Sunday, May 10, 2009

January, 2009: Sepia-toned loving

Writa, you are irredeemable and incorrigible

I do miss that boy who said this. But I always knew how hard it would be. I need and long to type in a little box and see my words reflecting back. They come from someone who is so much like me yet so better than me. Sitting in this cold room, looking at that machine I am baffled so many times a day. What should I do? Play solitaire? Listen to the theme song of The Godfather and feel more miserable? I slept so much in the past four days. I am afraid to stay awake till four in the morning/night, afraid of two things.
First, I would end up smoking too much and it is a problem these days. I am trying to control but in vain. Secondly I think I would end up doing queer things to keep myself from going insane. Staying awake in the night would mean missing my spirited talks with you, missing youtube links, missing your humor and words. Words of all these things are the most important. I miss myself typing; I miss my words and yours flashing on the computer screen. It took so long for four days to pass without you. It will perhaps take me a lifetime to spend four months without writing to you.

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