们的错又能怎么样？他们不肯认，不肯解决，我就真的死给他们看吗？

算了吧，真敢死给他们看我早就死了，还用等到这一天？

But now it suddenly makes sense why they were so upset the other day by some nightmare. And why out of the blue went digging up my baby raising journal.

I dreamed about that boy again, whom I shall no longer give a name to.

I'm back in high school, although my classmates are certainly a mixture of people from different periods of my life. And there he is, quiet, not saying much, even though I would've loved to hear his voice. The seat shuffled a few times and he ended up seating next to me.

The attraction is instant. The entire class knows. I'm marked his. He's marked mine. It all happened so smoothly and we blew by the gossip period. Soon enough the entire class has started to see us as a couple.

And boy oh boy, do I savor his company. I would rest on his shoulder, feeling his muscles with my face and lips.

I thought this was real.

I love swimming. And for some reason, I distinctly remember that when I first moved to the US, I used to go to this swimming pool that is outdoor. I would rest on the edge after a few laps, basking in the September sun. The water was so warm in the sunlight. It felt more like a bathtub than a swimming pool.

I remembered the buildings around it were the typical height of my campus buildings. But it was relatively open. And, there were no fences. That was kinda odd, looking at it now.

I thought I'd only gone twice or three times top in the first few months after I got to the US. And it was so relaxing amid the chaotic and nerve-racking experience of being a foreign student in a foreign country.

It didn't come to me too often, but when I finally decided to look it up it felt like I had at least recalled this "memory" a few times. Yea, I thought it was a real memory.

I went on Google Maps. Searched "pools" in street map view and looked at every blue-greenish squares from the Satellite images. Not only in my college town but a few nearby cities too.

Couldn't find it.

I thought I went insane because I had such a vivid memory of what it looked like, the size, the entrance, the time of the year, who I was with, and the temperature.

That was what hit me in the end.

I went to grad school in a small town on the lakeside of Ontario. The weather there is nice in September but it certainly would be too cold for outdoor swimming. Even if the pools stay open and the sun is out, it would still be pretty chilly.

No. This was not real.

It was a dream concoction of my memory of swimming in September in southern China, hence the temperature, and of my landlord treating my Indian roommate and me to his boat. (A bit weird on that latter one thinking back from these days.)

I need to see the movie theaters get back on their feet.

I need Covidiots gone.

I need Trump gone.

I need Daredevil and Charlie Cox back.

I need my GC.

I need a better job.

I miss the summer of 2011, that day I stepped out the movie theatre with Nana and she said, yea, this movie is gay.

I don’t particularly missed the feeling of how McFassy struck me as such a great pairing. I didn’t even feel that until Nana pointed it out.

I don’t particularly missed the camaraderie I had with Nana as two young girls into shipping. The connection wasn’t that strong tbh.

But I’m struck by something tonight. 

In the dead of this night in 2020, I miss that summer nine years ago. 

Wholeheartedly.

I miss the feeling of having a life ahead of you. I miss the feeling of believing in love. I miss the smell of that small lakeside town. I miss my youth.

And I miss the theatre. 

Fuck. I miss it. 

Stumbling into that adventure, little planning ahead. The thunder was rumbling outside but I was not afraid. I sat in the dark and I forgot about reality. 

I wonder if everybody would be overwhelmed like this once in their life time. I assume most would in an older age. I anticipated so for myself. 

Oh! This whole goddamn summer is messed up.

By the beginning of May, I felt perfectly fine. I had wrapped up nicely with my dear Taiwanese therapist. Then not a day later, my fucking parents tried forcing another perfect stranger on me.

If I hadn’t broken up with my ex, I probably could just rant about it at her. But we broke up, didn’t we? No matter what my ex said, we were a fucking couple and we loved each other. But I just had to make things right. And it left me to this moment when I had no one.

NOT A SINGLE SOUL.

Maybe I should start talking to my cat. 

AAhhh, shit!

'S been over for more than a month now. 

Yet when I saw Daredevil’s mom just apologized to him and admitted she was an idiot, I was all broken up again. This Matt Murdock! What a lucky SOB.

Yea yea yea, I know he was blind. And fictional. But think about it, he lost his dad, who loved his son so much that he died defending the honor he had hoped for him to grow up with; Matt didn’t know but he grew up under his mom’s caring; His best friend Foggy is a living Angel, who is both smart and courageous. He’s his best mate and partner.

I will never be Daredevil. 

I had no one. 

And I’m an atheist.

I had believed that all moms love their children. I still don’t doubt that. But the fucking truth is, not everyone mom knows the right way to love. And I need to be loved in the right way.