67. Sarah, The Winter Is Upon Us.

Sweet.
Talk about variums of spare ribs, Chinese style. Thinking hard about food and combination, lean meat in soup. Hearing the voice resonate from a familiar body,
One that I see so clearly behind me.
Grinding sounds, pondering its source. The body behind me!
I think, what’s next to think?
You’re welcome boo. I try to answer you back in voice but instead it’s spoken through my fingers. I wish you can hear my words as I type, but soon your wonder will turn to clarity.
Do you see what’s near? In the distance covered by the possibility of a white blanket, a security so piercing.
Wait until the sun comes up and the blanket will melt off the earth’s skin. You heard me. It’s going to flow away, away, away like a river so wispy.
My nails are short, sharp, shark-like. I use the lack of them to protect the surfaces I touch. I am empathetic to inanimate objects.
I turned around and answered the question asked so long ago.
I turned around and I smiled to a face not pointed at mine.
I know her consciousness is facing me. It’s fine and dandy.
I turned to myself and passed out a smile like it was affordable.

66. I Love Me And My Life.

I've come to a realization today that a slight case of vanity and appreciation for one's own life go hand in hand. It's impossible to love your life but have no esteem for yourself. You are your life. They are two sides of an equation. You = Your Life. You can't be vain and hate your life. Neither can you hate yourself but love your life.
I hypothesize that this can be analyzed mathematically.
Negativity in this case is represented by the symbol H (for Hate) and positivity is represented by the symbol L (for Love).
In order to correct this erroneous equation H(yourself) = L(
Wait...
Wow, in fact...mathematics is telling me that in order to correct H(yourself) = L(life), you have to multiply the former with H to cancel out the negation.
Interesting...

65. SNOWFIGHT!

Small mirthful events are like snowflakes, and next thing you know you're running on top of a snowball having the time of your life. Little did you know, you're a little hamster at heart!

I'm so sullen and depressed by your perpetual absence... Christiana, I fucking miss you and I wish you'd return my messages. Is that too much to ask for? I love you so much, babe. <3

64. Your Face Is White.

As I watch you laugh in virtual motion, I wish you to be back. What else am I to do but look up in hopes of you living an afterlife? That you should be beaming down on me with serene, happy thoughts? So I look up in hopes of seeing your face, should it be in my mind only; just picturing your face should suffice. But all in all, as great as my imagination could be, all I'm really seeing is a white ceiling blurred by my tears.

Christiana, girl, I love you and I miss you a hundred year's worth of missing.

63. I'm So Self-Pressured To Think Of A Creative Title!

How is it possible to be unique in your theories of life when people have already been thinking for thousands of years? Whatever thought you believed to be clever and original must be an unintentionally recycled idea. Maybe you had looked at a rock one day and thought, "Life is like a rock." What are the possibilities that any one person, millennia or a second ago, had stumbled upon a similar rock and produced the same exact thought? Not to mention, if several billion people already exist now, then what is the number of people who existed before us? Add up all those minds from now and before, and your creativity has the most impossible enemy to overcome.

This is why I respect creativity; it must surpass an endless number of adversaries to exist.