Sunday 14 June 2015

Self Resentment

What is love?  

Love is perhaps waiting for Scrabble to patiently load into your mobile and it has been more than 2 attempt of reloading and more than 3 minutes of waiting.  That is how patient we all are - only for 3 minutes.  And I am feeling impatient about it by minute.  Oh well.  Let us just shut the damn thing off.  Ugh.  Pffft.  How sad is that?

We used to wait 14-30 days for an international letter from our pen pal.  Or half a day lounging about the house, just waiting for a boyfriend's phone call made from the public phone.  And cards.  All sorts of greeting cards.  Throughout the weather.  And rundown letters from the rain.  Not bills.  Real heartfelt letters.

But I am in boredom as I celebrate alone by myself on all little tiny achievements.  

Why am I enthralled to these things?  So drawn to this weirdness that can be so sorry to self instead of simple awesomeness.  

At this point of time, I really pity myself.



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