7. sydney sweeney wants me to die
sticky notes of random lyrics and hooks and choruses and verses around my desk. this is my nest. a table, a keyboard, a computer; sticky notes, pens, small notebook papers.
sydney sweeney wants me to die. i'm a self-destructive person when i want to be, and these days i want to be. i just want to test my limits when no one's watching. these might be famous last words. well, in any event, if they are, then let them. at least i died being me. in all my pimples and warts. the beauty to see the ugliness, and not just the other way around. because i'm used to the other way around. i'm used to people seeing me for good, an angel, a saint. and that never sat well with me.
this is the diary of a catholic boy. an asian american catholic boy. someone who was taught how to sin, how to sin well, and how to sin well for himself in a well that he learned how to dig for himself. it's quite the beautiful feat to dig one's own well. you learn how to retrieve your own water. you become a source, a resource. but that also means you're prone to contamination. impurity. tarnish.
it's ok. that's the reminder i need. because here's the thing: earth day just passed. it's now literally a week since it passed. have i remembered earth? celebrated her? yes and no. the earth will go on long after we've run our planet to the last of its fuel. and it won't be inhabitable for us. for us, but life will go on. life goes on. usually. whether i destroy myself tonight or live tomorrow, life goes on. people live, people die. someone spoils, someone starves. someone spends, someone saves. eh.
so, am i here to spend or here to save? am i here to have a good time or a long time, you ask? and the answer is, no. i am here for both.
you could see how this could leads to problems.
sydney sweeney gets it. she's my mirror at 3:41 AM on a monday night. sometimes i just want to get through the night and want to feel like it's okay to complain without feeling guilty.
where does this guilt come from? from coming from a perfect life. from falling from heaven.
let me tell you a secret: it wasn't all heaven and roses. i felt heaven and roses for a few seconds when i was growing up. and then the seasons changed, the petals fell to the ground and it was fall again. then winter. people left and they took their time to come back again. i tried to live. i lived.
and now i try to reborn again. i am reborn again each day.
i feel disconnected from that rebirth every day. what would it mean to feel connected to that rebirth?
fuck if i know.
wanduffle