You are as beautiful as you are cute... most of you anyway. The messages you leave on my answering machine
sometimes just make me want to run to it and hug it. That would be pretty silly, don't you think? But since you're out there, who would know?
I miss waking up next to you. I miss the sweat that builds up between us when our skin has been in contact for too long. I miss the uncomfortable decision of trying to figure out what to do with my lower arm while lying there. I miss the monopolization of my life to the point at which I no longer felt the need to spend my time wandering the odd website or two.
What are you doing in the middle of the day, I wonder. I hope you are enjoying your classes. I hope you are enjoying your assistanceships. I probably wouldn't be enjoying them myself, but hope against the odds that you do. I hope they make you feel good about yourself.
I count the days until May. I count the days until you are here.
I know you are already here. Already always with me. I keep telling myself that, but it's not enough. I feel restless. Aimless. I feel like I have to write about angst when I really just want to write something funny. It must be just one of my moods... or is it? How much control over our own minds do we really have?
Let me be funny, please! I'd even give you a, err, a... hmm, what is it about our culture that makes me feel like I have to give you something in return? How about just a compliment? If only the world were funnier. All the death and destruction, the lies and fabrications, the attempts to insult our intelligence - it must be funny, somehow. It's probably just a matter of perspective and I have the wrong one.