Hana No Ran

Liza was listening to peak-hour traffic reports, unwillingly. The taxi driver turned on the radio so loudly that she had to take off her earphones. "Congested... traffic accident..."

The taxi driver turned over and grimace, "looks like its going to be quite a trip, ma'am."

A thought struck her. The smallness of the island she lived in; the unwanted trappings of living in the modern city. Over congested roads, traffic reports to help navigation, GPS to help sought the road maze and cab drivers, trains, buses to facilitate the never ending rush. Would rural Mabara need it?

Liza was reminded of a shinkansen trip between Kyoto and Odawara. Leaving the rich culture of Kyoto, she was heading for the onsen Mecca, Hakone. The train sped past many small towns that were gradually cooling as they headed north of Japan. Green field were turning yellow, roofs were turning darker in the backdrop of whitish blue skies. Houses were sparse and cars were getting countable. Few were walking on the streets and if there were any, they were tiny. Then came a mountain ridge, the train was entering Shizuoka. Immediately after it, green fields instantaneously disappeared and fields gave way to snow. Everything was covered in thick white fluff. The glass that seperated Liza from nature was fogged by her breath. Molds and molds of whiteness rose one after another and another. No civilization was in sight.

The mountains gave way to a sparsely populated town. On the landscape of white, akin to cold white slabs of vanilla ice-cream, thin lines thread across the snowy surface. Those were roads and an occasional car rode against the falling snow. Yet was an atypical bright and sunny day. The silence was deafening and imaginary. Surely, there are people out playing snow at this moment. Surely, their mothers are preparing a warm meal by the heater. Surely, there is an expectancy of festivals so iconic of Japanese social lives. Even then, there is a peace and calmness beckoning to the busy city dweller. Like the insides of a lover's arm, wholly accepting, wholly unquestioning.

Liza wondered if they have radios to warn them of traffic jams, accidents and lanes to avoid. They don't seem to have the roads, let alone the demand to slot in any traffic programs. Huddled in the warmth of the oak panel radio station, the DJ must have a glass window, wide and clear, to stare out at the snow scene before her. A hot cocoa by the side, headphones on, papers spread out and pencils ticking away minor changes to program and requests. The topic will be about the coming new year, a review of the past christmas and the warmth of spring. As she looks through her selection of music, she smiled. They were a compilation of song requests and her favorites jazz pieces designed to accompany the stay-home mum looking after her toddler, the young college student in reminiscence of the past year and anyone who will tune in on a midweek afternoon.

A message came and the DJ smiled. She was not expecting it so soon. She put on the last track, checked against the boxes that indicate "yes" and packed her stuff into her bag. The next DJ entered and nodded to her, " Quite a looker at the door, is he yours?" She smiled as she brushed her dark locks and left. Yes, the "looker" is hers.

Thus on the cab, Liza pondered and wondered, what it might be to be free of the traffic and modernity and live simply like a DJ in Mabara.

Liza picks up a blue pad as she begins to ponder. A post-reflective mood, in which all that is worth thinking is put on the execution table waiting to be demolished and re-established. Her mind jumped from thought to thought in a mild case of aoime.

Nothing seems to be able to grab her attention enough to constitute a healthy dose of fixation. Yet, it was oddly calming to be able to think of something (which is the want to settle the sediment of thoughts) and nothing at all. It was a precarious balance. The thought of fixing on something begins a load of worries and anxiety. Though life is not particularly complex, Liza is a compulsive worrier. As if the thought of simpleness is a lower order of life compared to one constantly challenged and one has to meander with conscious steps. Living it simple was a relief, going complex (usually by worrying) is a satisfaction of sorts.

Liza started scribbling on to the pad, everything that came to her - random adjectives, broken sentences. Fresh and untainted by cognition, anything and everything. A few years back, a documentary on telly was discussing about the subconscious brain and how writing without an end in mind unlocks deep human desires. One becomes a sojourner in their own mind. Liza had nothing but the more she wrote, the words were oddly interesting. New feelings and new connections appear.

The hot latte came with the carrot cake on a flowery porcelain plate. Accompanying it was a shiny piece of silver cutlery. The waiter laid it carefully and quietly on the pale blue checkered mat that is woven together by bundled linen. Smell of freshly baked bread and confection beckoned hungry visitors at the price of nothing but an entry in a bounded book. Every visitor is entitled to anything in the store as long as he/she writes. A cake for 2 pages, a latte for 1 and silver cutlery for 1. It is as if the money use to pay is exchange for time. Considering it a barter and substituting money with literary interest. After a short excerpt the "writer" could read what the previous writers wrote. This is the first time Liza is here; she heard of the unique cafe from her neighbor.

After scribbling the equivalent of all that she order, Liza decided to flip forwards to read what others had wrote. The book was half way through and she ended the most recent entry in the middle. Someone with pretty handwriting wrote 3 pages of "flower". Another was about the birth of little puppies in the barn. Someone wrote, "if only" the entire page then the next was fuzzy with water marks that rendered the page unreadable. Regretful, indeed. And there were entries of repeated persons who greeted the book with familiarity and poems. Liza counted the different types of hand writings and guessed there are probably 5 different types of writing with repeats.

Someone wrote a question on the inside of the cover addressing to all who will write in the book, "I have lived, loved and learned, what else could I have done?" Liza pondered over those words. She closed the book and took a long sipped of her coffee. Indeed it is a gorgeous day on the outside. A lone sojourner has nothing to lose.

There are so many lies you cannot tell and Liza has to say this.
Walking down the stone steps on this early morning, clear and fresh, she decides to take a detour to the looming street, windy and wet. Short buildings loom on her sides, wet breeze swept through the tiny, narrow cobbled street. There's no thought this morning.
To avoid existence, that's a probability. Since being consciously alive can be a nihilistic thought on a purposeless morning. She didn't have to work; its a sunday. Her mother had company over and expicitly ask her to make an exception not to visit her. There wasn't anyone she particularly want to meet and really, nothing was on the agenda. Except maybe, french toast and hot coffee. The nearest cafe was down the main street so she decide to pop by from some fresh breakfast.

The food was great and so was the wine. That was when I last saw you and confirm I no longer have anything for you. No longer love you. Are you happy? Coz you don't sound like one. The tiredness weighing down on you is so evident on your slumped shoulders and dark eye rings. You carry an air of weariness but its so beaming with hope, drive and vision. I believe in you; you'll definitely be successful. Be happy, dearest one. Thanks for being there all this time. I'm glad I could listen to your troubles, that's probably the least I can do for you. We won't forget will we?
The only regret I have is saying what I said, unfulfillment still rests in my heart. There's something more but let's not get there.

呆质状态，身体不动，脑袋却不停的转。

不想说话，不想回印，不是听不见，是无视，是厌烦，是要你安静。听不懂无所谓，因为我也不在乎。不知几时也忘了不在任耐。想通了。我永远都会被你嫌，想来干吗。所以不介意你跟友人电话上谈你对我的不满，不介意你疼我少一些，不介意你对我的莫不关心。 就算你再也不尝试掩饰，我也可以接受。因为十四岁那年我发现自己没有可能超越你对我的期待，没有可能取代她，没有可能让你不担心，也没有能力让你中视我。就算我怎么表演，怎么努力，你只看到我的缺点。你只是微笑带过，说你不会去。就算。。。算了，你不会明白的。这就是你给我的爱，我明白。

永远不能离开你的视线，永远活在你的期望和自己给自己的压力与失落，永远都是缺陷。其实我也不曾给你任何理由疼我，坚信如果你讨厌我一些，就是对我的失败一个和理的处罚，就是你对我的期望少一些一直到没有期望为止。这样的我学会了坚强和耐力。不在你文字的拥抱长大，不差，学了不少，可你没功劳。

我真正要的不是你的钱。我只要理解。

想离开的理由一千一万个。。。人没了对对方爱的期望，就不会留下来。亲情，友情，爱情，都一样。

Its a character flaw. There's no remedy.
What is lost is lost, there's so much I want to do but I know, I'm defeated on this.
This is not the words of emo-losers... its what that's before the eyes that hurts the worse.
How do knives cut and not hurt?
Yet a simple non-action makes a world of difference.
Because its always been unchanging in me.
Give me a bucket and douse me in ice water and still nothing will change.
How I hate this irresponsible existence.
What can guilt do?
Only despair is my companion.

Even if they can forgive me, I don't think I can forgive myself.

Thinking about nothing, really. I love what i'm seeing, what i'm going to. So what is there to regret? Doesn't emotional depth requires a certain sense of pre-ponderance? No. Doesn't have to, I choose not to.
Unthinking and doing the stripping is unloading; its freedom.
Just feeling and enjoying, soaking and smiling.
Simple pleasures - can't get enough of them.

It's getting late, the sky is darkening.
But its only 4pm- winter conditions in the Northern Hemisphere.
While I'm waiting for my hot chocolate in a small cafe, you are on my mind.
I'm wondering what you're doing now, how's your exam papers.
Yea, we may be a world apart, but I still care.
And I still expect care from you to the same degree.
Though friendship is the most I can get out of you, I'm happy.
'Coz I'm unsure myself.

Don't give me sweet messages or I'll start thinking we stand a chance.
I'm standing on the threshold of nihilism. To adopt is to lose hope.
Tell me why is it that I haven't found anyone after you.
Have you made such a lasting impression?
Or have you always been the one?

If only he's my father, I might understand him more.
Current status: writing an essay about the Social Contract.
I need divine wisdom (>_______<)

I'm really happy to be back home. To know that you can still love me regardless how flawed I am, is a miracle to me. This quiet sanctuary in my heart will always belong to You. This vaccum is made specially for you to reside in. You will always be the peace in my heart, the love I feed on and the blood I beat on.
Thanks for telling me, everything is going to be ok. You have no idea how much it means to me because you said it. Everyday is such an internal struggle of nightmares. I always and will probably for a while, wake up in fear and trepidation. It gripped me; it wouldn't let me go. As I bathed, even the water cascading downwards can sometimes be suffocating. The polar that I live in seems to be impenetrable no matter how I get close to those around me. Not seeing, no feeling, only pressing my way through, has made me someone that's arrogant and aggressive but really, I'm all that insecurity can summed up to be. All that fear and uncertainty, engulfs and smothers me. If not for you, I will never find the strength to keep going on.

My heartaches for the tears shed when we were fifteen. How you've matured. Anyways you were always the most matured one out of the gang. How was it that time passed so fast. Happy 21st!
Do you remember those times we went eat at Seoul Garden at Takashimaya?
Do you remember you picked the egg up and told me that it was too dirty to eat even the shell wasn't peeled?
Do you remember the BBQ when you wished that the taxi will not come?
Do you remember how we used to talk on the phone and though silences fill the gap and it doesn't matter we have nothing to talk about?
Do you remember how you used to tell me that you couldn't understand why those girls left you when you love them so much?
Do you remember how you said money wasn't important to you, it was just necessary to live on?
Do you remember how you told me I was the first girl in your room, who is not a girlfriend of yours?
Do you remember how you told me that I'm like a fisherman who let's her best catch go away and regret later?

Haha, I'm not a fisherman. You're not the fish.

How i always think of you when you were not calling and wished I could hang up on you when you were not talking.

Do you know how I regret?
Do you know how I wished I agreed?
So you don't have to go through all that pain with all those girls?
Do you know how I wish our differences weren't so hard to patch? That only doom can be the outcome.

I regret, coz I regret not giving us a chance. That keeps me wondering, what would life have been without you in my life? What would life be if you're mine?

It was so, so you won't be hurt. I will never be able to love you the way you do. Or used to.

But empty thoughts, empty words.
Please find happiness and love with all your heart.
All that has passed, it matters no more. Locked it up and throw away the key.
I will not hope like I used to that circumstances were different.
Life will be better. Life will get better. Being alive and loving will be the best we ever hoped for.
At the end of the day, I'm really glad that I found such a friend in you. Thanks for being there.

All the best dude, for your 21st. You looked great, I was teasing when I said you look terrible.

It's 2p.m. Way past the usual lunch time but it doesn't matter, I don't intend to get any food either. Lunch has become a dread to me, not that the whole idea of getting out is harrassment to my injured feet, it was more like the day hasn't even started for me and its already lunch. So I made some really yummy milo+coffee that totally perked me up. Then it was in the same cupboard that I found the little green box from UK. Lots of thanks to Ann who came back last last month. Yea the tiny teddy bear chocolates have been sitting in my cupboard for more than two months before I fished out of desperation. Sugar hikes are so important. They are really yummy and plus the teddy bears molds are so adorable. I wish Ann could come back more often. This is going to be one birthday without him and it feels really weird.
Ann is really important to me. If not for his support, I wouldn't have been where I am today. And I'm glad for him that he is working his heart out for his future, in UK. If there's one thing I'm sure that will last through my life is his friendship and brotherly love.
As I ate this tiny chocolates he got for me, (he claims to be really expensive, haha, knowing I don't have a good gauge of prices),it just reminds me of his kindness, his friendship and his unconditional support and love.
One day, when we grow old and still around and alive at 80, I'll tell him he's still my best friend.

Leaving and departing is easily said than done. All these years, trying to adhere, trying to come back; nothing seems to work. Blossoms came and went and every year my heart turns a colder shade of love. It's been too long, I've not face the same question. Fear has hide me away and i've foolishly tell myself everything will be ok.
Things are not going to be ok.Not again, either i'm in or i'm not in this anymore.
Lousy jobs are no excuse to willingness.
Why put myself through despair?
'COz greater despair awaits me on the other side and I'm not willing to taste that.

I've no longer got the desire to tell you anything. Please don't try to talk your brand of "sense" into me, don't try to tell me what I should do or not. There's nothing you can do about the situation. I'm sorry, there's just nothing I want you to know.
When you know what I'm doing, you'll get disgusted. There are many things you want to know that I'm not willing to tell. Don't want you to know what I've been doing behind your back, saying things when you're not looking and doing things that you disagree. You believe we all have choices. These are the very choices that I chose despite your warnings.
I don't know what not to tell you. It's just one day I realize- I've stop loving. What am I suppose to do?
Living under the guilt and fear of someone finding out. How I wish I can say all these things to someone but no came to my mind. I'm addicted to the very things I've come to despised but I won't stop. I prolly won't stop for a long time. It's such a lonely path but how do I retract?

Usurp me, any power. It really doesn't matter what you think.. Thank God its over right now...
Right from the start, I always try my best to understand what is going on in your mind. Little did I know that it is a world you intend to keep it impenetrable. You've built a thick wall but left a peeping hole for me. Seeing and not ever getting anything within. Now I get what you mean when you say, you didn't mean it. You didn't want anything.
Many times I've stopped myself - "no, give him a chance, don't pull off his facade". Not now. It's a glittery world; every fall has made it ever more shiny and glittery. Ultimately what goes up must come down, don't you agree? Imagine his hand in yours, your body in his arms, a look of love in your eyes; used to make me cry in pain, now its joy I feel. How long will you keep that facade? How long will you make everyone believe a falsehood? To me, it doesn't mean anything 'coz I know everything. You don't have to hide from me, yet you choose to. I only want you to understand that I have the capacity to partake in your joy and sorrows. Even if you keep it quite, I've always made it a private matter to throw a celebratory party within my heart for you. Sincerely hope that one day you will chance upon your true love. A love connection that extends beyond physical attraction. So at least someone has the key to that forbidden garden of yours. I'm happy to just watch.
Dearest one, you're a milestone in my life. Thanx for making my departure easy. It's never easy to stop loving. Thanx for teaching me how to accept the truth bravely, though you may have no idea what effect you have on me. Though I no longer view you romantically, you've never cease to be an important friend. Your ignorance make you vulnerable. Do you know many people are trying to protect you? The truth will be out one day. Please don't be ashame of yourself. I'll pass you the courage I have gathered as a beacon for you in the dark. Don't feel guilty, it won't ever make you feel better.
How good are times when we are innocent, joyous and deviod of knowledge?