A letter from the past

I've been going thru my bedroom in an effort to organize my life from the inside out. Also, I need the space to sew a modern hanbok style dress for my photoshoot on Monday. Seriously, I've been at this since... Wednesday?

I've got a lot of crap stuff, and one of the things I like keeping are old diarys and notepads. But those things take up space. It hurts throwing them out.

Going through one on my notepads from 6 (?!) years ago, I found this letter I wrote to the Mister. I have no idea of when... maybe in 2010? 2009? 2008? Our crisis go way back, almost as long as our relationship goes. And whilst it's kind of odd to post this today, since it's the (new) boy's birthday, I want to throw the original out. So I'll just leave this here.

Yes, it's very personal. So don't read it if you don't care. And if you do, please do contextualize. Back then was a time when I thought it was more comfortable to be owned than to be responsible, and I did not capitalize my "i"'s.

-x-

I'm sorry. But I hurt.


I need to be made love to. It's been so very long, long over two years anyone has made love to me.


Sex is good. The Fucking is great. But at times... At times like these, when i hurt, when every sore is open, i need to be made love to. Fucking, just for the sake of it, only makes the pain more vivid, more intense.


Sometimes i hurt. i am aching now, my memory revived by those who surround me... those who love each other in a way that has me sobbing in the ladies room, in envy and self pity, for i miss being touched.


Touch me. Kiss me til i moan and beg You to work Your way down. Do You even know my body, how i look down there? Kiss me, lick me, bite me, finger me, hold me... till i can take no more and beg You once again... make love to me, pretty pretty please.


And just then... just then You will firmly but gently, pin me down with Your manhood. for a moment, You pause and kiss me again, waiting. Finally, i pull You further in, and You know that it won't hurt even if You push harder and harder, thrusting until we are both exhausted.


Maybe this is a part of me You would rather ignore. Is it too vanilla for You, to love me this way? Can't You see it is to love i have submitted, not to You? True, both are the same, intertwined as Siamese in a freak show, conjoined by the head (or was it the pelvis?). i am Your slave, as You are my Master, and that is why, oh just why it is from You i long the love to come from... not from just anyone. Not from anyone else. Not anymore.


i repeat myself. i hurt on the inside. And I'm not very good at concealing it. Why should i? Shouldn't i give my whole to You, pain, love and all? But i am drifting away from the true objective of all this... Please, no longer ignore my longing for You. It can't be healthy to live this way.


i am afraid. i fear that if i am not loved, You may lose me. i am, honest. After all, no matter how much i love You, i still cannot love myself enough for both of Us.


This hurts. Cure me. Please, come closer now? Love me, gentle and sweet. Please, don't just shut off when i turn over and cry, for it is Your arms i long for. Kiss me. Embrace me. Console me. After all, these days, You are the one i hurt for.


And please, please, pretty pretty please...
Won't You make love to me?


...
But suddenly You come home and bring in a cold chill along? Do you even care to see me hurt? I hate my heart for whispering to me that You make it be so, and find it amusing. i just don't want to believe You're like all those other guys who hurt me before. Are You?
-x-

It was the one year anniversary of our very ugly breakup this week. I guess I needed the clean up around here, for my mental health. Sure, my sinuses suffer. But my room is as pink as it's ever been (and will get even pinker once I make my curtains), and my heart feels lighter with things in place.

He tweeted this, this week. I wonder if he meant me...

I keep on living. Living, learning, fighting. And pinning stuff. It's kind of my thing, you know?

Not half empty

My little cup of sadness is just about to overflow... I just can't afford desperation right now. It has never done me any good.
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The boy slept over last night. It was the first time someone has ever refused to have sex with me because I'm on the rag. I know I wasn't very assertive about it... but thinking about it afterwards... it sucks.
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Welcome back to feeling all alone, Sweetie.

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Now find a job and go pay some bills.

*hush hush*

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It had been a while since the last time I had to swallow something I was about to spit out. This time, for the sake of my group.

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Fun fact. Just as I start to think of people as more than acquaintances recently, they blurt out it's just a work relationship, and to not mix things. So I'm not mixing things. Bringing me down to about... 0 friends? Real friends, I mean. Boyfriends aren't friends, it's different.

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So I guess work is my friend. And the internet is my friend. as is coffee and pain killers. The audience is my friend, for those brief seconds of applause. And that's that. Family is family and romantic relationships are romantic relationships. And I'm feeling sour right now.

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As for the words I've been holding down... I give myself till Sunday. If the people at the club I've been working for my group's sake treat me the same once again, I'll have to make a decision. I've been treated much better and earned a lot more earlier in my carreer. I'm not on stage to beg. I'm on stage to make a stand.

Maybe I am too immersed in Korean culture. And maybe I am watching to many dramas. I've never been so restrained as to human contact before...

Or maybe it's just me.

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*I wish... a wish*

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Wishlist for June 2012

- more space. I feel cramped and the mess makes it worse. If I could find a space to keep clear to stretch and rehearse daily, it would be easier.

- new hi-top sneakers. Been using the same pair, 3-4 times a week, since February. I love them. But I could use another pair.

- to get back to 59 kg. And then back to 56. But being 59 again would be great.

- a pair of pink boyfriend jeans. Thanks to this videoclip...

- a friend. A few friends. A group of friends. I have acquaintances.

- an oppa.

- A decent paying job. Being unemployed sucks, but I'm glad I got out of a job that was sucking the life out of me for spare change. Not the job itself, but the commute. But now I need another one. Before I have to start chosing between making rent and eating.

- Books on burlesque. The hard to find, good, expensive ones.

- Korean cosmetics. Aka, god's gift to women.

- A weekend to indulge and to be pampered. All expenses payed, of course. Superficial, I know. But I'm a girl most of the time, not a woman.

Back to the to-do list. I'm going to a fashion show to treat my eyes a little today. And I'm getting myself a bottle of chum-churum. 10 bucks may be pocket change to most, but to me, these days, it's an indulgence.

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*3 out of 5*

After watching 2 whole seasons of Dream High it was my turn to step on an important stage yesterday. I'm not sure if getting 3 no's out of 5 judges on one of those variety game shows is a failure. But I'm repinning motivationals of failure like a mad woman right now. While I do my duties as the head of my group, of course.

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I know all that crap about failure is being afraid to try. I was nervous as fuck, and there were a bunch of issues. But I did the best I could in the shoes I was wearing, despite the music being super short, despite the skirt being too long, despite the stage. I knew there would be at least a no. But 3? Meh.

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After I danced on a tv show I had never even watched, I was humming Love High in the dressing room, putting my stuff away, remembering all the scenes in Dram High when the characters fail in auditions. And then an intern walked in and gave me soom advice, which is what has me thinking till now: "Getting a no is a great opportunity to reflect on what you're doing. Treasure it and use it".

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I'm still like... wha...?

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I'm afraid that, as a slow and dislexic learner, I may not internalize or grasp whatever lesson I could learn from yesterday. Yeah, dance in steady shoes. Sure, wear a costume that you're used to. Never forget your flask so that you can have a sip to relax before going on stage. All crutches.

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I wonder what else I can get out of the experience besides heartache. I'll see if at least I can get some better paying gigs after it airs, in about 20 days. :(

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I'll go from Love High to listening to this on repeat. I'm ok. Just a bit sad. But still ok.

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Gotta keep on moving. I did what I could. I came home and stuffed my face and fell asleep early. Woke up before dawn, showered, took the gunk off my face, and am doing what I have to. Sure, the mess around me is overwhelming. To the point I can't deal with it. But I made promises, and I always go above and beyond to keep those.

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So another moment to breath, and I'll clear some space to sew.

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