how you, unawarely, urge me to write.

The main reason for this, I think, is the fact that we do not get to talk -- at all -- and my blog has become my only means to reach you.

I have thought about it -- the possibility that I might be using my supposedly long-gone fondness of you as an excuse to write. However, each time I catch a sight of you, even for a while, I (as if automatically) would want to grab a pen and scribble every suppressed word down.

In other words:
I cannot help but be inspired by you, in aspects I am unable to get around.

Still, I can get rid of "this" if I wanted to (and it would not be easy), but a part of me wants to keep it, with every attempt to hinder further growth.

And so, here I am, not too hopeful that this text would get to you (eventually).
Anyway, if you were reading this, I just feel like letting you know:
I am animated by your very existence, regardless of any kind of liking.

(Bringing this back because I feel bad for having to constrain myself, and constraint just means I would still want to keep all these in and let them thrive, which I want the least right now.)

Labels: mir