Space, silence, question, sleep~ Dear you, Meanwhile, you must've encountered some of my jerks and shivers crawling on the darkest shade of the midnight sky. Someday I speak about fear while some ending lines talk about beginnings. Some supposedly informal letter becomes beyond formal and somewhere in between them I scream. You know there are things which I love to own, and fear for I have to own. Space. I don't believe in commitment, because with me, it rots like the bouquet of felicitation. I would grow in my space. But rather than the alternate bonsai to bouquet, I would like to grow like forest. I would like worms eating me and still resisting and healing every second. I love my space. I become furious when you don't give me time to write, sing, do whatever and nothing in my room but just speak to me and rob my time. You can be my sun ray, rather. I need you but you can peek in only when I adjust and move a bit. Okay? But I have seen a zillion quotes on distance. I fear they don't get synonymous— space and distance. I hope there remains no factor to tear the paper from that relatively tiny hole. I hope. I hope I don't end up having no lover, like I have no best friend. I hope you be the ray of the sun only, not the sun farthest from me.
