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| Le Han; Memoir. Closure. Foolishness. | |
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| Tweet Topic Started: Sep 17 2007, 07:56 PM (2,058 Views) | |
| Furu Kei | Sep 17 2007, 07:56 PM Post #1 |
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Middle Schooler
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Title: Le Han Author: Furu Kei Rating: T Category: Angst/Nonfiction/Drama Pairing: …no comment Warnings: Names used for persons in this story do not necessarily exist, for the sole purpose of keeping everyone anonymous and private. A/N: You say that I write well…that I receive many responses for my KonoSetsu stories… and I appreciate all of the kindness everyone has been giving me. But in truth, it is not my writings that people read- it is the KonoSetsu in them. The Furu Kei behind the KonoSetsu is someone who cannot even write for herself…cannot express her own thoughts and emotions. KonoSetsu has a life of it’s own, I just follow them with my dreams… You say that I should reveal the person behind the KonoSetsu…that people eventually get tired of KonoSetsu after a while…yet I would still remain…but that makes me sad. Because KonoSetsu is life, and KonoSetsu is hope…and even if I cannot wish for a happy ending for myself…the only foolish wish I can allow is a happy ending for KonoSetsu… And if people get tired of KonoSetsu…then what is my purpose as a fanfic author anymore? You tell me to trust you. That what I have to say is worth reading…at least to you. Here is my proof that nothing I have to say is worth reading after all. This is my story….would you read it? Even if my writing is cliché…even if I am no good…even if I am not the main character in my own life. First- Fracture: A Love Story Let me tell you a story. A love story, occurring once upon a time…in my life. Long, long ago, there was a girl named Le Han. The End. Why so short you say…? Because there can’t be a love story…without love. ---------- I don’t have a heart to love. Because I’ve given it away to someone. Someone who gives my life reason…and I’m desperately trying to open my eyes every morning as I’ve promised to that person that I’ll try to hang on, at least for a few more years. I have a close, close friend…and she reminds me each day that laying my life so easily in that someone’s hands is dangerous. I would smile, and tell her that I don’t mind. My someone probably doesn’t even know they’re holding it…how much they mean to me. But my friend is persistent. “How do you know that person is the One? People change…you might find someone else better.” I would shake my head. What she doesn’t understand is that there isn’t anyone…can’t be anyone else, because time is running out. And without time, there can be no change…no chance of finding another someone just for me. I’d already chosen. That person would be my Only. That person is enough for me. …but there is no love in that. There can’t be love in that, because love brings hope and love brings foolish thoughts of white dresses and rose bouquets, vows of eternity, and diamond rings…without blessings. The world is a nightmare of rules and regulations, cloaked in romantic dreams of childhood fantasies. My Someone brings me reality, brings me sharp black lines amongst blurry blends of colors, clear thoughts inside a cluttered mind. I need not hope for eternity when mere days are unreachable. I need not ask for love when I know it is impossible, when doubt and loneliness is what embraces me whenever that person leaves my side. My days and nights become one nightmare after another…constant and unyielding until that person arrives once again. …and all I can concentrate on is my Someone’s smile. My Someone’s words. My Someone’s presence….My Someone is all that really exists. Did you know…that you make reality more bearable? The questions of ‘Do you love me’ and ‘What am I to you’ are irrelevant. The world with My Someone in it is the only world I want to be in. Even if it is a world where pain is reality, and utter rejection is all that I can accept, because love is not for me, because love would mean tragedy for us both. It is a well-known myth…that when a soul is born, it is connected to it’s “other half” by a single string of fate. Love and fate…two intertwining properties necessary for finding the One. And if I should fall in love with someone who is also connected to me by that red string, then that person is the One just for me. But there is no love and there is no fate. My fate has already been decided by some scribbled words into the book of destiny, my death already set into a date probably soon, soon before I can find the One for me. So I have chosen. I’ve chosen my One, because my Someone is the only one who I could trust without hesitation, without thought. Because even though I may one day find that I am not the One for my Someone, because even if my Someone should lie to me again and again, should leave me again and again…even if the world tells me not to love…even if my Someone forgets me… …my only purpose for living is to stay until that person needs me no more. My only joy is to see that person each and every day, and ask ‘how are you?’…and be there to share whatever happiness, whatever sadness that person should hold. …Even if that person chooses not to share it with me. ---------- I have sinned. And every time my heart aches…before darkness envelops me…I tell myself…I deserve this. It is my retribution. --------- I have a secret. A revelation. I tried to murder someone once. A sickly schoolgirl of around thirteen, fourteen years. I called her Le Han. Le Han was…emotionless, for lack of better term. Her eyes were always dark and distant, and for years, she had sat at the corner of my classroom, invisible to the rest of the world. So unused to being addressed was she…that often, whenever people addressed her, she would not notice. They called her rude. I called her selfish. Because she was someone who was so self absorbed, so self centered, that the world inside her was all that she could see. Some of the students loved to bully her, as she was so quiet, so easily separated from the rest. They called her names, threw pencils at her, stole her books… Le Han’s demeanor never changed. She never replied. The pencils they threw…she handed back to them, and the books they stole…she recovered, eventually. Studying was never important to her, anyway. Sometimes I wondered…if anything mattered to her at all. But then she’d stare right at them sometimes…she’d look straight into their eyes…and they’d pause. It was no fun picking on someone who never responded. It was no fun being watched by someone who knew just how guilty you were…knew what you were thinking, what you were doing…and make no move to stop it. So they all left, eventually. And Le Han was invisible once more. What they didn’t know what that being invisible was worse then being picked on, because at least then she was sure there was someone who knew she existed, someone who could distract her from the world inside. They never knew that more, more then anything…Le Han wanted them to love her. And that she didn’t reply because she was afraid…because she didn’t want them to hate her more then they already had. But she knew she was different from them. Knew that there was nothing she could do to become a part of them. People only hate those different from them self, after all. She knew she could never be the kid that threw the tantrum in the toy store, wailing for her mother…for anyone to notice what she truly needed. Look at me. Look at me!!! No… She was the kid who stared at the toys longingly, when her mother had already left. She was the kid who’d secretly hoped her mother would notice what she wanted…who’d hoped that her mother would surprise her one day by noticing what she was looking at. ----------- In her early teenage years…Le Han’s childhood dreams had begun to disappear. The world was pushing her towards adulthood, too quickly for her pace, and she was lost- without a clue as to how she would survive in this bitter reality. Her days passed between school and home. Repetitive and redundant, as was the constant illnesses that plagued her health. Life was like the foul medicine that left a bitterness in the back of her tongue. No one knew…and as far as she could see… …no one cared. It was her duty to carry out her role. Her duty to go to school, her duty to drink that nasty concoction given to her each and every day… It was during that time that Le Han decided she was tired of it all. I helped her then. I helped her find an escape route. It wasn’t suicide, really. Because what Le Han had was a heart that was already dying by itself. The medicine kept the illness at bay, kept the physical sickness from increasing, but Le Han’s psychological heart was already aching, already bleeding, already dead. Drinking the medicine was an unnatural means to fight what was destined from the beginning. She stopped drinking the concoction, and her heart condition became worse. I aimed to kill her then. I tried to murder her. Too late was I to stop her, that retaking the medicine was not much help anymore. The illness got worse; the initial remedy could not longer stop it. And for the years that followed…I’ve been paying for this crime every time my heart aches. ----------- End First Fracture Part One. Liang. The first time my heart came to life, I’d met an angel donned in demonic robes. A boy with a dazzling grin that flashed at me every time he walked by. And for the first time in my life…since I met him…I sought to live. He was the magic, the charming prince upon white horse…It would take years for me to realize…that he wasn’t my One. |
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| lord_lir | Sep 19 2007, 01:45 AM Post #2 |
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MASTER OF FLAMES AND DARKNESS
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Incredibly moving. you have the soul of a poet. The tragic figure of this story, whether it is in fact you, or actually a mere characterisation of tormented love, speaks directly from the "self". If I had any complaint, it would be some of the more toryured self-pitying metaphors towards the end. Don't let your expression get too caught up in cliched emotional drivel (aka... gothic poems and emo songs... even though your writing is DEFINETLY a step above that) Loved it, and hope you write more. |
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| Mr. Urahara | Sep 22 2007, 11:36 AM Post #3 |
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Grade Schooler
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WOAAAAAAAAH. Awesome. I can't really come up with anything but "that's the best thing I've read for a while that WASN'T insane".YOU KNOW IT'S GOOD BECAUSE I LOGGED ON, AND I DON'T LOG ON OFTEN. :3 ..Moreplease? |
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| Ryuuen | Oct 9 2007, 06:17 PM Post #4 |
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High Schooler
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"The only main character in your life is you." I may be really late into reading this... but I don't know. I want to say that.... or much more precisely... I had the want to tell you that. this... work of yours is really good.... I don't know what else to say... Keep it up. Don't pull your self down. Don't think about things too much, yo. |
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| thousand-mistress | Oct 9 2007, 06:25 PM Post #5 |
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Actual Pedophile
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Oh god, that was beautiful......I'm tearing up, really, I am.
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| Chigusa | Oct 9 2007, 06:31 PM Post #6 |
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Middle Schooler
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Hmm. I should reply differently if I knew how autobiographical this was, or how much of a fiction. As a confession it should be treated very differently from a story set apart from one's own self. I'll try for something in the middle. A writer expresses themselves through other people. That's how it always has been, and I dare say, always will be. Only writers really notice other writers, because they know what it is to be the person hidden behind the characters - the one who gives them life without putting themselves into the light of public attention. Writing KonoSetsu doesn't make what you write good or bad. I've read some great KonoSetsu, and some dreadful KonoSetsu. It's how you treat them that matters - your manipulation of your material. And of your work that I've read, I have no doubt in saying that you are a good writer. And you should be proud of what you've achieved. Of course, you should strive to bigger and better things - to better expression, and tighter storytelling, but that's true of every writer ever. To stop trying to improve is to stop being a writer. That's just how it is. So - to this story/confession. It's good. It's enthralling. It makes me want to read more, and it makes me feel for both the narrator and the heroine, whether or not they are the same person. Your expression is good, and the story is neatly told and easy to follow. All good things. I might say that I would empathise even more with the characters if the narration wasn't phrased in quite such a bleak, melodramatic way. However, if this is confession rather than story, I wouldn't say any such thing. :) If you would like to, I would be interested in reading more. I shall certainly watch this space. |
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| Furu Kei | Oct 21 2007, 12:10 AM Post #7 |
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Middle Schooler
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A/N: Because I promised…that as long as someone continues to read what I have to say…I will continue to write… lord_lir: Thank you for the compliments, and the advice. I hope I’ve cleaned up most of the cliché-ness this time… Mr. Urahara: Thank you for your kind words…ah…as requested…more it is? (o_o…I hope this part isn’t too random though…I just felt…it was needed) Ryuu: *smiles* The main characters in Furu’s life…are the people I love. Without them…there is no Furu. The things I do, the stories I tell…are about them, not myself. Just as in each part of Le Han…the main character is the person Le Han speaks about. thousand-mistress: thank you for the compliment. Chigusa: *bows* Thank you. I am very happy to read such insightful words from you…Ah…Furu is sorry, but I cannot say how much of this is fiction/autobiographical. But I can say that it was true to Le Han…and it was what she felt, and what she did at the time…and how true it is depends on her perspective of it. *smiles*…and what you said about writers…I know…and I believe that too. And I am trying to improve as well. Yet time is running out it seems…and sometimes…I find myself losing the confidence I need to be sure that what I had written…is not utterly useless. *smiles* Le Han’s life is…a bit…bleak…but not all of it is that way. ^-^ I hope this chapter reveals a bit less melodramatic-ness? Second- Fracture: At this Moment They say that you don’t know what you have…until it’s gone. But knowing this troubles me… If it is something that is truly mine…meant to be mine, how could I ever lose it? This life hasn’t been mine…since the beginning. ----------- I am often told that I think too much. And though I would usually make no comment on this…I can’t help but agree. My mind draws to the past, forcing me to live and relive everything…trying, desperately to think the events over, as if I’d be able to change it somehow. …yet there is nothing I can do about it. My experiences are important to me because it’s already gone, and though I will forever see it in my heart…I can never reach it, can never change it… There is a memory that recurs once every few nights inside my dreams. And in those fond moments, I find myself with Liang once again, lost in his calm presence. Sometimes I think, that if heroes of movies and fairy tales could ever exist, Liang would be the perfect example of one. Because with Liang…I can be certain that any miracle could come true. “Hey, Ni-Han…” “Hmmmn?” He would slide his fingers along mine so that our thumbs were against each other, then turn our hands until both palms faced downwards, fingers joining into the shape of a heart. My face reddens, while he grins at me. Pulling my hands swiftly away from him, I would reach to tap his forehead. With Liang I was a child again. With Liang…I could believe in magic and happy endings. Cheeziness and cliché words were fine in his world, because they are the sources of smiles and dreams. “You learned that from a movie somewhere, didn’t you?” The light in his eyes would dance as he shrugs…and I would never know where or how he learned the things he does…or if he just made everything up as he goes. After a while, we would become silent once more, content as our thoughts drifted elsewhere…until Liang suddenly stands up. I would look at him as he walks silently away, but never follow him each time he left. Sometimes looking back… I find myself regretting not doing so. Yet it was Le Han’s nature to be that way. Le Han had always been alone, had never known what it was not to be alone until she met Liang…and so though she was happy every time he came, she never knew what to do whenever he leaves. Good bye has always been the most painful word of all. But he would come back, and I would come to trust that whatever happens, Liang would return to me as if he’d never left at all. “Hey, Ni-Han-ii…” “Hmmn?” I would say, tilting my head as I turn to watch him. Every time…he would carry a surprise with him as he came. In my dreams, I would remember the grin on his face as he reaches out for me, waving a quick hello to my mom as he pulls me to the back yard. “You dragged me all the way here just to blow bubbles?” Le Han was never a child…until Liang taught her how to become one. “What’s wrong with it?…It’s fun.” He’d blow on the soap some more, then hand it to me. “Here. Try. No one’s too old to blow bubbles, Ni-Han.” Despite myself, I would try. And I would enjoy trying and learning everything he had to teach……until a rare smile would be drawn on my face. “I like your smile.” I would blush, and turn away, while he continues speaking. “Did you know, that they say there is a legend, that goes with these bubbles.” I would turn back to him, peering at him for his silliness. “Who would know of a legend about… bubbles?” “Why, it’ll be me, of course!” He’d laugh, and the birds would seem to agree with him as they sang around us. “They say that if you go outside to blow bubbles during a full moon night, if you can blow seven consecutive bubbles aligned in position with the moon…if you peer straight into them, you would see the face of your destined Number One on the moon.” I would frown. “No one would blow bubbles at night. And it’s impossible to blow seven that can stay still without popping long enough for you to peer through them.” Le Han was always the realist… “Who knows? We should try it sometime, Ni-Han-ii.” he would say…a mischievous glint in his eyes as he looked at me. “You made that legend up, didn’t you!?” …until Liang taught her how beautiful romance was. ------------ We never tried. And sometimes I wake up regretting having never tested the legend when he was still by my side. I tried it alone one night in deep despair, about a year after he left. I found myself wishing to see his face…desperate to see him… with each bubble of soap that I blew. If I could see you…if miracles do come true…then it means you are destined to be my number one, right? But miracles can never come true, when Liang’s magic touch had already gone. I could never see him, no matter how hard I tried. Only now do I realize the beauty of his words. There is a someone in my heart. Someone who’s name I can never speak…someone whom I should never admit loving…but someone, who’s face I can distinguish everywhere I turn…someone who I think of in all that I do… And only when I met my Someone, did I realize, Liang’s legend did come true after all. I need not try it to know what my eyes would reflect. Because My Someone lives inside my heart…and my One is all I can see. ------------ Le Han is smiling cheerfulness, the little girl beneath cold exterior that Liang had wished to see…even if…Liang isn’t there to see it anymore. Le Han is submissive obedience…doing whatever her loved ones tell her to, not because she is unable to do otherwise, but because she loves them…too, too much. Le Han is selfish foolishness…pretending to depend on everyone…yet not letting them reach her deepest troubles…so afraid is she of burdening them. But is Le Han who I am at all? I don’t know myself…because somewhere along the way, I’d lost track of who I was as a child…of what I’d believed in… If I tell you this is who I was…the Le Han, Liang had once seen beneath my masks…if I tell you, as a child…this is the real me…would you believe it? ----------- During the curious age of five, the words “God” and “Grandfather” had the same connotation to me. I saw my grandfather as an enigma, the Atlas force that upheld the world. My life revolved around copying his every movement, and memorizing each and every one of his teachings. He taught me many values and traditions; filial piety, respect for elders, and love for learning- all the important traits of a worthy daughter in our family. Yet out of everything he taught me, there was one principle that encompassed all others, one understanding that is evident in everything he did and came to grasp my soul: the significance of a person’s determination when enacting those beliefs. At ninety-one years old, my grandfather’s stance was as straight as a pine tree, as if his back refused to be bent by old age. His personality was the same. He never yielded to opposition. I had heard stories of when he was young- how Grandfather worked alone on countless nights in his alterations shop to feed his family of seven children; the humming sewing machine as his only companion. As his equally determined follower, I constantly strove to prove to him that I was just as strong-willed as he was. My parents took me to a vacation destination that year. I decided that the public restroom there was too filthy for a five year old to use, so I stood in the market- lips forming a thin, defiant line, with a frown just like my grandfather whenever he argued. My parents knelt down next to me, offering all sorts of toys in exchange for me to use the public bathroom. With the strength of mind that I thought would make me like my Godly grandfather, I shook my head. Some of the stubborn acts landed me into trouble, like when I insisted that the foul-tasting, distorted spinach on my plate was inedible. My mother would haul me to the living room as she grabbed her “Ruler of Obedience” to hit me. The moment I saw the ruler, I hollered the name of my savior until I became hoarse. He would soar through the air, age-worn feet never touching the ground as he flew to my aid. My mother never had the chance to punish me for my stubbornness, and my inflexible personality continued. When I turned nine, my grandfather was ninety-four years old, yet I refused to see him that way. My eyes replaced his senile traits- like his slower walk and shaking hands- with the image of Zeus. His voice no longer shook the house, and I saw him lying every day in bed, the proud look in his eyes replaced with weariness. I would tiptoe into his room when he slept, mouth opened in awe of his presence, and whisper to him as if he were awake and listening to me. The day he died came as a shock to me. I came home to my mother’s sobs and the paramedics surrounding my grandfather. My ears were deaf after they announced his death, and my mother’s cries became silent. However, my willful eyes refused to shed tears- and I found myself wondering why the sizzling red sun above me did not fall to earth without God to hold it up. The sun left the day he was buried, and I stood in the wailing storm looking at his acquiescent face for the last time. I closed my eyes as if they were deceiving me. How can such a strong person with so much will- die? The answer came to me in the form of a spider: a tiny, reddish spider that had climbed on his coffin. My deaf ears healed as his voice echoed in my mind. The memory of him two years before- came to me. He was sitting on the sofa, his posture still straight and confident as he listened to me sing. “Do you know why I like the Spider Song so much, Han? The ‘itsy bitsy’ spider in the song shows great determination in its eternal climb up the water spout. I see sprouting determination in you, Han, though you act more stubborn than determined right now. Only when you learn the difference between determination and stubbornness will you grow and mature- and when you learn to be flexible will you succeed. Take the spider, for instance. There is no reason for him to be determined to climb up the silly water spout.” Tears began to fall from my obdurate eyes, mingling with the rain that washed my face as I awakened to the present of his burial. I raised my head to look at the raging heavens above me. “I understand, Grandfather.” ----------- End Second Fracture Part Two I thought I understood. But Le Han doesn’t understand…anymore. That part of me was lost long ago. It always happens… the closer I am to someone…the quicker they leave me. Each and every time, a part of me dies. |
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| Ryuuen | Oct 21 2007, 04:48 AM Post #8 |
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High Schooler
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Ah, no. I will not further argue about it. Knowing that I will never have the power not will to... go against you. But for me, not as an arguement but an honest opinion, though you say that they would be no Furu is no one loves you then there will be no Furu to love... if there isn't Furu at all. Though, it may have been, your stories, be of the people you love. Surely you'll be there too. Because this is how you portray and see those people. In your eyes. In your perspective. Therefore it's still you. And this is what makes these stories special. And I forgot to say. The reason I read Furu's fictions is not because they are of KonoSetsu. It's because it's Furu who wrote them, sure that I'll be surprised, awed, or moved when I read it. Because I know you, Furu, is a writer that I look up to... and more than that. That's all I have to say... you don't have to listen to me if you don't want to though ![]() Very nice continuation, too. |
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| Cloverfield | Nov 5 2007, 09:38 PM Post #9 |
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Grade Schooler
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...my god. I want to write like you when I grow up. It is empathetic, and painful to read, and so sad.
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| Furu Kei | Jan 8 2008, 11:07 PM Post #10 |
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Middle Schooler
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A/N: My mind is jumbled. The movie continues to play and I’m trying to stop it, to comprehend the scenes that have occurred…only to find that it’s too late; it’s slipping through my fingers, cutting and stinging as the tape unwinds. I see the world through dusty windows…painting life the color of fading film… as the old record plays over and over again. Ryuu: Thank you…and…x_x…gomen *doesn’t really know what to say* Cloverfield: Thank you for your kind words. Ehhh! And here Furu was thinking that I want to write like you when I grow up. (^-^ hehe--> is a fan of your works) Third- Shatter: Retrieving Scattered Pieces The events don’t connect, and I’m stepping back… Trying to see the entire picture of what is past, what is present…and what is to be done. Pretending to forget that I am blind… I’ve been living inside the pages since everything began. If only the audience, can perceive the entire story…then what happens to the characters living in it? I am the writer of this life. Yet sometimes I wish to become the reader as well. ------------- I write as though possessed, pages upon pages of unordered words for hours at a time. Often I wonder what should happen if I stop, if the thoughts are left unheard and forgotten inside my unconsciousness. Yet the pen never leaves my hands…and I find it dancing upon the pages once again before I could even try to lay it down. I am in constant fear that I would not finish in time, and the emotions would be lost. Left lingering, gnawing in the back of my mind but unable to be expressed until it disappears entirely… And my soul is empty once again. So I write without knowing what I am writing…or whether it is in fact worth the effort at all, until the pages are all filled and my thoughts are all spent and my hands tingle and ache and stiffen and shake as they cry in protest. Then all that is left is tiredness. And when I find the strength to return to read what I had written, I begin to wonder whether I’d written anything at all, because that part of me had left, had been absorbed into the pages of meaningless words quickly strung together. …leaving only the shadow of a reminder of who I was. I find it hard to understand what I write, hard to understand what I was thinking as the thoughts race inside my mind…but the feeling is there, and the reminder of what I had lost returns to me through wisps of jumbled words and songs as I lay at the moment of near asleep. …only to be forgotten once again when I awake the next morning. ------------ My story has no plot. No purpose. No order. The memories come to me at random intervals in dreamlike clouds that render me doubtful to whether it had happened at all. But then my life would be a lie; the people I’ve met and loved would not exist. The Le Han that is who she is made to be wouldn’t exist either. Thus I continue to believe, to persuade myself that this horribly cliché soap opera is mine- that whatever drama or heartache that ensues is for me to live with even though all I’d wanted to do, was to switch the channel. Or maybe turn off the T.V. But now is not time. The main characters to my life have yet to be introduced, and to take their part. ----------- 92576. The number brings back memories… /You go first. What’s your favorite number, Shorty?/ …Nine. Why do you ask, Jeni? I don’t remember how we’d become friends. /You’ll know after we finish. I’ll choose Two. Next number?/ Uhmn…Five? /My turn again…Seven!/ Sometimes it seems as though we just began talking one day. Weh…I was going to choose seven, too. /It doesn’t make a difference, right?/ Ehhh! Hmmn…how about six next? But with Jeni, there was no “I”; no “me”. There was only “we”. Only “us”. /Sure. Now, remember our secret code, okay? We’ll use it to identify each other./ Huh? /You know, how people use special signs or numbers to communicate? We’ll be friends forever, right? If we’re separated one day, we’ll be able to find each other if we remember it. Or, ha! we can sign notes passed during class and no one would no it’s us./ Nine…Two Five…Seven Six. …because we were always together. And we thought it would remain that way. ------------- We were exact opposites. Jeni was a head taller than me; athletic, while I was not. She was obsessed with chocolate. I am allergic to it. She loved sound, was distracted easily, and was outgoing. I enjoyed quietness, was always focused on something, and was reserved. Our classmates often questioned how two people so different could be such close friends. /Ha! Shorty… I wonder why I’m friends with you. We’re so…different./ E-eh? Sometimes…we didn’t know ourselves. … Le Han’s health was poor, so she could not run, could not jump without feeling faint and dizzy from lack of oxygen. Everyday during track, she would be the last to finish. They called her lazy… And maybe she was. She never bothered to tell them of her ‘condition’. She walked alone. Whenever the students chose teams, she would be the one left behind to keep score. She didn’t mind. She’d always been alone, so the concept of feeling lonely or the joy of being part of the team never came to her. …until Jeni was placed in the same class that year. /Hey. I’ll run with you/ …but you run much, much faster that I can. /You’re part of my team, right? Just do your best, and I’ll wait for you/ Le Han took the words to heart. Her speed improved, despite the worsening of her health. For the first time in her life, she found what it meant to belong, to be a part of something. Eventually Jeni introduced Le Han to her friends, and they became not just Jeni’s friends…but Le Han’s friends as well. Le Han considered them all her close, close friends. And Jeni was the special link that pulled them all together. Around that time as well, Liang introduced Le Han to his two cousins, K’ang and Li. The three would become her friends outside of school. Her health continued to deteriorate. Yet Le Han was the happiest she had ever been. ---------- Sometimes I wonder if the worsening of Le Han’s health was a sign that it wasn’t meant to be. Le Han never had so many friends before. So when she found those whom she could call friends, she clung to them as though her life depended on it. All that mattered to Le Han…was whether or not she would meet her friends each day. All she wanted every day…was to ask was a simple ‘Hello. How are you?’…and hear that they were doing fine, see that they do exist, and are not just a figment of some dream she would soon wake up from. But dreams indeed they were. And like all dreams…it was not meant to last. Le Han was sick for a few days. When she came back… /I don’t know you. Don’t talk to me./ Jeni and Le Han never had an argument. Never had a fight. They just…stopped talking. As though their friendship never existed. A few months after…Liang went away as well, and Le Han was alone once again. Except that now…she knew what being alone meant. And it would destroy her more than any illness could. She never really tried to find out what had happened. Le Han let it haunt her… ….until it broke her into pieces. She began to bury herself in books and in her studies, to forget the world. It’s all my fault, isn’t it? I must have done something wrong…. I shouldn’t exist. They all leave….in the end. I’m…not worthy. Eventually….Le Han would push everyone away. Disappear from them…before they could leave her. Surely, surely…no one would need her. It has always been that way. And it is then… Le Han learned of the word ‘burden’. Burden is what I am. ----------- End Third Shatter Part Three One day, you would look at the places where I usually appear, secretly waiting for you…to find that I have already gone… Ne…tell me you need me. And I will stay… Tell me you want to see me, repeatedly should I forget…Remind me, should I falter. Tell me you won’t leave…and I promise, I will live. Love me, help me grow…and I will bloom into anything you wish me to be. I can do anything, if you believe in me. Tell me, before I break down. But then again…I can never ask that of you. It is probably already too late. A/N: To you who asked me to write this…should Furu end it here? x_x My writings are getting worse, isn’t it? This chapter doesn't really make any sense...and I’m not sure if you’re reading it anymore… I don’t know if I should ask you directly if I should continue, either. Furu has revealed a lot of Le Han’s thoughts here, ne? Probably enough for you to clear up on what you’ve asked me (at least I hope it's clear enough...x_x...then again...it's quite vague and badly written...x_x...gomen). Do you wish for me to get to your part?…You may want me to continue with Le Han’s One as well…and I will, if you want me to. But... there are things I can never reveal. |
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| Asakura Raine | Jan 9 2008, 07:05 AM Post #11 |
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wAIfu Nanasaki amirite
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This is beautiful. You've written this so well. I can feel your writing and that is something that I love. I can tell this story is so personal and definintely intriguing. It just feels so real... I'm not sure if I've grasped the story well, but I see Le Han as nothing - a blank and faceless being; which in itself is sad. All these people she meets make various impressions on her. Slowly, it fills her and she becomes something. It is at that point that somehow, something goes wrong and she remains unfinished - somewhat like a canvas that had been painted by different people. She's always forced to revert back to this cold, quiet being; of which I find moving and sad. No one deserves such a life; a life where the reality of death is more pronounced and where the hope that comes in little bouts before you get savagely taken away unannounced. I thoroughly enjoy your writing. If you choose to continue, I will definitely read. I'm as envious of your writing as I am awed by them. |
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| Furu Kei | Jan 27 2008, 09:44 PM Post #12 |
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Middle Schooler
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Asakura Raine: Thank you for the wonderful post- and despite you saying that you’re not sure if you’ve grasped the story well, I would have to say that you already have it, <_< maybe even more than I do…because what you had said was pretty much what I had hoped to describe (though maybe I was thinking of book rather than canvas- but generally the same thing)…and besides, I don’t really know what I’m writing x_x... I’m sorry for the boring story. Sorry that Le Han came to be who she is…sorry for being so pessimistic. Fourth- Fade: Nothing but Despair I’ve felt it many, many times before… That tide from far away. Who knows? Who sees? A flower blooms in water as I wash my face …It rains. It rains. Don’t wipe the droplets away. Let it seep into the skin. Coldness piercing…. There is no pain. Only numbness. -------------- There is only so much pain a person can handle. Only so much anguish, so much sorrow…before they are rendered entirely broken. Too shattered to join back together. And at that time of greatest agony- when there is nothing left that hasn’t been crushed, nothing still standing- left to crumble… At that point, all that is left is emptiness. A blank void of despair. There are no more tears left to cry. No more pain to be felt, because pain was what was always there. Pain was what the soul was already accustomed to. The war was over; and far, as far as the eyes could see…no one is left. No one to declare who had won or lost. No one to help rebuild from the aftermath. All is gone, and all is dead. All is silent. It becomes too quiet, too…blank… that I would wish for pain once more. Because pain…at least, was felt. Agony proved that I was still alive. That I was capable of feeling…that, with pain…I could hope to be relieved of it one day; to be happy one day. Ha. Impossible. Then there is fear. Terror. Terrifying thoughts that I would one day become accustomed to this state of no feeling; to this state of emptiness. A faceless being in an uncolored world. Living…continuously living, perpetually searching for a reason to be living. Tired. A secret wish- To forever close those eyes from seeing it all. Pathetic. You promised, Le Han. You promised. There is a pair of cold eyes that stares back at me every time I look at the mirror. And a pale, impassive face that I do not recognize. Trembling hands clutching the chest…frail body sprawled upon the bathroom floor. Doubling up, pushing as close to the corner as possible. Darkness beckoning. No. Not again. No… Pushing, struggling…climbing into the showers and turning on the tap. Water everywhere…needles on the skin. Wet on the face, spreading over spinning head, trying, trying…trying to stay awake. What if I drown here? In this misery…in this water? It rains. Droplets falling…making circles. Flowers blooming in water. No. Not tears. No! Don’t think that. Don’t think…don’t think about anything at all. Just water. Water everywhere. A weak attempt to keep a smile upon the face. I’m okay. It’s…normal, right? I’ll be okay. Then…sudden remembrance of that face in the mirror- Where is the girl with the smiles? Where had she gone? ------------------ She didn’t know why she was waiting, didn’t know what she was waiting for. But Le Han waited. Day after day, night after night… keeping her thoughts busy with school work…burying herself into her studies…chores….work…everything to keep her distracted… One day…you will return to me, right, Liang? Always doing something. Anything. Le Han was on the verge of collapse. Liang never returned. But one day…his cousins came over to visit. /We will wait for him with you. We’ll stay./ Their parents were close to hers, and Le Han had known them since they were all very young. Yet they had never spoken to each other much. Never played together…because Le Han didn’t know how to play. Le Han was never a child…until someone taught her how to be one. Besides, Le Han was always so very withdrawn. It was only until after Liang introduced them to her as his cousins, did they start spending more time together. And only after Liang left, did Le Han discover that they would become two of the most important people in her life. ------------- If I should ever have to choose one person to whom I owe the most, one person who loves me the most… It would be K’ang. K’ang, with his knowing smirk and often unintentional harsh remarks. K’ang with his deep, reassuring voice. With his unmatched ego, and outward show of feigned selfishness. K’ang… with his protective nature. Liang was the prince. The hero who would venture out to save the world and return with his dashing smile. But K’ang…K’ang was the one who would stay. K’ang is the one who could do anything and everything for me. Out of everything irreplaceable that had become a part of me- the life that my parents had granted me; the values my grandfather taught me; the will and joys of living Liang had shown to me; the energetic youth Jenni had brought out in me; the friendship I had encountered with my few friends; and the rare taste of love that I had discovered upon meeting my number One… What K’ang had given me was the hardest to give of all. Ne, Ka. What? If you were the main character, what would you have done? Lawl. What am I, superman? There’re tons of kids out there hoping to save the world. But if it was me, there is only one person I want to protect. Time. Precious, unlimited time. …wasted to be with me. Something I can never repay to him. Patience. Always there, and always by my side whenever I needed him. Sleepless nights outside my door, checking to see if I needed anything. And every morning when I open my eyes, I would see him, looking at me worriedly. He is the one…and possibly only one, who would ever let someone else be the hero. The only one who would leave everything, give up everything…to be by my side. With him, there was no “I would have if…”, no “I can’t do it because…”, no doubt, and no thoughts of consequences whatsoever. What he means to do, he would complete. And it would be done thoroughly, without fail, no matter if anyone agreed to it or not. K’ang with his strong arms, waiting for me to extend my own so he could pull me up, support me, carry me anywhere I wanted to go. Constantly thinking of me, constantly looking, asking, and searching for a sign that would tell him how I was doing. Even if he was never a very observant person. …even if it meant that he had to learn the names of my friends, if it meant that he had to do what he hated most, if he had to search through my writings, talk to the people I talk to, read the things I read, anything…anything at all. This I know. And I know I will never be able to deny him access to my journals…my emails…my thoughts. No matter how private they are, no matter the fact I would deny writing those thoughts if he confronts me with it. I can never stop him from being over protective at times, never get mad at him even if he should ever prevent me from doing what I love most, from talking to those I love most. This I know and this I owe him. Because everything he does…is for me, with my well being in mind. ------------- Mother says that Le Han would never find someone who loves her as much as K’ang does. Never find someone who would do anything for her like K’ang- that if Le Han was to find someone to be with her, there is no better person to spend the rest of her life with than K’ang. And she’s right. I would have to agree. Everything he does for is Le Han- she knows, and she is grateful. She knows, and she loves him for it. Loves him more than a friend…closer than family. But she can never love him as her number One. To K’ang…she was like a fragile porcelain doll, meant to be kept safe within glass chambers less it be broken. So safe, that sometimes…it meant that he kept himself from her as well, and he would be so careful, so…meticulous whenever he approaches her. As if he could never dare to reach her, less she shatter. Often as she lay resting, she would turn to find him sitting on a chair beside her bed, worried eyes watching her every movement. They would look at each other, often not knowing what to say. She would notice how stiff his posture was, and the different speech he would use to address her compared to his other friends. It was almost as though he was afraid of her…afraid of saying the wrong things. Tell me more about you. Reach me. Tell me your opinions. Change me. K’ang never seemed really relaxed when he was with Le Han. Sure, he would tease her, would joke around and laugh with her… But…nothing more. Le Han was a story waiting to be written. Every person she meets writes a different chapter. K’ang…couldn’t complete her. He is someone who could care for her, do anything for her…even to the point that he could forbid her to do certain things…even more than her family members would. Essentially…however, he was like a big brother who didn’t quite know what to do with his little sister. Didn’t quite know what to make of her, didn’t know what to write for his part in her story. So he left it blank. It was as though he lived in two different worlds. He would hang out with friends, do whatever he loved to do…then come home, take care of Le Han. As though it was his duty to do so…as though, he was afraid that sharing with her a part of his thoughts would change her too much…and he wanted to keep her the same way as she was before she had met him. There was a part of him that he would never let her see. A part of him that doesn’t know what to say to her, besides what he needed to know to be assured that she was well. Sometimes I feel that you talk to my mother….more than you talk to me. They sit in awkward silence. He would always be there to keep her company…Yet with him… …Le Han was always alone. There is a protective shield that he places her in. A very good one that she would be safe in. And often…it blocks him from her as well. -------------- End. Maybe it’s just a bad excuse to why he isn’t my number One. Maybe…if he was someone else, I would have tried to repay my debt of love by vowing to be by his side… But it would be untrue. And because it is K’ang…because in a way, I do love him…because I would be helpless if he hadn’t been with me all these years…because…I had come to need him much, much more than anyone else…maybe even more than Liang… I can never lie to him. All I can do, and all I should do is hope for him to forget me. I do not deserve his love, and out there somewhere…is someone much more worthy of it than I would ever be. …Someone for him. Just as I had found someone just for me. A/N: Two chapters this time, because what is K’ang without Li? They are brother and sister. When I think of one…I am always reminded of the other. Besides, I do not think I would post another chapter. I should not, might not be able to. Le Han’s purpose in her words this next chapter is to cause anger. To show how disturbing her thoughts might become, to push everyone away…. There might be no need for the next chapter if she is successful, because no one would listen to her words ever, ever again. No one would continue to read her story once they find out how horrible it is. (<_<…not so sneaky avoidance from writing the ending last chapter- on Le Han’s number One? >_> …maybe…a bit…but really, I’ve probably bored everyone enough, ne? And after this emo, cliché chapter…who would continue to read this?) Fifth- Vanished: There’s no cure I’ve seen it many times in movies. The heroine has an incurable disease. Everyone around her supports her, remains with her…And either a miracle occurs that she is suddenly cured, Or she dies peacefully, in the arms of her beloved. She is the splitting image of an angel. So perfect. So heartbreaking that someone so beautiful would have to endure so much. She remains an angel ‘till the end. But Le Han is no angel. Le Han is no main character. Would Beauty remain with him, if the Prince turns into the Beast in the end of the story? ------------ Every death has a worth of its own. When my mother’s brother died as a baby, everyone regretted not having the chance to watch him grow old, and become a man. When my second cousin died from war, he was regarded as a hero, and remembered as one. When my grandfather died, the family mourned for him as the father, the central column, and the foundation of the family. He brought us into this world, and made us who we are. Yet sometimes…death had no worth at all. Sometimes it is welcomed. There is a memory that haunts my dreams…of a phrase I once heard someone important to me say. We were watching a movie at the time…about a widow who was taking care of two of her sons. The beginning of the story was a happy one. Their father had left them quite a sum of money- enough to pay for tuition at school, and the moment the younger son entered school, it was discovered that he was near- genius. The older son was not as talented, but was a gentle young man, who helped his mother around the house. Then tragedy struck, and the elder son became very ill. The family became poor, as the mother began to sell everything in the house to pay for his medication- to the point of using her younger son’s tuition money to pay for the cost. As the story continued the elder son’s personality began to change, as he became bitter with the world. At one point in the movie, someone cried out, “He’s slowing the movie down. What a burden. They’d be better off without him.” “Taking care of someone like that…for such a long time is hard for the person in pain, but even worse for the person taking care of them.” Then the elder son died. His family mourned, of course…but they were able to move on. The younger son was able to go to school once more, and later became successful. Sometimes I fear…she is right. How long does it take…until waiting for an impending death becomes tiresome? …before dread becomes relief…when Le Han leaves them? I don’t want that to happen. ------------- It is easy to say… “you are not a burden” …easy to tell someone not to give up. After all, it is the right thing to do, isn’t it? Le Han is slowly becoming more desperate. A darkness is devouring her soul, and each day, a part of her mind departs… One day, she will loose all her control. But before then…she will try her utmost best to persuade everyone to leave her…so they will never see how unsightly it is when she breaks down. I’ve seen it before. That girl with soulless eyes. The coldness of her hands. The way she thrashes and cries out, trying to breathe. But after you speak it…can you prove it? Can you stay with her when she needs you most? Can you honestly say that you wouldn’t prefer to be elsewhere at times? Constant repetition of the same negative phrases over and over again, surrounding everyone with a depressive mood. Something is always wrong, and they can sense it. At first, they would ask her what is bothering her- and all she would tell them is the same things. She is sad. She is worried. She is guilty. Sometimes it would seem as though she has no reason to be acting that way. After all, they already know that she’d been troubled by it….already heard it dozens of times. Shouldn’t it be time for her to move on? Soon…they will be tired of hearing the same arguments. Annoyed, by the thoughts that never leave her mind, and irritated by the secretive manner in which she explains everything. They’ll stop asking after a while, because she doesn’t say anything else anyway. She’ll begin to avoid everyone, and each time she will be away for longer periods. Each time they will be accustomed to seeing her less. One day…they wouldn’t mind not seeing her at all. They wouldn’t notice. Should I try to hide from you one day…will you search for me? And if I should do it again and again… …will you search for me every time? Because I can’t help it. Because I have to do something to stop these mistakes, and trying to not burden you is all that I can think of doing. Then her control would be all lost, and she so afraid of remaining alone with her thoughts. She would cling to them as if her life depended on it, would seem almost desperate at times, waiting…always waiting to see them. They would see her at the most unreasonable hours and places, even when they are busy or when they don’t want to see her. There would be a point when they won’t have time for her, and she would know this…would realize it. But she would beg for them to stay with her anyway…because she can no longer stop herself. Her illnesses are beginning to manifest themselves more frequently, and she is afraid of being alone. Afraid the darkness that appears every time her illness acts up would swallow her whole one day. They would end up wasting their time doing nothing but listening to her continuous rambling, and trying to reassure her with words that they had already told her again and again. They would have to bear the weight of knowing that she would be worrying where they are whenever they are away…and that she is still waiting for them, that she needs them… She’ll begin to act like an obsessive ex girlfriend who couldn’t bear the fact that her boyfriend doesn’t love her anymore, or a spoiled child demanding attention, and they would begin to grow tired…so tired of her need to be noticed. When all of my control over myself is gone… When I can no longer push you away and it is too late…too late and I have reached the point when I can’t hide the fact that I need you too much… What then? What will I become then? I know not what word to describe but ‘burden’. ----------------- Leave me. Leave me…before it is too late, and the monster inside of me begins to cling to you. I would be heartbroken, yes. And I won’t deny that maybe it might mean that I would give up sooner. It’s okay. The fact remains that there is no cure. I will stay for as long as there is one person in this world who needs me. But the ‘me’ that is capable of rational thoughts is growing weaker. The me that is wholly myself right now is gradually being overshadowed by fear and pain. There will be a time when I cannot control it anymore…and I will break down, will come to need you too much, will become entirely selfish to my own feelings. The Le Han that is truly Le Han doesn’t want you to one day regret knowing her, doesn’t want to one day become an inconvenience to you …and she would rather die than let that happen. Right here, right now…while she can still do it…Le Han is hiding from you, and if you do not find her…she will understand. She will not mind, and she will disappear from your life completely. I will stay for as long as you need me. I promised. And I will keep it. …but do you really need me? Can you honestly say that there will not be a day when I will become troublesome to you? If you insist that I am not a burden…then prove it to me. Tell me you don’t mind staying with me…even if…I should one day loose myself. Find me. I will be waiting for you…until you need me no longer. ------------- K’ang has a younger sister. A girl my age, who has always been one of the people I admire most- someone who knew exactly who she was, and what she could do. She reminded me of the determined person grandfather had once hoped I would become. Someone who depended on no one, and was always so definite in her actions. She did everything with no regrets, no second thoughts. …everything that is, until it involved me. If K’ang is someone who loves me more than anyone else… Li is someone who loves me more than she should. --------- The first time Le Han met Li…the other girl was surrounded by a group of admirers and friends. Li is usually always with someone, so Le Han never had the chance to talk to her much. On the rare occasions when they did speak, Li seemed distant and distracted…and Le Han was lost for words. They were awkward together, but they were still friends. It was hard not to be, when their parents knew each other, and Le Han was close friends with both her brother and her cousin. Still, they were silent friends- acknowledging the other’s presence but never saying much. Never spent time together. It was only until after Liang left that Le Han realized how much Li cared. When Liang went away, Le Han’s soul departed as well. She withdrew herself from the world, not caring to respond to anything around her. Each day was the same. Le Han would fulfill her daily tasks of school work and house chores…but most of what had made her who she is was gone. She could not laugh, could not cry, and spoke rarely- if ever at all. Nothing anyone did could pull her out of her haze. One day Li came to awaken her. She would never be able to recall what the other girl said…but in the end, she could remember finding tears upon her shirt. /I love him too. Liang was important to me, too./ Li’s eyes were red. ----------- The bond between them is an odd one. They don’t hang out. They don’t have fun together like most friends do. Sometimes even when they were together, Li and Le Han would both remain quiet- with each doing separate things, thinking separate thoughts. But it was a comfortable silence, and the initial awkwardness between them had passed. Li is an independent person, and is proud of herself for being so. She has many friends…yet trusts no one. Li is close to no one, and maybe… that was how they came to get along so well. In a way, Li and Le Han were both alone. Li draws back whenever she finds herself caring for someone too much, while Le Han tries to push the people she depends on away from her- less she become a hindrance to them. Yet it is hard to spend increasingly more and more time with someone and not grow closer to them. It is hard to be friends if you don’t worry for that person, if you don’t care for them…and Le Han was in a position where she couldn’t help but be dependent. The closer they became, however…the more uncomfortable Li was. She had never taken care of someone before- hadn’t worried for any of her friends nearly as much, because she had always kept her distance from them. But when she is with Le Han…sometimes it is hard- as a good person- to see someone so helpless and not do something. From time to time, as I reflect on the past, I would regret that Le Han wasn’t able to remain Li’s close friend. Maybe if she was stronger, she could show her what friendship truly meant. Maybe she could have done something for Li instead…and prove to her that it is okay to have trust in friends. To show her that it’s okay to care for someone, to love them more than yourself. But Le Han isn’t such a person. Le Han wasn’t in a position to deserve all of the love and care Li came to have for her. When the time came for Le Han to stop herself from being a burden to everyone before it is too late, she knew Li would never be able to promise to remain by her side. So she used that knowledge then…used that realization that Li loved her more than she deserves…more than Li was comfortable with. Le Han vanished. --------------- End. I am a hypocrite. On one end, I tell everyone to leave me. Then I cling to them like never before. I whine about how lonely I am, when in fact this loneliness is all my fault All my fault. Ne…Can you…save me? Can you save me from myself? Every time my heart aches I think…this is my punishment. A/N: I am sorry...for everything. |
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| pigtopus | Jan 28 2008, 10:12 AM Post #13 |
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Hi
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I REALLY WANT TO MAKE COMMENTS TO MAKE YOU HAPPY BUT THEN I'M SO AFRAID WHAT I SAY IS NOT THE TYPE THAT'LL MAKE YOU LAUGH. So... HEY THERE XD First time I commented here. I only know how to review with like a "OMG THIS IS FANTASTIC!". I don't know how to review nicely ): So forgive me? I'm deeply hurt that you said no one reads this D: Because I'm reading it despite having a test tomorrow. I'm just kidding about the hurt part though. I don't know you enough to act like a friend and I don't want to pretend like I know everything. So like, Can we be friends? I'm a fan of your writing if that helps O.O And and, if you did write that next chapter, just post it. I swear I will read it and won't find it horrible. I don't think that's possible anyway. Take care, bye ^^ |
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| Furu Kei | Mar 10 2008, 08:43 PM Post #14 |
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Middle Schooler
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A/N: I don't know what I'm doing...writing this but...ah...final chapter. pigtopus: Thank you for your kind and wonderful comments. Ah...I can't seem to keep coherent thoughts right now...but Furu promises, Furu will give a better reply (^-^ *still needs to PM you, too*) later. (^-^<33 Friend<3) Sixth- Finale: Death of Dreams Darkness. Infinite, limitless, never ending, countless, unbounded darkness. Is it that I cannot see…or do I wish not to see it? A flash of light, then nothingness. I am blind… Lost… Your name is the first word I learn…a newborn soul into the world. But when I realized, I am nothing you at all…can never be anything to anyone… I stopped caring… for everything. Don’t lie to me…your wishes for the future don’t have me in it. You don’t need me. Not at all. ---------- Little girl. Little Ni-Han-ii. Why are you smiling? Han-ii is happy today. Because I know they’re waiting for me. Don’t you see, don’t you see? That sky painted in soothing lavender, like the quilt that kept me warm as a toddler… And sleepy clouds are pillows. Don’t you see, don’t you see? Cover your eyes. The more you wish…the more painful it will be when that wish fails to come true. They’re waiting for me at sunset; we’d promised to watch the stars bloom together. Han-ii has to hurry! Skip, skip and a twirl~ Ehhh! I can see it already. That place promises me eternity. How can you be sure? Where they laugh like endless water, trickling down… Beckoning me. We’d talk together. Sing together. …and play that game they’d promised I would learn. We’d tell stories late into the night~ Oh how I’d wish the sun would set sooner! But the faster time flies, the faster things end, silly girl. And the rain would fall, of course… Sometimes we’d stumble as we danced. Sometimes we cried together. Yet we are there to support each other. Free umbrellas for all! (and a dab of KonoSetsu wouldn’t hurt) I’d lose a little sleep staying with them, but just a small wee bit~ Because every night is a sweet huggle dream, With their arms welcoming me to snuggle in. Foolish, foolish girl. Not trying to stop when it’s not too late I believe in friends and hopes. Such is the wonder of that place. (it’s like lovey land after all) Oh how deep our bond had become!! I trace it to the heavens and onwards Because flying is quite possible. A secret giggle. My heart is already soaring~ Do such things exist? I’m almost there, almost there! The chimes tell me it’s time Everyone, I’m here! I’m here! Lets play, I’m he- …-re Warned once, and you ignored it. ….where is everyone? Warned twice…and you said it’s okay. Where did everybody go? Warned thrice, and your love was too deep, you insist it’s too late Don’t leave me. Don’t leave Han-ii alone. Tell me, little girl…now why are you crying? I cry because I am sad. --------- There is a timeless place I often visit. When reality is too unbearable… And in that place, Everyone I love are with me again… Only then would I forget / “I was with-” / I’m happy …that everything is going well. / “I’d love to talk to you more, but I have to go” / But I miss you. -what happened to…“us”? / “Sure, but later, okay?” / …I miss you. I’m afraid that we’re drifting further apart. / “I don’t know why I’ve been so busy…see you later, maybe?”/ …I miss you. The thought destroys me. …I miss you. --------------- What does it mean…to be lonely? Is it the longing that I feel? The emptiness?… Is it the sadness in my eyes…as I watch people walk about, talking with each other? No. Much, much more than that. Loneliness is… A simple hello. A simple goodbye. There are no other words. The phone never rings anymore. And you already know that no one would be calling, but you find yourself checking it twice an hour, anyway…wondering if it’s broken. Sometimes the silence is so unbearable, that you go outside…walk aimlessly outside just to hear other people speak. Then at night, when everyone had gone home…when you have no other choice but to go back inside… …you try to distract yourself. Try to do anything, everything that is left to do. You do homework. You study all night long… Sometimes you need go online to do homework, and your computer just happens to sign on to the new messenger account you’ve created… You don’t know why, but you end up leaving it that way and don’t bother turning it off. Then whenever you think you hear a “ding”, you rush towards the screen, eyes dodging around, trying to see if someone had messaged you- only to find that you forgot to change the status from appearing offline. And even if you had changed it back, no one is online anyway…because you’ve already pushed them away, already hid from them. They don’t know you’re there, don’t know your new account…. It’s funny, sometimes… thinking of the foolish and helpless person I had become. It is what I’d asked for. To be wholly forgotten. To be left alone in my own misery. To stop burdening everyone for once. Why does it hurt so much? ------------- I’ve been asked why no one sees Le Han much anymore. / “Are you avoiding me again?”/ And I remain silent. Saying that it is nothing, nothing at all. Yes, I had been avoiding you for a while. But not this time. This time is…different. The truth is, this is how it should be. This is how often you would see her if Le Han had not forced it, had not been so hopelessly trying to go against the workings of time. Every time anyone sees Le Han, it is only because she had been waiting for them. Secretly waiting…always waiting at those places where she knows they would appear. …even when she was supposed to be somewhere else. Always there…always hoping she would be able to get a glimpse of those she loved… …though sometimes she doesn’t expect them to see her doing so. At one point, she realized…she should let go. It’s too late. I don’t have the strength to continue. If you happen to be there when I am there…then I’ll see you, ne? If not before the time comes…goodbye. Take care. I love you. -realized this, after hours and hours of waiting. Thoughts upon millions of thoughts, racing through her mind at once during those days. …the silence had been deafening. ---------- You tell me that I lied. That perhaps…I had not said everything needed to be said. And I don’t deny it. I over-use euphemisms, present everything through “rose colored windows”, or as shadows of their true form. I circumambulate, and do anything, everything… besides going straight to the point. But what is the point? What did you want to hear? What should I have said? You tell me my life is far from perfect. And the things that happen to me might be the cause of the emptiness and pain I feel. But I tell you that I’m happy with what I have; that perfection doesn’t exist…and what I have is nearest to it. The emptiness and pain are of my own doing. This is who I am. My name is Le Han. Le as in tears…and Han…Han as in frozen. Trapped. Captured within a point in time. I am nothing more than a simple person. Sometimes I believe that I am not only simple…I am useless. I have a pair of eyes that every so often sees nothing but black whenever blood fails to arrive to my brain. I have a pair of hands that shake every time I hold anything heavier than a pencil. And often…even the pencil proves to be too much, leaving my writing even more crooked and illegible then they usually are. I have a frail body that seems to lose weight every few weeks no matter how much I eat, whatever I do… I have a heart that loves to betray me. Have you ever experienced the loss of control of your body? You try to raise your hands…but it doesn’t move. You try to walk…but you end up a crawling mess on the floor. You try to think…but you end up forgetting everything, the medicine that you drink making your head spin… …it’s a frightening, painful feeling Because of this uselessness…I try not to ask for more than I deserve. I have a total of seven shirts and seven pairs of pants. One for each day. I have exactly one coat, one jacket, and one pair of shoes. The coat was the product of a lucky find during a rare sale…and the jacket was something my father had given me when it had shrunk too much for him to wear. The shoes took me two years to buy, after deciding that the holes in the sole of my former one were getting uncomfortable. I wash every thing on Saturday, then wear the exact same clothes again for classes in the next week. And the next…and the one after that… My possessions do not fill one-fourth of the space allotted to me in my dorm room. I have a roommate. A typical modern youth who enjoys shopping, whose hundreds of shirts and pants and dresses and shoes fill up both her closet- and mine. Sometimes she would tell me that she can’t find anything to wear. I would laugh, and reply I’ve never had that problem. You don’t have that trouble…if you can’t choose what to wear, after all. If I don’t wear it today, I would wear it tomorrow. Seven days a week. Seven articles of clothing. It’s a quick, and easy choice. Comfortable…because I know exactly how I look with them on. I have what mother would call “nicer-looking clothes”, too. A brownish, blackish colored dress…and some other random articles of clothing, all of which are kept in my mother’s closet at home…to wear on special days, she says. I don’t mind. As long as what I have for school is clean, and comfortable… And I’m not being deprived of anything, either. I just don’t …need anything. I have enough. My parents give me twenty five dollars each month. Every month, I would return it to them, and tell them I still have most of the original twenty five. I’ve never used it…except once or twice for a rare occasional milk tea that would cost me $2.14. More than anything, I would like to believe that I am a simple person. In my entire life, there are only three things I cannot live without. The ring Lang had given me, a thin bracelet my grandmother had sent me years and years ago…and a secret stash of letters, emails, and notes my loved ones had sent me. I carry them everywhere. I live on campus, in a university three hours drive away from home. Every week end, as I pack my books to go home my roommate would frown. “Why go home? You know, your mom holds you like a bird in a cage. You listen to everything she says…you waste time going home when you could have spent time hanging out here with me…you-” Again I would laugh. I tell her she won’t be able to find a mother who spends six hours driving every week- end just to see her daughter, either. Sometimes my roommate and I talk about her mom as well. “Yuck. Mom is so old fashioned. She told me to download some cheezy love songs for her today.” Puzzled, I would question why listening to “cheezy love songs” is “old fashioned”…or… “old school”. My roommate answers vaguely, mentioning something about it not being “in style” and that cheezy romances were just not popular anymore. I would shrug, and ask her to give me a copy. Maybe I would be able to listen to it with my own mom later… ----------- But what of the pain?- you remind me. What I am mentioning only strengthens how content I am in the life I am living. What of the depression? The anguish? What of the tears that remain frozen in my name? Clearly, there is something wrong. Nothing is wrong, I would repeat. Nothing. The only thing wrong is me. I am born to a very old, traditional family. A large family, with many, many great aunts and great uncles…thirty something aunts and uncles (seven of which I am close to, and many other who are my father’s step sisters or step brothers whom I have never met)…and lots of cousins and second cousins who are much, much older than me. I am the only child of the son of the eldest son of the eldest son. A position, they tell me… that means…something. I know nothing of that something, besides that I am one of the youngest, despite being closest to where they put the incense and the so-called “inner circle” every time we gather during festivals. I know nothing but the fact that I have been surrounded by adults all my life, when I should be sitting at the children’s table…where I’d secretly wanted to be. My aunts like to remind me of the days when the family house was the length of an entire portion of the main street in Saigon. When they had more than forty workers and servants, two cars and drivers who waited on them, and everywhere grandfather went, he was known as “The Tailor”. The man who sewed robes for the French Ambassador and before that…the former Vietnamese King. They would tell me how lucky I am to be the first to place the incense, and how I should be “Someone” fitting of what I was born to, how I should be better…and how I should have been born a boy. I would understand nothing of this. The “Tailor” they knew as the family pride…the man whom they respected and who’s death they remembered and celebrated each year was not the same man I had known. The Grandfather I had known was someone who had seen glorious days. But he was also someone who had seen his large shop close down as times changed…who never gave up when he had to move into a smaller shop, that later became an alterations shop. He was someone who later lost all his forty workers and hundred sewing machines…who worked alone at night to feed his youngest seven children after his wives died. He was someone who accepted that times had changed, and things are not as they once were. He was… someone who loved me. The someone who chose me to be close to him. The someone who taught me all he knew, who let me -as a child- eat with him when food was served according to seniority…the someone who chose me to hold his picture and burn incense for him when he died…all of this…despite me being more useless than any of my other cousins…despite me not being what everyone had hoped I would become. The man I had known never boasted of his past glories. The man I had known taught me to be proud of what I am…and showed me how great he is because of he himself- not because of what his past was. …and I only know what I have been, and always will be. I know I would always love my small four bedroom house in this lower-class neighborhood. I have never known of the mansion and the land in Vietnam they had told me, after all. And for all I know…it belongs to someone else now. I know that despite the traditions and memories they insist on keeping…my aunts, though born as “rich children” …I myself will forever accept as having been born into a poor family. My father is an employee who does hard work as a looper in an air conditioning company. He works from two pm to midnight every week day…and sometimes to two am…sometimes on week ends, too. Every time he comes home, his shirt would be colored white from sweat. We have enough money to eat…and not much more. Sometimes…it is hard to find money for my medication, and for my medical bills. My father is a hard worker. There is no reason for me not to be proud of that. The only thing that is wrong, is that I am born a disgrace. I should have done something to help him. I should get a job…or….or something. Do something… ---------- Father… When grandfather died, father became the person to teach me everything I needed to learn. Daddy is…perfect. As perfect a father as anyone can be. He’s good at everything. He knows everything. He loves me. He believes in me. Much, much more than they say he should, as the weak and useless girl that I am. They don’t understand that sometimes… Sometimes he forgets…that I am a girl. He believes in me too much, and overestimates what I can do. “You must learn to stand up proud and strong. You must never cry. You must let people know that they can lean on you, can depend on you.” Yes father… Yes. But sometimes…all I want is to be weak. All I want is to cry. All my life…my greatest regret is that I have never done anything worthy of daddy’s belief in me. For all that he has done for me…I have never done anything worthy of a “well done” from him. I probably will never hear it. --------- /Han. Han! Did you hear? Some of the ladies I went shopping with today were talking about you./ /They were asking me how I could raise you so well. And so I told them…I’d taken great care to pay attention to you since you were still a toddler. It’s what a good mother should do, isn’t it?/ Mom, you know that you’re the best, right? /What?…yes, of course. You know what? I finally got to show to them today. And they even asked me to teach them how to teach their own daughters to…/ …Mommy? /Yes?/ It hurts, mommy. I don’t want to grow up anymore. I’m…tired. /Rest, Han. Sleep. It’s okay. I’ll be okay./ …Goodnight. And mom? /Hmm?/ …Thank you. I don’t recall since when mom had stopped telling me fairy tales before I went to bed. We still spoke each night…yet the stories I hear now are all of real life. Long ago…when my cousins and I were very young…every night, mom would tell us a story before we went to bed. The fairy tales were all the same. A beautiful princess. A brave young prince who would rescue her. “Someday you’ll find that person, dear. Every girl wishes for a prince.” My cousins loved it. Who wouldn’t? Dreaming of a prince riding on dashing white horse is romantic, after all. I remember once…telling everyone in the most confident of voices… “But I don’t want a prince, mother…I just want someone who loves me. When I find my someone, it has to be someone who loves me more than anyone else in the world. And if I could find someone like that, I would love that person, too.” At times I find it ironic…because ever since I found my number One, I had done everything I could to keep that part of me sleeping deep, deep inside. I don’t need to be the person who is loved anymore. I want to be that person who loves… Sure, I want to be loved. I would be lying if I deny it. But the part of me that wants that love returned is beaten down by my more rational side. What could I have hoped in love…but more pain for those who love me? I tell myself you don’t need me. And maybe, really…you really don’t. So then I believe that you don’t need me. Carve it into my mind that it is so…insist it must be so… And each time, I shatter just a bit more. Yet as a part of me dies, little by little…I find myself feeling relieved. You don’t need me. You really don’t need me. After all…everything shows that it is so. On the day I leave…I want the tears that fall…to only be my own. You want me to say more about my number One. Describe that person, and how I feel about that person. I tried. I really did…but there is not much to say. My number One is the protagonist of the story. The main character, someone with an adventure waiting to take part, and wondrous life to live and succeed in. Somewhere along the tale…I found myself too tired to continue. So I settled down, and settled with the thought of watching that person from afar. Main characters should be paired with other main characters…to travel alongside them along the journey. I do not wish to delay that person by staying with me. Still, there are times when, unable to help myself… I try to rewrite the ending. …only to hastily erase it afterwards. Once…I had wanted…so wanted… …I wanted to be the first person you think of when you feel happy…when you want to tell someone of your happiness. I wanted to be the first person you think of when you feel sad…the first person you think of when you want to find someone to lean on. But what am I anyway? I should be forgotten. When I die, I want my heart to become a box of contact lenses. I want to show you the beauty in the world…and see it with you as it reflects in your eyes. I want to see happiness with you. And should you ever be sad…should tears ever fall from your eyes…I would embrace it, and your tears would seep through my heart…I’d help you take the pain away. …but even then, I would not be needed. Because no matter how much my contact-lenses-heart would try to be there for you… You use glasses. You would choose glasses. And someday…you would find that person who would be your glasses. There is a song that I’ve been listening to. A song that I listen to often…a song that I’ve heard many, many people sing before. When I realized that none of it matters as much as the fact that I want to sing it to you…that I want to sing it and tell you with my entire being…tell you I love you with those lyrics… I fell in love. But then I realized that it was not meant for me to sing. So I wrote other songs…dozens upon dozens of songs…dozen upon dozens of words… Only to find that I can’t sing that to you either. At least…not directly as me…as telling you that I mean it, that I love you. I just want my number One to be happy…with whoever they love. And I hope that person would let me continue to love them. ------------ The Le Han that I am is nothing but a failure. Le Han is a first year in college, classified as a junior because of all the credits she already has. She is taking seventeen hours…the maximum amount a first student is allowed to take. She takes honors courses, strictly science and math-related fields. She’s majoring in Biochem and pre-med…and for almost a half a year now, she’s been pretending that she would last long enough to graduate. She works hard to gets all A’s…as if she would do something with those degrees when she graduates. Sometimes when I tell people this, they ask me how she does it. What they don’t understand is that it is nothing to be proud of. It is despair. It is…not finding anything better in life to do. It is trying, desperately to keep busy to distract yourself from thoughts of giving up, of letting that darkness take over permanently. You would be able to do it too…if studying is all that you do all day and all night. If you don’t have anything to do but do homework… It is nothing but despair. The time that she has…and the way I can see her wasting it. ------------- My life is one cliché event after another. No different -if not exactly the same- as the soap operas I’d watched time and again. Too alike, and I find myself not liking the weak, irresolute soap opera-ish person I had become. Le Han talks too much…speaking of ideals and kindness and good deeds…when she had done nothing herself, when selfishness is covering her eyes…and she can’t see anything beyond it, can’t see anything beyond whatever it is that is troubling her. I want to be a good friend. A good daughter. A good person… I say that…but it seems…I haven’t been able to do any of that, have I? -------- /Hey, Han. If you had more time…if you had the chance…what would you want to be? And I’m not saying something that you think is possible. I want you to tell me something impossible. Something you believe will never happen./ I want to travel the world for a year or so… Then I want to settle down. I want to open a bakery. Or maybe a milk tea shop…I don’t know why, but I always feel so happy when I enter those places. There’s just something about those places…that makes you smile whenever you enter it to buy cakes…or milk tea… Ehh…cakes and milk tea are always for happy occasions, ne? It always smells so nice, too. /But don’t you think it’s a waste? You could be a doctor, or…something/ I don’t need that much money. I just hope to make enough for mom and dad to be able to retire…enough for mom to spend whenever she wants to go shopping. I want an easy life… And bakeries and milk tea shops always close at seven, ne? I’ll have enough time to go home, and cook dinner for everyone I love. …Everyone. Mom, dad…my number One…Ka…Li…all my friends… In a world where even Lang is still there. Even grandfather… …even if all of it is just a dream. Even if it is impossible. There is a little girl living in the corners of my heart. A more hopeful, more wishful part of me that appears only when darkness surrounds me….and I fall into a deep sleep. Every so often…that little girl would tell me to close my eyes, and dream. Maybe one day…I would enter that world that could have been…maybe one day…the people I love would be able to paint the extra pages of my life in color…and I would stop seeing the lines that are only black and white. ------------ End. This isn’t even an ending, isn’t it? There is too much to say…too much for Le Han to express. And I know I promised I would say more. Describe more of those I love… -of my other friends…more of my One… …more of everything. But the more I love someone…the less I have to say. Nothing I say will properly describe it. All I can say is…goodbye. Goodbye…until that book opens again. If you truly want to find me…I’m always there, at that place…lost in those memories I'm sorry for the trouble I've caused. Goodbye, ne? Until we meet again. |
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| pigtopus | Mar 11 2008, 03:14 AM Post #15 |
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Hi
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Everything you write is so real. Maybe I've experienced some of it. I think Le Han should just give whatever she has to give and not expect too much of herself. I hope the book opens again. |
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Awesome. I can't really come up with anything but "that's the best thing I've read for a while that WASN'T insane".



7:21 PM Jul 10