It might mean nothing to you, but this is, my favorite month of the year. And yet, so strange is the beginning of this month in the year 2006 that I hardly know what to expect in the 30 days to come.

When the temperature in Beijing is like the temperature in LA at this time of year, I lose track of where I am, and try to cling on to a vague idea of who I am; when I’m confused, constantly torn between two things, two times, two people, two choices-this and that, then and now, him and him, me and myself; when I want to sing, and know that I can sing, more than anything and more than ever before in my life; when I want to feel each and every emotion to its most extreme, to give everything I’ve got, to charge forward and not hold back and not consider consequences; when I’ve tried to be mature, tried to settle down, tried to pretend that I’m just like everybody else, and realize that I can’t, I won’t and I’m not; when I can’t remember anything, but want so badly to remember, can’t share with anyone, but need so desperately to share; when I wish for you to understand me, but know that you will never be able to, even though you are the closest to my heart, and that innately we are really the same person; when I constantly discover new things about you that open my eyes and my senses, hear stories that bring beautiful crazy images to my mind; when I am so lonely inside as if I’m the only person on earth, but laugh such a bubbly laugh as if I’m the happiest girl around; when I want so much to protect you, to spread my wings and shield out everything bad and ugly and hurtful, only to realize that I have no wings, and that I myself am susceptible to all the bad things just like you are; when I am schizophrenic and bipolar and OCDed and messy and passionate and self-destructive and a packrat and serene and sane and normal and indifferent and a health fanatic and a neat freak all at the same time; when I live in my native country, but am not eating its food nor speaking its language for days and days; when I find myself in someone else’s body and wonder what I’ve been doing all my life; when I promise I’ll have a sip of wine and a whiff of smoke but end up chain smoking the little hearts without breathing them in and watch as the smoke drifts into shapes and forms that challenge my wildest imagination; when new friends offer me their hands and hearts, and I try to take them but wonder what it is they really want from me; when I smile from the bottom of my heart as soon as I see you, hear your voice, smell your shirt, sing the song I wrote for you, think of your touch on my skin, knowing how hard fate much have worked to pull us together since it almost couldn’t have ever happened how could it even have happened but it always was meant to happen; when I hand you a knife, be it wooden or not, so you can wound me fatally even when you don’t mean to; when you are the farthest from me and yet so close, closest to me and yet so far; when I tell you truthfully that I would much rather feel pain than feel nothing, that I get restless and antsy if love falls into monotone; when I wish that I could draw, that I could play the piano, that I could dance, that I could speak Italian, that I could communicate, that I could remember a childhood full of vivid images, that I could have met you 10 years ago, that I could write your life story, that I could be your mother, your daughter, your lover, your partner, your inspiration, your angel, your little girl; when I feel deeply attached to my cell phone, it being the only connection I have to my own heart, waiting for it to tell me that you’re there, that you care, that you love, that you want, just like I do; when I want to give up, when it’s a “take it or leave it” situation, when I realize I can never just walk away, when I take a leap of faith, when I accept everything just the way they are, when I stop writing because words can’t do me justice, when I let the phone ring and don’t pick up, when I want to call you but you’re sleeping, when my heart leaps with joy and when it bleeds with pain, when I’m embarking on a new chapter of my life.

All this, when it’s my month of October.

Beijing, Tianjin, New York, Taipei, Xi’An, San Ya, Beijing.

I cry. I laugh. I bleed. I scream. I am silent. I am angry. I am here. I am not here. I sing. I write. I live. I love.

1021, 201, 520, 1211, 1802, 512, 803…

I accept that I am like this, and I will be like this, always (forever).