Tuesday, 17 April 2012
We were driving through the Hong Kong outskirts, where there was actual pastures and mansions. I knew we were in the richest part of the city, because nobody in Hong Kong owned houses but the rich, let alone mansions. We entered our house for the summer, astounded by the size. I don't really remember what was there, but Stephanie was, and the old knowledge of a film I had seen a long time ago, a film of my brother who had died and never returned. Now, the memory is like the windshield of an old car that has journeyed through unforgiving rain, I can't seem to place my finger on it, but aren't dreams always like that? Vivid when lived, then so easily gone when awoken. I looked out the window to admire the view, and there he was, my brother. Giving his usual motivational talks to the crowds outside. It went of for quite some time, and so was my happiness that he was alive. Then he said something that nobody believed, was it witty? Was it shocking? I can't remember. But he said that his sisters were in the house and we could prove it. I was overjoyed with tears, my brother! He had come home, he hadn't been dead all this time, just hiding. I told Stephanie, we raced outside into the crowds, bursting with happiness at the thought of hugging our brother again, but as I got closer to the crowd, I realized they were not surrounding my brother, but a TV. And then I knew, I had been watching a movie all along, and this was his plan. The tv they were watching showed no movies- no people dancing their scripts onscreen, just words that read "My dearest sisters, ..." he wasn't there, he was never there. He had died a long time ago but used this tactic to say goodbye. The tv went on about how he loved us and has taken care of us, we wouldn't need to worry about money for the rest of our lives, and how he's sorry for tricking us. All I could think was, "he's not here." I walked back to the house, crying at the false hope of hugging someone who had left so long ago. Ashamed that I had fallen for his hologram. And this morning, I woke up feeling so empty and depressed, as if I had really seen someone who had been dead for so long.
Monday, 16 April 2012
30 minutes ago, I was sitting in the backseat of your car, watching you punch your steering wheel as you screamed your lungs out at me. I know I should have been afraid, any other normal person would have cried or stayed silent, but I giggled. GIGGLED. Horrible timing. What's wrong with me? Why do I always laughed when people yell at my face? I think I just like making them angrier, making them realize that screaming at me will not teach me anything, instead, all their anger is reflected right back at them. Your spit flew onto your lap and your eyes bulged behind your Raybans as your shouted about how I never give you any chances, how I never listen. But I'm listening to you right now, and all I'm thinking is "Psycho".