But...even when you're out there, amongst friends and the solitude of night, the crowded bar streets and the calling of life...the only thing you can think about is one particular person. You'll think only about those particular pair of blue eyes that only return smile and an endless pool of hopes. The curving of his lips into his smile lines and his happiness shows through the redness on his face and the quirky sheesh sheesh sheesh laugh of his, as he calms down every nerve and quells every fear, reinstating the very self esteem and reinsuring a feeling of stable security. You'll miss the words he chooses and the ways he'll go out of his way to make you happy and to bend down to your will, just to make you happy for one longer second.
It's awkward to write from someone else's laptop as I am secretive about my blogging experiences. It's quite a difference as I seek to write from the comfort of my own solitary home that only rings true to my soul and none other. I tend to stash my writing and keep them a secret. I am not fond of showing my writing to everyone. I am selective...especially of such as journaling and blogging. For example, even coming out with my writing took me a long time. I used to hide my notebooks deep within closets and underneath beds and even carpets that's been pealed from the floor. One of my ultimate favorite spots was in the attic and I would hide stacks of loose paper behind the small door, which no one would ever think to look for. I took pleasure in keeping it a secret from the world, because it was my world and my world only, where no one could ever try to enter. It belonged to me and I was it's mistress where only I reigned. It was mine, no one else could touch it, soil it, or harm it, or change it, unless I wanted it to. I've always been fond of rare and special things.
So...it's a change and I am unsure whether this is a good or a bad change...Writing habits, at least for me, rarely change. And that change is at the very least, very slow and a very difficult task. I don't even like changing my writing process for essays. When I am made to change these, I became very angry and well, very unhappy.
People write as it pearls out of their soul and as we all know the process or birthing of a pearl is a long and a complicated process that makes hard demands on the oysters...as such it is for writing. After a writing session, I often feel tired, sleepy and well, with a ton off my chest, and I like taking my time to be lost in the bitter-sweet success and pleasure of writing...it's a tiring process in which it's a lot like giving birth. You not give it only a physical space to exist, but also a mental capacity, a character, traits, time, fate, and soul in which it exists as an extention of yourself in one way or another, in one dimension or another. Your writing continues to exist long after your heart stop beats, you stop breathing and your fingers case to pick up the pen, or your mind to stop thinking about the depths of life, religion, humanity, universe and death.
So, whats the sudden change? I am quite unsure, but I just couldn't stop thinking about you, and I couldn't stop thinking. Emotions and thoughts piled up, making it impossible for me to continue on without writing. So, I did grab the laptop of a friend to write this blog entry...because things needed to come off my chest and pearls were ready to be made. I am nearing the end of this post, because already my lids are becoming heavy, my sighing has increased and slowly the speed which I have been typing away has slowly started to slow down. But I guess, the consequences are to be found out, after today, and we shall see the reprecussions afterwards.
Until then...I'll be dreaming of you tonight...
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