072910 2
Maybe I don’t want to admit it. Cause you’ll probably think that I’m a bit crazy. But, I get a little bit nervous when you text me and there’s no emoticon. No smiley to brighten up the stark contrast of black on white. You’ll just laugh and say that I’m thinking to much (my friend’s are all saying the same), but when it takes you 3 hours to answer my text I get a pit in my stomach. It means something when you answer me ‘less than a minute ago’ - according to my blackberry. I get a little flutter when you :), :D, ;P. Crazy fact.
072910
Creeping in my window early, with long fingers plying at the gauze of my curtain, you enter into my room and into my bed. You spread yourself lazily next to me, warming me and waking me with your touch. And then the whispering begins. Slowly at first, then rising in a crescendo of hushed promises, you placate my mind both with the promise of you and that of the day ahead.
072410
The internal dialogue that is constantly fulltering through my mind is worthy of being written down, and perhaps even of being read by others.
072310 (2)
I went out looking for a breeze. the weather is so stagnant that I just felt like following suit; sitting down. But you don’t get a breeze from sitting. So I went for a walk. There was no breeze. Then I discovered my fan. A medium between the weather imploring me to sit stsill and my own longing for a breeze. The fan.
072310
No I have no clue what you’re talking about.
So wanna come over to my place later? Number 21, I’m the kid living in the bubble on the left.
062010
I’m just here right now, not a couple minutes ahead or behind. Just living in the moment; where I want to be. And this is where I want to stay for the next little while, just coasting along on the fumes of moments passed.
But even in writing this, I’m being sucked into the events, thoughts and emotions of times just finished, and in this never-ending circle of consciously trying to return to the blissful unconsciousness of the moment, I continue to live in the past.
???
My mom is secretly a greaser from the 40s, constantly slicking back her hair like a cool cat. My dad is secretly the king of the Netherlands, lording over the land with an iron fist of orange and Delph blue.
