I’m so tempted to say goodbye. I’m tempted to do it all the time. When it gets warm and cozy, one repulses, “This can’t be real.”
But I like the people I’ve known here, some I’ve met and will be meeting soon. Sharing food, and sharing jokes. It seems like most people do online friendships through skype, which I never do because skype is way too complicated for me. I never have the time to sit still and talk to a webcam. I spend an unhealthy amount of time talking to myself, which I never took as insanity, just how my brain/body/mind/speech works - my Mother thinks otherwise, though. But I keep usernames in my head, sometimes I know names, most of the time I don’t. I remember books this person mentioned, or that song this person sang-along-to. I remember some posts distinctly, I remember the half-blurred pictures people shared. It’s nothing personal, but yeah, I simply remembered. I can’t say goodbye to having this. I might one day move to Argentina, or start a book place, or get my daughter’s godfather because of this blue-space.
L’s more of a blogspot kind of girl, she uses Tumblr for the usual picture-hunting, quote-gathering purposes. But I’m guessing she too, like me, simply couldn’t be bothered with complex blogging sites so we turn to this microblogging-for-the-lazy thing. She’s the first person that I ever trusted my goddamn instincts to talk to and meet up even when we’re strangers, and my saga of meeting online friends offline continues till today.
Almost 2 years, L. I’m doing good. Happy birthday. The world is like how it was when you left it, I think. But it changes because I am aging. Still working on my non-existent patience, am still kind of dark and negative like I was when we were 16. But it’s pleasures like really good, creamy and ripe avocados that reminds me I gotta learn how to work it. Say Hi to God for me, I need all his Grace for my finals next month.

I’m so tempted to say goodbye. I’m tempted to do it all the time. When it gets warm and cozy, one repulses, “This can’t be real.”

But I like the people I’ve known here, some I’ve met and will be meeting soon. Sharing food, and sharing jokes. It seems like most people do online friendships through skype, which I never do because skype is way too complicated for me. I never have the time to sit still and talk to a webcam. I spend an unhealthy amount of time talking to myself, which I never took as insanity, just how my brain/body/mind/speech works - my Mother thinks otherwise, though. But I keep usernames in my head, sometimes I know names, most of the time I don’t. I remember books this person mentioned, or that song this person sang-along-to. I remember some posts distinctly, I remember the half-blurred pictures people shared. It’s nothing personal, but yeah, I simply remembered. I can’t say goodbye to having this. I might one day move to Argentina, or start a book place, or get my daughter’s godfather because of this blue-space.

L’s more of a blogspot kind of girl, she uses Tumblr for the usual picture-hunting, quote-gathering purposes. But I’m guessing she too, like me, simply couldn’t be bothered with complex blogging sites so we turn to this microblogging-for-the-lazy thing. She’s the first person that I ever trusted my goddamn instincts to talk to and meet up even when we’re strangers, and my saga of meeting online friends offline continues till today.

Almost 2 years, L. I’m doing good. Happy birthday. The world is like how it was when you left it, I think. But it changes because I am aging. Still working on my non-existent patience, am still kind of dark and negative like I was when we were 16. But it’s pleasures like really good, creamy and ripe avocados that reminds me I gotta learn how to work it. Say Hi to God for me, I need all his Grace for my finals next month.

"I know they’re just symbols. But you lock your heart to someone and throw the key away. The lock is then collected, thrown or recycled to make way for new locks. Your love is just recycled for new ones. All of them, each lock. You can never let go of this recycled form of love. It is not there for you to let go, move on and heal yourself.”
"You’re definitely a party spoiler."
All I’m saying is, keep the lock and keep the key. When it ends, you know it’s time to unlock and to let go. You preserve what is to be preserved, you recycle what is to be recycled, but at your own terms and in your own way.
But then again, what do I know. Maybe they didn’t throw it all. Maybe recycling, in this form, makes the love that we love, the most human of all. The one that has no lock-unlock algorithm, rather, a dive into ourselves and feeling the verge of death as the water fill in our lungs, but then we swim upwards and as we reach the surface, the air now replaces water and we learn to breathe, again. That is one heck of a rebirth.

"I know they’re just symbols. But you lock your heart to someone and throw the key away. The lock is then collected, thrown or recycled to make way for new locks. Your love is just recycled for new ones. All of them, each lock. You can never let go of this recycled form of love. It is not there for you to let go, move on and heal yourself.”

"You’re definitely a party spoiler."

All I’m saying is, keep the lock and keep the key. When it ends, you know it’s time to unlock and to let go. You preserve what is to be preserved, you recycle what is to be recycled, but at your own terms and in your own way.

But then again, what do I know. Maybe they didn’t throw it all. Maybe recycling, in this form, makes the love that we love, the most human of all. The one that has no lock-unlock algorithm, rather, a dive into ourselves and feeling the verge of death as the water fill in our lungs, but then we swim upwards and as we reach the surface, the air now replaces water and we learn to breathe, again. That is one heck of a rebirth.

But when you walk, it’s different : you no longer feel anything for the other, neither bitter aggression nor gushing fraternity. Merely a neutral availability, taking on colour when another is found in tears. Then through natural compassion the heart opens, dilates spontaneously before the apparent pain, like petals opening to light. And you go to their aid, you long to help with all your heart.

—Frederic Gros, in A Philosophy of Walking.

  • Me : How do I flirt online.
  • Me : You don't.
  • Me : Not even with those emojis.
  • Me : Maybe just capitalize everything.
  • Me : "HEY YOU I LIKE YOUR FACE."
And don’t place a violet on my grave, it’s the flower of the depressed, and reminds the dead of how love died too young. Place seven ears of green wheat on my coffin and a few red anemones should you find them, otherwise leave the church roses for churches and newlyweds.

—Mahmoud Darwish in Mural.