I always wanted to write something about you; about you’re crazy way, corny jokes and our funny conversations. How we define things in our own simple and little world. We always make things different from others, on how we counter flow. I’m always eager to tell them how fascinating you are, the way you see the world, the way you embrace something you like and even how you procrastinate. It was a bit strange, lately we been arguing from small things, and sometimes we do not agree on one thing. Sometimes, I think you’re too sensitive for the both of us. You always nag like grandmas do. Lately you change from where I like you most; most that always has you’re on way.
I’m always looking forward to see you each day but each we see each other another chaotic goodbyes as we said farewell. I was hoping for a change just like we were before. It is so sad my paper is still blank until I realize I have nothing to write about you.
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