Butterflyinthewell, Hello Friend, I Hope You Get This. This Is My 3rd Attempt Trying To Post This, But

When you have nothing left to give, you let them suck you dry; mind, body, and soul.

I'm sorry...

Dear Mom and Dad,

I'm sorry I never appreciated you while I was growing up.  I'm sorry that I didn't see the sacrifices that you made for me, as Asian immigrants.  I hated you when you would embarrass me in front of my friends or in public when you'd speak to me in Chinese. 

I hated that I was Chinese at one point in my life, and I'm so sorry for that, I'm deeply shamed by that now.  I was embarrassed by my heritage, and all I wanted was a normal life as a white American.  I wanted that so much that I prayed for it.  I hated my eyes, my skin color, and my general look of not looking Anglo Saxon American. 

I'm sorry that for that one year, I acted white, like I didn't understand Chinese, or refused to eat anything Asian.  I'm sorry I made you worry.  I'm sorry for myself, because for that one year, I could've learned so much. 

Growing up, I deeply resented you two to my bone.  You two worked so hard, accomplished so much, but it fell on blind eyes, and deaf ears.  You two were never home, and it was up to my brother to take care of me, which he used to resent me for as well.  I loved him so much, and he never really returned that love.  It must've felt like that for you too. 

I'm sorry that I don't trust you two, enough to share this with you.  That you won't really understand what I'm saying, or out right deny everything I'm sharing.  I'm sorry that you'll never know.

I'm sorry for everything that I've said that made you feel anything other than happiness, and I'm sorry for what I'll say to you in the future that make you feel anything other than happiness.  Such is the way of life, and not everybody is meant to die happy.

Seasons change, and friends move away, and life goes on from day to day, but I do know for a fact, that I love the both of you so much, so much that I'd rather die than see you both in a grave.  I want to thank you, and apologize for being so difficult at times, but I know, also for a fact, that your love is boundless, and beyond the farthest star.

Love

Wei Shing

Our waiter said...

to me and my fiancé, who is blind in one eye, and partially blind in the other eye, as he saw me leading my man to the table.  My man was holding onto my elbow, which FYI, is a good way to lead blind people because then they can feel every movement you make a couple seconds before they have to make the same movement, ie, steps.

Waiter:  Oh, it's so nice of you to lead him.  You're a good person. Me:  This is my fiancé. Waiter:  Oh, I thought you were helping him. Me:  I am, because he can't see that well. (I look over at my man, and he has this smile on his face, as if to say, "this guy,") Waiter:  I guess you only need one menu then. Me: Yep, one menu would be great, but he already knows what he wants, like usual. (My man is a creature of habit) Waiter:  Where are you from? Me:  I'm from Columbus, Ohio. Waiter:  No, where are you really from? Me:  Well, I was born in New York Waiter:  No, no, where are you really from?  Are you American? Me:  (sigh)  I'm Chinese American Waiter:  So you're from China. Me:  (I look over at my man, and he's trying so hard not to laugh)  No, but my parents are.  (Before our waiter can ask)  Yes, I speak Chinese. Waiter:  Good, good, enjoy your dinner. My man:  Well, that was awkward Me:  the most awful 3 minute conversation ever. ~~~~~

I know that some people don't know better, but from the way that the waiter was speaking was like he couldn't believe my man wasn't retarded and eating from a straw the way he looked at him with pity.  Please, though my man may be legally blind, he is so much more aware than me. He protects me, he makes me walk away from traffic, so if a car comes barreling over, it'll hit him before it hits me.  He helps teach a woman's self defense class at OSU. 

He allows women to pepper spray, punch, and kick him, and doesn't mind when the women giggle as he writhes in pain.  He'd rather he get hurt than them.  He also carries a gun on him, wherever the law allows him.  He teaches Conceal and Carry classes. 

He's very skilled at shooting, and that's where he met many of his friends.  They are extremely loyal and great towards him.  They trust him, and vice versa.  Yes, he is legally blind, but he also has sight.  It's all very confusing, and it's a story for another time. 

It just really bothers me when people take one look at him, and that look of fear or pity show up.  I don't think I'll ever get used to it.  Eventually I will, but not now.

Our love making was great tonight.

Destination: Self loathing

It's easy to lose yourself in isolation. With no one to keep you company but the weight of all you've done and the proof of it in front of you as a constant reminder as you look in the mirror. But everything must go back to normal, or as normal as possible as you gather yourself to face the day. You may be screaming on the inside, but on the outside, you have to be alive and not grimace as you smile. I read somewhere, that if you smile, or make any kind of facial expression for 10 minutes or so, you'll become happy, or become sad. I don't know if I believe that or not, I don't want to try, but I do know that you'll become anything if you will it enough. It's easy to hide, it's easy to mask yourself, it's each to blend in if that's what you want to do, and it's okay. There's no written law that says, "War is peace. Freedom is slavery. Ignorance is strength." Unless, this is George Orwell's 1984, and if it is, we should all kill ourselves. Destination: Self loathing, but maybe with a few sunny days ahead. Self isolation isn't always fun.

A lovely butterfly.

He asked, "are you satisfied yet?" "More," she whispered.

He asked, "Are you ok?"

She trembled when he heard his voice, she wasn't expecting him, and she jumped when she heard his voice.  It was all just too much.  This pain, this fear, this uncertainty of it all.  Was she sane?  She didn't know.  Broken, perhaps?  Perhaps.

"Are you hurt," he asked from behind her.

With tears threatening to fall, she straightens her back as much as possible, so as not to slouch where she stood. 

"I'm not," she whimpered, hating that she sounded so vulnerable. She took a long and uneven breath, and shook her head.  This was difficult.  "I just, time....I need some time.  I just need a little time."

"It's alright," he said, placing a strong hand on her shoulder.  "I'm right here."

A few moments go by, and she hears the blood rushing through her body, and she looks to the ceiling, unable to speak, but wondering, if giving up would make her existence go by smoother, as she felt the weight of his hand on her shoulder.

Dear Genevieve

I want you to know that you’re on my mind.  You are loved, cared about, worried about, and cried over.  I want you.  I need you.  I desire you.

You are not even a being that I can hold in my arms, and I ache for you.  I ache for you because I want to be your mother.  The ache in my heart for you may not be enough to make you real, and that breaks my heart.

You need to know that I’m fighting for you, my love.  I’m fighting so hard that I feel this tightness of urgency.  I want you to be real, but I realize that I can’t force you into being of this world.  Your father is scared, and I don’t know how to comfort him.  I don’t know how to protect him from his valid fears.

Know that you are wanted, but fears can push you back and make you evaluate what you want for your future.  I want you so damn much that I’m forgetting your father has feelings, and I need to respect them.  I want him to want you like I want you.

I’m praying to God that if you are to be real, then to please put the desire of you in his heart.  Or if you are not to be, then take the desire from mine.

You will always be wanted, you will always be loved, you will always be on my mind.

Mom

Bringing my halo to the party.