the new texring

hey...

that's my text. I have your number. But I can't handle actually talking to you.

there's so much I want to share with you. The wind I hear is the only sound in my ears. Its so quiet here. I want to go to Paris with you.

it is in Paris that my internal clock is in sync with the time kept by everything in the city.

I am in sync with Paris. I am in sync with you.

happy thoughts and random smiles

 

 

 

I think about you a lot. As a result, I write about you a lot. Doing so affords me the opportunity to expound on my thoughts, and in a way it lets me evacuate them from my mind.

 

sometimes when I think about you it makes me really happy. I think about the countless smiles that you have inspired, the passion that you have fueled, the inside jokes that still please me. I think about all the good I associate with you, both in terms of who you are and who we were (or perhaps who I was with you).

 

sometimes when I think about you it makes me really sad. I think about all that I walked away from, the piece of my heart that seems missing, the life that I posses without you. I think about the good, and it makes me sad to be so far from it.

 

sometimes when I think about you it makes me motivated. I think about how I chose the opportunity to grow alone rather than with you, how I I left my heart in Chicago in order to truly grow into the man I know myself to be, how without chasing my dreams wholeheartedly I would be wasting what I sacrificed for them. I think about how hard I have to work, else it was all in vain.

 

I think all this and more about you Bonita.

 

the question is, should I allow myself to fuel these thoughts? Every keystroke, ink spill and thought manifestation perpetuates how big a piece of my life you still are.

 

is my indulgence in the passion you inspire poisoning me?

 

or should I just enjoy the way you make me feel alive with emotion?