Anni, 아니

I like listening to your rambling. I didn't get bored at all. Don't worry. 

I woas surprised that you wrote this letter to me like this frankly.  I first read it in subway station. I got on the train and looked around people thinking about you and your letter. I imagined how you would feel like in there.  I read it again in library, reminding of my confusion I experienced.  

1.

Do you think that your mom already failed in her life? If you think so, Is that because she's 50 years old lady who are not well off? Are you sad about her or angry? If it's too personal question, you can ignore these. I understand you feel sorry to her. Also, I wanna understand that we can't be good at every part of our life.  

I talked you a lot about my mom. She talked me a lot about every gloomy reality while I was grown up.  Most of unfortune in our family came from my father.  I saw her crying after my father hit her. I saw her hatred toward my father. She hoped that he  would be hit by a car and we could live without his smelly shadow. I hoped that too. I hated it when I had to observe the dirtiness in my house and there's nowhere I can run away from it. I despised myself when I can't hide my depression from others and let them judge me like poor girl suffering from family trouble. I didn't actually speak it out, but somewhere inside of me always impressed me that I woud be excluded from normal happiness forever. When he was drunk he crept to my mom and had sex. He had sex. I'm not sure she also wanted to do that, but I felt like I was contaminated whenever he needs mom for sex. I scared about my life seeing my mom's life. She is a victim of my father. Unfortunately I still think like that. I've never ever wanted to be a victim of anybody else. 

But Anni, we sometimes smiled together. We sometimes travelled together and told each other the  words like I love you. How contradictory it is. I have a memory that my father smiled to me and I felt so warm just beside the memory he poured crazy swearings to my face. How confused it is. 

Jay said I'm good at complaining about the world. Maybe it's true that my grumpy character is more developed than generous one. My mom also used to call me a 'negative girl' and she said my dirty character took after my father's. Well, whatever. I don't care about it, but what I saved from my father is more precious than the genetical factor.

Life is not white or black. It's not an angel or evil. It's just given here randomly with full of contradictions. There can be too much unwanted noise, which is choking me and you, but then we might dance with that noise. There can be scenes we need to confront and make us wanna puke up, but again we might edit those memory with rainbow colors like smiley face of my father in my head. Disorders, contradictions and a hint of rainbow.

As fortune among the unfrotune, I learned that some lives are like my father's life and some like my mom's which covers him with a blanket worrying his cold. Although he deprives everything from her. Nothing I can fix with this strange riddle, but live my life cuddling it.  

I still don't know how to react to my father's call or when mom said he really misses me. The only emotion I have with him now is a handful of pity. 

I have pity on my mom as well. about that she's ignorant of freedom in her life. 

But I admire her life as my mom. (Contradiction!) She raised me with her harsh hands. She fed me. She didn't leave me. She wasn't intelligent or smart. She was clumsy as a mom. But she loves me most in the world. I can feel that. Like I said you, except for when she talked about my father, she is a so cheerpul person. I believe that she gave me that some part of giggle to me. She lives her life as my mom with her best, so I couldn't judge her with my righteousness as her daughter. I just try to call her more often. 

Now she just watches me live my life whatever I want as I watch her live hers.  

2. where are you

You said  it's not a good empty. I'd say it's better than you have nothing empty inside you. Empty can't good at all, but some empty is not bad. If you are not the sensible Anni, you could think that Okay is okay, then follow the river like your neighbor do. You noticed that you are not there, you are not anymore belonged in your hometown(at least now). I absolutely think that you can believe your feeling, your voice, your breath. 

When I die, I would be the only judge of my life. 

I don't think you are stupid. I think you just know what you want, when others know what others like. You said you want to create something of your own. Like you're craving for 'the unseen but felt' (I love this phrase), you can make that thing. You would meet lots of people who regard you as stupid when you try to live yours. You can follow them not to be called stupid and to make more friends. 

Or you can swallow them for going on your crazy journey. I believe you would be like the latter. It's our area.

What I'm searching for should be what I'm pouring myself to in every day. I want to be more authentic about searching for my pursuit. No one orders me to pursue. But I need that excitement. I'm craving for more reading, thinking, understanding, feeling, and love. I need to devote myself to my art which nothing can damage.  

   

I'm trying not to liesten to as many potcast as I used to before. Instead, I'm trying to observe people and think my idea. I ruminate my thinking again to reach where it comes from, for reaching where it can go. But i'm not getting used to it, so it's hard to concentrate on this. I got this idea from Stephen King who wrote 'on writing'. I don't know I want to write a novel like he does, but It's good to give opportunity for my brain to fly.

     

'At the age of thirty-six, on the verge of completing a decade's worth of training as a neurosurgeon, Paul Kalanithi was diagnosed with stage IV hung cancer. One day he was a doctor treating the dying, and the next he was a patient struggling to live. And just like that, the future he and his wife had imagined evaporated....'  

I'm reading this book, 'When the breath becomes air' by Paul Kalanithi.(It's a true story, non-fiction.)

I stopped with this passage. I'm happy to share it with you. 

'.... I don't believe in the wisdom of children, nor in the wisdom of the old. There is a moment, a cusp, when the sum of gathered experience is worn down by the detailes of living. We are never so wise as when we live in this moment.'  

I'm trying to read a sentence like it can stick with my soul. I want to fully resonate with it. I'm not gonna read just to finish a book, neither to collect knowledge. I am a reader who ends up making another story from it. My own story that penetrates my life and keeps going. Please.

I don't expect myself to be positive every moment (I'm grumpy). I expect myself not to be fake every moment. Especially when I write. 

3. The art of being myself

Perception: People look at me. People judge me. What can I do? It's thier freedom to make me fool of. And it's my choice to take it seriously or not to pay attention to it.

no one is free from judgment. We live together and when we don't look at ourselves, we look at others. We can judge each another hundred times. The only thing I can do with this is to let it come and go. If my inner interior is solid, it can't invade me.  

Persona: I used to wear persona a lot. Honestly, I still do, from time to time. Fuck. It feels awful after realising that I'm wearing it for giving a good feeling to others. Others who has power on me or others whom I'd like to make be my side. I wore a meak-daughter-persona in front of my father. a mature-student-persona to teachers. a happy and healthy-friend- persona to my friends. The problem is I can't be always meek, mature, happy or healthy in front of them. The problem is even when I want to cry with my sorrow, I had to hide my true emotion behind the persona for getting pat. I don't want to have persona anymore with anybody else. I want to be brave enough to be hated.  

ego: I have a vision about ideal Karen. My ego is a sum of my wannabe. The goodside is that it can drive me to the brighter spot. It reminds me that I can be better. But if I use it addictively, it drives me crazy. It just keeps pushing me to the higher without considering that I'm a species walking on the ground. She said like we have backbone, ego is our 'soulbone'. Brilliant. I should be careful playing with it. I'd better not to overspeed, neither do nothing with it. 

self: Where are you, self? It's 'the unseen but felt'. It does nothing on me. It stays quietly. self is my own god. It is a freind of tree, sky, sea, soil, universe. It has sympathy for others pain. It knows the meaningless of the greed, but makes me dream. I like to read books that touch my self. I like to meet people who knows the existence of their self, so humble. Meditation is another way for going to self. I want to be with self more than 300 days among 365 days. I want to be more closer with it than others in the world. When I love someone, I'd like to cuddle their 'self'. I'd like to love your 'self', not your persona or ego.

Interiority takes out unnecessary decoration. It gives me strengh to see the world with an eye for tue beauty. 

4.

Hehe. It took a day and half to write this letter. I think a lot and think again. 

I grow with your story

you step on me and go up there 

to see that immendous blue skysea 

will give you another you 

wanderings wanderings

more and more

 

p.s I was writng kind of book report after ghostwriter to you. 

Tell me when you finish the last page, I'll send it to you.