• To my penguin

    by  • May 1, 2014 • * Safe for Work *, Art of the Letter • 1 Comment

    Just got off the phone talking to you for hours again… So glad technology has advanced over the years and we no longer need to take part in calling card companies making profits off us. I really enjoy those random thought provoking messages you send me throughout the day. How’s it possible that we never run out of things to talk about even after 19 years? We don’t even talk about dudes other than when our moms throw us major naggage to get on with the program and conform to the norm. Heck, we rarely even talk about personal stuff. Growing up, our hobbies were important to us than anything else… we spent so much time and precious lunch money geekin out on silly things and spending hours at record stores. Looking back, it’s pretty laughable how small those seem now. Time just seem to slip by whenever we have our discussion sessions. This kind of friendship really is one of a kind. We seem to repeat this statement more often as we grow older. Such realizations provoke this rare warmth of a feeling deep within me. Man, why did you have to get a job so far from where I am though. I miss having you in the same continent. The difference in time zone is a bit of a nuisance I guess. You’re always prodding me to go to bed and take care of my health but oh well, it’s not like my sleep schedule’s at my liberty with all the stuff I need to do. I remember telling myself back in 8th grade that if we both end up alone regardless of our age we’re just going to live it up like bonnie and clyde. We can both strum some guitar strings, discuss music, play video games, draw things, talk about the society, raise some dogs, etc. Or simply just sit on a swing and stare at something, zoning out in silence. Zone out like the time we skinny dipped for way too many hours staring at the sky at my parents’ lap pool that our feet pruned up and we caught a cold. Regardless, that seemed like what utopia would’ve looked like right then and there. Every once or twice in a year I have dreams of this scenario playing out and it feel so real. It always ends with us cruising in a red convertible for some reason. Just need some end credits to start rolling out and it would look like some movie ending.
    I guess I could just send you this letter, but it will probably nauseate you like none other and provoke you to hit me the next time I see you, so I won’t. Intimacy is not our forte fo’ sho, nor do we want anything to do with it. Dudette, thanks for remembering every trivial things about me and occasionally busting it out to amaze me. Hope you know I notice all these little things and I never take it for granted. In this chaotic world, everything seems to freeze to a halt when it comes to you and I. I always seem to go back to my old self, before the growth spurt stage, when my head used to disgustingly hit your left armpit. Having you in my life grounds me. Hope you know that I always try my best to return the favor. I suppose I could feed you a lot of fish when we meet up. Speaking of fish, I’m still traumatized by that time when you dropped a rat into your fish tank and the arowana swallowed it in seconds. Whyyyy…

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    One Response to To my penguin

    1. me too
      May 18, 2014 at 12:49 pm

      This is beautiful. I also have a friend that this makes me thing of and long for.




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