Overwhelming

我們乾脆一刀了斷, 好嗎? 我累了, 不想再為你流淚...

Lessons Never Learned

I don't know how to trust anyone, say that I can't-- and yet, each time, I seem implicitly to. Each time, I tell my head to rule my heart, command logic to take control of emotion. I am, by nature, enigmatically both logical and empathetic to a fault.

I am ironic, but not because I want to be.

You told me once that I couldn't possibly be real. But I am, and it seems that I am embarrassingly, detrimentally, only human. I don't know how to protect myself, and you aren't here anymore to teach me how... or to offer me the shoulder and shelter I crave. I wish you were. I wish for what never was and what never will be.

In your absence, though, I can only teach myself. I didn't want to be like you, but...

有些東西失去了永遠找不回

There are some things... once lost, they can never be found

有些話說了永遠收不回

There are some words... once said, they can never be unsaid

有些事情做了永遠沒法挽回

There are some things... once done, they can never be taken back, undone

愛情拋棄了就只能永遠後悔

And there is love... once thrown away, all that is left is a lifetime of regret

一顆心 碎了 又怎能從新開始?

(Can you tell me) Once a heart Is broken How does it begin to beat again?
© 2011 Original Chinese and English Translation: tammiest@AsianFanatics
Do NOT post elsewhere without proper credit.

When Words Fail

I deal in words.

I'm a lawyer. At least, I will be one, eventually. Word choice, syntax, juxtaposition, arrangement... all are incredibly important in my chosen profession.

I'm a writer. At least, I used to be. I used to chronicle my life-- if somewhat cryptically-- online. I used to wax poetic, paint fiction, drip satire-- for class, for friends, for strangers, for myself. Life and circumstances changed that. I haven't been in the habit of expressing myself this way, except very sporadically, for years.

I'm a dreamer. At least, I think I am. I imagine all sorts of crazy scenarios, hope and dream, and build elaborate castles in the sky.

Here's the kicker, though. Words fail me. Often.

I know it's strange. I'm not particularly conceited, but I'll admit: I have a way with words. But only when I've had a chance to organize and edit them, when I can hide behind a computer screen or a sheet of paper... never in conversation, never in face-to-face interaction. I can never seem to articulate the way I feel, positive or negative, to anyone, regardless of how much I care about or for them. The problem, of course, is that no one would ever assume or guess this about me: I like socializing; I am a decent conversationalist and a pretty good listener; I write well. And yet, the reality is that I'm actually tremendously awkward. And I, sometimes, to my great unhappiness, hurt and destroy people-- people I care about-- simply by being me: oblivious, awkward, unable or, maybe, unwilling to express myself or to confront anything in life.

I don't like this about myself. And it's been hard to come to terms with it. It's taken a long day and night of reflection, baking, and complete shirking of schoolwork. The immediate tomorrow might suck, but, hopefully, the "tomorrow's" of the future will be the better for my uncomfortable journey toward self-realization.

If you (plural) ever stumble across this, in whatever capacity, please know this: I'm sorry.

More than I can ever say.

:\

For the record, this isn't what I want, either. I'd do things your way if I could...

Disarming

You... are amazing.

The way you've come to know me is nothing short of incredible. You understand everything I say and, more importantly, everything I don't. You can take one look at my face and know exactly what's going on in my crazy, mixed-up head. You listen to me-- really listen-- when I want to talk, talk when I want to listen, and we stay quiet together when I'd prefer that instead.

With You, there is always a choice.

You... are disarming.

You have an easy grin, an easy sense of humor, and an easygoing personality (although you are not, my friend, by any stretch of the imagination, an "easy" character). Frankly, you are way too charming for your own good. I have told you things I've never told anyone before-- and all because you seemed like you genuinely, truly wanted to know. You don't let me dodge the questions. You don't let me retreat, let me hide.

With You, I feel free, unfettered... encouraged to be myself.

You... are confusing.

Sometimes, you blow hot; sometimes, you blow cold. And are you generally that perceptive, or do you save it for me? Or am I merely that obvious, and no one's ever bothered to look?

With You, I'm never quite sure where I stand or what to think.

You... are not exactly Mr. Right.
And I... am not exactly what you're looking for.
We... are not exactly meant to be.

But I'm glad I met You... even though I know I'll never be With You.