SCENE — 7:00am on MONDAY, JANUARY 2020 in OJAI, CA. SHE WAKES UP IN DISTRESS FROM A LONG AND GLORIOUS SLUMBER.
- It is absolutely freezing but it’s only 50 degrees.
- This shower should only take five minutes. Jump in, jump out.
- I found myself praying earlier this week but I don’t remember why.
- I find serenity when I look up at a blue sky underneath an oak tree to see the sun peaking through the branches. It reminds me of home.
- Gold is definitely my color.
- I can wait another day to wash my hair even though it’s been two weeks since my hair has seen shampoo.
- Clouds are still wild to me.
- There is another bruise… woah.
- My body hates me this week.
- I wish I was better at sewing.
- I love his song “Call it all for nothing, But I’d rather be nothing to you, Than be a part of something, Of something that I didn’t do”
- Periwinkle is an underrated color.
- I hope they are okay.
- I love that feeling of being completely out of breath after climbing up a mountain and getting to look out at the view = the feeling of accomplishment.
- Is she okay?
- I cannot be that person for her, I need to be that person for myself.
- This soap smells divinneee.
- There is nothing better than hot water.
- I am really gonna miss her.
- Jellyfish have a place in my heart.
- How long have I been in here?
- I really gotta go.
scars never go away.
no matter how many dollars you spend on Mederma.
they fade, but their reminiscence will always remain.
cuts, bruises, scratches, and blisters hurt
but cuts will heal. bruises and scratches will vanish. blisters and sores go away,
scar takes a different type of hurt. a different type of stab. a scar is a much deeper pain.
happiness, anger, regret, remorse, and fear burn.
but anger will simmer down, regret will turn into acceptance, remorse will turn into forgiveness, and fear will be overcome.
but love is a different type of burn.
love is a different type of hurt. a different type of happiness. a different type of pain.
just like a scar, love fades.
just like a scar, love will never go away.
just like a scar, love is a weakness that can be cut open at any time.
for better or for worse…
“So I did my calculations, there are 93 days before Thanksgiving, 93 long days until I can see April again. To those that don’t know April, she’s my companion…”
I read Hemingway’s A Fairwell to Arms a couple of days ago… ‘They threw you in and told you the rules and the first time they caught you off base they kill you…” They do kill you, I’m telling you.
I didn’t care for writing any journal yesterday. Tired and dulled by all the handbook rules they were announcing last night, I went to sleep quickly. I need to get out of this place, maybe I’ll get kicked out so that I’ll see April back in China again? But deep inside, I know I’m not going to do that. Men are selfish.
I really miss April.”
Because of the virus now I can’t go back to her again. It’s basically the same scenario all over. But this time, I’m willing to get kicked out for her. (not saying I will and definitely not confessing to anything)
I really miss April.