I’d make the same mistake
.
.
Only sooner

I’d stumble upon this quote quite sometimes, maybe it’s the frequency illusions that someone has told me. Today, I felt like it’s speaking to me. The “incident” happened at the witch’s place still echo in my head. I can tell the story with a smirk on my face now, but I think it still pains me. I think below the rejection is the child still wish to be hold dearly.

Anyway, my wound is still inflamed, but the result is actually what I want awhile ago. I want nothing to do with these people, I want to be left alone, I want love in its lovely form. It’s becoming true now, if I have to do it all over again, I truly think that I should have done it sooner. It’s like a divorce, if I have the gut to do it sooner, probably it’s not hurt so much like it does now for both parties. I think at this stage, we are all very tired from a prolonged battle over years with love/hate in the name of “family love”

I spent exactly 36 hours since Sunday night till today. I think I was hurt, and I needed time to heal. I’m not so sure that I’m okay now but I know I’m better. I just realized one thing, ever since Bangkok since May this year. This is the first time I’ve ever been alone. There’s a certain familiarity and certain relief: Wow, finally I can get rid of people and hang around doing my things. Can’t believe that something is so normal in Bangkok is so hard to do in Saigon.

I still do not belong to this place. Before, every time I visited Camel in his house, I would fill his fridge, because it’s so empty. I would tell him that a house is not living place until the fridge is filled with food, it’s more welcoming. It’s like: “Hello, I’m here, welcome home”. I did it so much, I noticed that he filled his fridge before I came back :).

Look at my fridge today

Apparently, I purposely didn’t make this place a welcoming place for some reason that I can’t comprehend.

I still don’t understand it, and still trying to understand my behavior. But seems like my body stopping myself from making this place mine, making it a home to me. I’ve been living in this place for 6 weeks now, and I’d say it’s exactly the same like I first move it. I bought a trash can, a beautiful trash can. But I never use it, like actually never. It’s brand new, very beautiful and sit there. Know why? Cuz I don’t have trash, because I don’t live here.

My therapist told me to start making this place a place I belong to. I guess what happened in my mother’s house is the feeling of rejection. I wasn’t belong there, and maybe I’m not belong here now too.

I know we’ll find the reason somehow, or the message, or the solution or nothing at all.