Mulling Over

My only Burger King memory:

It's been so long - maybe 16 or 17 years, so I won't be able to give you complete details, but because someone asked the question, I will do my best.

He wanted to introduce me to something new. He said it was called a suicide.

He seemed methodical at the time, as he pressed the levers of seven drink dispensers, but thinking about it now - I know he was pressing them at random. Every liquid had its spot in the medium sized cup.

His eyes gleamed as the fizz popped above the browned orange color he had just made.

We walked outside and sat at an empty booth. I was sitting japanese style and he was on his knees. He laughed and told me to try it.

"Poison," I shouted. "That's gross."

He told me to close my eyes and think of something funny. I could hear him drinking the vile concoction and shifting around. I just sat there with my eyes shut and my mouth slightly open. Next thing I know, something very soft, warm, and very wet, hit my lips.

I screamed and pushed him away. I covered my mouth. I imagine he thought I did that to show disgust, but in reality, I did it to hide my excited smile. It tasted sweet and very tangy.

Owen looked at me and threw a peace sign. His face was red and I was happy. 

But... I would never have it again...

First kiss.

Reflecting

It's not that I am suppressed, confined, or at a stand still. I am used to it. I eat, sleep, and breathe with it. It's my fuel. I am happy to have it. If I didn't, I would be even more useless.

I like how it is so near, and so insignificant, like: scrunched jean pockets; a scuffed cell phone case; the white film on your tongue in the morning.

The only downfall: writing and publishing, for some reason it will not give me the green light - I don't even know how to get the "go ahead". BA? The quieting of my mind? The quelling of my soul? I have no idea....

Anyway, it is such a powerful ideal from every and any day and age. Everyone has their own definition and agony with it. I share the pros and cons, too. It is very stifling at times, but I feel that it is necessary - just like dying.

Fear of Failure.

A Thought

I sleep with a king, some nights, it's a queen. Sometimes it's too hot, others, too cold. But when just right: I battle Lego zombies; cook while flying; experience love, experience death; go to school naked, break out of a stomach of a bear. 

The rectangle can hold my mind and body. It's so magnificent. It's my favorite. I wish I had more time with it. 

Beds.

Secrets told about my sky

See Orion up there? Do you see how grand and crisp and amazing he is? Do you see how he shines, shines on others and for others? And look right under his belt. The rabbit dangling there. I used to believe that was me: dead, right by his side. I looked up at the sky every night to wonder what another life would be like. But ever since met you, I haven't had the urge to look up and wish I was there. Now, I just look up to tell him I am alive, and well, and happy that I found someone here on earth. I have someone better. I, the rabbit, have been revived, and is happier and more lively than ever before. And that is because of you. You outdo him in all ways. You push through the darkness and shine your light on me. I now keep my head out of the sky, and I keep my eyes on you.

I am happy. I am here. 

My 5-7-5: Winter '14

Winter's setting is
perfect for the ritual
of one's seppuku.

Grieve like morning dew
evaporating above
an old bamboo sword.

Feelings slide along
the heart like enemy blood
on a katana.

Changing tides - changing
minds? Winter is most brutal
without a partner.

Walls harden as an
oyster shell, yet bear no soul like
a shinning pearl.

Swimming up stream, the
Trout, with broken hook in mouth,
lives it's second chance.

The tiger will use
it's full strength - even when
hunting a rabbit.

The seal will trek for
miles and miles in search for the
scent of the penguin.

Ignorance is bliss,
like taking the first breath
of welcomed ocean.

His words are the logs
that keep the hearth in my chest
from smoldering out.

Sample Ian

Your hair: Its whimsical and natural smell of mist from the forest pine, molds to any and every form. It feels so silky between my fingers. I love seeing how the breeze can cause it to roll over your forehead and ears like a gushing waterfall. I yearn for the morning to come so I can see the curls: turbulent, twisted, fury from the battle of sleep. A wave of attraction washes over me when I see you in a hat. It's easy, sexy, and fits you so well.

Your eyes: Volcanoes on the oceans of visions and emotions. Confusing at times, knowing that hardship and pain have grazed in the scene, but your eyes are still kind. So kind. Such emotion spawns from your eyes. I see you, I see me. I see me clearly through your eyes. When you look at me, I feel that I exist. And I don't think I will be able to look, gaze, glance, squint, or even stare at anything else more pure. I love when you look at things. How is it that you hypnotize me with the way you look at things? You've got the eye of the tiger. They hold a power and I am still trying to decipher what that actually is. They are amazing, Ian.

Your nose: Sculpted by nature vs nuture, it inhales my scent and exhales relevance. The center of your face, at attention, it's manly yet gracious. It holds a variety of actions; from your pre sneeze flutter, to the sound it makes when you genuinely, laugh, supremely hard. And I like using the tip of my index finger to caress the outline of the profile of your nose. So please let me continue to do that. It soothes me. You soothe me.

Your mouth: The portal – the communicator – the lover – and the keeper of that youthful tongue of yours: I am drawn to your lips. I crave the pressure I feel when touching your mouth with mine. And it is versitile! In the blush of the morning, for a brief moment, its a butterfly that lands hesitantly on my forehead, unaware of the lasting impression it leaves for the rest of my day; it softens my night with its mellowed sound of repose; it shapes the top half of a cartoon heart when consuming nutrients and fighting off a smile. It's the curtain to my favorite thing. The buttons!

Your beard: The sexiest frame on a face. It cradles your cheeks and brings a new shade I have never seen to the facial color spectrum. The most attractive facial clothing I have ever layed my eyes upon. I like how it scrubs my face down and tickles the palms of my hands and sensually pricks my fingertips.

Your voice: Oh, how your voice resonates in my cerebellum. It holds me without touch and it keeps me without chains. Yet I want to be engulfed in your words and lay in the lift of your cadence. Though I can't place your accent in a proper mainstream way, I place it safely in my heart. It's so strong and mischievious at times, but also agile and endearing. Your voice is my favorite sound at the moment. It might be my favorite sound from now on. Sidenote: I melt with the simple hypocrisms you give me.

Your mind: Describing something so fantastical is tricky for me, but I will try my best to elaborate on your soul's mainframe. There isn't a device that can track, tame, conclude, or dilute this mind of yours. It is vast and diverse. You can be a comedian one minute and leap to the trance of a true romantic in the next. It amazes me. I love that it needs new stimuli everyday and has an insatiable craving for knowledge. I am lucky to know that your mind can sift through the bullshit of a monoluoge and light up a room with humbled intelligence. I love your mind. It opens up new realms for me and I get lost in it.

Your heart: I strive to match the rhythm. I want to be that open and that strong. Don't get me wrong, it is very complex and can be fragile at times, too. I don't know much about the molten rock that resides in your chest just yet. But I hope to feel it, to hear it, to relieve it, to massage out all the kinks, and as a reward, to reside within it one day. I hope your heart is my future's promise.

Letter from a Japanese Stranger

Someone who has never met me; someone who I have never met, wrote me a letter. Apparently, my parents had a small party at their house in late April. Most of their guests were japanese. One man, a japanese TV network employee, whose name I only know half of, went upstairs to my father's office to write the following to me. No one even knew he did this till the next day when my father found it on his desk:


Erin,
I wrote this piece for my black lady friend who lost her only son to a drive-by shooting:

"Whenever one hears anger or fear from another's voice, whenever one sees anger or fear from another's eyes; does such person crave for an addictive appetite for misery?"
                                                                                                                    Goto
                                                                                                                 '03 Okinawa, Japan

May the flowers of the new year bloom many smiles and laughter for you and your family.

Aloha,
"Jimmy" Goto
4/28/12

I received this August 13, 2012. I have no idea what this means. I want to look for this man. I have so many questions. Why me? Why me, out of all my siblings? What does this mean? Etc....

The Rinse

Almost two years since I walked in the rain to see what I could find; when I soon realized that I was not discovering something or someone, but really, I was finally found.
I waited for him in the rain. I specifically recall there was a meteor shower that night. Though I didn't see a single shooting star, I witnessed the important moments between me and him become literal, not abstract.

A story I wrote 4 years ago when I was hanging with Mary

I woke up I saw an owl that gaped its mouth open right over my chest. Just seconds later (oh, by the way, the owl's name is Zim.) Zim bit my rib and my loin. I tried to build a secret, neat orb to evade the owl. Once I made the orb it distracted Zim with showing him a movie about a coy cub playing with a horn. I had enough time to run away, but my shoe fell off. Stumbling down, I received a late tackle by him and immediately had to pee. Amazingly my pee was wine and the last thing Zim said before I passed out was, "hey, I hide old age teats in a dove jar". After this happened my pager went off. Dots began to appear around me as I scanned the room. Gosh! Wasn't that a crazy story!?

I can say the darnedest things

I was walking to my car from my apartment to go to work and kid from my complex was looking up at the sky. Being an avid looker into the night sky, I got excited about seeing the young eyes gazing the way I do. I popped up behind him and asked what he was thinking about. He turned toward  me and asked what a star actually is. And like I had thought about the answer before, I spewed the following:


Well, if you must know, a male starfish, one day, witnessed the beautiful night sky. He realized he needed to get up there to join his friends. -> He goes on the journey. -> After centuries had past, he understood, somehow, that he didn't belong in the sky, but in the ocean, with his family, all along. Never to return, the starfish began to cry. He cried and cried till one day, he evolved into a glowing, powerful, warm light. Now when you see the stars twinkling in the dark sky, you will know that it was every curious starfish who decided to ascend to the unknown. Sad but amazing, don't you think? 


The child was awe-struck and completely confused. I winked and walked backward slowly, got into my car and drove away.
I still have no idea why I said it. I don't know why I felt like I needed to say such a fib; maybe it was because I would've wanted answers such as this when I was growing up. What ever the real reason was, it felt good nonetheless.

A good plot for a teen book? Can I pull it off? Can I write a book about this?

It's the year 3019 AD. There is only 4% of land above the sea left on Earth due to global warming. Life is critical and unfortunate for the people living in this time. There are roughly 600,000 people left and 80% live on large ships used as floating islands. Each ship has its own way of life and has one leader who delegates, like how countries were 1000 years ago. But not everyone is completely human. Some evolved since the second flood.

Now there is one large island that used to be known as Japan, now called Sector 9, with much smaller land forms scattered around the rest of the planet. It is the center of their world: a kingdom that struggles to maintain life, peace, reconstruction, and hope to the citizens of the watery planet.

The problem - rumors are spreading of the overthrowing of the kingdom. People are getting impatient with the way of life. They want their Earth back. There is only one thing that can preserve peace and eliminate human extinction; the prophecy of the Staff of Terrain. While the King and Queen scramble to find a plan to get the staff, their daughter, next in line to the throne, sneaks out to try and find it herself, so her family can restore the land and create habitable living conditions for everyone. When her parents catch wind of this, a throng of search soldiers go out to find her.

This is a story of a human princess who takes a journey to save the earthlings from the people of their past. She meets several evolved creatures along the way, who recognize her determination, and the idea to regain peace, and join her. She finds herself in sticky situations and goes through trails, games, puzzles, and hardships to get to her destination. As she gets closer to finding the Staff of Terrain, she finds out that an evil and sinister man wants the staff for himself so he can rule the world. It soon becomes a race against time and foe.

Naoto Omori

     I could hear my heart pound over the screeching brakes that announced the train's destination. The overused mechanical subway doors opened up. I entered Nagoya.          I walked across the yellow line and looked around the busy station. I tried to be as discreet about it as possible, knowing he would be looking for me and most likely spot me out in the static crowd. After a good five minutes of circling around the station, I found a place to rest. I picked a spot facing the escalator, the only place where people enter or exit the station, right beside a manga stand.     He told me 5 o' clock. It was now 5:07. I set my bag down at my feet and leaned forward to stretch out my back, twisting and popping to loosen up from the nervous tension brought by the long train ride.      Another five minutes went by and wicked thoughts were being conjured by my anxiety. Thoughts like: he stood me up; he's dead; he played a trick on me; he forgot about me. I sank into the cold, public seat and laid my head in my hands, placing my eyes into my palms. I could feel the pressure of my elbows jab into my thighs as time went on.     I felt someone's hand on my shoulder and I jolted up out of my slump. It took a few seconds for my eyes to readjust. I saw a blurry, small figure to the left of me and she was a little girl who was smiling and twisting her back from side to side while curling her black hair with her right hand. Her smile surprised me. "Daijoubu ka" she asked inquisitively. "Hai, daijoubu desu. Arigatou ne," I replied. Just then, her mother picked her up from behind and scolded her in the air. I turned away in awkwardness.     I glanced at the escalator and there he was. His red fitted jacket was like a beacon to my eyes. Naoto was squirming in the foot of space he had on the step. It was packed with people and he was swaying back and forth, trying to find me. His mouth was moving but I couldn't make out what he was saying. I gripped my bag strap tightly and ushered up the courage to walk toward the base of the escalator.     Both our eyes met. Before I could react to the tension of the reunion, it was broken by a bombardment of apologies and breathlessness. While he was explaining why he was late, I watched as my white knuckles turned red, still gripping my strap. I was listening to his every word but I wanted to interject; tell him it was okay and that I was happy he was here now.     The sun was going to set soon so we left the station the way he entered. At the top of the contraption, Naoto motioned over toward the bike racks on the west side of a Takoyaki stand. I immediately started panicking inside myself, but I forced a warm smile in response to his advances. His bike: one mangled basket on the front; one small black seat; and two yellow spokes on the back of his rusty green bicycle. Where do I sit? I asked myself. How is this going to work?     He clapped his hands once to break me free from my inner thoughts. "Ok Erin, let's go". He sat on his seat and asked me to stand on the back. I slipped my bag over my right shoulder with shaky hands.  What should I hold on to? I lifted one leg over his bike. I straddled until I got the balance to place both feet on the spokes. I took in a deep breath and situated my finger tips on his shoulders.     "Iin desu ka," I inquired.     "Are?" He laughed and quickly pulled my hands out in front of him and proceeded to cross my arms around his neck and collarbone. The action caused me to lean forward, pressing against his back. I couldn't help but think about how long I could last riding in this position. With my chin resting on top of his smooth, thick, black hair; my chest syncing to his heart beat; my forearms feeling his uneven breathing pattern; the moisture building under my arms; the weight of my big purse on one side causing a slight tilt to my balance; and the lack of friction from my shoes to spokes.     Thankfully it was one up hill and right turn type of ride. About a seven minute journey. We arrived at the edge of what looked to be a small forest. I jumped off quickly and quietly. I looked at the falling sun and then my watch. 5:49.     "Yosh," he exclaimed. He hopped off his two wheeler and locked it up. I noticed the jingling of the chain played a subtle contrast to my active heart.      "Ishoniyoni ikimasho ka?" Naoto pointed through the trees.     "Nani?" My jaw dropped. "Hayaku," he yelled while waving for me to follow. I placed myself one meter behind him. Twenty-seven steps through the freshly cut grass. We entered the forest: As I followed his lead, I noticed how lean he was and how agile he could be while moving through the trees, juking their branches. I tried my best to replicate his actions. He would turn around frequently to make sure I was managing his speed. His face was lit up. I couldn't quite figure out why. I began to feel nervous. 5:59.     He stopped abruptly. His body stiffened and his smile ceased. "Hmm...Chotto mata kudasai." In an instant he dashed over some tree roots and disappeared behind the trees.     "Dame. Doko desu ka," I screamed. I took a few steps forward and massaged my lips with the back of my left hand. Where is he? What's going on? And just as he left in a flash, he came back the same way. His hair in his reddened face; I had never seen such a smile whilst catering to his lungs.     "Gomenasai, ok, come." The sleeve from my purple sweater stretched between his thumb and index finger in our final steps to our journey's end. Like before, he was in front, but this time I was being tugged in our final seconds to the place promised in our younger days. As the last branch was brushed away by his right hand I saw a forget-less scene. I stepped above a panoramic picture of his home town.     I walked eagerly to the picnic set up near the edge of the cliff. There was a treeling with its roots in a large potato sack. "Ah, sugoine," I whispered.     He scratched his head. "Ok, ok, let's go. Ready start-o."     "Ano..." I stood at the edge of the cliff for a few seconds then turned to face him. He walked toward me. In broken english and classic hand gestures he began to tell me the story of how and why used to come to this spot ever since he was a kid. It was his safe zone. No one had ever been invited, no one new ever met. But he was always looking for someone he could trust, and that would relate to his passion and connection to this natural place. In his commencement to a fresh face sharing his love; he wanted to plant a tree. A tree that would look out past the vast, and beautiful city, even after his last breath.     After his touching testament we headed over to the maple treeling. It was so fragile and small. I counted nineteen leaves on it. It was so cute. When he started to shovel into the moist dirt, the outline of his arms in his shirt, and the movements of his body, put me in a trance. I couldn't tell where the disheveled ground ended and his brown suede Nikes started. I wanted to help but nothing substantial came to mind. I gradually crossed one leg over the other and proceeded to sit indian style.      6:37 - The sun was touching the city and coaxing the skyscrapers to wake up. Just as my eyes left my watch, Naoto plopped down next to me. He had taken his red jacket off and had his yellow surf shirt representing his style now. He took a drink from his canteen attached to his fanny pack. My mouth had gotten dry as well, but I wasn't about to ask for a sip. I was too busy trying not to wake up.      I felt my eyes roll back. The smell of my pillow made its home in my nostrils as I tried to keep my eyes on him and the skyline. My body warmed and I grabbed his hand. I knew what was happening. These were the warning signs. Even when I opened my eyes to the Ninja Turtle poster, I felt his presence. Though it was a dream, what a wonderful memory I now have. 

He hasn't stolen my heart. I gave it to him.

A friend of mine was talking to me about how her current boyfriend had stolen her heart. Immediately, I burst into laughter. She quickly socked my left arm and shot me a disappointed glare. I apologized and asked her to continue with her heart-felt feelings for her love interest.
Somehow I was able to auto pilot active listening whilst delving into my own thoughts and feelings for the one in my life. 
I knew without a doubt that he did not steal my heart. From what I understand, stealing is the act of taking the property of another without permission or right, especially secretly, or by force. In fact, it is quite the contrary with him: He showed me that I still had a heart. He showed me that it still had a powerful beat.  He held my heart in front of me while my eyes were wide open. He wouldn't let me look away when he triggered my epiphany. He then taught me to rejoice over the understanding of my disposition. Once I gained control over my restless heart, I gave it to him with knowledge and enthusiasm. 
With the love I have now, I gave my heart on my own terms. I took my time. I thought logically about who it was going to, and so far I have made the best decision for my heart. To be honest, giving someone your heart is a large part of what love is. Trust, faith, joy, experimentation, awareness, and passion are strong parts as well. Having your heart stolen is almost a guarantee that either you will subconsciously take your heart back, or you will fall out of love since you weren't fully aware that you were in love in the first place. That is just my point of view. 
So next time you say (or you hear someone else say), "someone has stolen my heart", make sure you really know what that means. 

Hanging with good people.

Finn and Jake.

And After the Storm

The most attractive night is after a storm, when the Moon is brimming with fluorescence, and the rain clouds are giving butterfly kisses. When the air is crisp, the Moon shares its light so I can see the clouds part with their beautiful goodbyes. On nights like theses, I have this feeling if you will...

Clouds - the strangers from near, far, and out of thin air come together to send a message to the beings on the land. Some messages more understandable than others, but all in all a group effort. After their job is done, after the strangers become family and friends, I watch them part and I watch them disperse. I can't help but think that the Moon is their final spot light at curtain call.

Last night was another example of the magnificence nature holds. I just hope that there are others that enjoy nights like these. In my opinion, nature deserves to be praised every once in a while.

I'm a Sagittarius and I like to.....

BT.
Put up peace signs.
Incorporate dry humor in personal situations.
Wear adidas apparel.
Sit Indian-style at the dinner table.
Fantasize.
Make money.
Sing in my car while I drive.
Educate myself.
Look at the Moon and the Stars.
Do the Crab Angry.
Write creatively.
Sniff things.
Create my own words.
Wear my Wizard PJs.
Quote Adventure Time with Finn and Jake.
Always sleep with a fan on.
Make animal noises.
Climb trees.
Watch Anime.
Drool in my sleep.
Cook in my underwear.
Speak japanese to people who do not understand it.
Cater.
Yodel in the shower.
Wear my Dream bracelet.
Hang out with Molly Russell.
Play soccer.
Make love.
Laugh out loud.
Surf the internet.
Watch Jonathan play chess online.
Go on spontaneous missions.
Burp.
Watch It's Always Sunny in Philadelphia.
Use lots of body language in awkward situations.
Reminisce.
Smell like Halloween.
Write check lists everyday.
Smash on Video Games.
Be myself.
Love my Moon Tiger.

I'm a Sagittarius and I like to.... ;) hehe.

All I Want is You

Dear Moon Tiger,

The words you whispered
separate like and love; please
don't let me forget.


A very special
bond, soaked in new feelings.
I will never dry.

Wrapped up in your belt,
I am crisp towards you. I stare
as long as I can.


I proudly claim my love for you. All I want is you.

"Are you someone who lives or dies for the one you love?"

         With malnourished emotions and an overdose on unsterile injections of distorted views in romantic love, I believed that when you finally met your prince charming, you would revolve your life around him, set aside your dreams to show dedication, live for the moment, and die for him in any circumstance. This view of Love spread through my veins like wild fire at the tender age of nine. 

         I desired this type of love and relationship with the opposite sex. Now twenty-two, I applied my above definition of love to whom I had a relationship with. The sad part about it was the relationship never came out the way it should have and I ended up with nothing. I was looking at a picture of my now unrequited love as I was on my way to the bottom of my soul and outer edges of depression, at a beach in Carlsbad, when a fisherman wearing a pink, feminine scarf crossed my broken path. 

        Long story short -  Tuesday, Oct 19th, the fisherman told his story about the significance of his scarf. It was his late wife's who had died at sea. He too, battled his way through it and decided to live. He became a fisherman and lived on. He asked me if I was someone who lives or dies for the one I love. I couldn't give him an answer. 

         For days I have been trying to think of which person I was. I contemplated many things. But I finally came to a decision. And since the past thirteen years of living love the way I had, has done nothing but give hopelessness and pain, I am finally ready to switch sides.

I most assuredly have my answer: I am someone who lives.

         I am alive. He is alive. I live for me; I live for him. Both of us will restart. Both of us will live. I have faith that we will meet again. I vow to come for him, if he waits for me.

Heartache in Autumn

Go together, all you precious winners;
take part in sharing elation and love.
I, an old rabbit, will mine my last nest,
and there my companion, that's never
to be found again, mourn till I am gone.

Spying: Email.

HI Sweet Cheeks,

I hope you are well. I am under the weather as of late, but there are a few things that are getting me through. For example I have created categories for you to better understand what I do to keep you with me in my mind and in my heart while we are so far away from each other.

Songs on repeat: Roll with it by Easton Corbin, 4 AM by Kaskade, Mine by Taylor Swift, The Space Between by DMB, Love Song by 311, I'll Hold my Breath by Ellie Goulding, and The Reason by Hoobastank.

Shows I watch with you in Mind: Adventure Time!, It's Always Sunny, ATHF, and UFC/MMA stuffs

I tend to say things that you or I would say to each other, out loud where ever I am... my family thinks I am crazy haha: "gooey, gooey, gooey", "gyuu", "pyuu, pyuu", "mao, mao", "meow mix", "nummys", "sniffies!", "jamming time" "I know this", "love, love, love", "Moooon Tiiiigerrrr", "where is my Papa Bear?".... etc.

I notice I am acting like you physically...: When I get overwhelmed, I raise my chin up and tremble my neck the way you do sometimes; I will sniff your clothes you left behind as if I were smelling you directly; In the privacy of my room, I "perch" on my own finger before I go to bed; When something good happens, I put my arm in a 90 degree angle and move it up and down like you do; I will stare in the bathroom mirror and try to make all the cute faces you would involuntarily do to me; I pet myself when I wake up in the morning, closing my eyes to pretend it's you who is petting me; I still jam the air as if you are there to receive the pokey pokes... etc.

Things I miss: I miss your scent, I really do. I miss how you would perch and you would pet me when you knew I needed it. I miss your lips and how they felt on mine. I miss the sound you made when you blew your nose. I miss your sexy, soothing voice that would serenade my cerebellum every time. I miss our cuddle time. I miss your hair. I miss your eyes, oh your eyes are so amazing. I miss your pre sneeze face. I miss your hands and hugs "fishies!". I miss your comedy. I miss our adventure time. I miss our fight for life. I miss your thoughts. I miss your love. I miss my nicknames you gave me. I miss your pom pom grabs. I miss your crazy boob touches in the car while I drive. I miss your feet. I miss your sweet sound of repose. I miss your smile. I miss your friendship. I miss your playfulness. I miss your singing voice. I miss your v cut. I miss you.

Besides that, I have an interview tomorrow at the dermatologist office and I start hosting at Islands next week. I am going to come up with one more job so I can get my money faster and come up to see you. I am on a strict diet now and I have a 24 hour gym pass. I miss you so much and I would do anything just to breathe your air again. I really hope you understand the depth in which my love for you stems from. I need to see you again. 

I hope that you still have feelings for me. I wonder if you miss me... I am so lonely. Please call when you have time.

How ever far away, I will always love you,

Poofy