I have this chair.  I never chose it, and if I were to pick, it likely would not be this one.  Still, it's been with me the past four years and three apartments; a good, decent chair, and one I might have stuck with for the long haul.  Today, my chair splintered into pieces under my weight, leaving me sprawled upon the floor, scrapes, bruises and all.

Was it my fault, or was it the chair's shoddy construction?  What did I do wrong?  What could I have done better?  What was the turning point that set its collapse in motion?  Did I not pay it enough attention or care?  How could I have not noticed the cracks?  There is no pain, only such shock that I don't even notice the gash across my left wrist.  First blood.

A chair is like a relationship, and its beams the words and promises unfurled.  I'm so lucky to have you in my life.  You're my one and only, always and forever.  I love you.  Over time, these sentiments become the foundation upon which we sit, and when they lose meaning, we're caught off-balance, the world seemingly tumbling down around us.

When every chair falls apart, it's difficult to want to sit down again.  But after the denial, anger, bargaining and depression we undoubtedly experience, we finally accept the hand dealt to us and move on.  That, or find ourselves thrust upon another chair, lulled by its promises of being more sturdy, more impressive, much unlike the others.

Wishful thinking and empty words once again.  Sometimes, I wonder if I really am that despicable, or simply that forgettable to always be the one left picking up the pieces.  You tell me how much I mean to you, and make me open up to you; you tell me you would never hurt me, then you go and do the same thing with someone else. 

No, thank you; I think I'll just stand for a while.

.taintedwine

Happy Birthday, H.

.taintedwine

I've been following the Taiwanese series Fated To Love You (命中注定我愛你) lately, and if not for the person who recommended it to me, I would have honestly missed out.  It's occasionally bittersweet when something or a someone affects you in a way least expected.  It might be a tiny event, or a person you hardly know, but you find yourself changed nevertheless and life is never quite the same again.

陳欣怡: 你為什麼要這樣子對我?
陳欣怡: 我這個人很容易當真的.  你不要對我這麼好, 好不好?

Like the lead character 陳欣怡, "我這個人[也]很容易當真的".  Not until 陳欣怡 said the words out loud with a pain I understood did I realize that I also tend to take certain things too seriously.  A gesture becomes more than a gesture, a kindness more than a kindness, and suddenly I find myself wanting to believe in a particular someone more than I should.  Almost better to be left alone, to prevent any 誤會.

蔡卓妍: 點解要咁姐?
鍾欣桐: 點解唔可以咁呀?
蔡卓妍: 你唔覺得好辛苦咩?
鍾欣桐: 辛苦, 但係我鐘意呀.

Perhaps it's a lack of 安全感.  People come and go so often, I feel like a 便利貼; always there when needed, easily discarded when not.  你想要我的時候，你就來找我.  你不想要我的時候，就把我一腳踢在一邊.  I may sometimes prefer it this way, to give and not take, to be on the sidelines rather than not be in the picture at all.  其實，我不想再做一個便利貼男孩.  I wish you wouldn't take me for granted.
 
I remain truly yours,

.taintedwine

Overheard a conversation at work today: would you date your best friend (of the opposite sex)?

Been there, done that, got burned as well as the t-shirt.  Would I do it again?  Sure, if it was the right person and the right situation.  I understand there is a distinction in my following comparison, but in what good, serious, long-term relationship does the person who becomes your significant other not also become your best friend?  If your relationship fails, do you not also risk losing an important friendship, or are significant others simply more replaceable?

The notion that they are is a social construct resulting from the self-help need to move on from relationships that are (for the most part) non-concurrent, higher intensity/risk, and thus more frangible.  Platonic relationships last longer (apparently synonomous with being more valuable) because you don't push them as hard; an imperfect friend does not need to be replaced or molded into your ideal because you can have more than one to satisfy your friendship needs.

Another archaic notion is the rule against dating friends' exes.  I'm not advocating being a bastard here -- you better be certain the benefit realistically and tangibly outweighs the potential harm to your friend -- but it's immature for people to treat others as property, as well as somewhat hypocritical should they decide to move on before their own exes has gotten over them.  Past relationships belong in the past.

Over eight years ago, I hid my feelings from a girl I really liked and continued to like for four years, all because I had become friends with her eventual ex.  In hindsight, it was probably for the best, but I spent every moment regretting it and comparing every girl I met to her.  Instead, I should have been upfront with my friend.  Honesty may not heal his wounds, but it has to be enough.  If a friendship is worth having, sacrifice shouldn't rest completely with one party.

Not saying I wouldn't be all sorts of frustrated if a friend decided to pursue someone I still felt for, but if we weren't working out, and if they were truly good for each other, who am I to not only wish but demand they find their happiness somewhere else?  We all eventually move on; might as well make the best of it, or allow our friends to.

I remain truly yours,

.taintedwine

I recently found myself staring blankly at a book I had plucked off my shelf.  I remembered how I used to absorb every bit of text around me.  It's amazing how life changes so much and without warning, such that when we spin around and try to salvage some remnant, the futility of the exercise can be heard laughing far off in the distance.

Like the tree-rings of a Redwood, each holiday season might be used to gauge human growth.  Two years ago, I spent Christmas with my ex's family.  A year ago, I spent Christmas with my own family, with much hope for the future.  This year, I spent Christmas alone, and without much hope for anything.  One might say it's a sign of maturity.

What saddens me is the way we move on from the past, from the people we once cared about.  As the recent passing of Heath Ledger would indicate, we have no control over when we go.  One moment we're still holding a grudge against someone, and the next, they're gone and we'd apologize if they would only come back.  Carpe diem.

Music captivates me, if only because so little else does.  Aside from the occasional surprise (see Veronica Mars, and cardboard), everything is just meh, and superbly so.  I need to find a new passion in life, my raison d’être.  It has become evident that just being there for my two younger brothers isn't enough.  I need something for myself.


I remain truly yours,

.taintedwine