SEE WITH EYES SHUT

Dear Vincent Van Gogh,

I've been reading your letters these days and you have inspired me to say things I wont other wise in letter style on my blog at length and in detail not caring about the reader as much as the genuineness of what must be said. I realise what an important thing it is for me to say and respectively be heard and to listen to another. For even when I don't speak my eyes scream it out, I can't pretend. I can't pretend I didn't hear K say he should hang out with people his age. I can't pretend when see the same neck I kissed now across the table from me. I can't look. I look away instead. I thought I was okay, but there isn't a rational reason for it, its a feeling. I know I have said this very often for anyone to believe it but how shall I explain why a hug melted my resolve?

Its a cold night. Its a horrible feeling to know your unwanted. I must repeat it till it changes. People at work, people at home, I don't like people. I don't like anyone. I'm just tired of this. Everything I do is so pointless, where does it all go? This moment, these words, these feelings, the people, does anything matter? I have tried and tried and tried repeatedly to be hopeful and believe and to keep hope alive for others but I can't anymore and I have no "reasons" to support my "argument". Its my life and its not a session in court. My stomach aches when I think there are others like me typing in the dark to this black hole that gulps our words.

At the end of everything all that happens is loss. I've lost not love but a friend and more friends. I've lost trust. I've lost patience and hope. I can't trust these faces. Not one. I don't want them to deal with me. They don't have to. I'm not their responsibility. I'm on my own in my dark room. Accepting the truths I need to accept and growing up to the real. My days are only evidence of how I avoid the truths and the loneliness, distract myself with trivial activity and move onto nothing that is certain. I don't know why I have to move on, I don't know why things had to change.

Vincent, I wish I could write like Leo or Scritch or Loony. They write about their lives, about work and cold days or longing for love but they don't feel so sorry for themselves. I try to look at myself like another but that makes it worse. I like how these guys are intelligent and sorted in their way of telling their story. Self mocking and entertaining. Underneath it all one can see that they are not the happiest people but they have things to do , people to meet, lives to live. May be they are just grown up and I'm stuck with this tag.

I think I want to hang out with a few my age who are willing to speak their mind who don't see age as a defining factor for anything. I want to meet people who don't meet people they don't want to meet, whom they don't like, whom they find below their IQ level. And yes, I can't take jokes about this anymore. Lets just find another way of humiliating me can we?

Vincent, tell me what is this life led crying to sleep worth? What is the life lived alone worth? What is the life writing angry words worth? Is there something valuable in this existence, in this moment where I'm writing something nobody cares about? What are these words strung together worth if they are not great literature for people to read.

I'm in the middle of people with beliefs opposite of mine. I believe in feelings, in happiness and in love. I'm around people who see life through reason, like goals they can achieve by chalking out a plan. You are so mistaken. you haven't wrecked a life, no you can't but you have made me think enough about mine. Stop lying to yourself. Stop being boring to belong. Stop limiting yourself. Stop seeing life through other peoples eyes. You need to see what you want to do. Its in your eyes. You want something better, but better according to what other people think. You can't let go of what you are for other people now, you can't change that image of you minus the pain. You are not getting better. But here's some luck for your way.

I don't care about what you think behind your eyes. In the maze of veins what passes is not my concern. I was conscious today of what I said, I felt I was indeed very young for your ways. I'm too young to let go of all the possibility I see in life. Too young to accept sarcasm and the nothing really matters attitude entirely. I'm too young to edit these long passages of truth I write. I'm too young to play safe. I am my spontaneity and my honesty.

yours,
Miss Tu Yung
from China

PS: Saturday, July 7th, 2007 PST

Virgo (Aug 23 - Sep 22)

A new approach in your dealings with an intimate partner or a business associate might be enough to change a difficult dynamic. But don't expect to make gains without some sort of uncomfortable confrontation. Once you put your feelings out into the open, others will be able to engage you on a very real level and this can make all the difference in the world.