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The Mail Box


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There are far too many, and I wish not to keep a list. But every so often, I mentally scribble them down, one to ten, and remind myself that should it happen that I am in dire need of salvation, I can whisk it out and use it to save me. It's my concealed weapon. One so deadly I dare not let you know I have it.

 

It saddens me that I need to keep a dragon pin, but a true warrior always knows how to be prepared even in the most tranquil of times. I know not who my friends are. Every one remains a stranger to us, save for ourselves. But sometimes in the end, we remain unknown even to ourselves. I am a danger to my own being. How much more to you. How much more you, to me, you who I do not know.

 

I shall not use it against you. I am ready to use it on me, though, when the moon turns blood and the Dead Sea stirs the salt bed. Then it shall be that one sacrifice saves not just one.

 

I look at you from this distance and I wonder, are you at the antichthon, far from the cool face of the moon? Why do you seclude yourself from the rest? The anonymity breeds animosity, and I mumble to myself, one to ten, like an incantation that shall stir up a sand storm and swallow me up when you move from the other side of the earth nearer to the sun. It can happen anytime. Forbid it.

 

It shall be bloodless. Instant. I want not to writhe in pain anymore than I already am, whenever I blink and the memories flash across in the speed of light; and revelations upon revelations stumble upon my feet like maggots worshiping rotten flesh.

 

The list grows, and I write it on a magic slate. Here now, gone the next, and here once more. If it is needed, it shall be of use. Not yet. Now now. Everything has a perfect timing. I am hoping that the time for this will not come.

 

Then again, I am but of ash, immortalized by the concept of hope, antagonized by the same. So I keep the list at the back of my mind, on hand if I need saving. Forbid that it must be used.

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I am not surprised at all that it'd end this way, bebz.

With nothing really to offer, I actually shouldn't expect anything from you.

You used your head, maybe.

And how I wish it would've been a lot different if you listened to your heart.

It probably would have made a whole lot of difference.

 

But in the end, I might only hurt you.

That's the last thing I'd want to do.

 

As it is, we are left to pursue our own respective dreams.

I've passed my test; you've passed yours.

Congratulations to us. :)

 

I just hope to see you once again.

I'd hate to think that one lunch is all that we'd ever have.

(We didn't even finish our food. :lol:)

 

I miss you. :*

 

- j

Edited by Wolf
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I trust in you. Its just that, I can't help it. Maybe, its because of the tear glands' location. I wasn't like this before. You may ask the exs. I don't think you'll do the latter. Hahaha. However, seriously- I wasn't a cry baby prior to us. Perhaps, my usual reax is influenced by the book, What Smart A Woman Know. Yeah. Yeah. Yeah. The one you told me not to read. You know me. Stubborn and all that. But, I love you. I really do. So, I'm thinking of an eye-related surgery for this tiny concern. Hahaha. Kidding sweetie :*

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ey you.

 

such an impact you've made in my life...that after a year or so, i'm still having nightmares about you! geez....why can't my dreams be more pleasant for a change?

 

hope i don't get to bump into you in the next convention..

 

and oh. i swear to high heavens and to all the forces that be. I will get back to where i previously was, and i'll get back at you. I'll see you in my next paper presentation.

Edited by angel_by_day
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