Almost 8 years to the day! You wrote so beautifully then, when you wrote. While over time, the grand designs withered that I had for a story of the ages, the heroine of the letters, the suffering that turned her to dust and her rise from the ashes (yes, the clichés abound, all of them, every single one of them) and what stupid designs those were… I realized that years ago but then again, I imagined, stupid imaginations. And I threatened albeit moronically, the idiot without a bargaining chip, I couldn’t have stayed away until there was some commemorative moment. So you had walked so magnificently in a room full of glittering strangers, with naked feet, almost 8 years to day -the significance of years themselves is somewhat concocted- a concoction I need to call the moment, the commemorative moment: your anniversary. And I imagined all for a small feeling of elation. Some day in a freaking mall or something I would recognize you with the precision of your prose. I mean who the hell speaks the way the write anyway. But still I would know you and know you better than you would have known yourself. And the story, whether I write it or not would be there to write Time to give up that small feeling of elation With that made up importance of me and the day I say goodbye. You know, clearing the fucking browser history to make sure ‘n’ doesn’t auto-complete and all that jazz.The irony is, i still cant comment on the post i actually wanted to comment on, you sadistic fiend. (lol seems so fucking imbecilic to indicate I smiled calling you a fiend) Anyway, goodbye. Unless Fuck the unless
1 comment:
Almost 8 years to the day!
You wrote so beautifully then, when you wrote.
While over time, the grand designs withered that I had for a story of the ages, the heroine of the letters, the suffering that turned her to dust and her rise from the ashes (yes, the clichés abound, all of them, every single one of them) and what stupid designs those were… I realized that years ago but then again, I imagined, stupid imaginations.
And I threatened albeit moronically, the idiot without a bargaining chip, I couldn’t have stayed away until there was some commemorative moment. So you had walked so magnificently in a room full of glittering strangers, with naked feet, almost 8 years to day -the significance of years themselves is somewhat concocted- a concoction I need to call the moment, the commemorative moment: your anniversary.
And I imagined all for a small feeling of elation. Some day in a freaking mall or something I would recognize you with the precision of your prose. I mean who the hell speaks the way the write anyway. But still I would know you and know you better than you would have known yourself. And the story, whether I write it or not would be there to write
Time to give up that small feeling of elation
With that made up importance of me and the day I say goodbye.
You know, clearing the fucking browser history to make sure ‘n’ doesn’t auto-complete and all that jazz.The irony is, i still cant comment on the post i actually wanted to comment on, you sadistic fiend. (lol seems so fucking imbecilic to indicate I smiled calling you a fiend)
Anyway, goodbye.
Unless
Fuck the unless
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