'Everything just seems to be so different.''Well, what did you expect?''I don't know. A...small change. Little things. A little less time, a few more people. But...everything just seems so distant. All those things and people I knew. I know! I still know them. I do. They...I don't know...seem so far away. Physically. Emotionally.''To be fair, they are far away. You've been so used to having everything and everyone at your fingertips. And now, you don't. But you will get used to it. Everyone does. So just give it a little bit more time.
'Why do you write so much about love?''I don't know. I suppose...if I were to write down the word 'tree', then you would immediately get an image in your head. I could then further refine that image by writing the word 'oak' or 'pine' in front of it. But if I wrote down the word 'love', then what do you see? People kissing? Holding hands? Poetry, roses, grand gestures, noble deeds? It's not just one thing. It doesn't have a single defining image that everyone would pick. Which makes it more interesting.''More interesting than trees, I guess.'
An apology to the people I have met so far:I'm sorry. I know that I probably seem really distant and untalkative and boring. It's just that I have a hard time with the idea that people may actually like me.So that means that if you don't talk to me for a day, I will assume that you hate me. This can lead me to performing over-clingy acts in an attempt to win your love. This is not a Good Thing.I'm trying my best. Please be patient. I do want to be friends with you. I promise.
I managed to catch a cold. It took me long enough.Having obtained a large jar, I covered the inside with honey and then just waited. Sure enough, a cold came along. They love honey.When it had clambered into the jar, I ran out from my hiding place and quickly screwed on the lid. I carried it all the way home, and it only started to bang its little fists against the glass when it had finished with all the honey.I'm going to try and teach it some tricks. Then I can show it off to my friends.
A poem. May God forgive me for what I have done.I sit here writing, about golden tussles that frameAn elegant face that my words fail to capture.Yet those gremlins of fear still my tongue from your nameWhose syllables, once uttered, was cause me entrapture.Your eyes throw ropes around my poor frameAnd draw me in, closer, to the beating of your heart.Yet whilst I desire, I struggle all the same, Grappel with a knife, cut those ropes, to depart.I would write you poems, enshrine your beauty permanantly.Yet I am destined to pick the wrong words eternally.
'You know, I saw four homeless people in the space of a, what, 5 minute walk? Four people who have nowhere to go. It was so cold that evening, and I was looking forward to going back to my room and wrapping myself in warmth. But how could I, knowing that there were four people who wouldn't be able to do that? How could I possibly call myself a compassionate human being and walk past them and continue talking as if it was ok to leave them there? I couldn't. But I did, and died a little with each step.'