I Can Take Everything On Her Face

I Had Gotten So Used To Being Alone, But Never Entirely Used To It. Never Used To It Enough To Stop Wanting The Alternative.

Its A Fine Line Between Love And Stalking.

I Am Starting To Get Tired Of Relying On Words. They Are Full Of Meaning, Yes, But They Lack Sensation. Writing To Her Is Not The Same As Seeing Her Face As She Listens. Hearing Back From Her Is Not The Same As Hearing Her Voice. I Have Always Been Grateful For Technology, But Now It Feels As If There's A Little Hitch Of Separation Woven Into Any Digital Interaction. I Want To Be There, And This Scares Me. All My Usual Disconnected Comforts Are Bieng Taken Away, Now That I See The Greater Comfort Of Presence.

Love Me Less, But Love Me For A Long Time

Here," She Said. "this Is For You." "i Didn't Really Get You Anything," I Sputtered. "i Mean, I Didn't Know That You Were Going To Be Here, And--" "don't Worry. It's Your Embarrassment At Not Having The Thought That Counts.