Thursday, July 15, 2004

JULY 15 2004 (THURSDAY)

Elegies

It feels like sinking into ice cold water and still being able to keep my eyes open. It feels like standing in the middle of a rain shower and not feeling the little needles of water piercing through skin. It feels like closing a door, locking it, and throwing away the key. The world is neither beautiful nor perfect anymore, and I fail to remember what was it precisely that made it something that I wanted to delight in. Not that it’s sad; it’s just…more distant, I suppose.

This is what I told her earlier: “So this is what letting go feels like…a cold clarity.”

I would have wanted to sit down and talk to him at length as to why this happened the way it did. But I find it easier to just believe that he never really loved me in the first place, that I was just fooled by sweet words, nothing more. I was an idiot to have given him my heart and soul and body. And I am not proud to have loved the way I did, because that makes me the fool, it makes me the laughingstock of the entire universe to have trusted him and believed in him and wanted him to be the great and wonderful man he could have been. She is lucky in a sense – she is giving Leander a reason why things happened the way they did. And she does love him. And she does want him back, if given the chance.

I never got my explanation. And I was a fool for wanting to give him a second chance, for waiting and hoping and thinking that he will, in the end, come back to me.

Today, in poetry class, we discussed Robert Hass’ “Meditation at Lagunitas.” I love this poem, because of its ideas on loss and death, and how very Sausseurian of it to remind us that the word and the object it signifies are two entirely different things, and that it is how we perceive the object that lends to it its name. But perhaps what really struck home was the concept that once you say a word, it dies. It will never be said in precisely the same way ever again – with the same inflection, intonation, intention. The spoken word has a very brief lifespan. Once you say it, it dies.

Love, love, love.

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