Me. I find myself hard to define. Everyday, it seems I am a little different, yet still essentially the same. I think differently on the same subject everyday. Nice days, it has been. I love the smell of bread. It is so appealing, anytime of the day. But it is funny how I always prefer to munch on rice or noodles rather than bread. Bread to me seems like an indulging quickie - before you know it, it is gone, digested, history already forgotten.
Just like that gentleman at the bakery that I can't seem to stop thinking about. It is funny, I don't think I fancy him per se, yet, I wonder why my thoughts are filled with him. Is this how it feels to lose hope? Maybe loneliness has finally got to me. If so then I am disgusted with my easy defeat. How is it that I spent 1.5 years tuning my emotions and then have them thrown into disarray in minutes?
Still, the fact is, I have concluded, am not ready for love, and I don't think that gentleman is either. I smile when i think of him, but it is not one of adoration, but rather one of admiration - for in spite of his youth, his spirit is very wise and his heart is kind. Maybe that's why people are drawn to him.
Next week is good. The less time spent around him, the better, lest I lose my senses and disgrace myself.
The future is a mystery but what can I say, that's what I had wanted, didn't I? Let's hope the mystery is an enjoyable one. Life is just great:)
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