An Unrevised Excerpt from “The Little Black Notebook” by KVL3005

Chapter 2: Pink Sky

April 27th,

Finally getting started on my research paper for my Michigan History Course, one that I had months to prepare for. I was very confident in my abilities to crank out an “A” paper last minute, as I’ve done it countless times before. The finest mindset of a procrastinator or maybe that of a person who’s too deep into the delusions that he processes an intellectual prowess, which ranged far greater than any of his peers … maybe both... 

Spoiler ALERT!- He didn’t do well.   

I took the liberty to take a drive out to Holland, hoping to make the experience of writing this dreaded piece paper a tad bit more pleasant. It did but not by much. Holland has the last few remnants of this so-called “Pure Michigan”.  One consists of picturesque dunes and miles of soft-sanded yellow beaches running along the shorelines of Lake Michigan. The few places in the state where industries still remained prominent. I do love the smells of tulips blossoming in the spring, that's what they’re most known for nowadays, aside from their mostly homogenous Dutch population. 

Parked my car within Holland State Park; reading a book and listening to Frank Ocean while the sun began to set is one of life’s greatest pleasures. That I can assure you. It’s been a long since I got some sort of joy from reading. It’s me being a history major to blame. Days after days of reading monotone texts follows by important dates and events. The tedium of it all kills any pleasures it may bring. The book I’m currently reading has been sitting on my shelf for months now. Must be a joyous occasion, for it finally gets to serve its only function, after months of neglect. what is my purpose? an existentialist question that is only defined within the boundaries of oneself. Boundaries that constantly get defined and redefine. A repeating cycle that I must get out of to truly be free. 

-Do you blame the book for being narrowed in purpose or do you blame the person for not reading it? 

Only one is in control and surely is it not I. 

It is especially cloudy today; somehow the sun still manages to creep through the cracks. One big line of lights, diffusing into a pink-ish hue, stretching into the horizons. Fighting to stay afloat as if it never going to rise again, staying in the twilight-simply mesmerizing. Somebody I once knew told me this “ At the end of the sunset, that’s when the sky is the prettiest[..] but people always start to leave before that”. She did not or rather could not comprehend that. Admittedly, I was within the majority before I met her. She would be alone, parked in her car at the beach for hours, and would be the last one to leave. Only now I’ve come to an understanding of it, and maybe in some ways an understanding of her. To not be the subject of time, one that is bound to us at the moment we were born. An abstract concept invented by humans but one that can physically impact all of us... Gazing into the what-seemingly-never-ending lake of Michigan without the mechanism of time (One that was told to us, countless times over by society- “When it gets dark go home” “When it gets dark go home” ) can procure a blissful euphoric state. Creating a moment. One that cannot end, but eventually it always does. Now at this seemingly never-ending moment, I, For once truly feel free of the contraptions created by my own mind.

-Our first date was at this very spot.

It has been almost a year since I abruptly ended things- Again in this same spot.

Only a sickened and twisted man can bring Forget-Me-Not flowers to a “break up” as some sort of impractical joke. Anyways, I digress...

The stars were out, radiating the unpolluted sky like that of every night in Holland State Park. It was almost blinding. Maybe the lights emitted from the stars that night blinded me stupid for the rest of this SITuationship. She’s a soft-spoken woman, maybe too soft.  From one look you can tell went through a lot of hurt in her life. Memories she rather crumbled into a ball, set that ball on fire, and chuck it into the lake. More importantly, she hates the vulnerability of it. She often suppresses her feelings, but she never lets that have an impact on her surroundings. A very respectable aspect of that trait, one that I can learn from. Consequently, that makes her invisible to me and to the rest of society. I don’t think she likes the feeling of that. Nobody does. Constantly shifting to find her balance like a pendulum- one between the spectrum of being there and not being a nuisance. If I have to describe what she looks like, I would say she is a blonde lady short of stature. Ethnically, her family came here from Norwegian but she retains little to none of her cultural heritage. Oftentimes that can possibly cause a person to have low self-esteem growing up. I wonder what that’s like for her, to grow up in a town priding itself on its Dutch heritage. It must be strange living your life “close but not close enough” to your peers... 

“My eyes are a darker shade of blue than theirs”  she stated in one of our conversations. I could sense the envious in her voice. Her envious does not come from their slightly brighter eye colors but stem from her inability to be indifferent. She always tells me that my dark brown mesmerized her every time it hits the sun and I’ve never told her that her azure eyes are very luring. 

One of the things I hate about myself is that I am in fact a hopeless romantic but got hurt to the point where I became a realist. 

I started talking to her a few months after my ex and I broke up from our long-term relationship. One of my ex’s insecurities was that I was into blondes, and she being a dark-haired Latina and all. She was sure of it. I tried to reassure her but it didn’t work. I do not know where she got that from...maybe it’s from the stereotype that “Asians really love blondes”. In a way, all stereotypes have a hint of truth to them but is it a very distorted version of it. Repeated to the point where it becomes a single truth, a single story, One that I, unfortunately, got grouped in with. Retrospectively reflecting on it. It impacted my SITUationship profoundly. At the time, the thought of giving my ex the satisfaction that she was right, irritated my soul to its core. I guess that was enough to outweigh the happiness and stability azure eyes brought into my pathetic life.  One that comes with waves of self-hatred, self-destruction, and self-pity. For somebody who has an extremely low sense of SELF-confidence, I surely am SELF-absorbed.

Some things aren’t meant to last forever right? They’re meant to teach us a lesson.[.......]

It’s getting dark enough for the famous Michigan lighthouse to shine.   

I should be leaving soon.

And just like that....the sun is gone.

so is she.

Chapter 3: Stained White Tee and LV Shoes

“you lost me again!” The professor commented on my report. If only I had more time to develop my research. I always aimed for subjects whose magnitude is far outside the scope of what would be considered an “A” paper in a community college. While Mr. Timmy Clockinghammer is writing about -how his grandmother went to work,  probably in some dusty factory, cranking out helmets for the war effort in the 1940s. School has always been structured over content but once again my delusions have caused me to only make my life more miserable(BIG SUPRISED). 

I’m currently a hundred pages in and I can honestly say that I highly recommend it! The structure of this story jumps back and forth in time, but rarely do I feel lost. The mechanism of the author’s storytelling is excellent, I could not put the book down once I got started. One thing to note, this book was written like a diary. Sometimes it can come off as sporadic, but the author did an awesome job of conveying the main character’s emotions and fears-truly putting the readers inside Addie’s head. 

I might be biased on the subject. prior to reading this, my favorite author was Anonymous- yes - the one that wrote the Diary of the Oxygen Thief series. 

 this book perfectly encapsulates the sense of youthful wonder and rebellion; one that always comes with a hidden cost. In the case of our main character, Addie Larue, it’s her soul. 

I will update part two when I’m 2/3rd of the way through this book

-KVL3005