Codesmith

Life, Or Something Like It
2005-11-30 14:22:29 (UTC)

Handwritten

It's 1130, Wednesday. 835am. Grey and outcast, with
apparently a thirty percent chance of rain later today. I
love the rain.

Time seems to be moving a bit slower than usual. But,
considering how its so beautiful out today, I don't mind
in the least. There's something about waking up to an
outcast day, and seeing everything quiet and sleepy for
once. As if everyone were still dreaming that sweet bit of
dream, for a few more moments longer than should be
dreamt. It was quite nice.

I'm not real sure, what else to write ... It's strange,
how, whenever I come to the computer my mind's empty. It
kind of makes me wonder, if I should start a traditional
journal with pen and paper.

... I doubt I'd ever do that. I mean, who has time to
write out words when you can type them out? I'd get
impatient writing. I'd want the word done right that
moment, with my fingertips doing each letter. Instead of
my whole hand, crafting letter per letter.

Not to say, I wouldn't write one or would I not like
receiving one. They are quite nice. It's been a long, long
while since I last received a hand written letter. I think
the last one I ever got was from Melanie. I have it,
somewhere, I think. Speaking of Melanie, she wrote to me
yesterday again. She switched jobs and is working in a
more office-like setting. I'm happy for her.

It wasn't anything spectacularly special. I mean, she just
wrote to say ... she missed me. But, I really doubt she
did. She's the same as always, and I don't think she's
changed one bit.

I don't really feel like discussing that anymore.

I think, it'll actually be a tough few weeks ahead. Not
being able to talk to Katie all that much. Maybe not even
a few weeks ahead. More, like, a few ... months ahead. I
don't do well with being alone and isolated. Not, after
having been spoiled rotten by a cute, beautiful woman.
It's hard to go back to being by yourself. But, everytime
I think about that, I think how silly that must sound. How
whiny, it must be to feel that way. But I can't quite help
feeling that way. It's unbecoming, and I most dislike
being that way.

I'll write ... something else.




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