To My Melancholy Lover

After the goodbye: (Updated on May 7, 2011)

“Han is typing,” Google chat box told me, helpfully.

Somehow it liked a strategy game, a game of intimacy and distance, of ideal life and reality, of things we’ve experienced and the make believes. “Don’t you dare get hurt by this,” I muttered to myself. I knew too well the danger and helplessness of falling for someone more sophisticated and secular. They’d say they loved you, but they were always after something. I knew that from the start.

I just typed “Goodnight” to Han. Goodnight, goodbye and good luck.

Here I go again, making another resolution and trying to regain my confidence one more time.


Everyone who is interesting has a past.

The Glass Castle

You raised your head so I could look into your eyes and kiss you…

At the age of 15, I had met the boy that changed me completely. For two years, before I had my tattoo for him, we were together. To me now, that seemed a lifelong time. But then I imagined there would be time for everything. We stayed together almost every day; our friends took it for granted that we were the one, though at times we quarreled. It was still in high school, and relationships were more innocent and committed, as if it had agreed that, we were to get married eventually. I used to say that my tattoo on the forearm reminds me of him, as if he would always be with me to a distance in this world. In fact, it had all gone, and he is just a sad true love.

As I said, I had fell in love before, and those memories of love were always attached to misery and bitterness. The prospect of falling in love filled me with an intense, almost instinctive dread. But something of you changed everything. I started to wish you to be with me.

“Kiss him first, and see what happens.”

Perhaps that explains what I did.

You sat back in my chair. It was that rainy Friday afternoon, in my room. You were waiting for your friends to go hang out later, and before that, you stopped by my door. I was mesmerizing it just now, to remember. Somehow I hoped you would still be sitting here with me.

That day, while we were talking about favorite ice cream flavor, your phone started ringing. You raised your head so I could look into your eyes.

You said, “I have to go, Daniel; we should have ice cream together someday.”

You should kiss me before I step out, Daniel, you should.

So I did, threw my arms around you, and kissed you deeply on the lips, for a long time.

There was something fascinating about men with small eyes, they smile, you see your own figure reflected so vaguely in their eyes, and the way they look at you, the concealed expressions, and after all, is the possibilities of intimacy, of love. Finding the man with the smallest eyes in a large crowd, and falling in love with him – is the ability I was born with.

You asked me, why, though knowing you don’t understand Japanese, I still wrote you messages in Japanese.

I can’t tell you why.

I was too timid to admit that I love you.


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