A historical romance is the only kind of book where chastity really counts.

Love is like falling down... in the end you're left hurt, scarred, and with a memory of it forever.

Please, please, please, please, please don't let me fall for M. Paff. He'll break my heart into tiny little pieces and throw them to the wind if I give it to him, which I won't--not willingly. He's not for me. He's heartless to the people he hates. I don't think he knows this about himself, but he can be manipulative as well.

Insecure as I am, loving a person like that will only hurt me.

I've just read some of his ex's posts on her blog. She's very depressed. She still wants him, obviously. She just wants to talk, but all he has to say about her is "She's a stupid bitch." That's cold, cruel, and heartless.

I'm kind of scared to get too involved. I was rereading our earlier messages on Skype and noticed how light and natural our conversations went; now it feels almost heavy and forced.

If a June night could talk, it would probably boast it invented romance.

Dear Monsieur TP,

I'm not okay with not seeing you everyday. Actually, I'm missing you like crazy. Everyday, every year, I tell myself I'll get over you, and I do...for the moment. Then I see you and I fall right back to square one.

I know Vu Lan is in the summer, but I don't know when. I've convinced my mother to go to your temple even though it's 44 minutes away. I can't wait to see you even though I know seeing you means I'll have to deal with the possibility of you forgetting about me.

I shouldn't have set my alarm ringtone as "Miss You" by Ed Sheeran during my stay there. I remember trying to wake myself up at five in the morning just so I could be near you setting up tables. Heck, I even listened to Buddhist lectures just to sit a few centimeters away from you. If that's not dedication, I don't know what is. But that's beside the point. Now every time I wake up to that song, I think of you even if I'd promised myself minutes before that I would forget about you.

I don't have the heart to change the ringtone. I like that song and I like you and I like how it reminds me of you even if it's the most painful feeling in the world, liking and missing someone. Upon waking and hearing that song and thinking of you, all my happiness drains and rushes down to my feet, dragging me down with it. My whole body feels like lead and my heart disappears, leaving a gaping hole where it should have been.

I can feel myself slipping away from sanity. I'm going crazy. All I can think about is you even though I can no longer conjure up your face in my mind--a damnable side effect of doing it too much.

I was cleaning out my closet today and I found one of the hairnets that I've used for An Cu Kiet Ha, and I threw it out after much deliberation only to immediately snatch it back from the trash because it reminded me of you and of our time together. I went and threw it out again because I was being ridiculous; it was a hairnet--I'd never use that hairnet again. And I got it out of the trashcan again. That went on for the third time until I stuffed it all the way to the bottom of the trashcan and took the trash out.

And when I looked up the distance between the temple and UCI, I nearly cried. One hour and twenty two minutes away.

My brain is telling me it won't work out between us; my heart doesn't want to believe it. Is it horrible for me to hope, wish, and pray that you're experiencing the same horrible feelings too?

Love,

Moi

If I had a single flower for every time I think about you, I could walk forever in my garden.

I feel so empty, like something’s missing. Last year it went away really fast, this feeling, but it’s been nagging me the whole day since the moment I woke up.

I’m going to be conceited and assume that he likes me too. I wonder why we like each other, though. We’ve never really talked before yesterday, but I’m always intensely attracted to him. I don’t think it’s lust because I’ve never had a sexual thought about him. I think it’s because, to me, he’s a mystery. His life outside the temple is unknown to me. I only know that he’s an orphan with an identical twin and family members in the temple. He thinks I’m this quiet and shy girl but I’m pretty sure it’s unanimously agreed upon by those who are close to me that I tend to share things that people would rather not know like…I don’t know…my bowel movements. Also, since he won’t make a move, I’m forced to maneuver myself in a way that allows him room to make a move without looking suspicious, so it’s kind of, like, a puzzle, an enigma, a code I want to crack. Manipulation, almost, but not quite. Like a game. I make myself available; his turn. He makes a move; my turn. Like, it’s enjoyable because the thrill of the hunt gets you high, but I think what has happened is that we’re both more into the hunt itself than we are with the prey. Follow?

On a side note, the state of New York has legalized gay marriage. I don’t know why I’m not there yet. That state is totally my state.

I found this really really really great dress. It’s a dress; actually, it’s this Indian robe or whatever. But it’s so adorable. I want it.

But things like that get me thinking. Like, marriage is like finding the perfect item for your closet. Like, I don’t buy anything unless I fall for it at first sight. Then I grab it and head to the dressing room where I try it on. If I don’t love it, then I don’t get it because if I do get it, I’ll never wear it and would have wasted money on something I don’t love when I could have used that for something else. If I still love it or love it even more, then I put it back and leave the store. If I keep thinking about that item all day or all week how it would be perfect in my closet, how it would go with these tights or those shorts, and if I still want it, then I go and get it. Usually, new items purchased this way are incorporated seamlessly into my wardrobe and usually become one of my staples. But I’d hate to be the clothes and have others try me on just for fun. That doesn’t sound too good.

I know I am but summer to your heart, and not the full four seasons of the year.

Monsieur TP and I still haven’t gotten past “can you hand me the spoons?” and “bring this tray out, please”. Yeah. He talks to everybody but me. His twin is also talkative to everybody but me. What is with this? I was kind of complaining about it to my little brother without telling him that I liked one of the twins, and he said, “Maybe they fancy you.” Well, I just need the right one to fancy me.

So, yesterday, when I got back to the temple at night, I had to go take a leak really bad, so I ran to the bathroom and lo, behold, there was a giant ass line. So, while I was trying to not do that awkward pee dance, I saw Monsieur TP and he saw me. So…I watched as his face went from normal to really happy, and he smiled at me like he was really glad to see me. I smiled back, of course—thank God I wasn’t acting retarded then. Then after I got my business done, we passed each other a couple more times, each time glances would be exchanged.

I don’t know. It’s just that things like that make me think that he has feelings for me too, but sometimes he just seems so aloof. The whole I was there, I was Skyping with M. Paff who told me that maybe M. TP seemed aloof because he was busy. I’d like to believe that very much.

Then today is my last day there, so I got up at half past five (yes, in the morning!) to help set up for breakfast. So…guess who was part of the setting up crew? Well, he’s always part of everything around the temple, but it’s just…I don’t know…it’s just nice working together. And then when we were passing out the soup, he passed me and we were really close together when I looked up and he looked up at each other. I don’t know. I just can’t think of any other explanations for looking at someone that small distance apart other than that he likes me too. I mean, that’s why I did it.

Then I helped set up for lunch…with him…and a bunch of other people as well. Then I went and looked after the little kids and took a nap and missed the passing food out.

Then my mother told me that today was our last day here. Well, tomorrow is when it actually ends and we usually leave on the last day. I was bummed, but not too bummed because I had to take a dump and I don’t like taking dumps at places that aren’t my house. Yeah. TMI much? That’s me. But we were to leave at 9 after the Buddhist lecture.

So, I took a smaller nap and then woke early to set up for dinner. Guess who I saw? Yes. Wow, you are absolutely right. Monsieur TP. At first, he was walking from the entrance toward the main eating area, wearing regular clothes—we all kind of wear our Buddhist garbs around here for these events or the people who don’t have Buddhist clothes wear these green aprons that has the temple’s name on them—so I thought he was coming back from…you know…normal life, but a few minutes later, he came out again with a backpack and walked out. I was working at the row of tables that was closest to the entrance. He turned at the gate and looked once and we locked eyes. Then a few minutes later, I was just looking up and saw him in his car passing, and we locked eyes again. Awk? Yes, a bit.

But I was a bit worried because I knew dinner started at six and it was five then, that meant I only had four hours left and he was gone, so…things weren’t working out! Then I came in the kitchen to help, and guess who was there at five thirty?

Thank God.

We helped with dinner and at one point, all the food was brought out and there were a few of us left just standing around. He was, like, four feet away and I could tell that he was looking at me, but I couldn’t look back without making my feelings obvious. It was like the other night when I attended the Buddhist lecture. My brother was the one sitting between us, and we were all the way toward the back. And at one point, this lady behind him left, so I moved there because the wall was right there so I could lean on it because I’m lazy like that. But moving right behind my brother meant I was kind of right next to him. We were less than a foot apart (an inch or two away from each other) and not being able to touch was incredibly aggravating. It was quite hard to concentrate with him being so near and the monk’s heavy, heavy Northern accent.

Anyways, we at dinner after the monks ate dinner and all of the sudden a bunch of people gathered near this one inner gate. And I saw M. TP bringing a huge ass ladder, so a bunch of other people and I came over to find out what was going on. Well, a baby bird fell from the tree and the monks and the lady monks were trying to get it back up to its mommy. Monsieur TP helped at first, but the monks told him to go eat since he worked really hard, but he got a bowl of soup and ate in front of a car, right next to where I was standing to watch the scene. It wouldn’t have been just the two of us in that corner if it hadn’t been for my little brother coming over to see and this little monk who kept bugging Monsieur TP. I wanted to be like, “Dude, just let him eat,” but I didn’t want to come off as a bitch, so I didn’t. Then I found out that he wasn’t even training to be monk! That’s good, because M. TP actually talked to me then. He was like, “This kid? He’s way too mischievous to be a monk.” It sounds awkward, but it’s because I’m translating it, and I’m just an awkward translator. It sounds very not awkward in Vietnamese.

And then after that whole she-bang, I went to dry the dishes, hoping that the older people would go listen to the lectures and leave me and him alone again even though he didn’t normally dry the dishes. He came over and asked to borrow my iPhone charger. And I went to get it. Okay, so before, I wanted to let him know that I was leaving, but I couldn’t figure out a way to do it without it being weird, so this whole charger thing gave me the perfect excuse. As I handed it to him, I looked him in the eyes and said, “I need it back because I’m leaving at nine.” You know, one of those, read-between-the-lines thing. He was like, “At nine?” and I said, “Yes, right after the lectures.”

Then he came over again and helped dry dishes. My God, it was so hard to keep a stupid smile from going on my face with all those people around me, but I was really happy. I kept hoping that these people would go to the lecture later and leave us to ourselves. Then I could just…you know…lean over and just peck him on the lips and go back to normal…like nothing happened, but all these other people were there and more came to dry the dishes so no can do. Grr.

So he didn’t help for long and carried the huge ass basket full of dishes and shit inside. I followed suit and carried a smaller basket with chopsticks, spoons, and ladles inside, where I helped him sort them all out. Okay, we were finally alone. We talked a bit. He asked me about my sister because he’d noticed that she was missing since we came in three the years before. I asked him about his twin brother. It was nice, being alone. Someone gave him a small plate full of rambutans and he offered me one. 

I said no even though I kind of wanted one since I already have gloves on and didn’t feel like taking them off to eat. He said, “You’re going to regret it when they’re all gone.” So I had one that was cut in half for easy access since I didn’t want to bite into it and tear the cover off at the moment since it’s such a bothersome thing to do. But then I wanted another one and he saw that I wanted another one so he opened one for me without me asking and I ate it.

For five seconds before this lady came in and started helping us. Oh. My. God. We didn’t need help. We—at least, I—wanted us to be alone. Jesus Christ. And then the little monk came back and started bugging him about his phone again!

I don’t know, but it seemed like he wanted to be alone with me too. He told the kid to go take a nap. The kid said he couldn’t possibly nap at half past six. Monsieur TP kept telling him to go somewhere else subtly, but the kid wouldn’t budge without M. TP’s iPhone, so I was like, “Um…you know my little brother? Well, my little brother has his [M. TP’s] iPhone. Go find him.” And he did! Yes. One cockblock down. A temple-ful of them to go. Well, by the time that lady was gone, we were done sorting and had no other reasons to be around each other anymore, and this one girl asked him to download something onto her laptop. FUCK.

So I grabbed my phone from his bedroom (don’t ask) and went to sit at a bench next to this old lady, but I thought, if I wanted him to spend more time with me, I need to get myself alone. So I went to the round outdoor table near the trees and sat there all by myself and my cell phone. I had my head on the table and absentmindedly playing LuxTouch and Skyping/texting with M. Paff at the same time. All of the sudden, I heard noises and I looked up and I saw Monsieur TP with that girl and their laptops. He came over and sat across from me while she was all grumbling, “Why are we out here? Why can’t we sit inside. We’re disturbing her.” He looked over, smiled, and said, “Can I sit here?” and of course I smiled back and said, “It’s alright.” We just kept looking over and smiling at each other.

I don’t know…at this point, I was kind of convinced that he had some kind of feelings for me too, but nothing would happen unless we ditched these cockblocks. And he was trying. He told the girl, who kept on grumbling about being outside, to go do what she wanted and come back when it was done. She didn’t want to and continued to grumble. Well, bitch, shut the fuck up cause you’re ruining my evening too.

Then this old lady came and told us to go sing. I was like, HELL no, but M. TP convinced me and that girl to go since he had to. So I did. I took a seat, and he was going to take a seat next to me, but that girl dragged him away to work on her laptop.

Like, seriously? You guys live nearby. Can’t you do this another night? I only had less than an hour left and I live an hour away. I think I get priorities.

But she dragged him away, but thank God, this old lady told me to go get him back because they needed people to sing. I went and got him and sat back down in my seat. Okay, so my seat was right next to the only seat left. Hah. But then this lady came and sat the fuck down! I was like, what the hell is with this? But when she saw him coming, she grabbed him and sat his butt down. Yes, someone who wasn’t an obstacle! But then that girl came again with her laptop and dragged a chair over and sat next to him. Boo.

My Vietnamese was deteriorating really fast, so I kept getting lost and of course, I asked him once or twice where we were. At one point, I made up my mind to just lean over and whisper, “Hey, I like you, but you probably already know that.” But that bitch dragged him away again.

Oh, my fucking God. You know, at that point, the mood was gone; I was pissed. I was done waiting around. I got up and got inside where I talked to M. Paff until my mother found me and made me go to the meditation session, where I was determined to avoid M. TP for the rest of the night until I went home. Well, I got out and I saw and I couldn’t do it. I went to bed/nap everyday for ten days thinking the same thing, but every time I see him, the feelings surged back. It’s been going on for ten days for the last three years. Pathetic? I know.

But once meditation was over, he was like, “You’re still here?” It was ten. I was like, “Yeah, we had to meditate.” He was like, “See you next year then.” And I said, “Bye.”

End of story.

I don’t even know if we’re going to see each other again next year since the event won’t be located at the temple next year. I’m hoping my mother will take us there for Vu Lan though. Fingers crossed.

All and all, it was just a summer fling. We were in this tiny Buddhist bubble. It never would have worked in real life. He’s not the most handsome guy and he’s my height. I’m pretty sure we’ll have communication problems, not to mention the fact that I don’t believe in long distance relationships. I guess I was just looking for closure when I thought about confessing, but I’m kind of glad that I didn’t confess. If he didn’t, then it’d just be awkward and it’d make a funny story to tell my grandchildren one day, but if he’d like me too, then it could get complicated. In a way, I was partly looking for confirmation that I was thought beautiful and desirable and that I, too, have the power to stir something in the opposite sex. That was the point of confessing if nothing could come out of it? We weren’t going to date, obviously, considering the physical and cultural distance between us. What would happen next time we see each other? What if one person moved on and the other person didn’t? Love isn’t a game. It’s one thing to be depressed by myself, but it’s something quite different if I drag someone down with me. I would hate for another person to feel as bad as I do when I do go under. Yeah, I’m glad I didn’t confess. I’m just glad he's at least noticed me this year.

Charm is a glow within a woman that casts a most becoming light on others.

Okay, so M. TP has a twin. Um…what? Like, for the last couple of nights, I kept passing him again and again and it would make no geographical sense whatsoever unless he had a twin. And then I got confirmation that he indeed has a twin who looks exactly like him, walks exactly like him, talks exactly like him, and looks at me the exact same way.

But I know which one is the real one because the real one has longer hair. And his twin is quieter. Like, way quieter.

So…I was taking a nap yesterday in my room at the temple. Okay, like, it was the awkwardest place to take a nap. I curled like a cat and napped at the edge of the mattress. And all of the sudden, I heard the door open. Well, the door is jammed. You have to force it open with your shoulder; it makes a really loud noise. M. TP was at the door and I was barely awake. I kind of sat up and he apologized for interrupting and thanked me for letting him borrow my charger. I had no idea what was going on; I later found out that my mother lent it to him. But I was all groggy when I reached for the charger, mumbled something, curled back into my original position, and went back to sleep while he was still there.

Yup. I am so charming and graceful sometimes I even amaze myself.

And there’s these other guys. Oh, my God, why can’t the one I like like me back? Like, once I like someone, I’m not interested in anyone else. Especially someone who looks like a thug or someone who looks like douche.

Okay…so…there’s this guy at the temple. He looks like he’s in his early thirty, but he’s really skinny and short and creepy. He wears this pair of black sunglasses that makes him look so douche-y. He always tries to talk to me, and I answer because I’m not rude, but he took my phone as a joke. Nononono. Sometimes I do that to people, but I get so pissed off when people do that to me. Yeah. You had no chance before; now you have negative chance—even though that makes no sense.

And then there’s this other guy from San Jose. He’s a bit taller than me, but he speaks English fluently. We have okay conversations but when he kept following me whenever I go, things got a bit uncomfortable. He looked like such a thug. I don’t know; I just didn’t get good vibes from him.

I took pictures of M. Purwadi today and hung out with Mlle. Jang. It was fun. It felt a bit different with them now. More liberated. Like, we were adults, not little kids anymore. It’s a great feeling. M. Purwadi has a lovely camera. I want it.

There's a difference between beauty and charm. A beautiful woman is one I notice. A charming woman is one who notices me.

So, there’s got to be a limit on how many times you can glance at someone and catch them looking at you before things get awkward and suspicious. Especially if you don’t talk. Yup, me and M. TP have been approaching that limit very, very, very quickly.

Let f be the number of times we’ve glanced at each other and caught the other looking.

To say f’ is positive and increasing would be a huge understatement. F’ is very positive and quickly increasing. I wonder what will happen when it does reach that number.

Anyways, I’ve been bitching about this Buddhist thing to anyone who’ll listen, but I actually am having a good time. Not a great time. Just a good time. Like, there are more children here this year, and they’re all under ten, so, as the youngest young adult, I’ve been unofficially delegated to watch them while still be part of the adult world.

So me and M. TP talked a bit again that evening. I don’t know. I might be overanalyzing things, but I think he changed his routine so we could see more of each other. Then, when most of the other people went to the main hall to listen to lecture, I told the people who were helping me with drying the spoons that they shouldn’t mind and just go since I wanted to be alone and turn on my music anyways. They thanked me and left. I turned on my music and had a great time drying the spoons, but then he came over and helped. Just the two of us. Drying spoons. I turned off my music since they were pretty risqué and so we were drying in silence.

Then I, being the charming girl that I am, asked why he was drying spoons with me when he could be listening to the lecture. He said that it was alright for him to miss a few minutes since he was helping me with the spoons. Then I asked again five minutes later. He was like, “You want me to leave?” And of course, I said, “Kind of.” Why the fuck did I say that? Why the fuck did I say the stupid things I do? Oh, my GOD.

I’m usually not this quiet! Like, ever. Yeah, I can be, but not this quiet. It sucks.