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I wanted to post something because I have gotten a couple of messages asking about lack of updates and writing, and I thought i'd address those concerns here.
My life has been very hectic lately: this new semester of college is pushing me to my limits with work and other things that I would rather not discuss. From that, I find it safe to say that I am personally finding it hard to keep up with a fandom that moves and changes so quickly when I feel like i'm stuck in world of constant anxiety filled with deadlines and dark undereye circles.
I will not be leaving the fandom, but I will be taking a more passive approach to the Girls' endeavors in the industry, which means I won't be writing frequently (and perhaps not at all), and I don't want to give the illusion of hope to anyone who might be thinking otherwise. My priorities have shifted and I need to take care of myself as well as my work before I can return back to writing for this fandom.
I hope everyone understands.
A/N: hey everyone! Not quite sure if i'm happy with the way this turned out; I had writer's block about halfway in but I think I fought through it. we'll see I guess. Happy holidays and Merry Christmas! I hope it was wonderful for you all. Sorry the fonts kinda weird, I copy and pasted straight from my textedit thingy.
I first met you at a bar, on the southern side of the city. I got out of work late, upset: something about a year long project getting cancelled (I don't remember). You sat down on the bar stool next to me, eyes shining, lips curling.
"You look a little lonely, can I buy you a drink?"
I looked at you quizzically until it dawned on you that you hadn't yet told me your name,
"I'm Tiffany, by the way."
Your lips were stronger than the vodka.
Astringent and bitter, but still I wanted more (I didn't even like to drink). We went back to your booth where you told me you liked my hair - that it was reminded you of chocolate dipped in honey lacquer. And I recall asking if you thought I was pretty.
You called me a week after we met (but I don't remember giving you my number). You said you wanted to take me out on a proper date, and I didn't have the heart to argue against it. The small talk while we were eating was uncomfortable, but you somehow managed to pull me through it.
"What do you like, Taeyeon?"
I thought for a second but the words never came, so I just shrugged.
"So you like shrugging, huh?"
I laughed a little bit. It felt nice.
We didn't start fighting until we became a couple.
I was never really a talkative person. I guess you didn't like that very much; I just never thought it was worth the breath it takes to argue. Yet there we were - with tensions running high and tempers going from hot to cool, cool to hot in a carnal convection.
Silence snapped, insults started to fly.
It always began with questions (always ended in tears).
I couldn't just let anyone in. I just couldn't. But you wouldn't take no for an answer,
"Just talk to me, Taeyeon! What are you so afraid of?"
And then when I wouldn't yield, the lies came out,
"Don't worry about it, it's fine."
Every time we argued, i'd respond curtly (I just wanted it to be over). But for some reason, it always pushed you to get another response; a cruel reaction. You always said the things you knew would hit the hardest.
They say you can measure the happiness of a relationship by the number of scars that each person carries on their tongues, earned from years of biting back angry words.
I guess we just didn't measure up.
You woke up to my alarm clock blaring; so early the sun was still sleeping just below the horizon and you were irritated. Some time later you walked into the kitchen as I was about to leave for work and you saw unwashed dishes and it set you off; I wasn't in the mood for a fight, but fights weren't always conveniently scheduled.
You left angry.
When I got the call that no one wants to hear, my coffee mug slipped through my fingers and I watched it break; little glints of light decorating the tiled floor. I ran three stop signs on the way to the hospital and when I entered your room, I saw you lying there: tubes weaving in and out like the stitches to a sweater. The precarious beeping of your monitor; I was scared
They told me you were in a head on collision with a semi truck. They told me a lot of other things that didn't make sense: herniated disc, punctured lung, coma. I shook my head in disbelief at them all.
I thought I was dreaming, and I just wanted to wake up.
You died at 3:13am, two days later. I sat at your bedside and watched the rise and fall of your chest, listening as your monitor went from beeping to flatlining. There was no use keeping the machines running. The doctors tried their hardest, but the clock was against them; time never stands still, not even for those we love.
To this day I still wonder why we let such petty things get in the way of our happiness together. I guess I simply thought we had forever. That's always it though, isn't it? People take for granted the time given to them. Affirmations of affection seldom heard; like a gem you keep tucked away in an old jewelry box - taken out every so often, only when the thought of it crosses your mind.
It hurts to let go.
I see your face in everyone I talk to. In the mornings I find myself still apologizing for when my alarm clock goes off. I try not to think about you all the time (especially that infectious smile), and i'm fairly successful in doing so. But sometimes I touch your pillow or your jacket - things you used to touch - looking for echoes of your fingers.
Thoughts are easy to keep at bay. Memories not so much.
But none of those places are great for the inbetween.
I guess I just don't like the feeling of having eyes follow me all the time; I think it's time for a change. Most people only see certain facets of my identity. Never able to piece together the whole thing, never able to connect me to another me if that makes any sense. And that's fine, I want it that way. But I also want just one place to showcase every side of myself without the puzzle being put together.
I deserve that much.
Is the worst.
Uncomfortable and thick like a rainy day in July, you couldn’t wait to wipe it off with the corner of your sleeve; couldn’t wait to replace it with her favorite shade of lipstick – a savory scarlet with more reddish hues than your face when she told you how beautiful you looked that day. You giggled like a schoolgirl with a Valentine crush;
“Thank you, Jessica”
Always when you leave, his “I love you” remains dangling on the lobes of your ears, eager to climb in and nestle in your mind; a most unwelcome visitor. You thought that maybe if you tried harder the words wouldn’t sound so scathing (because any three words as powerful as those would be scathing if they punctured your lungs to have you choke on guilt). That maybe, given six more months, eight, you could learn to love him. But you were never that fast of a learner when it came to lessons of the heart.
You came home with new habits.
The way she clicks her teeth, the hand over her mouth when she laughs heartily, how she folds her tongue over your name when you’re together (“Tiffany…”). The gentle lilac scent of her hair, dancing eyelashes along your cheek when you make love; femininity divine.
So you packed all that you own away in a couple of nondescript cardboard boxes and went to find a new home. With her.
A/N: Just a little something I wrote to ease the stress. Hope everyone is well and good and that the week is treating you kindly.
A/N: Hey everyone! This is just something a random idea I had trying to kickstart some creativity, so sorry if it's grammatically flawed or something lol. The title is a play on the english "parts of speech"; i'm sure you can see why XD Hope everyone's week has started off well - we made it through Monday; we did it! =))
Sunny shrugs and takes another swig of scotch, “No idea, but I kinda miss those days, you know?”
A/N: Hey everyone, sorry this update is so late. I had a bit of trouble organizing how i'd like the story to progress in my head, but I think i've figured it out now. Hope everyone's having a nice weekend! =)) PS: formatting on LJ makes me want to tear my hair out.
My biggest fear is that I’ll wake up someday and realize that it’s all been a dream.
But looking back, I think that was part of the problem.
I thought we matched each other perfectly: soft tilted fingers resulting in rising ellipses – we had perfect symmetry.
There was a word you always used that I was too stupid to understand.
“They’re isomorphic, unnie” you’d always say when I asked why you were drawing those two cardioids next to one another that one evening (were those our hearts?).
“Equal form and equal shape.”
And I know what you meant when you said it but it didn’t stop a smile from creeping up onto my skin – contoured lines mapping the surface of what you’d call my most charming feature.
“I don’t understand why people think you’re so icy.”
You told me you felt blessed the morning after your body was first mapped to mine.
“Well I am a goddess, Juhyun. Or have you forgotten?”
You laughed that melodious laugh and I could almost see the harmonic vibrations flitter from your mouth and into the morn-strewn sunlight. Your hair was a mess and your collarbone was littered with swollen circles colored in various shades of red – it was the best I could do; I’m not the mathematician. You propped yourself up on one elbow and draped a fragile arm over my waist,
“Love is the summation of all that I manage to feel towards you. I consider that to be the greatest of all blessings.”
My eyes weld up with tears but in the back of my mind I knew the problem was becoming more and more complex (I should have studied more).
One time, I shouted at you so loud that the neighbors kicked in our door and broke through our windows in concern.
“You can’t just plug people into a formula, Juhyun! We’re not that that simple!”
And you told me I was right.
You told me we can’t have a healthy balanced relationship when one variable is dependent on the other – it works for some things, but not for others. And as the tears kept falling I kept shaking my head (I feared the solution).
“I need a break, Jessica.”
It’s been a few months since then and I feel like I’m at the same point I was stuck at when you left – no change at all – but I’m still holding on to what I remember (that answer can’t be right).
Sometimes I get angry because I think you imposed limits on what you allowed yourself to feel. And when the right and left didn’t match up, you called it quits.
But I’m still holding on and hoping that you realize it too (someday) –
That those limits don’t really exist.