08.12.06
[letter #14]
To My Problematic and Confused Friend:
If you call yourself confused and problematic, what am I? I suppose I must be spazzy and clumsy. Hmm...I think that's how I shall close my letters from now on.
Don't worry if you start sounding eloquent...I love the flattery. Who wouldn't? But sadly, my mind cannot come up with such beautiful things. My intriguing silhouette who waits upon the bridge? My mysterious shadow? No doubt those are more offending than they are complimenting. However, I do not believe I have the full capability of appreciating poetry; it's the hardest thing for me to write and read.
The reason I can notice such things is because everything else on that canal seems the same, but I can always look forward to seeing you. And, it may be that I'm a woman that I may notice such things as well...I can't say if you're stereotyping or not, for even I do not know myself. I'd rather not sound like a hyprocrite later on.
You wear glasses? I would try and imagine them, but I don't even know the features of your face. Are they thinly rimmed and round? Or perhaps fashionably thick-rimmed with different colored plastic? Luckily for me, I don't have to deal with them. It won't be long before I do, though, for I spend a lot of time reading and writing with my head too close to the paper. My parents scold me whenever they see me reading or writing one thing or the other. But even if I do need glasses one day, I don't believe I will ever want to wear contacts. They seem like such a hassel. Do you wear contacts?
The 'incessant banging' has stopped, thankfully. It seems strangely quiet, now that I can hear the ticking of the clock very faintly from beside my bed. I never did like listening to the ticking, and I will probably go and buy a digital clock. While the even ticking should lull me to sleep in boredom, I find myself anticipating the next click, even if it is only a second away. It keeps me awake for such a long time, I'm beginning to think that it must be worse than the banging on the wall. Maybe I'll just try and get used to it again.
Your garden problem seems serious, but I know nothing about getting rid of caterpillars on any plant. If they didn't eat so much, I would love to find out what kind of butterfly they become. However, with the idea of brain juice coming out of their large heads as you kill them, I cannot help but shudder. I've never quite imagined a butterfly like that before.
I think I'll try and curl up under the covers now in an attempt to keep warm. It is pretty chilly in here, and my blankets make a good refuge. Good night!
Your Blundering and Clumsy Friend
[author's notes]
Ick. I so didn't feel like writing this today. *snoozes* Please pardon my many mistakes that no doubt are lingering in this short bit. Thank you.
Snow
SnowPheonix · Sat Aug 12, 2006 @ 06:21pm · 7 Comments
