Journal Entry 11

I can feel the loneliness. This feeling that I have been dreading since Hang has gone is finally setting in. I have lost my window to the world but I should have know, it is my fate. It is my fate to forever be a coward, to forever be a man who cannot stand up for a dying man, who cannot tell the woman he loves how he feels. Sometimes, when I voice my loneliness to any of my friends they tell me I have nothing to complain about, at least I am handsome. At least I am handsome. What use do my physical qualities have to me if I am still miserable, if I still cannot be with the woman that I want? Being with an average Russian woman is alright for a night, but in the long term, and even the short term, it does me no good. After sharing anything with those low women who will do anything with an attractive man, I feel like I have used them, I always feel as though I owe them some sort of love, because no one deserves to be used and then left like that. Yet, they have no problem with it, and I am the only one who is sad because of it. So tell me, friend, what use is being handsome? If I could give you my looks, I would in a second. I would much prefer looking mundane and ugly, just like my insides,  that way no one will approach me with impossible expectations.  That way I will let no one down.

Today I didn’t get out of bed the whole entire day. I just lay there, staring at the ceiling and wondering what is to become of me. Chinh came by at one point in the morning to wake me up, but I told him I wanted to be left alone. I wanted to tell him so much more than that, I wanted to blame him for my misery, I wanted to ask him why he would use his own niece to do his dirty work, why he called her here.  Had Chinh never called Hang, I would still be my cold heartless self, instead of what I am now. Instead of what I am now… What am I ?

Is it possible to say that I am no longer cold? That I can now feel because I am broken hearted? Yes, I believe so.  This pain I’m feeling, I realize now as I lie half naked in my bed, is sweet. It is a pain that burns my skin like fire, and yet tastes like honey on my tongue. Affection, lust, and emotion, these are all both gifts from the heavens and the hells.

My only choice is to savor it as long as it lasts, or as long as I last.