dear Miss Matched

It is so odd to have to wonder what goes on in your head as i am talking to you. I guess since you have little bearing on what is going on around you I shouldn't be worried if my comments are rude or if my questions are disjointed. Or even if I don't make any sense. But I am worried. For me. you see, its because when i start a conversation, in my mind i know that what i say will make sense by the way you respond. but you don't. which makes me unsure. which makes my brain go blank. I don't like my brain going blank, because i have my masters to finish, and if this happens often enough my thesis will be titled "Um, what? oh. ntah" and it will be on a piece of a used a4 paper stapled to my head.

I'm sure in a superhero world that will be a very useful skill. say Victor Von doom has a plan all set up to take you down and burn your ass. But as soon as he meets you, hang you atop a vat of boiling acid, starts a monologue of his plans and sees that you have not reacted in the slightest, he will lose all pride and meaning of being a super villain.

but you are not in that world, you're in this one. with me in it. and according to our birth dates, i was here first.

so all in all....

um...

all in all....

i...um.. i just wanna say...





*blank*

damn. that is your superpower. I'm doomed.

Dear Muaz,

I miss being around you.

I wish i didn't have to grow up and look for jobs and get my masters and learn to live the single life the hard way. I can't seem to master being a grown up. It feels like jumping into quicksand and learning that struggling will only kill you faster when you're already nose deep.

So I'm starting to stop struggling, and move each limb with the force of a whisper.

I'm already waking up each and every day with the thought that this day, I shall live. Today, I shall survive. And each day combined is a week, each week combined is a month and pretty soon, it's next year. Pray for me.

Till later.