Reverie

There are days when I don't want to be here. Eyes shut, I instead wander in the dreamworld, where the libraries always have the books I want, where high school drama is the only topic of discussion at school, where the people I wish I knew talked to me as if we had always been good friends, where the weather is never too hot or too cold, where we sip from iced goblets adorned with hibiscus blossoms and dine on crepes florentines and parfait aux framboise, where cats never run away from me when I try to pet them, where the clothes I want to wear always fit like a glove, where nothing -- and yet everything -- has changed between you and me.

Adieu

michael jackson wasn't really part of my generation. by the time i had first heard of him, he was already getting bad press from the media for his plastic surgery and his molestation charges.

it's weird. when heath ledger died, i wasn't really affected. i hadn't watched any of his movies, and so all i felt was irritation at those who claimed he had been punished for portraying a gay man in Brokeback Mountain. when i found out that farrah fawcett had died this morning, i didn't have much of a reaction -- she was before my time as well.

with the case of michael jackson, however, it's a little shocking to me. he is so ingrained in pop culture that i find it hard to grasp that he is dead. i think about eminem's jabs at him in Just Lose It, the countless jokes in which he's the butt of the joke, the "Wild Michael Jackson Appeared" video on Youtube... and i feel ashamed of how much i have laughed at his expense.

yes, he was strange. but it's not hard to see how he turned out that way.

Loneliness

It's one of those nights when Psyche can't seem to sleep.

The streetlamps are lit outside -- little puffs of light like little vigilant fairies standing guard all in a row. The air is warm, still flushed from summer's daily showers of affection. Across the street, the sighing cello of Piazzolla's Libertango announces its lovesickness to the world from the window of the second-story bedroom.

I don't mind standing every day
Out on your corner in the pouring rain

Psyche closes her eyes, listening to the breeze rustle the billowing curtains. It isn't because it's too hot to sleep, she realizes. It is the absence of warmth beside her that induces this wretched insomnia.

Look for the girl with the broken smile
Ask her if she wants to stay awhile

Psyche doesn't believe in miracles. But she'll leave the window open for Eros a little while longer.

On Driving

Here's a secret: I don't like driving. I always feel like I'm about to get into a car accident, and pretty much every time I go out for a drive, I either piss someone off or end up being pissed off at someone else.

So I was driving my brother home one fine day, when this idiotic car cut in front of me and barely avoided getting rear-ended. Naturally, I started uttering some very beautiful words.

I can't count how many times I wished I could chuck a red shell or poop out a banana peel from the back of my car.

Disney Princes

Continuing with this recent Disney theme of mine, it occurred to me the other day that I have never been attracted to any of the Disney princes. It's not as if I'm one of those people who think finding fictional characters attractive is just plain weird -- I assure you, I am just insane as every other teenage girl (excluding the Edward Cullen fans, who must be of an entirely different human subspecies doomed to extinction because they will never find mates who meet their expectations). I've wished that Gilbert Blythe of Anne of Green Gables lived in my neighborhood, and I was depressed when Ren Honjo of Nana died in a car accident. Call me weird, but at least I don't call myself Mrs. Cullen or do stuff like this on Youtube:



So why am I not attracted to any of these dashing defenders of chivalry? Let's analyze each of the Disney Princes to find out. And just to keep things simple, I'm sticking with humans and legitimate royalty (sorry Shang -- I don't care what Disney says. Mulan is not a princess).

(Inspired by this very interesting article, but with my own brand of sarcastic/cynical commentary: http://www.retrojunk.com/details_articles/2397/)

Prince Charming #1

Does anyone else think he needs a rhinoplasty?

Pros: I've already ranted on and on about this guy in my last post. The only positive thing I can say is, if you like a man of mystery, this is your guy -- because we learn absolutely nothing about this guy during all 83 minutes of the movie.

Cons: Refer to the previous post for a very thorough thrashing.

Relationship with women: This guy has serious mental issues. He meets a beautiful scullery maid, sings to her for about a minute, and then disappears for the next 70 minutes until he conveniently stumbles across the girl lying in a glass coffin months later and kisses her "corpse." And plus, has anyone noticed how open-ended the ending is? The only that suggests that he weds Snow White is the rosy picture of the castle in the background as they make their way towards the sunset. For all we know, he could have taken her off to some distant cave and do what mammals in heat do on the Discovery Channel.

Companions: The stereotypical white horse. Just as nameless and boring as its master.

Final Verdict: This is the most boring man of mystery I have ever come across, not to mention that he seriously needs to see a psychiatrist. Pronto.

Prince Charming #2
With a name like Charming, he's certainly got a lot of expectations to live up to.

Pros: This is the guy who makes sure he gets what he wants. What do you do when the girl of your dreams runs away from you and leaves only a shoe behind? You send the duke to go door-to-door and try the shoe onto every single lady in the kingdom! Duh!

Cons: It's certainly telling how despite the fact that he is a prince and his name is Charming, they still had to hold a ball so that he could meet some ladies. Can't say this guy is much better than his predecessor, in terms of actual lines in the movie or how much we actually know about him. I don't consider singing a duet called "So This is Love" an actual conversation, thank you very much.

Relationship with Women: Clearly this is not a guy who pays attention to details. If I just met the girl of my dreams and she seems to enjoy my company as well, wouldn't it make sense to take the time to ask, "Hey, babe. What's yo name?" And what about his grand plan to find the girl? Did he ever stop to think that there might be other women in the kingdom who had the same shoe size? No. Or maybe he did, but just couldn't be bothered -- much in the same way he couldn't be bothered to look for the girl himself and sent someone else out to do the dirty (and smelly) work.

Companions: None. No white horse, no cute animal friend, nothing. Ah, so it turns out we have a loner antisocial prince who has no friends and can't meet any girls. Parents, this is why you have to choose your kid's name carefully, or else you may completely obliterate his self-esteem.

Final Verdict: Anyone notice how similar how the two above pictures are? That's a telling hint of my opinion on this chump.

Prince Phillip

... and that's 99 reasons why we should get it on -- now!

Good sir, what are you doing with your other hand?

Pros: Lucky guy. Betrothed when he was only eight years old, he didn't have to dive into the mucky dating pool or worry about whether he'd die a lonely, old, heirless king. Thus, he could devote his time to learning the art of conversation and actually hold a decent conversation with his lady love during the course of the movie. And when have you ever met a guy with such decisiveness? He's ready to end a sixteen-year-old engagement to the girl next door after singing and dancing with peasant girl for just a few minutes. Not to mention, this guy only needed a mere five minutes to slash his way through the forest of thorns, fend off Maleficent's attacks with his fire-retardant shield, and chuck his sword straight into Maleficent's heart. Now this is a man of action.

Cons: "But don't you remember? Why, we've met before: once upon a dream." Such a cringe-worthy pick-up line makes me wonder if we really need Disney princes who talk.

Relationship with Women: Finally! The first prince that actually does something besides sit pretty on his horse (not to mention, the first prince with a normal name)! This is the guy who will immediately end his relationship with the "other woman" just so he can pursue an honest relationship, the guy who will literally leap across chasms just for you.

Companions: Sampson is no ordinary white horse. This noble steed leaps across broken bridges, slides down cliffs, barrels toward a forest of thorns, dashes through green fire, and yet has to be bribed so that his master can go chase after a girl. Even a horse does more than either of the Prince Charmings ever will.

Final Verdict: Because he's technically known his bride for sixteen years, Phillip is off the hook for his hasty courtship.

Prince Eric

It certainly takes a lot just for Eric to "get in the mood."

Pros: If you like the casual type of guy, this is your man. The only time when he looks remotely princely is when he's getting married. The rest of the time, he's romping around with his dog and tormenting his creaky old advisor. And if you're the sea-loving type of person, this is the guy who never seems to get off his ship, despite how close he is to the shore. (Why the heck is he sailing all the time anyway? Doesn't he have more princely duties to be doing? Like going into the forest and looking for damsels in distress to sing duets with?)

Cons: What in the world did he see in Vanessa/Ursula? Whereas Ariel never fails to look cute and perky, Vanessa's eyebrows seem to be tattooed in a V shape. "OMFG she's got the same voice as the girl who saved me lyfe!!" That's definitely not a good reason to get married.

Relationship with Women: Think about it. He has to be serenaded by a bunch of fish, bugs, birds, and a hermit crab just to feel like kissing a girl? Which didn't work anyway... but he didn't even bother to try again? This man has no initiative... either that, or he's gay.

Companions: Max the scruffy sheepdog, an advisor who looks like he's about to kick the bucket, a crew of merry men, and the most psychotic chef in history. Period.

Final Verdict: This is definitely not your typical prince -- who else would forgo a sword and simply stab the villain with the prow of his ship?

Prince Adam (aka the Beast)

ME LIKE PRETTY THINGS!

It's kind of sad how he looked better when he resembled the Minotaur.

Pros: This is the first Disney prince who fits under the whole badass-jerk-with-a-heart-of-gold label you see so often in fictionpress stories. What other prince can fend off a pack of wolves with his bare hands? What other prince has a voice as deep and luscious as the Beast's? What other prince could fight off a champion hunter barehanded and would still show mercy on the villain who nearly killed him (nevermind that the idiot demonstrated his gratefulness by backstabbing him -- literally)?

Cons: Picture this. You've just broken the spell on your true love. He's suddenly floating in the air and glowing like Edward Cullen in the Sahara Desert. You avert your eyes from the brilliance, and then TA-DA! Your prince looks even uglier in his human form! You see, my friends -- this is the enchantress' true test. How long will you stay married to a guy with an effeminate soprano voice -- even though his deep, resonating beastly voice was much of the reason why you fell in love with him in the first place?

Relationship with Women: Okay, so he wasn't exactly a ladies' man at the beginning. He forces you to live in his palace for the rest of your life, and yet you can't go to the West Wing. He throws a temper tantrum and throws furniture at you when all you wanted to do was touch a silly old rose. Fortunately, his manners certainly improve. He knows how to pick out the perfect present and is willing to make changes -- just for you. Not bad, huh?

Companions: Magical diningware and appliances make things so much more interesting at dinnertime. Speaking of which, did anyone notice that Belle barely ate anything in that whole "Be Our Guest" sequence? All the food dances away before she even has time to take a bite.

Final Verdict: Everything the Beast had going for him went down the drain the instant he tossed back his wavy mane of hair to reveal his human self.

Aladdin
Daddy, can I keep him? PLEASEEEEEE?

Pros: Not only is this guy able to outsmart and outrun the entire Agrabah police squad (what I don't understand is why they sent so many men after a thief who had only stolen a measly loaf of bread), he ends up giving it away to a hungry pair of children. Not to mention, this is the first Disney prince without a drop of royal blood in his veins, AND he defeated the villain by outsmarting him, unlike the Prince Charmings who did nothing yet claimed all the credit and Prince Phillip and Prince Adam, who both resorted to violence. Oh, did I mention that he actually sings a song that isn't a duet?

Cons: Physically, he's probably the youngest and least manly-looking guy out of the bunch.

Relationship with Women: What do you do when the one you've fallen at first sight for is a billion rungs higher up the social ladder than you? Naturally, the first thing you do is save her from the angry shopkeeper, help her evade the police squad, and take her back to your hideout where you offer her an apple you've stolen. Aladdin is certainly a charming fellow -- when he's not trying to pretend he's some rich, arrogant son of a sultan.

Companions: A annoying, greedy monkey with a matching cap, a magic carpet with a personality, and of course, a hilarious genie voiced by Robin Williams. Automatically add 100 points.

Final Verdict: Finally! A prince with a brain!

Yawnnnn... and so, to conclude this very strange post, here are four slightly unnerving but nevertheless interesting pictures from the Disney Heroes gallery drawn by David Kawena. I would have liked to include all six of the featured princes, but as you already know, the Prince Charmings are so incredibly useless that David Kawena didn't even bother including them in his Disney Heroes collection.

Prince Phillip

Prince Eric

Prince Adam

Aladdin

As you may notice, the pictures get progressively more... uh... eyecatching as you move down the list. Visit his deviantart gallery if you're curious about the other portraits.

And yes, I feel slightly dirty when I look at the last two pictures. Geez, David Kawena... why did you have to draw it so... flamboyantly??

Anyways. So in conclusion, who is my favorite Disney Prince?

You called me for me, oh wise authoress?

This guy cracks me up. Especially the scene when he gets run over by bikers while he's singing.

The Case Against Snow White

... or maybe I do know.


Can anyone guess why I have a problem with Snow White and the Seven Dwarves?

I am under the impression that almost everyone is familiar with the Disney versions of fairytales and almost nobody is familiar with the original versions written by the Brothers Grimm and Hans Christian Andersen. Very few people are aware that the original Little Mermaid actually dies because she loves the prince too much to kill him; likewise, very few people know that in the original version of Snow White, the girl is only seven years old when her jealous stepmother orders to have her killed.

I mean, really? Hello, she's the effing queen! Why in the world would she be jealous of a seven-year-old?

Of course, Disney could not have their Snow White be a seven-year-old, because the idea of a grown prince whisking a little girl off into the sunset has all sorts of pedophilic implications. So while Disney gave her the body of a seventeen-year-old (though as you can see, she doesn't have much of a rack), her brain remained at the level of a seven-year-old.

So anyways, the film begins with the Queen, aka Vanity Incarnate, with her magic mirror. For a woman who cares so much about being the fairest one of all, she certainly doesn't dress like she cares. You would think she'd show a little more skin and dress a little sexier, so then maybe that nonexistent King and husband of hers would actually show up in the movie for even a second.

But I digress.

We all know what happens. The magic mirror tells the Queen, "Yes dear, you are getting old and now your stepdaughter is way hotter than you." And of course, the Queen is in denial and refuses to accept the fact that everybody grows old.

Then the scene cuts over to Snow White, dressed in rags and scrubbing the palace steps -- never mind that she looks like she hasn't worked a day in her life. As she refills her bucket in the well, she starts singing a rather repetitive song about how she's wishing for the one she loves to find her. Lo and behold, guess who shows up with the most perfect timing? By golly, it must be an authentic wishing well after all!


No, James Marsden is not Snow White's prince. As you can see, Prince Charming shows up a grand total of two times in the movie -- all he does is serenade Snow White for about a minute and then does his princely duty of kissing a sleeping girl -- which means I could not find a single picture of only Prince Charming on Google or Yahoo. Instead, a bunch of pictures of James Marsden popped up as an image result -- thus, I have chosen this fine picture instead. Very princely indeed.

Now, I really have a problem with this prince. For starters, what do we really know about this chump? Firstly, how do we even know he's a prince? Oh, okay -- the textual interlude tells us he's a prince. But how would Snow White know? All he does is sing an equally repetitive song:

One Song
I have but one song
One song
Only for you

One heart
Tenderly beating
Ever entreating
Constant and true

One love
That has possessed me
One love
Thrilling me through

One song
My heart keeps singing
Of one love
Only for you

I don't know, Prince Charming. It sounds to me as if you're trying to convince yourself that monogamy is the right way to go.

And that's it. We never learn his name, his zodiac sign, his kingdom, what kind of music he listens to, nothing. All we know is that this guy has a white horse and a deep baritone voice. And of course, Snow White falls head over heels for him in an instant -- but all she does is hide behind the window curtain and giggle.

Meanwhile, the Queen orders Humbert the huntsman (no joke! Wikipedia knows all) to murder Snow White and bring back her heart in a jewelry box.

Look! Even Humbert has a picture, unlike that silly prince!

Humbert must be the only decent human being in this story. The king is nonexistent and has no control over his psycho cannibal wife; the wife is a deranged female Narcissus; Snow White is a child trapped in a woman's body; the prince is a creeper. Leave it to Humbert to take pity on Snow White and tell her to run away. The Queen, unbeknown to her, dines on a pig heart for dinner instead.

I have to admit, I'm getting a little tired of summarizing this fairytale. So instead let's just skip the scary scene when Snow White runs into the forest, and let's cut straight to the dwarves.

Last summer, for my Writing class at Stanford, I researched fairytales and wrote my final paper on the discrepancies between the original fairytales and their Disney counterparts. There have been plenty of sexual interpretations in regards to the relationship between Snow White and the seven dwarves -- for instance, the ambiguous nature of Snow White's relationship with the dwarves is symbolic of her maturation and gradual sexual awakening -- but this isn't a scholarly post, so I don't feel the need to delve into all that juicy critical analysis. Feel free to look up that stuff yourself.

I've got nothing against the dwarves. All seven of them combined pretty much is the equivalent of the affectionate elderly grandfather who is an ex-Doc, sometimes grumpy, sometimes happy, sneezy, bashful, sleepy, and when old age kicks in, a little bit dopey. And I'm not sick enough to venture into all those perverted Snow White/seven dwarves jokes, so let's just move on, shall we?

Meanwhile, the Vanity Incarnate is spending time in front of her mirror again, and to her great surprise, she is not the fairest one of all, for Snow White is alive and well inside the dwarves' cottage! Instead of rationalizing reasonably with herself, "Hey, now that Snow White lives in the middle of the wilderness, no one will ever see her! She's as good as dead!" -- the Queen decides that her only option is to drink a potion that turns her into an ugly witch in order to trick Snow White into eating a poisonous apple.


Um... weren't you just obsessing over being the fairest one of all? Why would you purposely make yourself ugly and creepy looking? Everyone knows if you really want a teenage girl to eat an apple, you change yourself into this:

Anyways, clearly the Queen has no brains. So the ugly witch travels down to the cottage to visit her lovely stepdaughter. Snow White, who clearly has no brains either, welcomes the witch into the cottage and totally believes the witch's spiel about her magic "wishing apple." This girl would totally be clicking ads all over the Internet if she lived in today's world. And so, Snow White takes a bite and collapses, cueing all the storm clouds to suddenly hover over the forest and cause a thunderstorm.

Meanwhile, the dwarves have been alerted by the animals of the Queen's menancing advances towards Snow White, and the final showdown begins. Once again, we are shown that Snow White was not born with a brain, because the dwarves, who have never even met her stepmother before, instantly realize that the nasty old lady is the Queen. And so they chase the old hag up a cliff; the witch comes up with a clever plan about mowing down the dwarves with a boulder and starts cackling her head off when a lightning bolt strikes the edge of the cliff, causing the witch to tumble to her demise.

The dwarves, who cannot bear to bury Snow White, decide to keep her in a glass coffin where she will obviously still look very beautiful as she decomposes. Of course, this doesn't occur to the dwarves, and they don't suspect anything when Snow White continues to look exactly the same for two seasons and no foul odors begin to stink up the forest.

And then, guess who pops up for the second time in the movie?

Yum. And so the necrophiliac Prince returns on his white horse. Naturally, he walks over to the coffin and kisses the girl who has supposedly been dead for months, and then he bows his head in a gesture of grief.

But lo and behold, it is a magic wishing apple after all! Snow White flutters her eyelashes and awakes. Without a word, the prince picks up his new prize and, with the blessings of the animals and the dwarves, carries her off into the sunset on his white horse. And of course, they live happily ever after, and little girls everywhere begin to believe that being a damsel in distress is the right way to go.

Which I find incredibly misguided. Firstly, the Prince is hardly a hero in this story. You know who's the hero here? The thunderbolt that hit the cliff and indirectly killed the Queen. Score for Mother Nature. The dwarves set a bad example to parents who leave their children at home unattended, and I would hardly call kissing a girl while she's sleeping a heroic act.

Alright, I'm sure some people who love this story are probably pissed and accusing me of taking fairytales too seriously. But I do give credit where it's due, and I give credit to Snow White and the Seven Dwarves for being the first animated feature film from Disney and for paving the way to much better movies like Beauty and the Beast.

And now, I should REALLY get back to work.

Stupid Girls

All my good friends are off camping right now. I figured it would be the best time to embarass them by posting funny videos of them on Facebook, but I'm too nice for my own good.

So what have I been up to these days? I have never felt this relaxed in my life. For awhile, I was making movie posters with photos of my friends on Photoshop. I made six posters before I lost interest -- G is the only person I can show all of the posters without risking my life, and since she is off in the wilderness...

I've been writing EP, for the first time in six months. Chapter 16 is two-thirds done, but I'm not very happy with those two-thirds. I took a break yesterday from EP to finally start working on my lesson plan. For those of you who don't know yet, I am flying to the motherland on June 30 to teach English to children there for a month. So far, it has actually been sort of fun writing the lesson plan, to my great surprise. I aspire to be like my idol, the great French teacher Mme. M, and so I started looking up music videos that would be appropriate for 4th to 5th graders who have only learned English for 2-3 years.

Naturally, I got sidetracked and started watching Disney videos on Youtube. Below is a video that kicks ass:

Stupid Girls by P!nk
Stupid girl, stupid girls, stupid girls
Maybe if I act like that, that guy will call me back
Porno Paparazzi girl, I don't wanna be a stupid girl

Go to Fred Segal, you'll find them there
Laughing loud so all the little people stare
Looking for a daddy to pay for the champagne
(Drop a name)
What happened to the dreams of a girl president
She's dancing in the video next to 50 Cent
They travel in packs of two or three
With their itsy bitsy doggies and their teeny-weeny tees
Where, oh where, have the smart people gone?
Oh where, oh where could they be?

Maybe if I act like that, that guy will call me back
Porno Paparazzi girl, I don't wanna be a stupid girl
Baby if I act like that, flipping my blond hair back
Push up my bra like that, I don't wanna be a stupid girl

(Break it down now)
Disease's growing, it's epidemic
I'm scared that there ain't a cure
The world believes it and I'm going crazy
I cannot take any more
I'm so glad that I'll never fit in
That will never be me
Outcasts and girls with ambition
That's what I wanna see
Disasters all around
World despaired
Their only concern
Will they fuck up my hair!

Maybe if I act like that, that guy will call me back
Porno Paparazzi girl, I don't wanna be a stupid girl
Baby if I act like that, flipping my blond hair back
Push up my bra like that, I don't wanna be a stupid girl

[Interlude]
Oh my god you guys, I totally had more than 300 calories
That was so not sexy, no
Good one, can I borrow that?
[Vomits]
I WILL BE SKINNY

(Do ya thing, do ya thing, do ya thing)
(I like this, like this, like this)
Pretty will you fuck me girl, silly as a lucky girl
Pull my head and suck it girl, stupid girl!
Pretty would you fuck me girl, silly as a lucky girl
Pull my head and suck it girl, stupid girl!

Baby if I act like that, flipping my blond hair back
Push up my bra like that, stupid girl!

Maybe if I act like that, that guy will call me back
Porno Paparazzi girl, I don't wanna be a stupid girl
Baby if I act like that, flipping my blond hair back
Push up my bra like that, I don't wanna be a stupid girl

For some reason, I am very fond of fairytales, despite the fact that I hate weak damsels in distress. I decided to watch my favorite Disney movie last night: Beauty and the Beast. I'd have to say, my favorite Disney heroines are probably Belle, Megara, and Mulan. Girls like Snow White are just so... I don't know.

Liminality

As you may have noticed, my updates on this blog have been more sparse than usual.

I don't know why. I'm a little confused about myself at the moment. It is really complicated.

Let's put it this way. Does it make sense for somebody to talk about personal things on a website where anybody can read it? Does it make sense for a person to not say anything to friends and family when something is bothering her, and instead she vomits it cryptically all over the Internet?

I graduated from high school three days ago, and already it feels like it's been three years. I have no sense of purpose. Sometime in the past year, I lost everything. I lost my work ethic and my well-roundedness -- two things I once prided myself in. I don't write, I don't play piano, I don't play tennis. I sit in front of the computer all day doing nothing.

I don't know why I am avoiding everything either. I'm not sure if I'm burned out -- because that wouldn't explain why I avoid writing now. I haven't been blogging because for the first time in a long time, I am at a loss for words. When I used to write on this blog, I'd write because I would feel something. Whether it was despair or hope, there was something there that made me feel alive. And now, I feel like the life has been extinguished from me. I don't feel sadness or even anger. I just feel empty.

I've been thinking about this for the last few days now. I've come to the conclusion that the only way I can find myself again is if I force myself to sit down and write. Write anything. I don't even care if it's a stupid children's book about cute bunnies and puppies. I need to do something productive so I don't feel like a dormant sack of hydrocarbons.

Therefore, it may be a while before I return to this blog. I will post at least once before I leave for the motherland in July, but I don't expect to post semi-daily like I used to. There is too much weight in this blog. I don't want to forget, but I need to learn how to forgive myself for what I've done.

έρωτα και τον θάνατο

Pardonnez mon morbidité, mais c'est un peu comme mourir.

You can see the cards before you. You know how it ends, and yet you fear it.

Let me tell you about the five stages of grief. First, you deny it. Your mind is wrapped in its own fantasies, your thoughts wander in an alternate universe, an existentialist Eden with only you and me, the modern-day Adam and Eve. Your eyelashes are the stitches dotted across your skin. You cannot see. Cupid is blind -- but then again, so is Justice.

Next, you hate it. You feel that burning flare shooting up inside your chest when you hear the news and realize that Eden is burning. You don't live in a garden, my darling -- you're living in hell. You've tricked your poor little mind into thinking you can live in this wisp of a dream, when in reality, this fantasy of yours has been doomed from the start. Because sooner or later, everything ends.

Then, you bargain. You feel the ashes of your dream slipping past your fingertips, like sand in an hourglass, but you plea for time to stop anyway. Please, you clasp your hands together in prayer, let it last just a little longer. Please let me hear that voice, that laughter one more time, just let me see that smile again -- the one that was meant for me and me alone.

But when you realize that there are no gods to save you now, you fall. Food means nothing to you anymore, not when you dine on your own tears and old memories every meal. You become silent at social gatherings, you refuse to see visitors, you disconnect yourself from things of love and affection because you don't want to be reminded of what you cannot have.

Then finally, you accept. Your eyelids flutter shut, you exhale your final breath, and finally, your heart stops beating. But the smile on your face is blissful. Because you're finally free.

Undo

"What do I do, Sophelia?"

It was so foreign to hear that despairing question coming from someone else who was asking me for advice, rather than from my own conscience trying to come to terms with its out-of-reach fantasies. Even more foreign was the strange acceptance with which I responded, because I knew and experienced it first-hand as the final truth, that there is only one cure to unrequited feelings:

"It'll heal with time."

The Vibe

There's always that feeling.... you know, that vibe you always get when it happens. Nobody needs to tell you anything, because you can already feel it enveloping the two of them like bath of sunlight. You can even feel it soaking into your bones, and you can't help but smile because it's there. The vibe.

What If

Dear Rogue,

Neither of us cried when we watched the Every 15 Minutes presentation last week. I didn't cry; I don't usually cry openly, even though I can feel sorrow very deeply. At the time, I began to wonder what it would feel like to write one of those letters. How would I even begin to convey everything I want to say to my friends or my family? I'm writing to you, because I know you will read this, and because we are so similar, you and I, that I think you will understand what I'm trying to say.

I don't know if I fear dying, per se. I have never been in so much pain that I would want it all to end. I cannot comprehend that level of pain; therefore, I suppose I am not afraid of the act of dying itself. What I fear is the unknown. Being extinguished, becoming nothing. There are still too many things I have not done yet; it is too early for me to leave.

The football player left the biggest impact on me when he read his letter to his parents last Thursday. I would never have expected him to pen such a beautiful letter, nor would I have expected him to choke up in tears. When he spoke about never revealing his emotions while he was "alive", I knew that he and I were the same.

It is always the what-ifs that torment people. What if I hadn't drank that last can of beer? What if I had tried to stop her from getting into the car with her drunk boyfriend? What if I hadn't gone to Lake Tahoe for vacation and ended up being hit by an intoxicated driver on the way home?

What if I hadn't chose to sit next to you in seventh grade? What if we had not been placed in the same hellish Core class? What if my parents had decided to move to a different town when they came to California?

I initially had doubts about going to Senior Ball. I like to say that I don't care about going stag -- "I'll knock them dead anyway" -- but I'm not as strong as I'd like to seem. I know how the power of dressing up -- four-inch platform shoes, short red dress, cropped hair, smoky eyes -- can boost one's self-confidence. But it doesn't really matter as much when everybody you know is freaking on the dance floor. If I was the girl I'd like to be, I would have rocked on by myself, regardless of whether or not somebody had his hands on my hips.

But I'm not.

I don't know if you really don't like dancing. Somehow, I'm not so sure, because you kept bouncing up and down in your seat to the rhythm of the music. But whatever the case, I was very relieved about being able to sit with you and SM while the others were on the dance floor. At times, I felt guilty, as if I was intruding on something between you and your date. But I confess, I was very glad you were there for me that day. You were the one who kept watching out for me, especially once we finally stepped onto the dance floor during the last hour of the Ball. It was you who took my last dance.

Throughout the night, I kept asking myself the same what-if questions. What if I hadn't decided to come? What if somebody I did not particularly like had asked me, and I had said yes? What if I had asked somebody to be my date, even though I already know in my gut that I'd be miserable if I pair up with someone I am not comfortable with?

In the end, I am glad I went. It was something I needed to do for myself, a way for me to mark the end of this chapter of my life. I feel liberated in the fullest sense of the word. The cage is gone. I am free.

Saturday marked the first time I ever danced with a guy in my life. That probably makes me seem very pathetic -- how many people have gone through their teenage years without slow-dancing? It probably didn't mean much to S, but for me, it gave me a sense of hope that maybe I'm not the antisocial, ugly, untouchable girl that I'm sometimes convinced I am. I have friends who look out for me, who lean onto my shoulder when we ride on CalTrain to San Francisco, who buy corsages for me for Senior Ball, who draw comic books with me when we're bored, who ask me to dance when I'm standing by myself, who patiently listen to me rant as I drive home from school, who have endured my teasing ever since third grade, who speedwalk like maniacs with me from Pier 39 to Pier 1 at Fisherman's Wharf.

When it comes down to dying, maybe it's not that I fear failing to accomplish everything I had dreamed of. When the "Living Dead" read their letters to us, to their family, to their friends, none of them really spoke of never being able to attend their dream college or becoming a professional athlete. Those tears and choked sobs were dedicated to the ones they'd left behind.

I don't want to die. Not if it means leaving everyone else behind.

I don't know what the hell I'm going to write in your yearbook, Rogue. There are too many things that I don't know how to say.

Love,
Sophelia