Death

 Dear Diary,

I have a problem. In the fall under certain conditions, I feel super nostalgic. You know how people say smells take them back to the past? I'm like that with skin. When my skin feels certain conditions, I'm transported to another time. Tonight, I listened to the music from middle and high school and was transported to my youth. It was before a dance ... probably my first one on 25 September 1998. It was Homecoming. My first dance partner was Brad Hall (an adoptee from Latin American ... but I didn't know that at the time). Even though I'm here in Korea with nothing about my place the same as my room at the time, I felt almost as if I could reach out and grab it, grab the past, and go back in time. I wish I could. I regret so much in my life. I wish I had a direction. I wish I had a dream. I wish I had something I wanted to do with my life. I wish I actually studied in school instead of just float by. My grades weren't too bad actually, but ... starting in college, they were atrocious. And why not? It's not like I ever learned to care about grades. There was no reaction from my parents. They didn't pressure me all the time about grades, but if I got a B, Dad wouldn't say I did a good job or that he was proud of me. I'm not sure I've ever heard him say that - even after getting my master's. He shows it in a different way - with actions. But, when you're a kid, hearing that you're not trying and didn't do the best I could with A's and B's ... hearing that my parents were proud of me would have made me realise there was a value to grades instead of making me feel like I was never good enough. 

Anyway ... when I start feeling this nostalgia, I get in a bad mood. Maybe it's because I can't do anything about it. It's the past. I can't go back to that time and choose a major I was passionate about (mainly cuz there wasn't anything I was passionate about - I had no dream after all). For whatever the reason, I don't feel great. I start thinking about how I don't want to live anymore. I don't want to leave my parents because I know I'm their whole life and it would break them if I were to die, and I can't kill myself because I'm afraid of pain. Even if your knife or whatever is sterilised, even if you don't feel the first cut, at some point your nerves will kick and be like "PAIN PAIN PAIN!!!" Anytime I've accidentally hurt myself (like the time when Mom changed her razor and I didn't know so I shaved off my shin skin or the time I cut the baguette in my hands instead of the cutting board and almost sliced my index finger off), that's how it was. But I get to this point where I'm just so tired and want to put everything down. I just want to disappear into thin air. I feel like my future holds nothing, so what's the point? I was just a tool, put on this planet to bring people together (lovers, friends, etc.) and/or make them happy. I was given a good hand by being adopted by my parents. They gave me everything and I was never left wanting anything, but I don't feel happy. I might feel momentary happiness, but I'm never happy. One of my friends says I'm so pitiful because I'm always alone and must be lonely. Whenever she says that, I get so angry. Honestly, I don't feel lonely - even if I am. I just feel empty. Like nothing's inside; no one's home. Just an empty can.

"The Undertaker" by Lili
The fall breeze sweeps through,
Carried to a young girl's past.
Upon exit, life dies.

*~Lili~*