My mother once told me when I was young, “Words are like a glass of water. Once you spill it, you can never get it back into the glass like it was. Words that you utter are like the water being spilled. You could never take it back.” That was years ago and I couldn’t quite understand the significance of her advice as I never experienced such life lesson of wanting to take back the words that I’ve said to someone.
Today. I learned what she meant by the glass of water.
I uttered meaning less words put together into a sentence filled with anger, frustration, and viciousness. The words that I cannot take back hurt the person I love the most and now I sit here with regrets — a cruel and painful consequence that I must face for my actions. But the pain that he feels… I am now responsible for. I fear that he might live with this pain forever. I fear that this pain may cause pain in our relationship. A pain without an antidote. The spilled water that I cannot put back into the glass.
They can be warming, loving, and caring yet could be vicious, dangerous, and painful at times. It’s a glass of water.
The Ideal Man from How to Be Parisian Wherever You Are
He’s not muscular. (You’d rather think of him reading a book than lifting weights).
He’s unshaven. (Just enough so that you never fully see the man behind the stubble.)
He’s clean. (But make sure it’s not too obvious.) He’s funny. (Until he disappears.)
He’s got something special. (And it’s not a car.) He’s got class. (But it’s unintentional.)
He’s a bad boy. (But you always forgive him.)
He may not be perfect, but at least he really exists.
— Anne Berest, Audrey Diwan, Caroline de Maigret, and Sophie Mas
After Dark — Haruki Murakami
"You know what I think? That people’s memories are maybe the fuel they burn to stay alive. Whether those memories have any actual importance or not, it doesn’t matter as far as the maintenance of life is concerned. They’re all just fuel. Advertising fillers in the newspaper, philosophy books, dirty pictures in a magazine, a bundle of ten-thousand-yen bills: when you feed ‘em to the fire, they’re all just paper. The fire isn’t thinking, ‘Oh, this is Kant,’ or ‘oh, this is the Yomiuri evening edition,’ or "nice tits,’ while it burns. To the fire, they’re nothing but scraps of paper. It’s the exact same thing. Important memories, not-so-important memories, totally useless memories: there’s no distinction — they’re all just fuel."
— Korogi, After Dark (about memories)
I have a journal…
A journal with many entries that reminds me of what happened in the past. Things that I wouldn’t be able to recall if I didn’t write it down. Little bits of all of the emotions that I have felt in the past can be felt again through the words that I have scribbled on one page to another.
Some entries have traces of tears on the pages as I wrote them with sadness. Some entries on the other hand has movie tickets and admission tickets glued on them as I went to these places with someone who accompanied me. People who I still talk to or… people who I no longer have interest in knowing about their existence.
It’s a very odd… being able to feel all the emotions at once as I sit here and read these entries.
사랑하지만… 오늘만은 너라는 사람이 밉다.
나를 잘 알고 있다고 하면서도 모르는 너가 밉다.
가끔 내 마음을 이해해주지 못하는 너가 밉다.
나보다 너의 자신의 감정을 내세우는 너가 밉다.
내가 가슴아프게 생각에 잠기게 놔두는 너가 밉다.
너가 하고 싶은 말만 다하고 사라지는 너가 밉다.
그런 너가 오늘은… 밉다.
Because you are you and I am me
The ability to meet someone’s expectations is difficult.
And not fulfilling the other’s needs ends up in disappointments.
No one in this universe deserves to live with disappointments.
No bird should be caged.
It’s not the right thing to do.
I have always lived with fears.
Fears of opening up to someone only to get hurt.
Fears of losing the person that I love.
Fears of being betrayed by someone that I trust.
Fears of repeating the same mistakes.
Tonight, I feel all of my fears at once.
I have never been so afraid in my life.