i have always told my friends that there is a sense of magic with talking to someone who is, for a lack of better word, a stranger. not really a stranger in the sense, for you do know things about the other person, bits and pieces of who she is. ok, part stranger/part friend. something in between. someone you meet throught the electronic highways of cyberspace.
the good part of this is that, since you are not that close to each other, the other party will not have any biases against you, though i should admit that there might be a small tendency to side with you cause she knows you more than the other party involved. but then, being a stranger of sorts gives her the freedom to say whats on her mind without worrying if she is offending you.
a breath of fresh air.
the dust of yesterday might have been blown by the winds of, well, yesterday. and yet they have this quality that makes them stick not only to your clothes, but to your skin. you could somehow imagine it bond with the sweat you give off. of how it pains. of how it feels. of how it maddens.
and yet, laying it out through electronic bits and wires, with someone on the other end listening, makes inhaling the dust of yesterday worth it. its not the self-pity that comes, or the pain. but i suppose its that i feel a surge of life that i am, that i am still going on with every telling.
her memories won't kill me. and i prove that with every gulp of the past that i take. of course its possible i am killing myself slowly, perhaps. perhaps.
No comments:
Post a Comment