I learned the hard way that money can't buy happiness. Sure it can buy you mint chocolate-chip ice cream with oreo topping but still --when I'm not happy I don't even consider getting out of my bed to buy a tiny cup of ice cream.
I learned the hard way, that having lunch at a place that cost 1/4 of your college tuition doesn't make you happy. Nor the nights you spend looking at Hong Kong cityscapes that cost 10 times of your monthly allowance --for a night. I learned that I was still unwanted. I am still unwanted after all these times. No matter how many tons of gold dust you sprinkle on a dirt, it's still a dirt.
I learned, in the most precise way, that the term 'crying your heart out' is somehow a correct portrait of how I spent last night crying. I learned that six tiny cubes of ice in a plastic bag can help reduce your puffy eyes efficiently.
What I learned the most was, how pathetic I was, for thinking I would be happy after I move out from your place. How stupid I was for thinking you hate me--when afterall, being angry and over-possesive is what love is for you. How terribly I long to go back to you; to your embrace, to your love.
How pathetic I am now, missing you like there's tomorrow to laugh at, to think that a dozen of tissue sheets can absorb all my liquidized feeling.
I miss you, like a rotten apple with gold painted on her body and words 'For The Fairest' tattooed on her soul missing her tree --a tree that she can't go back growing from anymore.
letters to my father
on how money can't buy happiness
