transforming into new versions of yourself means sometimes having to debug and transfigure old versions of yourself— versions that are dated no longer working. remember when i used to tell you that i lived vividly in my mind?
yeah, i liked that christine.
well that christine explored vast possibilities, scenarios, and encounters in her mind, but she neglected an important part of real life: doing. what is wishing and wanting without doing?
daydreaming?
no, it’s wasting time.
you don’t have to be so hard on yourself. if you have more introspective tendencies, so be it. i support christine, the dreamer.
but it really fucked my sense of reality. my imagination allotted options that i could pick and choose to my liking. it was an intoxicating lifestyle, where things always went my way so i never felt the need to step out of mental bounds.
so what made you realize you wanted to "upgrade" to christine 2.0?
the allure of tangibility. it's definitely still a work in progress, and i'm often still trapped in partial reality but i'm working towards a happy medium.
that's good, you'll get there.
i have to go home now.
okay goodnight. see you soon?
(i muttered something nonchalantly. i was eager to get into bed and shut my eyes.)
..
there, i stood in a space as empty as a packed venue permitted, forcing myself to bob along to well known verses of vacationer. i was out and determined to have a good time (or at least look like i was). god knows, i was anxious. i wondered if my face read of heartbreak or if my posture showed signs of fear. they must have translated into a language only he understood, because he knew to approach me. he made his way across the room, showing no signs of apprehension or nervousness. it was instant and we both felt it— a magnetic force attracting us helplessly towards one other. he looked in my eyes and grabbed my hand as if we had been lovers for a lifetime. surely, he must have had another for he knew how to love a woman. the way he playfully toyed with my fingers. how he held onto me just the right amount of tight. how he sort of squeezed my hand as we pushed through crowds, pulses that both comforted and convinced me that he wouldn’t let go. i loved being reminded of all things familiar. despite the fact that we were surface strangers, we spent the night as lovers. we were caught in the moment and had no intentions of breaking free from capture. we were right where we belonged.
that's good, you'll get there.
i have to go home now.
okay goodnight. see you soon?
(i muttered something nonchalantly. i was eager to get into bed and shut my eyes.)
..
there, i stood in a space as empty as a packed venue permitted, forcing myself to bob along to well known verses of vacationer. i was out and determined to have a good time (or at least look like i was). god knows, i was anxious. i wondered if my face read of heartbreak or if my posture showed signs of fear. they must have translated into a language only he understood, because he knew to approach me. he made his way across the room, showing no signs of apprehension or nervousness. it was instant and we both felt it— a magnetic force attracting us helplessly towards one other. he looked in my eyes and grabbed my hand as if we had been lovers for a lifetime. surely, he must have had another for he knew how to love a woman. the way he playfully toyed with my fingers. how he held onto me just the right amount of tight. how he sort of squeezed my hand as we pushed through crowds, pulses that both comforted and convinced me that he wouldn’t let go. i loved being reminded of all things familiar. despite the fact that we were surface strangers, we spent the night as lovers. we were caught in the moment and had no intentions of breaking free from capture. we were right where we belonged.