lettres d'amour
I know I promised you, that I would win this battle. But if I were to fail to keep my word, please, promise me that you would do the following: Go home, take a slumber. When morning comes, think of me as a dream, a dream from long ago. Dreams should be left forgotten, not remembered. Don’t cry, don’t ever live in the pain of being the one left behind. And when you meet the one who comes after all this has pass, someone who is willing to create brand new memories with you, promise me that you will accept them and live on. Think of me once in a while and always remember that I would be watching over you from the other side.
The verse was about the way things were with one person, and the chorus was the way that I wished things had really been with another person, who I thought about for a long time. ‘Swinging in the backyard, pull up in your fast car, whistling my name’. That was what happened, you know? He’d come home and I’d see him. But then the chorus, ‘Heaven is a place on earth with you, tell me all the things you wanna do’ wasn’t like that. That was the way that I wished it was — the melody sounds so compelling and heavenly because I wanted it to be that way.
The verse is more matter-of-fact because that’s how it was. It’s a mix of memories and the way I wished it could have been. Just because things happened a certain way doesn’t mean that that’s the way that they are. It really is what you choose to think about. Bad things happen every day but you’re not going to be any happier thinking about them. So I don’t think about them. I don’t have that luxury any more. Some people say that ‘Video Games’ stops them in their tracks; it’s that kind of song. It’s just really sad.
” - Elizabeth Grant/Lana Del RayPromise me you’ll forget me.
23 April 2012
I still want to slit my wrists every time I think of you and the guilt threatens to consume me from the inside. The things I could have done and said instead, to tell you that you’re not okay rather than reassuring you that everything will be fine and that I’ll see you in the morning.
And then I’ll laugh bitterly to myself because,
—
Today, and from now on, I am thankful I have him who is my anchor.
17 April 2012
Had lunch with your mom at La Forketta when she got back to Singapore and she got me the hair products that I’ve been lusting after but was only available in the States.
She’s doing better each time I see her, still have her down days but it’s all good. Arranging for a nice dinner at Bella’s with Jim soon, and I promise you I’ll do some major damage on his credit card on your behalf.
Speaking about Jim, did you know he was a major hippie back when he was in high school? Yeah believe it, our dear obsessively compulsive Jim, had long blond hair that reaches past his lower back. And, he was a heavy weed smoker and drinker who was always getting into trouble. Turning point came when his guidance counsellor told him he’ll never make it to college and it’d be better if he were to go to vocational school and be a mechanic. He spent a year after that working at a bicycle shop fixing bicycles and that was when he realised that he didn’t want to live such a life. So he went back to junior college for two years and put himself through college thereafter. All he did was study and nothing else. No social life, no relationships whatsoever. Just his books and grades and constant, disciplined, hard work. And whenever he goes back to his high school reunion, nobody would have expected to be in his current position. So I guess that’s why he was so strict on you, because he wanted you to succeed and have a better future just like he did.
Your sisters are doing fine, baby Liam’s all grown up; he’s attending swimming classes and will be going to day school later this year. Such a bundle of energy, that precious one. Amanda’s doing fine as well, and I’m glad she’s found someone reliable by her side.
I’m sorry for the loss of your grandmother, but at least you’re not alone now.
Thinking of you,
Ruby.
PS. It’s getting more hazy now, my memories of you. I wonder if it would come to the day where I won’t be able to remember how you look like. I don’t have you on Facebook anymore, and I really need to get a hard drive to store the only photos I have of you in case my MacBook crashes and I lose everything I have to remember you by and by.
7 April 2012: The wishes I will never get to hear again.
Dear Bianca,
It’s my birthday today.
If I closed my eyes, I could almost feel her playing with my hair the way she used to. Her light touch at my forehead, either her light touch or the wind’s. Her fingers as she did the braids she used to put in my hair when it was long, working slowly, methodically, at a rate that might take a hundred nights to finish, more nights than I could guess at counting, more nights than she’d want to say.
I felt so sure of it: her fingers moving lightly through my hair, my eyes closed to the wind, the world at our backs, leaving us be. So sure I’d open my eyes and find my hair in braids, and the strawberry candies all taken, and sitting there, her, saying what should we have for dinner, pita pizzas or mashed potatoes, and what day was it anyway and were there any good movies on TV?
It sounded impossible, something no one would believe. Yet I was so sure that at any moment I’d open my eyes and see her. I’d open my eyes and see.
”Girl, it isn’t termed an “anniversary with [your] boyfriend” if you say it occurs every month. I mean, they don’t print dictionaries/have online dictionaries for nothing, you know.
And seriously, not to be rude or anything but, you really need to stop linking every goddamned date in your life to Bianca, e.g. your every-19th-of-the-month-“anniversary”-with-your-boyfriend. I know everybody craves for attention, it’s human nature after-all but to ride on a dead person’s name? Seriously?
