Monday, March 10, 2008
http://thingsthatmakemegofuck.blogspot.com
I'm reading this wonderfully written, with clever interjections of wit and colourful descriptions that allow you to totally delve into her world, diary by her. She, who is a writer, an independent woman, and what really got me reading so many (20+) entries in a row, a girlfriend.
She's got no photos, none i see so far, on the blog, but really, the words more than make up for it.
I see the similarities, and there are entries that spark off memories I had with my boy. The one where she talked about how she planned a surprise for the boyfriend. And I remember (with much guilt) about the many times the boy has appeared on my doorstep, and I'm always armed with an excuse ("oh, i was tired/busy/kinda saw this coming.") to defend my less-than-surprised reactions. And it tugs at my heartstrings, to see the light going out of his eyes unmistakably, as all that he had imagined did not happen.
The one which she cried and cried as her pilot of a boyfriend jetted all around the world, leaving her behind with her insecurities. And I'm reminded of the many cold wars I've started, and when we think back on why I started getting sullen and cold, it's always because I felt insecure. I'm thankful that you're ever so forgiving, relentlessly cooing and persuading me to break out of from my moods. But there was that big fight just that day, the one which we both went to bed angry and disheartened. It was then I know that all these must be taking a toll on you, all my childish episodes, the incessant crying, the stubborn pout on my lips.
I've lost track of the number of times my girlfriends talk about their boyfriends, and I just have to go, "oh my gosh!! he does that tooo!!". Every love story has their own endings.
but really, it's all not that different, is it?
I'm reading this wonderfully written, with clever interjections of wit and colourful descriptions that allow you to totally delve into her world, diary by her. She, who is a writer, an independent woman, and what really got me reading so many (20+) entries in a row, a girlfriend.
She's got no photos, none i see so far, on the blog, but really, the words more than make up for it.
I see the similarities, and there are entries that spark off memories I had with my boy. The one where she talked about how she planned a surprise for the boyfriend. And I remember (with much guilt) about the many times the boy has appeared on my doorstep, and I'm always armed with an excuse ("oh, i was tired/busy/kinda saw this coming.") to defend my less-than-surprised reactions. And it tugs at my heartstrings, to see the light going out of his eyes unmistakably, as all that he had imagined did not happen.
The one which she cried and cried as her pilot of a boyfriend jetted all around the world, leaving her behind with her insecurities. And I'm reminded of the many cold wars I've started, and when we think back on why I started getting sullen and cold, it's always because I felt insecure. I'm thankful that you're ever so forgiving, relentlessly cooing and persuading me to break out of from my moods. But there was that big fight just that day, the one which we both went to bed angry and disheartened. It was then I know that all these must be taking a toll on you, all my childish episodes, the incessant crying, the stubborn pout on my lips.
I've lost track of the number of times my girlfriends talk about their boyfriends, and I just have to go, "oh my gosh!! he does that tooo!!". Every love story has their own endings.
but really, it's all not that different, is it?
can you hear the soft swoosh of the butterflies' wings. 1:24 PM.
