It began soon after I met you. Could I call it the best time I've had in my life? Probably not, since I believe I'm too young and refuse to go under a bus anytime soon. But I remember a series of chest pains due to excessive laughter and alcoholism. God bless you for that. It was like watching yourself grow up as another person. And I could not bother trying to make sense of it.
You were a child when I first saw you. Sure, you were 17, but that counts as a kid considering how you used to be. Yes, you smoked a cigarette back then too. But I'm afraid the maturity was not introduced due to inhalation of disgusting tobacco that will eventually lead to your death. But don't die, please.
If you remember clearly, there were always a dearth of awkward moments with us. In hindsight, there ought to have been more. We were probably supposed to just get along right from the start, which is strange. There was no 'working on'. Why not? The rum and vodka shots were not supposed to replace that. Sigh.
January, bro. I wish I remembered anything of that time. And I still managed that bloody Project 366 blog throughout. Such a blur. It reflects on the writing too, I must confess. But I would do anything to get that back - the pizzas, the phone calls to the grocery store, the forgotten existence of this place called college. C***s of the first order, if I may say so. I love you for bringing that part out. You complete me.
You were a child when I first saw you. Sure, you were 17, but that counts as a kid considering how you used to be. Yes, you smoked a cigarette back then too. But I'm afraid the maturity was not introduced due to inhalation of disgusting tobacco that will eventually lead to your death. But don't die, please.
If you remember clearly, there were always a dearth of awkward moments with us. In hindsight, there ought to have been more. We were probably supposed to just get along right from the start, which is strange. There was no 'working on'. Why not? The rum and vodka shots were not supposed to replace that. Sigh.
January, bro. I wish I remembered anything of that time. And I still managed that bloody Project 366 blog throughout. Such a blur. It reflects on the writing too, I must confess. But I would do anything to get that back - the pizzas, the phone calls to the grocery store, the forgotten existence of this place called college. C***s of the first order, if I may say so. I love you for bringing that part out. You complete me.
No comments:
Post a Comment