Sunday, September 19, 2004



It's almost six o'clock in the morning here. I haven't seen the sun rise in years.

Contrary to popular opinion, it doesn't begin with a burst of light, as if the sun was heralding its presence. Rather, it comes in gradation of gray, as if the darkness is slowly leeched out from the sky quietly, gently. It's always cold at this time of the morning, and silent save for the roosters and my keyboard. I suppose I can't sleep.

I'm not quite sure what to say at this point. I lost my metaphor somewhere along the way.

I think I've already said most of what I needed to say to you, and now I am back picking up the pieces. But unlike the first time, this was not as tragic a break, nor as deep and as pronounced. If there's anything you've taught me, it's the value of strength and of grace. I do not think I could have learned that anywhere else. And I do hope that you're happy, because you should be - you are perhaps the most resilient person I know. And I'm glad that you found what you were looking for. I told you that you were born under an auspicious star.

I don't believe in karma. Okay, so that one's not really true. I do believe in karma - it's just the waiting that sometimes gets to me. And sometimes I still wonder if what I do is worth anything in the world, and if this isn't just some spiritual shtick that the Powers That Be made up in order to ensure world peace. Not that it's working. ^_^ But yes, I still believe that what goes around, comes around. And that there are a lot of things in this world that are still unexplainable. Including this one.

I don't believe in hope. This one is a little harder to swallow. Hope is such a transient thing, and I know people who have hoped and prayed to high heavens and still got their hearts pulled out from their chest cavities and stomped on to the ground like a pulpy mess. (Myself included.) However, perhaps hope is more of a state of mind, of seeing the world as "glass half-filled" instead of "glass half-empty." I'm trying not to lose hope, even after this. Sometimes it's there, sometimes it's not. I'm trying to make it stay, but some days it's just too difficult to even pretend that there's a semblance thereof. However, if you can do it, then that means it's possible.

I don't believe in love. Of course I still do - that why I can still say to you with perfect equanimity that I still love you. However, it's not in that same way anymore. And I think the kind of love that I don't believe in is the kind that "lasts forever," that will see you "through good times and through bad," the kind that "lifts you up where you belong." Now I'm looking at it with a Okay-Universe-Prove-Me-Wrong sort of attitude - if love exists in that sense, then it will find me. And maybe it will be better than I hoped for, or dreamed of. But then again, maybe it's not even real, and we're all just deluding ourselves into thinking that what Julia Roberts and Meg Ryan has is true. (Of course, we all know what happened to Meg Ryan and Dennis Quaid.)

But I don't want to be depressed and angry and bitter and black as coffee and sin. We have too much of that in the world. Sadness is okay, and hurt, but then I'd like to think that I'm stronger than this, despite all other appearances, and that I can transcend this. The same way that you are able to, that you still are. And even though I do not have a rock to lean on, and my foundations are not that strong, I can still get through this the same way I always have. You have given me so much, it would be a shame if I waste it all on negativity.

And hey.

Hey you.

It's still a beautiful sunrise.

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