I mean, seriously: what were we thinking?
We would talk, late into the night and straight on 'til morning, not caring for the sleeping world nor fearing the terror of the day. We would only concern ourselves with the other, who was likewise sitting in front of a glowing box, moving their fingers in a ridiculous dance, pretending they were talking to the other.
Not much time passed before we began to consider it a "real" thing. I would miss her. She would keep me in her heart. But there was a nagging feeling, a blur in the corner of your eye.
I wanted to believe it was real...
She wanted to believe it was real...
We wanted to believe it was real...
Never is enough... we consider ourselves above the need for human contact, think we value the intellectual soul. If you are getting the intellectual equivalent of raucous sex, are you satisfied? I just wanted to hold her hand. I wanted to brush her hair aside after she'd fallen asleep in my arms. I wanted to look in her eyes when I sipped my coffee.
I had a lovely time. I wanted to know everything. She had a lovely laugh, I remember it from long ago...
i cleared this with the one i wrote it about before i noded it.
but
ask dizzy and katyana if that which begins on the Internet can be real.