| my life's been so up in the air |
[30 May 2007|02:12pm] |
Did you know that you can need people without realizing that you do? And only when it's threatened, that you find yourself second guessing it, that you're forced to recognize it, you realize that you can't not have it. You can't not have him. You can't not have her. You and him. You and her. Things that can't just be left aside, and at the same time, you're tired of fighting. You're tired of crying. You're tired of being miserable over it, tired of explaining it, and all you have left to say, despite it all, is that you can't do without right now. Not right now.
And maybe there will be a day where it isn't so. Maybe there'll be a day where you can wear a straight face, because it's still wearing something, and keep it solid. Maybe there'll be a day where you don't choke on your words and feel the tears burning in the backs of your eyes. And maybe there won't be.
But I promise I'm okay today. And this is what I want today. This is what I need today.
So why do we fight it?
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| i wanna be with you |
[30 May 2007|11:35pm] |
As a younger woman I believed that passion must surely fade with age, just as a cup left standing in a room will gradually give up its contents to the air. But when the Chairman and I returned to my apartment, we drank each other up with so much yearning and need that afterward I felt myself drained of all the things the Chairman had taken from me, and yet filled with all that I had taken from him. I fell into a sound sleep and dreamed that I was at a banquet back in Gion, talking with an elderly man who was explaining to me that his wife, whom he’d cared for deeply, wasn’t really dead because the pleasure of their time together lived on inside him. While he spoke these words, I drank from a bowl of the most extraordinary soup I’d ever tasted; every briny sip was a kind of ecstasy. I began to feel that all the people I’d ever known who had died or left me had not in fact gone away, but continued to live on inside me just as this man’s wife lived on inside him. I felt as though I were drinking them all in – my sister, Satsu, who had run away and left me so young; my father and mother; Mr. Tanaka, with his perverse view of kindness; Nobu, who could never forgive me; even the Chairman. The soup was filled with all that I’d ever cared for in my life; and while I drank it, this man spoke his words right into my heart. I awoke with tears streaming down my temples, and I took the Chairman’s hand, fearing that I would never be able to live without him when he died and left me. For he was so frail by then, even there in his sleep, that I couldn’t help thinking of my mother back in Yoroido. And yet when his death happened only a few months later, I understood that he left me at the end of his long life just as naturally as leaves from the trees.
Memoirs of a Geisha, p428; Arthur Golden
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