posting again...

I'm sitting here, looking pretty comfortable in the Web. Earphones on, expensive mp3 player sitting on my left, assignment papers draped over the CPU, rings on my right hand, on the ring finger and pinkie, and the chain, restored by rust removal on my left hand, with a disdainful gaze at the flatpanel monitor. On my head sits the 400 buck adidas shades, and a Wild Channel shirt in bright red over a white muscle tee, coupled with my ever ready black Diesel jeans and ever trusty Rockport shoes. My right leg rests comfortably on my left knee, and my back tilted onto the bright red plastic chairs they have here. My fingers type on the more-or-less quiet keyboard, while random people I have met through college greet me as they pass me on the left.

All this while, through the fog of sensory overload, I can only think of her. Yeah. About now, she would be completing her registration at the training facility, and probably be shown her dorm. She will be finding out if her dorm mate is a bitch or otherwise. Whether or not she will have access to a computer till her laptop makes it back, the laptop I suggested she brought in the first place. From her descriptions of the place yesterday, it sounds more or less like Taylor's, the exception being that it has a larger wifi coverage, and I don't really know what it's like.

Already, I miss her. Not that I don't. But it's the knowledge of the considerable amount of time needed to be spent in order to be physically close to her that adds to this. And also, that she's starting a new phase in her life. She seems happy, that is important. At least, she isn't too disappointed with her choice, which is even more essential. It's good that she loves me, and I love her. I know of some couples who would break up if they were to even move house. Many kind people have offered kind words. Darien said that we were the kind of couple that would not break up even if seperated by half a globe. Thanks, dude.

I wonder how her night was. Did she sleep well? I don't know. Perhaps she slept thinly from her anticipation of today. Maybe she didn't sleep at all. Was she thinking of me? I hope so. I was thinking of her, though I think I had a nightmare last night. Can't really tell. I'm so numb these days that I can barely draw meaning from my concious thoughts anymore, let alone dreams. All this self centered actions I do bring up these few days, they're just cover to hide my blatant mehness. Yes. Mehness. Not manners. Strange how some people mix the two.

Does melancholy play any part of my moods? I don't think so. That would imply that I was sad. I don't think I am. At least, not obviously so. Does longing feature? I would think so, but I'm extremely surprised to see I don't long for her as much as I thought I would. Maybe it just hasn't sunken in yet. Maybe it's a coping mechanism. Maybe maybe. Such an irresponsible word, as she would say.

If you read this, you would think that I write as one who has lost a loved one. Do not think wrongly. I feel more strongly and am number than most people, all at once. I am not what you would like to assume I am, and also I am exactly and more than what you think. I am and am not all in the same blink of the eye. And how do you know if I'm lying? You wouldn't. I, for one, don't. It's not meant to be known. If I did know, I would be omniscient. Which means I could see through clothes without trying. And I'd know all the answers to all the questions all the time. All knowing is not all powerful, but knowledge is power, and power corrupts. Corruption is caused by money, and money is the root of all evil. By consequence, since I have no money, I am not corrupt, and hence, I have no power, and therefore I know nothing. Since I know nothing, I am not omniscient, and probably by deriving that meaning, I feel nothing. Which would explain why I'm like this right now.

Yes, I see the flaw in that equation. It's there intentionally. It's like a hope, a chance to break free of this semi morbid dream. I would not like her to worry. Hardly. I would die if I caused her worry. I don't seem like much of the ideal boyfriend now, though some people have tried to convince me that I do approach that ideal. The shell can be painted, my friends. But you cannot reshape the yolk without shattering the egg. And how do you reshape the yolk? By denaturizing it. That is, to twist it, form and function will change, or cease to be.

Reading and rethinking my thoughts, this is truly a morbid post. Is this how I really feel? Or is this just a way to get attention? That, is for me to find out, and for you to only guess. In the mean time, I will spend more of my time dreaming of the time to come when I next see her again.

I love you, Evon.

Jin out.

P.S. I know this doesn't really fit in with today's post, but I discovered a way to access this blog from Taylor's. Instead of typing http://quicksilverlining.blogspot.com/, you write http://www.quicksilverlining.blogspot.com/. Ain't that great?