let lemons be angry

You almost always pick the best times
To drop the worst lines
You almost made me cry again this time
Another false alarm
Red flashing lights
Well this time I'm not going to watch myself die
I think I made it a game to play your game
And let myself cry
I buried myself alive on the inside
So I could shut you out
And let you go away for a long time

I like keeping things secret. The weight of these lines is a secret.

Sitting on the green bench looking at the bamboo, with joeun just listening as i rambled, i felt like an old wise man. I don't think anything concerns me anymore. Even the pesky dirty people who have no respect for the art room--mere annoyances, mere specks of nothing. Things like deciding i will put off my work, and spending my time on dawn's present, and allowing myself too much time for reflection--this is all that my schedule is made of now. I wonder if i'll grow tired of this rather luxurious routine of free afternoons and lunch adventures, of crystal jade and gelato and magazines, and doodles and conversations and money-spending, of nothing much else. Stef stayed over on tuesday night and we did nothing. Right now i am doing nothing. I don't think i can live a whole life like this, goodness me.

Paki and i have grown fair again. My hair's grown dark again. I have no sunburns to complain of now. All should be good, right? I see the volleyballers in school, training even though there's no training anymore, making plans, carrying out plans. And i wonder why after a whole year their world is still alien to me. The language, the style, the passion, the culture. I spent a lot of time with them last year and this year, but i'm more of a foreigner than ever.

I'm kind of tempted to pull off ivan's stint and hide away from school. Maybe i'd learn something that way. But i don't think i'd be able to get away with it. I'm not made of pickles and lions like ivan is.

And if you want me back
you're gonna have to ask nicer than that