(no subject)
Sometimes at night I sit and wonder...
When she said to me she missed me Did she actually mean it? Or did she missed the idea of me? The idea of me is perfect. The concept of my being is an exemplary one. But in practice, it breaks down completely. Slowly cracks start to show up, until the image is so distorted that you don't even know what you're looking at and you can only see the perfection from far away after squinting your eyes.
But then I think "wait, I am the ideal. I'm awesome."
Then I finish my soda and sleep.
True story.
When she said to me she missed me Did she actually mean it? Or did she missed the idea of me? The idea of me is perfect. The concept of my being is an exemplary one. But in practice, it breaks down completely. Slowly cracks start to show up, until the image is so distorted that you don't even know what you're looking at and you can only see the perfection from far away after squinting your eyes.
But then I think "wait, I am the ideal. I'm awesome."
Then I finish my soda and sleep.
True story.