Tuesday, December 21, 2010

I like to write, I like to write a lot, I particularly like to type my writings. I like how my keyboard sounds, and I like the movement of my hands on the keyboard. It's like playing the piano and expressing yourself in an unambiguous way. But a piece of writing is still an ambiguous entity wrapped in a cover of fake feeling of clarity that words give. This one for example, is vague and ambiguous, because all I'm actually trying to say is that I like to write but I don't. I keep thinking about it, I even write the words, the sentences, paragraphs, chapters, books in my head and rarely write them down. Even this one for example, is very vague and very ambiguous, because all that is actually in my head is that why I can't even utter the words in my head? All I'm trying to say is ... am I trapped again? in an idea that is very very very wrong?
All I want to hear myself say is, I want to hear his voice, his voice is beautiful. In sadness, shyness, excitement, happiness, being serious,... it's beautiful. His voice, his smile, his laughter, is beautiful. I don't want him, I just want to be close to him, only geographically speaking.

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