SAMANTHA FOO.
SMURFIE
1T10'06 2T10'07
p
Friday, June 30, 2006
If I tend towards him,
but never cross his path,
that makes him the asyptote
& me, his wrath.
This morning I awoke from slumber with his name hanging at my lips. Twice. As my eyelids swung open, twice was the number of times I called out his name. The next words that came out of my withered, dry lips were: Shit, today's going to be a bad day. But as I dragged my soul off the mattress, and looked into the mirror with that familiar over proportionate silhouette back at me, as I reached for the hairbrush to brush my mid-length hair, for 20 full minutes, I failed to comprehend that smile on my face when all that was in my mind was the obvious. Getting out of bed, getting dressed, washing up, common were the thoughts in my mind as any other day, but far from uniformity was the feeling inside of me. Strange, it was. Queer.
To say I love you is a dangerous feat. Because the time we spent together was surely not enough for me to conclude that. So maybe, just maybe, I just like you very very much.
Qn: Why do you still wear the necklace he gave you everyday, even when you know it's already over & can never be saved?
Ans: I wasn't the one who called for the break. All I know is I still like him. I never stopped liking him since the very first I did. I told him I'd wait, & whether he believes it or not, my words still stand for themselves. Every smile he makes, is enough for me to last for the day. I've lasted this long, longing for every bit of him. If heaven was kind, I'd have him in due time. The necklace just lies on my chest as all that I have left from before. That's all there is to it.
The funny fuzzy feelings still remain.
The butterfly effect, highly lethel.
& I'm lovin' it
18:34
_________________