Forgettable

My toy is myself.  I love my sensitive toy. I play with my toy to feel a second of joy in the darkest years. I hug my toy to know how it feels like to be hugged.

I wrapped myself in the scarf, hat, jacket. I walked down the stairs, into the heavy snow. "How do you go back?" "On foot." "Is it far?" "Not far." "Be safe." "Um." Some conversation that I haven't heard, like for centuries. Just feel uncomfortable to communicate like this.

"At the moment you said you love me, your love for me was over. At the moment your love for me was over, my love for you started." From a crime movie.

In the their chat about where to celebrate the new year, they suddenly told me they'd like to go to my home for the celebration. I laughed and said OK no problem, as if I really had a home that everyone was happy to host guests, as if I really had a home with a big enough kitchen table to let several friends to sit down and enjoy food, as if I've been living a normal happy life.  I'm no more than a homeless candle in the snow, dripping the last few drops of wax.

All the rain became snow this morning. A layer of snow is piling up in the outside world. Yet I'm wearing my green short-sleeve shirt.

4 AM, bathroom, I took out the red tube of ointment behind the mirror, applied it onto the left belly, shoulders and neck, to ease the pain, which is a protest to the 12 hours of manual work.

There was a wound around my broken tooth which may possibly have exposed the nerves, but I don't feel any wound now. New flesh has grown to cover the wound like a magic. My body is the only being that can erase my physical pain practically. At least my body loves me, I feel solace.

"Hope my death makes more  cents than my life." From a movie I am rewatching.

I walked on the -2°C street, some snow in the grass, I was a bit down. Then, a green truck passed by, a word was written on it - evergreen. Prompt as a simulation.

The second case of heart xenotransplant, succeeded.

I never truly did it well despite decades of infiltration in the training of this writing style. In order to get a high score in the language class, one must demonstrate some aesthetic arguments in the essays according to the prescribed heading, which can be a few sentences of words of some pictures. There is a format for it, the final score is positively related to the level of the obedience of the format. Writing for grades is like chewing food to prevent death. Compared with other full-A students, my outcome was just an unaesthetic scribble even if I did my best to comply with the format.  The journey was long enough for me to encounter some exceptions that stirred up my anxiety of being in the center of the spotlight when my words were read twice by the teachers in front of the classmates. I was irritated by the character's pathetic reaction in the face of her miserable life, so I put the format behind, I let the true thoughts on my mind to guide my pen. I did not expect any gr...

At first, the nose kept bleeding for one day. Then came the runny nose and sneezing, sore throat. Now, the nonstop cough. I can feel something is burning under my chest. My ultimate delight is closer.

I scrolled through my emoticon, not sure which expression to choose to face the $5.44 on the screen. 31-22=9, still more than a week until the end of the month. 

Right after I complained about the inaccurate forecast, I got up, there it is, outside the window, a thin layer of snow on the roof, brown leaves, bare trees, it did not melt, waited through the cold night to let me see.

I threw the trash bag to the seemingly empty dumpster, I noticed some green zucchinis at the deep bottom of the dumpster. Before I walked away, I looked into the dumpster again. The familiar plastic bag that I wanted to reuse but gave it away. The colours around me collapsed. I did not feel well.

A crow was eating something whilst I walked by. I took a closer second look, it was a smaller bird under its claw, likely a sparrow, or a tit. Some grey feathers scattered near the bird.  "I'm cannibalistic." Said the crow, silently, in a freezing October morning.

All the roads I usually walked on were renovated. From the paths to the countryside roads, all were changed from bumpy cement roads to flat asphalt roads. Is it coincidence or not? The roads have been that way since the previous dynasty, my short presence here can't witness so many changes. 

In that morning, when I photographed the drink I bought to flavor the nut filling for a festival pastry, I did not know I would be asked to not consume booze until March. As a result, the unopened drink rested peacefully in the cabinet with another one. When I went to two stores, spent a fortune to collect all the nuts for the filling, I did not know I couldn't make it before the festival. Nor did I know the festival was wasted in the hospital, even though no locals here celebrated the festival. The tetanus vaccine injected into my right back added a new level of distended pain, which I never knew in the past decades. My right arm malfunctioned for one day, whilst the bite was in my right leg. Thanks to the bite, I'm no longer into booze, moreover, I haven't sipped a drop of coffee for long time.  Now I'm used to stay away from animals, apart from staying away from humans.

'Cause six has been well cooked, heartache has actual shape, the damp papers touching fingertips, midnight whispers in dark. Shhh, no, you're not. Ship relic (? b.c.). You, forever, innocent, love is pure. Free, never been so free, you received . o

I walked on the ramp, suddenly, I felt the bag in my left hand, was heavy. The bag was stuffed with big green apples. I thought of making some apple jam the other day, but I didn't expect to be gifted with apples soon. Thanks for all the kindness in my darkest year. 

The pipes, being warm or cold totally depends on the mood of the supplier. Howling wind, 7 degrees, yet no heat. So chilly, I don't want to cook, I don't want to eat, I don't want to wear pants, I don't want to win the bread. All I want is to curl myself in the blanket, closing my eyes like the Snow White in the crystal coffin, waiting to wake up until spring. It doesn't matter if I can't wake up by then. 

The recent history. Clear all. OK. The recent history. Empty.

Freedom is the nth joy they all receive from me, the former owner. I was the owner of a dozen parakeets when I was a kid. I kept them in the cage, I put the cage outside the window in sunny days to let them enjoying sunbathing. I covered the cage with a blanket in cold winter nights. I filled the box with fresh water everyday. I replaced the newspaper covered at the cage bottom everyday, sometimes they ate the newspaper as a snack. I fed them millets, they preferred millets with husks, they refused to eat those without husks. I loved watching them spitting out the husks from their beaks. One day, I open the cage, put some millets on my palm to feed them, at first they didn't eat from my hand. I tried few more times, they learned to jump on my palms to eat. I slowly moved my palm out of the cage to placed the parakeet on my shoulder, as an imitation of the scene in animes. As a kid, I was proud to have a parakeet perching on my shoulder calmly. Sometimes, I opened the cage to let th...

Inflation has never hit so hard.  Started with the sunflower oil, then bread, flour, meat, rice, egg. The price tag for the same flour in the same store was changed three times within a week. Never been so close to the sensitive market of capitalism. On the other hand, the salary remains dull as the mud. Will the market crash in any further moment? Long queue outside the banks? Bankruptcy? Unemployment? Whenever there is the sign of depression, there is war, right? Turning on all the machines to print more cashes is not always as effective as the former.  Influenced by the habit to live a frugal life, I've been used to save portion of the income, but it does not work well in this environment. The safest way is to exchange the money to another relatively stable currency, which a drudge for me. I don't plan to buy a car or a house, and it's hard to say when the bomb will explode, so I use the pennies to exchange merchandise, the touchable products in hands is safer than the p...

Whatever it represents, I see only the Snow Baby - our love.

When I stood by the windowsill yesterday afternoon, I felt the heating pipe was warm, which was the first day of heating, the temperature outside was 15 degrees Celsius, though. Dry-clothes-on-pipes days began. The forecast says the lowest temperature tomorrow can reach zero. The first snow will be in this month, I guess.

The fake evergreen tree outside the window is stripping its green from the leaf tips. The lifeless ochre is wrapping the branches slowly and quietly. The mixture of smashed mango and hot water in my glass cup is easy to swallow. The portray of a tree and a shrub entangling tightly popped into my head. Something amasses in my eyes, the prologue of heartache. It occurs always like this, out of no time, nowhere, unexplainable.  "My bad, my bad." Replied the heavy grey clouds in the sky. 

This warrior takes out the glimmering crystal dagger from his pocket, stabbing right into the dog's neck, the dog closes its eyes swiftly, no a single of whimper is heard. But that doesn't stop the warrior from stabbing the dog until all people can see is a pool of blood. For the bite on his love's calf, for the grey bruise on his love's silky skin, which he has not yet caressed or feel with his lips. He wishes to be the one who got bitten. He can't bear the agony of seeing his love suffer in pain.   A flock of crows gather around the blood pool, soon, when they fly back to the stark branches, nothing left on the ground.