Catching up after almost 3 years - How are you?

Hello! It's been close to 3 years since the last time I wrote.

How are you?

I hope that wherever you are and whatever you're doing, if you are reading this, that you're healthy & happy or if you're carrying some sadness or frustration, that it's okay to feel so too.

A lot has happened in our lives since 2018. The world has experienced a lot of ups & downs since then - political upheavals, the pandemic, the rise of technology & social media, loved ones lost and so many more things that I'm not really well-versed with talking about.

So what have you been up to?

For some of us, we've seen both good and bad - of both people & places we know & never met. For some, we've built new connections & severed some of them. For some, we found new passions & lost some of our old love for things that used to make our hearts leap.

For some, we've learned and grown. For some, like me, we feel like we are back on square one - lost again but in a different place.

Maybe it's the fear of growing and we cling on to the warmth and comfort of where we feel safe. Maybe it's wanting to do everything perfectly from start to finish that we never really started at all. Maybe it's making our busy schedule as an excuse to put our old hobbies aside and that somehow, we lost a chunk of our old selves because of that and now we feel like we've never really moved forward.

If you've felt the same, know that you're not alone.

I've given so many excuses not to go back to writing which is ironically, one of the things that makes me feel so alive. My books have gathered dust & so is my imagination. I used to love going to these fantastic & magical places and go on an adventure and be in another characters shoes and get lost in them for hours on end. I haven't touched my sketchbook & my colored pencils - my love for making art has gotten stale and almost dead. 

I sincerely miss my old passions. 

I sometimes grieve about them like missing old friends.

Through this lost, however, I discovered a new passion - taking photos of nature & anything beautiful I stumble upon (including food!)

Taking photos has filled a small hollow part of my soul that misses dipping my hands into words & losing myself in making art. It has helped me unplug my thoughts about the millions of worries that I have about the future & some of the things that was marked in my past that still haunts me today (don't worry, I'm working with my therapist to overcome this).

It has become a sort of band-aid, a friend & a warm blanket.

Yet, here I am, once again (I'm torn into pieces - oops), trying to rekindle the old flame. Trying to write again, one step at a time; Trying to play my instrument again, one note and strum at a time: trying to read again, one book at a time; doing my best to get back what I've lost (intentionally or not) to my life again.

I miss feeling alive again.

       ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

If you've made it through all my ramblings, I hope that you've found a new passion or have revisited an old one. I hope that you found some solace in this as well.

If you haven't done any of those and is just doing your best to keep your head above water, that's okay too. 

If nobody has told you this until now, you're not alone and your feelings of loneliness & rut are all valid. All feelings are valid.

We are in this together.

Until next time (no pressure when, okay?)

ダフニーより

  

Between Distances

Warming:
Lethally mushy things ahead. Read at your own risk.

Single at 32.
Alone in a foreign land.
Life is divided into 2 - work & home and home & work.
Rinse and repeat.

During my day offs, I would usually curl up with a cup of coffee either watching Netflix or doing some work. Don't worry though, I go out once a month to visit some friends, but I feel a surge of joy when plans are cancelled.

I'm a serial hermit.
I'm an expert loner (and third-wheel)
I'm a happy soloist.
I'm a jovial camper in my own company.

Voices of concern were raised every now and then - my family would urge me to socialize; My bosses would try to hook me up with someone; My friends would pray that I won't fall into the fate of becoming an old cat lady.

I've always reassured the people around me that I don't need a man. I've repeated it so many times that whenever they tell me to find someone for the nth time, I just smiled and waved, just smiled and waved.

I didn't want to waste my energy explaining & arguing back. I just want to be left alone and not be reminded, in endless loop, of my splendid singleness.

Instead of being bitter and hating the fact that I didn't have anyone special, I decided to make myself that special someone. I took myself to dates during my days off. I wrap myself in my own blanket whenever I'm scared or weak. I gave myself permission to cry when nobody is looking and laugh out loud until I can't breathe no more.

I focused on loving myself - the person who I've neglected all these years. I was always on a quest to fix somebody and love those around me that I've pushed fixing and loving myself on the side.

Being single and alone in a foreign country would, somehow, force you to do so. You are on your own. No one's going to take care of you when you're sick or when you need comfort. You have to learn to be your own best friend. You have to know how to watch your back and make decisions for yourself.

The jump I made to venture on my own to Japan was the best decision I've ever made (but not without its challenges). It had molded me to a completely different person since I left the comforts of my home in the Philippines.

I'm at my happiest and that has also taught me that I don't need anybody to make me happy. I've started to half accept that I don't need to meet someone and that I am fated to grow old alone and that it's okay if I do.

Of course, there were days when I wish I could tell someone about my day or the small achievements I made. There were days when I long to be held and to be told that everything will be okay. There were days that I wanted to be reminded how it felt like to fall in love again.

Then one day, while I was walking back to my car, I whispered these words to God:
"Lord, if you think that I am fated to be single forever, then I fully accept it with open arms. But if you think that I am ready to open my heart again, then, even with trembling hands, I will unlock the keys."

I didn't expect my prayers to be heard. Not as soon as I said that I'm ready.

He came in a form of a good friend. I met him again as friend. 0 expectations in my bag. I just wanted to apologize because I didn't show up the last time he was here.

I originally intended to see him only once, given how busy my schedule was during summer. Once turned into twice and thrice and so on...

I bravely opened my heart to this person and divulged how weak I am. We talked for hours like we used to do, but this time, those hours were multiplied by 3. I found myself missing him after dropping him off and my heart skipping when his name pops on my screen.

I've almost completely forgotten how it felt like to have butterflies in my stomach and trying my best not to vomit in front of the person I fancy. I've almost completely forgotten the conflict I struggle with from within when it comes to figuring whether it's another one-sided love I'm dealing with or not. I've almost completely forgotten how it felt like to be vulnerable in front of another person.

The thing they've written about in songs and movies? Like how something feels so perfect when the timing is right? I am a living proof that that myth is not a myth. When you meet that person who feels like home, everything starts to make sense -  the years of singleness and heartbreaks, moments of doubts in your prayers, periods of longing.

Things will start to fall into place. It always does in God's perfect timing.

So trust, my friends.

P.S.
Vulnerability is beautiful. Cracks are a work of nature. We are perfectly imperfect creatures.

The second greatest leap I've ever made is to open my heart again, to show my scars to another person. You could only do that if you love yourself enough to trust that even if that person doesn't accept you for who you are, you could always fall back into your arms and move on and maybe, find another soul that you could be brave enough to be fragile with. And if not, that's okay too.

The ring I proposed to myself with :) 

The rut

I was up a minute earlier, listening to the silence of the room and the roaring of my breath against my pillow. I waited and watched as my phone finally buzzed and lit, its mechanical voice chanting the time, 'it's 6:45am'. over and over again. I closed my eyes tight, beckoning myself to go back to sleep, but there's a heaviness in my chest that keeps me from sleeping or from doing anything at all.

I was awake, but I was numb.

It's 8 am. My eyes were sore from scrolling through Twitter and Instagram. My throat was itching to scream, but I held my tongue. 

It's 12 noon. I'm on the road. I have to put the mask on before anyone sees the cracks underneath.

It's 9pm. I peeled it off, kicked my shoes and sunk into bed until I wake up a minute earlier than my alarm again.


I was on a downward spiral, the bottom curve of the U, and stuck on a rut.

I stopped writing, reading and playing my ukulele, these things I love with with all my heart.

I was grasping for something in the dark, anything to help me swim up the surface of this ocean. Instead, I found myself, the one with bad temper but had no strength to get angry, the one who felt so much pain but had no strength to cry, and the one who felt alone but had no strength to speak to anyone.

Everyday, I felt writhing hands squeeze my heart and I would gasp for air but careful not to scream. I would turn to food and alcohol and cooping up myself up in my room so nobody else could see.

I was ashamed to admit I was sad. 

I was ashamed to admit that I wasn't as strong as I thought I was.

One day, I was in so much pain that I thought of seeking help. Anyone to talk to, anyone who could possibly not shun me after hearing what a rut I have become.

But I held it back, until another month passes. I told myself I was able to push past it in the past, why can't I do it now?

I treaded on until it starts affecting my work. I felt dread whenever the first day of the work week comes. I procrastinated. I missed deadlines. I was falling in a dark hole.

I kept reminding myself how blessed I was to be even working in Japan, that l love my job and I've searched all my life something as fulfilling as this. I used this as my life jacket. I clung on it until it snapped.

I was being drifted by my misery, being sunk by this heavy and dark sadness. I didn't even had the strength to hate myself more than I hated myself before.

This was my winter. This was drought. This was my flood.

I allowed the wolves to feast on me. I allowed myself to be weak & fragile. I allowed myself to disappoint myself.

Maybe I needed that. Maybe it was the only way to kick me out of my rut. In this world which celebrates happiness and optimism and shuns sadness and loneliness. Maybe its my reminder of my humanity and that I can be sad when I felt like it and I can be lonely when I felt like it.

And maybe I am allowed that. 

P.S. And if a friend tells you he or she feels sad, open your heart and your arms to that person. Don't tell him or her to get over it. All you need to do is hug that person and tell him or her that you'll be there no matter what.

That's how my sister saved me :) 

   

Day 10 Journaling Challenge - The Finish Line!

Hold up! Before you dive into the last entry, play this video on the background. I think it is fitting tribute for my last journal entry.

Click this! Kimi no nawa - Sparkle by Radwimps :)

Finally! It's here! The finish line! I can't believe I made it through day 10. Honestly, it was more challenging than I expected. I usually come home from work, dead tired and my brain even deader than a walker from Walking Dead.
I couldn't say I didn't enjoy writing these entries. Actually, through this experience, I was able to find myself and my passion again.

The whole truth behind this shenanigan is to find myself. Ashamed as I may be to admit it, last year, I've lost in touch with my creative self. I was so absorbed with gaining security with my job and my status in Japan that I forgot how good it felt each time I made a poetry or a short entry. The rush, exhilaration and bliss of materializing the words and thoughts that floats around the spaces of my mind feels like hearing my child utter his first words or kissing those lips that I so long want to taste for the first time.

Each poetry, each silly journal entry and fan fiction shorts are my children. Everyone flawed in their every way and yet, beautiful in their own words.

The journey with this journal entries felt like a reawakening and a rebirth of my heart and soul. I learned to notice the little things around me. I especially love the curve of people's eyes when they smile and how they look back and do a polite bow before disappearing from sight.

I also learned how to write for myself and myself only. I stopped caring what other people think and just let go of these words dangling from my silent lips. Through this, I discovered another style of writing which I would love to explore further. Although, I still love writing emo stuff so it's possible that that kind will pop around once in a while.

Finally, I learned that despite of the selfish reason why I started this challenge, there are still people who loves me enough to read through all of it. This has inspired me to push through the heavy veil of writer's block and punch procrastination on the face.

From the bottom of my heart, to my dearest readers, my family and my friends and my silent readers, domo arigatou gozaimasu and I love you from the moon and back! You guys have helped me get out of the mud and walk tall again with my button-nose, short but happy.

So what's next? I hate making promises so I'll just use the word "try". I won't be able to write for days straight like how I tried to do so with this challenge, but I will try to write a couple every week.

This I promise though - I will not stop writing and stirring your hearts with my words :)

Again, I can't thank everyone enough for supporting me and helping me find my way again.

You guys are the best! Remember, if you're feeling lonely, in the dark, or like no one cares, say this to yourself - "you are strong, beautiful and you'll be okay no matter what happens." This magic chant has always worked for me and I hope it helps you someday when you're in need of a nudge or a lift on one of your dark times :)

Stay awesome, you beautiful people!

Here's a little something for you guys. Just me and my virtual twin, Edna from the Incredibles. She's my inspiration for my new haircut lol

Twinning with Edna. Sorry I forgot to put on my glasses!

Love,
Daphne

Day 9 Journaling Challenge

First of all, I would like to apologize for the delay of this entry. I was so beat yesterday that I fell asleep as soon as I posted the announcement.

Anyway, on to the second-to-the-last entry. Woohoo! This one will be short and of course, I can't end this journaling challenge without talking about my favorite companion - books!

Yep, that was me on the reflection of my shades.

By now, everyone who read my journal entry day 3 knew that I am an expert aloner ('cause loner means lonely, and I am not!) I cannot deny my love for quiet walks around my neighborhood with only my thoughts as company. I especially adore spending time learning a new song on my Ukulele on my day offs or drinking a cup of tea on a cold evening with Netflix on  (by the way, I'm loving this series called Anne with an E). I also love just lying on my bed in the warm embrace of my blankets with a book propped on my knees and reading until my eyes could take no more.

By the way, I also love watching movies alone in the cinema. I used to do that when I was in the Philippines, I cannot do it here now though. It's just way too expensive! It's 2500Yen or around 1200pesos for you information.

Recently, with 70% of my time spent being with myself, books have saved me from the awkward and pitying glances of people in restaurants. Books have also saved me when I have to go to a salon to get a haircut or when I have to do a 3-hour wait at the airport for my connecting flight and feel like talking to no one.

Books have saved me from looking like a fool in public for daring to dine alone in a quaint coffee shop. Books have saved my mind from wandering too far off. 

Books are my best friend, my teacher and a map to another world that awaits my soul hungry for wanderlust.

As far and as long as I can remember, the smell of the paper and the feel of the spine of a book on my hands stirs up my soul. I could spend all day in a bookstore and go bankrupt from buying mountain of books that I would probably read in one day or never read at all. I could stay up all night and get lost in another world created by another person's words and thoughts. I could dream about the characters I met and wonder what they're going to do next and picture myself in their situation and wonder what I would do if I am faced with the same tribulations.

Books are one of humanity's greatest creations. It has saved my life and lead me to find my passion. It has taught me to go beyond my imagination, step out of the comforts of my safety net and dare myself to put my thoughts on paper. It showed me the infectious joy of finding connection from another person who read the same book and talk about it for hours on end.

Books are pools of wisdom. Books are a result of a writer's blood, sweat and tears and hours of editing and rewriting. Books are life changers.

If you are in need of comfort and a hand to hold, grab a book you loved and go back to its pages. You will surely find solace in its familiar words (My go-to book is The Fault in Our Stars. A good ugly cry always helps!).

P.S. This book is an ode to my fellow bookworms, and to my mom who taught me the joys of reading :)

Day 8 Journaling Challenge

Below is the picture taken after my storm.

Yesterday, If you read my last entry, I was blabbing about challenges and how I overcame them, without knowing, as I went out excitedly for a drive around the city today, a big challenge awaits me.

Here's what happened: I got this planned down from the time I have to leave to the time I have to come back home to do some lesson planning for the week. And so, I embarked on my short drive to Muji to get the below pens I've been dying to get my hands on for my workbook. 

They're worth the 40-minute drive :)

Around 11:30am, I arrived safe, but a bit shaken from the traffic at my destination. I thought everything was going well. I was dreamily browsing furniture and school supplies at the store when I decided to check for my car keys. I usually hook it to the zipper of my bag. Frantically and with my heart beating on my throat, I searched my bag, turned it inside and out, but found nothing. At the back of my head, I knew I left my keys at my car AGAIN. As I was checking out at the counter, I was racking my head for ways on how to get my keys back. 

Option A: Ask someone for help.

Option B: Buy a hanger and try to jimmy the lock with it (by all means, I am no locksmith but I heard of this trick)

Option C: Call rescue from a locksmith company (which by the way, will cost me a leg)

As soon as I swiped my card and left the store, feeling numb from the problem that I was about to face, I raced to my car to see if my keys were there. In Japan, there's only a 1% chance that someone would run off with your car, so I was half-wishing that I forgot to lock my door. 

But I didn't.

There it was, my keys sitting like a king on the passenger , staring back at me, my biggest fear realized. One of the good things about this stupid mistake was I left my passenger side window cracked open about 3 -4 inches. I tried pushing it down but of course, it's futile. I ran to the guards stationed there and asked them if they could help me, but they just shrugged and went back to their business. I ran to one of the stores and told them about my situation, but I was met with the same response - a cold shrug. 

I wasn't bothered by it because I half-expected it already. I've been in situations where I was left to fend for myself and I did okay anyway. So, this one, I thought, would be okay too.

I'll be okay. 

I kept repeating this to myself as I was sprinting in the cold winter drizzle, desperate to get this over with.

"Daiso, they have everything," I thought so I made my way there and grabbed what I thought I needed. I had the hangers on my hand already when I saw this 7m malleable wires. I reckoned it would do the job but it was another stupid decision I made today.

I went back to my car half-running and half-dazed with fear and adrenaline. I kept repeating my mantra in my head while I prayed to God to send me help.

I googled how to unlock your car and found various ways. I tried the shoestring trick but I cannot do a slip knot and the sides of  the doors of my car was sealed with rubber, so that didn't work. I tried the hanger trick but I bought the stupid wire and it was too soft to even jimmy the lock. I tried fishing my keys through the opening I left on the window but again, the stupid wire was too soft. I tried making a hook out of the wire to try and pull my locks, but that didn't work too.

It was raining. It was freezing, My insides are on fire from panic and from calming myself at the same time. People were getting off their cars and casting me strange glances and probably talking about that girl who's trying to slip a wire on a car. I paid them no attention and kept myself busy with busting into my car.

My savior arrived in his pink car. Quite dainty for an old guy, I say. He wore this black jacket and has thinning white hair. His eyes though, I would never forget. They were kind and bright. "Miss, are you okay?" he asked. I shook my head and I explained to him, in my best Japanese, what had happened. Without any hesitation, he took the wire from my hands and tried fishing my keys with the wire. When he saw that didn't work, he tried hooking the lock with the wire, but that didn't work either. 

He called out to other Japanese guys nearby for help. One came but said he cannot help. Some Taiwanese tourist even offered aid (I felt bad for taking their vacation time), but they have to leave since they're on a tour.

Then, after we've tried several minutes using the wire I have, the kind ojii (grandpa) told me to keep trying while he fetch some wire hangers from the nearby store. The rain kept pattering and my hands shook non-stop, but hope didn't left me,  

I'll be okay, I told myself again.

Finally, when I thought of seriously calling a locksmith for help, Kind Ojii came back with an uncoiled wire hanger. We tried fishing my keys with it, but it was too short. Then, when I thought that Kind Ojii was in a brink of giving up, a nice couple came by and noticed our plight. The husband (my hero) came, with a cigarette in his mouth and asked what's going on. Kind Ojii explained the situation to him since I could barely speak from the terror that's eating me up inside. I only was able to say "arigatou" and "sumimasen (sorry or excuse me)" all throughout the time he and the Kind Ojii were trying to fish my keys. His lovely wife came with an umbrella to help keep us from the rain. She consoled me and reminded me to be careful next time.

During this moment, I was overwhelmed with the kindness and compassion of strangers. When I first arrived in Okinawa, a stranger helped me find the right bus to get on to. When I got lost in Fukuoka, a stranger helped me with directions. When I was struggling to find a job, my now boss, who was a stranger then, offered me a job. 

As I witness my keys being pulled from the crack on my passenger side window, I kept thanking God over and over for sending his help through the kind strangers I met today. I also thanked God for I knew that these strangers will not leave me without seeing to it that I get into my car.   

I wouldn't be able to get home and be where I am today without help from these kind strangers who expected nothing in return. That moment earlier reminded me to to pay their kindness forward by helping other strangers in need. So if you see someone in trouble, go and help. Who knows, you might be the person they're praying for to come and save them.

 

Presenting, my Team Rusty keychains :)

Day 7 Journaling Challenge

I'm struggling to keep my eyes open and resist the temptation of diving into the comforts of my bed, so I'll make today's entry short.

I was up and running our store from 11am and finally closed at 6pm tonight. I've lost count of how many times I said "arigatou gozaimashita" (thank you very much) and "irasshaimase" (welcome) to the stream of customers that came today. On top of this, I was tasked to steam iron 100 pieces of clothing whilst checking out the customers and making sure that no kids drown on the toilet. Yeah, 'cause shopping moms tend to get absorbed with digging through the racks of clothes and completely forget the existence of their kids.

Today, with aching arms from slinging that steamer around and a big happy grin on my face, I noticed that I am more capable than I think I am.

Long time ago, when Daphne was still dreaming of speaking Japanese and living on her own, until now, that she's living her dream, she still doubts herself a thousand times but surprisingly, rises to the occasion and crosses the finish line.

I actually always surprise myself. Looking back, I've always doubted that I could do anything remarkable. I always thought I would quit halfway and just drift somewhere with the hopes that I could find something more within my capabilities. Inevitably, I'll end up somewhere that would test me to the very edge of my limits. I remember feeling so shaken up and nervous that I might do something on my driving test. Or that one time when I was placed in-charge of organizing a volunteer event, I wasn't able to sleep a wink the night before with the fear of messing the entire thing because this that whole thing is just too massive for me.

And yet, I emerged from them with patches of sweat on my armpits, laughing and exhilarated from these little victories. Each challenge in itself was a journey of doubting myself a lot and exceeding expectations I've set on myself, punching the wall from overwhelming frustration and jumping up and down when my name was called as one of the successful examinees, crying tears of joy in the car and going home victorious, happy and at peace.

So, how exactly did I manage these challenges? Everyone has their own way of dealing with their problems, but let me briefly share my secret formula.

1. I set ZERO expectations on myself, that way, there's no room for disappointment.

2. I just do it! That's right! Just do it like Nike says. No room for overthinking. Just do it. Stop counting. Just do it! Except for cliff dives, just count me out!

3. I pray to God that she sends me the right people who will help me overcome what lies ahead.

This hasn't been scientifically proven and tested by scientist but this weird combination definitely works for me!  I guess number one attests to my thinking that I am more capable than I think I am. With zero expectations and being able to cross the finish line after, without a shed of expectations on myself, just purely operating from the determination of completing the job and with the help of people around, the expected reaction would, without a doubt, surprise.   

Yep, I ironed these and more

How about you? How do you wrestle with a challenge? I would love to learn a thing or two from you!

P.S. Every trials or tribulations you've experienced, you are experiencing and will experience is a journey itself. No matter where you are on that journey, hold on and pray a lot, I assure you that you will get through it :) Don't forget to celebrate it with Netflix and ice cream later :)

Day 6 Journaling challenge

Disclaimer: Before we dive into it, let me open this by saying, "I'm not a doctor. I've only tried the below mentioned remedies on myself. No animals were harmed."

One of the first things I fantasize about after a long and hard day's work is not to stuff myself with something sweet(oh! a slice of cheesecake would do nice though!) nor have a drink of wine while watching Netflix, but to have that few quiet minutes in a steamy and almost scalding hot shower to wash off the day's worries & weary.

That's why, today, I am here to ramble about the healing powers of a hot shower & everything else that soothes our tired bodies at the end of the day.

I just woke up from a short nap turned 2-hour long hour nap, hopped on the shower and washed away all the stresses of today - my mind now refreshed and my body smelling of kiwi, lemon and lime. Now, I am ready to conquer the world once more, but I am in my pyjamas and oversized hoodie and it would be crazy to go outside looking like this. So, allow me to conquer the last remaining minutes of the day with my typewritten words.

Hot showers are my superman. No matter if it's in the middle of summer or I'm sweating buckets, I'd always run to its loving arms to help me put my anxious and exhausted self at ease. The way the hot water runs on your body is like rain washing the streets clean or the waves lapping on the shore. It just resets everything. It's a gentle reminder that we get to start all over again.

If you've dealt with a lot of horse poo today or with a lot of customers with horse poo for an attitude, don't worry! You'll have to deal with them again tomorrow (Okay, that didn't help.) If you just plain messed up today, let's say, photocopied your face "by accident" or called a superior with a different name (that's why plain sir or madam is your safest bet), don't worry! Tomorrow, you'll get it right. Be sure that you won't get caught if you're up to something silly and just call everyone sir, madam or Ben.

After basking in a hot shower, I usually follow it up with a hot cup of Matcha or let the whimsical smell of my scented candles waft in my your room. I also run to the soothing hands of music or a bowl of steaming instant ramen (the latter being my guilty pleasure). Recently, following my hot shower, I put my face mask on, watch some Netflix or thrust myself into writing. Just simple things I let myself indulge in and also, my other way of saying to myself that I did my best today and tomorrow's another day, a clean slate, a fresh start.

So, if you're feeling exhausted or if anxiety is kicking you in the butt, give yourself a nice hot shower and let go of the bad things, the pain and the worries of the day. You gave your best shot today. Tomorrow is another chance to start :)

What about you? What do you reward yourself with at the end of the day or what do you do to recover from the day's beating?

P.S. When you're in the shower, you get to think a lot of deep stuff which adds to the beauty of it too. Just make sure not to go too deep or else your gas and water bill would sky rocket and this would add to your list of other sufferings.

A shower head is not cute, so here's a picture of my Christmas mug :)

Day 5 Journaling challenge

Looking back, this whole journal challenge's purpose is not only for me to overcome my massive writer's block, but it is also a way for me to rediscover and reconnect with myself. It's kind of selfish actually, but allow me, just this once (or maybe even a couple more) to tell you about this tale from not so far, far away.

I guess I've been foreshadowing this topic for the past few entries. If you've been reading them from day one, I reckon it won't be a big surprise that today, I've noticed, quite so clearly, the relationship I have with the good and bad wolf within me a.k.a the Tale of the Angry Mean Obaa and Nice Fairy Godmother.

When you've done something reckless like commented "kuwaii" (scary) instead of "kawaii" (cute) to your customer's new born baby or sent that silly photo meant to your friend to that cute guy at work (btw, I've only done the first one, hopefully I won't be careless enough to do the latter), don't you have this voice inside your head that shouts profanities at you? I've always have that voice, that harsh critique, that grumpy loathsome echo who keeps check of my mistakes. I call that voice the mean obaa (granny).

Yep, I have that in my head. Sexy, isn't it?

When I was at the blossom of my youth (Ah! I feel old saying this), mean obaa was just an angry obaa. She would scold me, and at times, replay my misses 99 times before the day ends. I would then proceed to soothe the pain with a stolen cake from the fridge - ladies and gentlemen, the reason why my face never deflates.

Now that I'm not that young anymore (Ah! I feel even older saying this), angry obaa turned into angry plus mean obaa. She would recall, in her throaty and insulting tone, all my fails of the day and of the past 10 years 99 times, plus reciting what I should have done with a cluck from her tongue at the end of each sentence. At least she got wiser!

It's unfair to say that mean obaa stays her demeaning self all the time. Actually, in some of my moments of defeat and ugly crying, she would sweep in the room, offer me a blanket and a cup of hot chocolate, and turn into an enchanting fairy tucking me sweetly to sleep.

What this fiasco about is the two sides of myself which are constantly fighting to be allowed to be seated on the passenger seat. Honestly, and I am ashamed to say this, I used to listen to the angry and mean obaa before, all the time. I guess I just groove to their beat. I've danced to their disco so much that I've made myself my greatest enemy and torn my self-confidence entirely.

Maybe, that's one of the reasons why I chased love so much before. I was looking for broken people to fix in the hopes that they would return the favor. I have to admit. I was total mess in the past, and that's largely because I let the obaa rule.

Now, I cannot attest entirely that she's gone. She's still here, hanging around all the time, sipping her tea with a sour expression. Recently, however, I am happy to report that I've been hanging out with her whimsical version, my nice fairy godmother, 65% of the time. And here's why she's awesome:

1. Nice Fairy godmother is the one who tells me "I'll be okay" or "we can do it, baby! Just hold on a little while longer, we're up next for the toilet!"

2. She's also the one who praises my accidental delicious recipe or pats me at my shoulder when I finally able to play that song in my Ukulele without a fret.

3. She's my cheerleader when I needed a pep talk on the times I cannot ask anyone to give me some cheering.

4. She's my positive critique on my writing or my silly art and would leave me with tons of "muy biens." and deep "mhms".

5. She's one of my biggest fan and would tell me to get up and dress up since today is a clean blank slate to be showered with pastel rainbow colors and Master Yoda's singing Seagulls! (Stop it Now). If you don't know what I'm talking about, click this baby - https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=U9t-slLl30E

This year, I am planning on listening to my Nice Fairy Godmother more and start building a good and tight relationship with her. After all, if I keep listening to the Angry Mean Obaa, I might end up wrinkly and throaty before I know it. I'd rather be sparkly and nice with a pumpkin carriage for a transportation!

So which of the two would you rather have on your passenger seat, the Mean Angry Obaa or the Nice Fairy Godmother? 

P.S.  If you're at conflict with yourself right now or someday in the future, always know that I am here and you're not alone. I'll long-distance hold your hand. If I'm Mr. Fantastic, I could literally do it  :) 

A Japanesy pose for you for reading until the end!

Day 4 Journaling Challenge

Before I begin, I just want to give a big shout out to everyone who patiently gave their time to read through my ramblings, especially to my ever supportive family and friends. You guys are the best! I am looking forward to all your love, support and virtual hugs until the end of this journaling challenge. 6 more days to go!

Today, I'll talk about something in a slightly philosophical note. I hope I don't bore you! I did my best to put these thoughts in words today, but I probably failed to bring them thoughts to life. I hope you get my the idea though. 

Tuesdays and Thursdays are becoming my two favorite days after, of course, my day offs. And here's why:

During these two days, I get to speed by the highway and marvel at the craftsmanship and intricacy of this amazing engineering. Today, I noticed the wonderful power of human creation.

Have you ever thought of how a pair of, let's say, shoes was created? Who first conceptualized the idea of this essential modern every day item? How about the design? Whose brilliant mind did it came from?

Have you ever wondered how a building was made? How many pair of hands, buckets of blood and sweat and swearing and rolls of blueprints were used to bring that structure to life?

Or have you ever mused on the beauty of your favorite song? Have you not wondered how someone brought a melody to life, gave it lyrics and forever touched your heart with his or her music?

We, humans, may do A LOT of stupid things, like eat Tide Pods, kick an ant hill or go out drinking until one passes out and doesn't remember anything the next day. Despite the many things I loathe about us, the fact that anyone could create something out of nothing astonishes me.

Here's a scenario for you: You have a pen and paper. You draw a circle, then maybe a couple of strokes here and there. After a few minutes or hours of fiddling with your pen and a couple dozen of cursing yourself, you've created a drawing or a picture out of your sheer talent and imagination! Isn't that wonderful?

Or me, right now, writing this, typing these words to create this journal. Ideas that has sprung into something I could share to others. 

Look at your hands. They are tools of creation. Something God has bestowed upon us to create something good. In most unfortunate cases, these very hands create things that brings forth pain and suffering to others. I'm hoping that we aim to create for the former.

If you're feeling down or disappointed with yourself, look at your hands. Think of what you can make with them. Just make sure not to create anything you'll regret!

This entry is a shout out of love and sincere admiration to all the creators out there, like you and me, especially to the engineers, architects, chefs, bakers, seamstress, pharmacists, artists, and authors. Mad respect for you guys.

Today's entry is sponsored by my knock-out shoes :)

  

Day 3 Journaling Challenge

Let me pose this scenario to you: You want to have a nice lunch somewhere, like in a nice cafe or a restaurant, or you want to watch this movie that you've been dying to see and have watched the trailer a hundred times due to your unsatiated desire to watch the film. Here's the catch though - you're alone - No boyfriend, friends busy on the only day you're free and your family living a thousand miles away.

How would you feel if you're in that situation? Would you still watch the movie or go dine somewhere by yourself?

9 out of 10 would say "no way! That's so sad! Call me if you want to catch a movie or go eat somewhere!"

Okay. That scenario up there is me. Obviously.

So today, while I was taking a stroll at this big mall in Okinawa, I noticed the liberating joy of being alone.

I look forward to the days and the few quiet minutes in the morning when I could be alone with my thoughts and let my mind wander & imagine things and far-off places that people around me wouldn't dare try to understand.

I look forward to the few minutes before I drift off to sleep to tell myself that I did my best today and that I could do better tomorrow.

I look forward to my day offs when my time is mine and mine alone and that I could get lost driving Rusty around town and discover new places.

I look forward to the minutes or hours spent on the floor of my room, just getting my hands tattooed with ink blots from my pen or graphite stain from my pencil.

I could go on and on but I won't bore you any further.

A lot of people identifies "being alone" to "being lonely". If you are one of them, then I don't think you'd want to read on any further. But if you're still willing to bear with me, then a big high five to you and a virtual hug from the land of Okinawa Soba and purple yam flavored KitKats. (You're so defensive, Daphne)

There are a lot of days when I long for a companion or a partner. Sometimes, I can't help but think that I should have brought one of my sisters or my friends with me here in Okinawa. During the times I'm in pain, I would sorely wish that someone would buy me a painkiller or cook me congee or caress my hair until I fall asleep.

However, I have more instances that I am thankful that I am alone. Like times when I want to walk around the house naked or sing my heart out in the car without the fear of damaging someone's eyes or eardrums. Many times, I am thankful that I am the only one to endure my cooking or my messy room or my random loud farts. Every day, I am grateful that I am building the courage to fight the fear of doing things by myself, loving myself and admitting to myself that sometimes I am beautiful and it's okay to love even the most broken part of me.

Aloneness is not loneliness my friends.

This time of my life is the truest I've ever been to myself. I admit I still like my old Animes, braiding my hair and sleeping with my stuffed animals. There are times that I would try to change them but inevitably, I learned to accept them. This childish Daphne is another part of me that I need to embrace.

Being alone taught me how to accept myself wholeheartedly, through loud farts and bad morning breath.

Being alone taught me that I have untapped strength within me that would get me through anything in life - bad period pains, stubbed toe nails or broken hearts.

Being alone taught me that you are responsible for your own happiness and that happiness lies within you.

Being alone doesn't suck. It's fun! It's just a matter of perspective. Just think about that whole tub of ice cream all to yourself :)

I should get a haircut soon

Day 2 Journaling Challenge

Before I start, here's a disclaimer: this journal entry is not a love story. Sorry to disappoint!

Today, I noticed this feeling of rookieness, thanks to this cute waiter/floor staff guy in this restaurant I went to for lunch. I noticed how frantic and clueless he was, going here and there, making mistakes here and there, and just plainly having a bad day at work.

I remember the days when I first held the wheel of a car and my first test drive on the road - sweaty palms, drumming heart, and pulse at 150 miles per minute.

I remember the time when I first held my very first class as a teacher. I am not the merry-type of person (not to be confused with marry) and I am not especially the one to strike a conversation first. My voice was shaking, my knees were trembling and I plastered this twitchy smile on my face the entire 60 minutes of my first ever English conversation class.

I remember my first day of being alone in a foreign country and my first time being so far away from my family. I second-guessed every decision made. Each day I thought I sucked at adulting and being responsible for myself.  And I hated my inability to do anything on my own. 

But guess what? I survived all of these!

As I was driving home tonight on the dark yet peaceful streets of Okinawa (save for my out-of-tune singing in the car), I looked at my hands clutching the wheel and realized "Wow! I can drive! It kinda felt like a dream, but I can drive!"

Not so long ago, I was overwhelmed and terrified of doing these things. It still feels like a dream but look at me now! It may be far from perfect but I'm doing it!

The stage of rookieness (okay, I'm coining this word) is a phase of total confusion and totally feeling stupid and helplessness and hating every part of you for not getting it right the first time. I totally understand cute guy's expression earlier - the expression of sheer flabbergast in a jungle of hungry Japanese people and a super busy kitchen. But let me tell you, just hang in there and try not to kick anyone's dog!

After you've thought you got the hang of everything and you're pass the stage of rookieness. You know, like when you're playing Snakes and Ladders or Dark Souls 2. You'd think, "wow! I'm almost in the finish line!" Then, you'll land on a snake and it will send you back to square 1 or an enemy boss would totally kick your ass after grinding all day and you'd realize that THIS IS DARK SOULS! WHO AM I KIDDING?!

No matter where we are in life, we'll experience so much rookieness that a week or a month (depending where you are on the board) won't be enough to tell all about it. 

I am still a rookie in life. Sometimes  Most of the time, it makes me want to pull all the hairs on my head and kick my neighbors noisy chihuahuas (Yes, you're not imagining it. There's more than one). Ironically, it gives me comfort too - that everyone else on the planet is a rookie like me who are trying to figure out where they're going and what they're doing.

And as for you cute guy, even though you totally sucked today, tomorrow, who knows, you might not suck so much. Until then, try not to mix up other people's orders. It's a good place to start.

You may be a rookie now, but tomorrow, who knows, maybe you'll be a rookie level 2 and that's not so bad! . If that gives you any comfort.

Proud of my beginner's mark

Day 1 Journaling Challenge

Today I noticed how I keep killing my plants...involuntarily, of course. The first one I had was last year, around the middle of summer, when I moved fresh to my tiny but adorable apartment which sometimes smells weirdly of sewers and a dead rat? I tried to find the source of the only thing I hate about my little space but all my efforts were futile. I've turned everything over inside and out. Nothing. Sometimes, I can't help but think that I have an invisible room mate who would leave a generous fart so something would greet me when I come home.

By the way, the first one died a wrinkly death.

Anyway, again, I tried my hands on a new plant. It was love at first sight. It's a shinobu plant I bought from a 100 yen store. With this little one, I put a lot of heart and hope that I will be able to provide him a well-lead life. Every day, I would wake up and look at him gently swaying from the breeze coming from my window, some of his arms raised in a salute towards the sky. Every day too, I would see that some of his arms fall to his side, wilting and dying on his sad blue can. Now, I can only see a couple still fighting and I, sometimes, in desperate hope, would whisper 'gambare' (do your best/keep fighting) to it.

And yet, I know the truth, but I don't want to stop hoping for his well-lead life. 

Hanzo, my shinbou plant

To you who I almost loved

Do you remember the time when you plucked the first note and how starry-eyed I looked as you played your lullaby? I kept every melody, the way your caramel eyes looked whenever you entered in the trance of your own music, and every lyrics I've been wanting to sing but never did.

Do you remember those mornings when we'll bask in the sun and get lost in each other's broken language? Laughing, dreaming and me, quietly wishing it would never end?

Do you remember when we would dare dream about the future? Yours was as bright as the sunlight against my stark and hopeless dreams of what I could be?

If you don't, I do. Until now it still haunts me; your songs in my playlist became a shadow of you; your stories remained tattooed but narrated in someone else's voice now; the time I've spent with you became a distant memory, a memory I hope never to go back to.

I was ashamed.  I was guilty of dreaming of loving you. I looked like a complete idiot, thinking that I could finally allow myself to love someone again.

It was a bright afternoon, I remember. I rushed down the flight of stairs, my heart pounding against my chest.

"You could do this! You got this" I repeated to myself. "Today is the day I'll tell!"

My palms were sweaty and you kept your eyes fixed on the ground. We walked past one, two and on the third block, you stopped and turned around. You looked nervous and your voice was shaking when you said, "Did you know?"

How could you bring yourself to forget the day when everything suddenly fell apart? Like the ground swallowing you up or someone hammering your knees but you were not allowed to scream or cry in pain?

"Yes" I croaked and swallowed hard as my heart was being torched to ashes.

Yes. I knew.

I knew that you love someone else, but I was just too afraid to say I do. I saw the signs, but I shook it off as a bad dream. I prayed and I hoped that for once,what my gut was telling me was a completely and utter lie.

And yet, I have to hear it from you, because if I didn't, then I would be trapped in this stupid fantasy.

"Do you feel anything for me?" you asked so softly, as if you were being careful not to break me.

Did you know, during that moment, I have to fight with all my might not to cry in front of you? Did you know that I forced myself to smile and say 'no' so I won't have to put you through any pain because of my puny and desperate feelings for you? Did you know that I did all of that because I almost loved you?

I waited until I could no longer see you from the corner of the street. I tried hard to stop myself from running to where no one could see or hear me and cry and scream until I fall asleep. When I finally allowed myself to breathe, bleed and grieve,  I let myself bury every memory of you so I could stop myself from running back and tell you that 'yes, I do feel something for you'.

It was too late, I know, but I didn't regret it. I was consumed with loathing for myself then and I wouldn't want anyone to deal with that.

I hope that you are happy and healthy wherever you are right now. I know that somewhere out there, with your heart on your sleeves, you are chasing after your dreams on your big bicycle.

I could still see you running barefoot in the grass, laughing and jumping, in my mind. I could still hear the echoes of your music, but not your voice for it has completely faded away.  I could still remember your favorites, but I'll avoid them in the aisles of the grocery store.

The bleeding has stopped now and the wound is starting to heal.

I hope that you are too, with whatever pain I caused you, but I hope with all my heart to never see you again.

More Than Six Months After

Was it after I came back to Okinawa? Was it after I turned down numerous invitation to parties and meet ups? Was it when I've decided that I will press the restart button? I can't remember the exact date I stopped writing or rather...forgot how to write.

I could remember so vividly the days I wrote feverishly on my train ride home, my body swaying but my pen and paper steadily and desperately trying to keep up with my thoughts. I could recall exactly the moments when words would haunt me during my walks after work and I, running like a mad man up the steps to my home, possessed by the hunger to give life to those words.

When did I stop? When did I stopped trying? When did I forget? I couldn't recall.

Writing is what I've worked so hard to be known for. Don't get me wrong. I am not a professional writer nor did I get a formal education on it. Days when my eyes would strain from reading, sleepless night because I couldn't put down a book, and words of the authors I so dearly admired were the things that shaped me as a writer (in my dreams!).

Now, you might be wondering why I am blabbing about writing. Well, you see, my mom, whom I spoke a couple of days ago asked me why I stopped writing. My sister did ask me the same thing a month ago too.

Those questions struck me hard.

Like really rock solid, avalanche and tsunami mashing up together, rushing towards me kind of hard.

It's the same as if they're looking for me. Kind of like - Daphne, where are you?

And oh my god! Did that wake me up.

"I'm here! I'm here!" I wanted to yell.

"I just kind of forgot where I was....I guess?" 

I am not yet in my 60's and yet, I am starting to forget. The one thing I have passionately fantasized about, daydreamed all my life, and built my dreams on is slipping from my heart. AND that's one of the worst possible things that could ever happen to me. 

That's kind of sad, don't you think?

It stirred my insides in a different kind of way - something like a seasick and post roller coaster kind of sick.

That's why I am here, jamming on my keyboards desperately, the kind of desperate that maybe, my whole system would wake up and start writing again not like I used to, but more than I used to.

Sincerely and would write again (I hope),

Daphne


**If you've read until the end, I've sent you a million of virtual corgis to keep you warm throughout your million lifetimes. You rock!

Through Foreign Eyes

Leaving the familiar faces and the comfort of the walls you’ve known as long as you can remember is indeed, daunting. It’s not as if you will never go back. It’s just the fear of the unknown – what lies ahead? Will I be able to swim around this new strange land that my eyes have only touched in colorful videos and the glossy pages of my textbooks?

And yet, you gave it a go, a heartfelt “yes” with your eyes brimming with both excitement and fear. Before you knew it, you’re hopping into the plane en route to Japan, saying your tearful “see you soon”, “be sure to call me” and “take care” to your family.

It may seem a long journey – probably difficult, probably scary but definitely worthwhile. Soon, however, you will pack your backs and you will have to say your “be sure to keep in touch” and “take care” to your newfound friends.

This article is intended to offer you a glimpse of what it is like to live as a 留学生(ryuugakusei) or Foreign student (you will be holding on to that title for a while).  Written below are based from my own experience.  

  

Phase 1: The Adjustment

As soon as you take your first step in the concrete lands of Japan, it will feel as if everything is a moving picture. The beauty that suddenly is tangible feels too overwhelming. The phrases that you hear from your audio tapes in your class suddenly fall from the lips of real people. The food that you so longingly wanted to try tasted unlike how you imagined them to be (delicious or disgusting as you may have expected it). You unpack your bags and quietly arrange them in the corners of your room – a home you will call it for a year or so. You will be reluctant to travel around the city for a while. You will draw a map of it in your palms and mark an ‘X’ to the places that you deem safe. You will be greeted by your new professors, your new classmates and your new subjects to take. You will have to speak Japanese every single time and will find comfort in speaking your native tongue when you met a fellow from the same country. You will always feel tired from all the adjusting and will fill this insatiable rush coursing through you at the same time from all this possibilities lain before you.

Phase 2: Lectures, Friends and Routines

You finally have settled down. The scary streets are not so frightening no more. The ‘new’ faces are now your friends and people you can lean on. The moving pictures are now places familiar to you. You can walk on them like they are the streets you’ve grown up at. You are still frightened of the locals but somehow have the courage to strike a conversation with them. You will go to class, receive loads of homework and somehow, still find a way to go to parties organized by your classmates and go drinking and talking with them until dawn. You will fall into this ‘routine’ where you add beautiful moments each time in your life.

Phase 3:  What lies ahead

You felt that your Japanese have improved. You can now write coherent sentences and you can report in front of class whilst your shaking knees and fingers. You have somehow gotten to around Japan, marking your map with an ‘O’ for each places you’ve touched. You have tons of photos and videos of you and your friends, but you also have tons of photos of the beautiful sunsets and sunrises that you knew will forever remained tattooed in your memories. Then, questions of “what will you do after you go home?” start pouring in. You are caught off guard each time you hear one. ‘Where should I go?”, “What should I do after?” crowds your head. You look ahead, you sketch a map and everything gets more confusing. Soon, you will leave this place and the reality will start seeping in. And yet, no matter how lost you feel you might be, deep in your heart, you know that you will find what you are looking for because you managed to survive a year or so in a land so alien before to you which now you can call home.

 I haven’t reached the last phase but I am heading there soon. It is hard to imagine saying goodbye to the scent of the breeze gently making its way to you in the morning. I cannot bear to part with the friends I have shared so many great lessons, failures and success and adventures with. Somehow, someway, I know that because of this experience as 留学生 or foreign student, I know that I can get through whatever comes ahead of me.

Sometimes, being lost and confused is a good place to start, you know? 

Wednesdays

Thursday, Friday, Saturday, Sunday, Monday, Tuesday.

My heart leaps.

It's dear Wednesday again.

The leaves shine a little brighter, my heart beats a little faster and my mind turns a little hazier.

I wipe the sweat from my palms. I straighten my skirt. I check if I still have some lipstick on.

It's Wednesday, after all

A moment when I allow myself to be a little selfish than usual - a day when I am allowed to hear your voice and memorize its every rise and fall. Minutes when I can stare back at you unashamed and speak to you with all honesty - except that I can't say how much I like you. Seconds when I hold on to the sound of your laughter and etch your smile in the canvas of my brain.

And after all, it's all I long to do when it's not Wednesday again.

Thursday - I see you in the crowd.
Friday - I hear your favorite song in the radio.
Saturday -  The late sunset is your favorite color.
Sunday - Writing about you in my journal.
Monday - I dreamed of you again.
Tuesday -  I remember your wish.

Then, I saw you on your white shirt walking towards me, one Friday night. My voice quivers from my throat. My world quakes a little every time I hear my name from your lips. I did my best to hide how clumsy I am in front of you.

Your eyes lit up from the lights of the stars I gave you, one Saturday night.  I don't know if you notice how I was shaking all the way through as I bravely stepped in your front door. I don't know if you saw how I leaped above my fears so that you won't be alone on the last eve of your 20's.

But it's not a Wednesday. I am stripped of my entitlement. I am out of my league.

I wanted more. Not just a Wednesday. I want to quietly sip my coffee with you on a Monday. I want to sit by you as we pass the roads overflowing with lights on a Tuesday. I want to hear all about your old adventures on a Thursday. I want to be there for you when you think you have no one to hold you on a Friday. I want to lay down under the stars with you and hear you hum my favorite song on a Saturday. I want to curl in front of the TV and say nothing at all with you on a Sunday too.

But that's not the case.

We live in a separate world when it's not a Wednesday. You made that clear for sure. I closed my eyes when you slammed the door. I shut my ears when I heard the silence. I covered my mouth when you said nothing but my quiet prayers.

After all, it's not a Wednesday.

I am doing my best to digest it. I am convincing my heart to ingest it. I am telling myself to swallow it.

But It's not a Wednesday.

When it is not, you are too far away for me to reach and too dangerous for me to touch. We revert back to strangers, shadows, a distant dream. Our worlds turn black and white, far apart, unrecognizable.

After all, it's not my dear Wednesday.

Cigarette

He took me out of his pocket,

Playing me between his fingers

before placing me

in his milktea-stained lips.

He filled his lungs

with the already nicotined and polluted air of his worries,

blowing me a gentle exhale that made me shiver.


"It's not gonna light itself."


The touch of the flame was pain and honey sweet.

I didn't mind.


I didn't mind at all.


He took his sweet first puff

and let it linger inside his mouth,

his eyes glimmering,

hands shaking.


We went on.


He inhaled.

I hurt.


I didn't mind at all.


My ashes drifted in the hazy air,

like fallen feathers from a dying angel.


I knew.

But I didn't mind at all.


Until,

he had come to the end of me,

consumed all of me

and

I am nothing

but a twisted burnout cigarette

on a dusty sidewalk.

The Fixer

She saw the cracks lacing on his skin, from his eyes down right to his toes. He smiled but she dared not smile back. It was in that moment that she knew this person is her 'masterpiece'.

It was months of blissful moments. He never told anyone the things he told her, she knew. He never treated someone how he treated her, she knew. He never said the things that her heart was screaming every time he looked at her..she will never know.

It was also months of fixing, breaking and fixing and breaking. His voice would quake on the telephone at 3:45 in the morning, breathing words after words of emptiness and torment, and she will be there, holding the other end, pretending as if those very words did not haunt her. His touch would linger for a second, he would lean a little too close, but his hands nor his lips did not dare taste the sweetness of her skin. Their eyes would meet, their shoulders would touch, but he was always the first to pull away.

'Vulnerability is appealing', she thought, 'such an atomic, destructive and insatiable fire'. If she could somehow go under his skin, if she could somehow learn how to stitch his broken heart, if she could somehow glue the pieces of him back together with her love, then there will be nothing else in this world she could ever wish for.   

She was consumed with this 'masterpiece' of hers. She would begin and end her every prayers with his name before she would crawl to sleep. His brokenness pulled her. The blood trickling down his jaw mesmerized her. The way he would fall apart in front her made her stay a little longer.

One, two, three, four...

Breathe...

Five, six, seven, eight...

He will come...yes...he will

Nine, ten, eleven....twelve...

She was breaking apart...piece by piece, dissolving into her tears.

He was nowhere to be found. She's bleeding and crumbling and he was nowhere to be found.

Yes, that's right. She knew it from the very start. It kills, this fantasy she's in. It breaks bones. It crushes hearts. It tears people apart. 

She was consumed with the foolishness that her 'masterpiece' would fix her brokenness too. She expected him to be in her front door when she's about to call him. She hoped to fall in his arms when she was burning inside. She thought she would make him her Arthur after she's done fixing him. She hoped and waited in the dark for him, watching for his shadow, listening to his footsteps.

But she was wrong.

All she heard was an echo...a far away distant silence. 

She was too caught up, too drunk, and too weak to follow. 

All she have in her hands were the pieces left of her and half of which, she used to fix her 'masterpiece' who was nowhere to be found.