s t r a w b e r r y f i e l d s

you know when you don't LOVE a song, nor the voice, that much, but for some reason a performance grips you by the heart and doesn't let you go so your eyes and ears are glued there and you cannot look away and you're completely absorbed in it and you come back to it over and over again you know? you know, this is that.

also you should read her essay on her grieving and healing with korean food after her korean mum's death. beautiful. 

this is the performance that i keep watching over and over again coz it is so powerful and intense.

this is the shit. 

드디어 사진들을 다 지웠다.

왜 이리 오래 걸렸는지 모르겠다.

처음 몇장 지울 때는, '만일 우리가 다시 만날 사이라면, 그때 새로운 사진을 찍으면 되지 뭐' 하고 생각했지만

이제는 그런 생각도 너무 어처구니없었다는 걸 안다.

어떤 사람의 존재를 다 지우는 거다.

그 한순간 한순간에서의 모든 기억들을 지우려하는 것. 지우개로 싹싹 필요한 그것만 지우는. 

그건 그 얼굴이 들어간 사진들도 있고, 

여러 글귀, 나를 위해 써준 글귀들을 캡쳐했던 것들도 있다. 

내게 준 기타곡 두곡도,

다 깨끗이 지웠다. 

보이지 않으면, 들리지 않으면, 마음에서도 다 사라질테니. 

이제 남은거는 자잘하게 걔가 써 준 것들, 그 종이쪼가리들.

태우는 건 좀 오버고, 그렇다고 그냥 쓰레기통에 버리기는 좀 그렇다.

어렸을 때 받았던 러브레터는 버리지 않고 다 어딘가 소장해 두었는데

이건 다르다. 없애고프다.

두뇌에서도 지우개로 지우고 싶지만, 그건 생각만큼 쉽지않다. 코만드+딜리트 를 누루는 것처럼 쉽지않다.

i don't smell them anymore in my bed

it's been nearly five months since i've seen him afterall

his voice, his face, they're fading memories.

yes sunday afternoons remain hard to bear, i almost always find myself lying on bed 

thinking oh i wasn't worth loving, i wasn't anything special, that was it, my spring of hope gone.

who would want this? i am dead to all i think.

once i used to think, that there were good and bad memories, now i know it's no longer he himself i think of or miss

it's just the intimacy, sense of great hope, that perhaps i was lovable, that perhaps i too could find someone for myself,

anyway it's all over. 

i haven't entirely forgotten, but the memories have lost that sense of intense emotional attachment.

that has faded. 

a week ago, a small blip occurred. someone saying something, which felt, like a new level of intimacy.

someone new, but not new entirely, someone of my age, someone who i may even have mutual acquaintances with,

someone who shares many of my interests.

it made me a little hopeful, i don't know, of something. even though it was practically nothing. 

then a day or two later i deleted those messages, even muted them, because i could not -

i could not have this kind of false hope.

i am not ready for any kind of hope right now.

i need the wound to heal fully, mature into normal tissue again, before risking it being ripped apart in any way.

and as that little voice crept up, as it usually does, asking who would want you? 

in this form, in this state, who would find you desirable

i know, i know, i know. 

i am afraid, i realised.

i am afraid of the same disappointment, same failure, same sense of rejection, not being enough, not being right, not lovable, not desirable enough. all of those things all over again. 

pachinko - minjin lee

villain - shuichi yoshida

exit west - mohsin hamid

annihilation - jeff vandermeer 

authority - jeff vandermeer

acceptance - jeff vandermeer

my absolute darling - gabriel tallent 

an american marriage - tayari jones 

home fire - kamila shamsie 

killing commendatore - murakami haruki 

the dry - jane harper

if you aren't already crying, here is your chance.

원숭이 엉덩이는 빨개.

정말.