September 23, 2011

• Triggered Implosion

  His eyes would swing themselves side to side over the same horizontal stretch as they attempted to remove themselves from the calamity of his brewing dismay that he tried to hide beneath his breaking, drooping smile. His turmoil usually revolved around one word in the tumbling hills spanning the horizon of letters, one word or idiom foreign to him. It was as if the sun set and darkened his sensory processors.

  He'd ask for my help, his eyes keenly and astutely studying the obstacle with an intensity that erased the other lines around the scribbles he was deciphering. He zoned in, magnified his rage within while his eyes' sense detached from the ability to understand what they see, overridden by disappointment. 

  I'd always explain to him, sit down and tell him the meaning,give other usages, or say in Chinese, then segue into a conversation about a topic that interests him, usually on the subject of programming, artificial intelligence, identities, something providing discursive content. The distraught that settled within his heart peered to easily through his unsettled eyes- it always pains me to see how much they have sunken throughout the years. And though a sparkle would land in his eyes and a smile enumerated with reasons for happiness would flash over him, it was like watching a star twinkle and attempt to find it's position the next second- lost in space. 

  Though the definitions and explanations would make sense to him, he just couldn't let go of the disappointment from his own failed expectations. His mutterings, "I should be better than this," or in his rage "I wish I had the chance to have more children," weighed my heart so deep down to hear his disappointment that stirred within at all times of his life.  

  His eyes would go back to the line, just that one line containing his then mortal enemy, an enemy created from his own self-destructive manner, and read empty words. His inability to let his mind free from the hold of his self-deprecation caused him to focus on this one mistake, this one missed knowledge in his 50 years of prestige. His soul would do the same as his eyes and mind, it'd crush itself in on one point until he was rendered thoughtless except with anger and destitution. It's as if not knowing one word would destroy his entire world, his perfect image he set out for himself. He had the habit of reducing himself. He had a way of so easily losing his mind within his contemplative maze he dug through his brain, losing himself within its shadows.

  If only he could read the entire paragraph...the entire sentence, maybe then he'd understand. Maybe then he'd see himself for what he is, that all his shortcomings and failures that he believes his family and the world sees were molded well in to him, that perhaps they even heighten his excellence as a father. If only the bigger picture were available for his eyes. 

  He attempts to hide his cries within, hiding them from the world, they see his smile he tries to feign. His eyes, dry from invisible tears falling within from sleepless nights, mulling over a point within a forest of good,a forest of answers, plead for console.   

  And I refuse to be the world, I never could be. What great pains me harbors, whatever he thinks I don't know, whatever he attempts to hide, have been transparent from the beginning.  

  if only we could so easily step back from time to time... 

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  Another zoning out in class doodle...on myself. haha

   

  

   (tumble rumble...)

  Though I do like snakes, I don't know if I'd have one for a pet. 

  I want a harmless panda.

  Obsessed with : 

  (Originally byelton john but I like this better )

   

  Also, if you live in the DC area or near it, come to Art All night!

  I'll be modeling in it for Artaya, and my friend Brooke Kao will be there too  

   

  I received a special care package full of sweet surprises while I was sick. I shall brag about it later.  haaahaha

   

   

  • 7:22 pm
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