12 years of memory. Just like that. Gone. Changes are being made already for my leaving, yet my heart won’t let me feel this.
Contemplation
How do you write a love letter that stands the test of time? You can’t you can only write for the here and now. For how you feel in the present, and what you wish for the future.
I’ve been trying to write him a love letter for a while. But I wouldn’t know where to begin. My words falter, and nothing i write captures how I want to write to him. It’s not beautiful enough.
You see. I want him to see just how I feel about him.
How his smile is possibly the cutest I’ve seen. His whole face changes when he smiles, and its a slow smile. It starts of slowly, and his face tries to resist, but succumbs to a full blown smile.
I want to tell him that I couldn’t have imagined the picture to be painted as it has. That’s not to say its perfect. Thinking that would be conceited. The colours are all mixed, the lines blurred, but the painting itself? It’s amazing. The picture is for keeps.
Theres so much more to say. To outline. But i cannot force myself to do so. It wouldn’t stand testament to the person that he is. To the words i want to convey. So i push him and say shush. And call him a fartface. Thats how every love letter should end.
Evolve.
The age of technology has made us impatient.
We have become so self obsessed that every text, email, call, message that is not responded to within minutes let alone hours causes us to create elaborate conspiracy theories and wave off a persons character and ability to form relationships.
Not content with making such conclusions, we’ve become the people that can track said person’s whereabouts. We can monitor their interaction with all other and compare with their cold, rude behaviour towards us.
What are we doing? We are trying to change the course of natural human behaviour and create a pattern to suit our whims and desires.
We are expecting people to be at our beck and call. To provide meticulous explanations for any behaviour we deem unfit. We are losing the art of maturing.
A real relationship, any relationship develops and blossoms over time the way it was intended to. By spending time with that person, in physical presence. A letter was an artform that called for thought, creativity, openness and a mutual willingness to communicate. Nowadays any tom bob or harry can create within their head a ‘real’ relationship based on ‘real’ interaction. No.
Seeing someone on facebook does not mean you know them. Speaking on the phone every night doesn’t mean you’re close. Texts with sweet nothing actually mean nothing, its a cheapened version of a pervert using lines upon you. Stop accepting them as declarations of love.
I say this first and foremostly to myself. I’ve forgotten what is real and what is trying to grasp onto my desires.
Anyone, that wants to, will take the time effort and dedication to get to know you. Rely and trust real, human interaction. Where a lol is heard and rude tone is not just interpreted via an email . Simple. Back to basic. She says writing all of this on her new-age phone, which she will be posting onto her public blog, via 3g. Yes. Lesson truly learnt.
Mixing Business with Pleasure.
Me: Bubs, you know your idea of me putting money into car and making money, is this actually?
It: Ye, you down?
Me: I wana make money, so its kind of a yeh. What I gota do, does it involve prostitution? Cos I may be down.
It: Gimme loot, which you have, you give it if you have it. You get percentage of profit. 20%?
Me: I got a grand and whatever you got from h6med of mine for now. Are you hustling your woman?
It: Lol. Give me a figure?
Me: I duno how much that totals money wise. About £1,700 and something? Give me a figure I'll like, and teach me stuff.
It: If I make a grand, you'd get £250. Thats 25%
Me: This number 2 is alien to me.
It: First rule of business, never agree to the first offer. Second rule of business, if it's your man, just do as you're told.
Me: 1st rule of life. Know you always say yes to your woman. You're my man. you shall get more. 40/60 split.
