mysophobia 潔癖

Nastiness Diagnosis. Anthropology. Religion. Gender. Justice. A Personal Notepad For the General Public.

Your Second is my Forth

The biggest church in her home town, a tiny English sermon on Sunday afternoon.
There, she met a man look so much like you, but speaking perfect mandarin with perfect Taiwanese sense of humor. They hooked up so quickly, and traveled from the church to a motel.
Don’t worry, it was totally safe.
Don’t worry, it was just a fictive story that she made up, made up to discern why it felt destablizing when for the purpose of intimacy you used your second language to her , her forth language. She imagined that you may think such a second would remove your privilege for you (and therefore, somewhat fairer). But not for her. What privilege would she gain, when your second is her forth? You seem to give in to a person but her. A caring move, a thoughtful action. Maybe also showing some cultural-specific wits and malleable linguistic excellence. But it has nothing to do with her. At least she often feels that way.
It just feels you want to talk to someone else, not her. Or someone else would fit your goodwill better. Or she is simply misplaced, or mistaken.

An intricate chain that should bind you with someone other than her.
But she no longer wants to feel that. She wants to survive.
She wants to forgive all these, even though no one has asked for her forgiveness. She wants to forgive not being understood. She forgives God who has imposed the pain and loneliness so unbearable to her.
For many times she reasons she should be able to love, as she has been so deeply loved. When she lost even the smallest faith in living in this world, her ex-husband did not leave her. He sits beside her in bed, holding her hands, telling her everything is Okay. She cries, thinking there would be no one in this world loving her more than this man does. But would she be able to love someone like that? His forgiveness is so vast and penetrating that she couldn’t even find a place to face herself.
She realizes that no matter what battle she transfers herself to fight in, there is always liberation at a corner and pain at another.
Maybe one day, one day, she could be a leader to forgive herself. To forgive, and forget herself.


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This entry was posted on April 11, 2010 by in 【Moldy Room of Sketchism】.
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