The last time I wrote here was the end of July, almost three months ago.
I still have no idea how I survived from the summer and early this year. I still remember the pain from everything. I really wish human memory, like computers, had the delete button. Once “delete” button is hit, memories will be erased for good, no recovery or put back. This is how I want it at times.
I have been keeping my own journal. Nobody else has ever read it; yet, nobody else will read it. Some time later, I would burn them all. This may be a way to delete memories. When I read those memories from years ago, I laughed at times just because they were, and still are silly. Why makes them worthy to be part of my memory. If I didn’t read them, I wouldn’t even remember them. This is what I feel about journals now. So many things now are there that I don’t even want to be reminded. If I didn’t write it down, it would soon be forgotten.
I am not writing journal as often as before. Sometimes on purpose. But most of the time, I am too busy lately. But it turns out that the ones that I don’t write down on purpose is still taking my time and staying in my mind.
Sometimes, humans are very very selfish. Yet, human don’t realize that until they deny it. So lame and so fake. I can be very mean and negative about everything. This is one of the times.
My dear grandparents are aging so much faster that I expected. The old summer days when my cousins and I hanging out with grandparents were precious. It was just like yesterday. I could smell the boiling soup from steam coming from the kitchen in the living room. I could hear the kindergarten’s bell ringing and children’s cheering for getting done for the day. I could see my grandpa sitting quietly in his room reading newspaper or watching TV. All in a three-bedroom apartment.
Things start to change when I started to grow up, when I could notice a bit more about my family. Soon I left. I went to boarding school. Family has become so distant in a way. I have become more independent than anyone could expected. Family is so important to me that I don’t even know how to live without any of them. This sounds so funny because I’ve lived in this foreign land for years on my own, where my parents, grand parents, cousins and little nieces are on the other side of the pacific ocean. Very Far.
I really do need them at times. But I’ve learned to live away from them by myself long time ago. I don’t even remember when these all started. Like now, I need my family.
Moving on is so hard. In most cases, moving on isn’t natural. The process couldn’t happen unless it’s forced. Some people fail, too. Well, I am failing. But I am still trying. Or maybe I am moving on, not yet moved on yet.
I just really felt like letting this out of my chest. Writing is really good way of letting out emotion, for me. (I know a lot of you hate writing)
Moving on, Karen.
Hopefully Word 8 wouldn’t take any longer than another three months.