[Love Letter] Questions I Can't Help Asking You

365 texts love

Goal of the day: 183 words. Written: 1026. Photo author: Vi Kontrimaitė

In another moment I was in love with another girl. Takia Iveta, a jeweler from the town of Tilžė. I dedicate this letter to her, remembering the days and nights I spent waiting for her.

By the way: I wrote this letter all day in different places of Kaunas. I always changed my writing position according to what I was sitting in at the time.

And read the whole letter to the end - it is specially written in such a strange way. 🙂

* * * * * * * * *

~ Hugs.

~ Written in the year of our Lord Christ two thousand and fifteen, in the eighth month, on the twentieth day of the month. During the new moon period. In the year of grasshoppers, in the fourth decade of their life.

~ Here was a day from the days of Daniel.

* * *

You'd probably call it coziness. Ah yes. Books. Coffee. Warm pillow-cover, cold outdoor air, music and computer.

But what am I talking about?

For example, I once asked a barista what her favorite book was and she surprised me with The Black Obelisk by Ernest Maria Remarque. After asking for coffee according to the answer, she made me a plain black coffee.

…Did you know that when I go to cafes, I don't order coffee in the usual way, but I ask the baristas some strange question and tell them to make coffee according to how the answer is associated with coffee?

Well, maybe it's less of a story and more of a set of questions to give people like me even more ideas of what to ask.

I got a book from a friend this Christmas, I think it's called Stormy Night or something like that. It's a story about a little girl and her dog (but more about the girl) who asks so many questions. About myself. About the world. About your dog. About everything.

(And yes, I get it, this is another question on top of a whole bunch of questions. 😀 )

But oh. Forgive me. Am I asking too much?

And what do you want from life? Are your desires big? Or maybe you just want peace?

In other cases, I suffer a little, but then I become satisfied again.

In the first cases, I rush to do something completely new and unexpected. I often don't finish it and leave it for an unknown amount of time.

In those moments, I usually want to either do something crazy and satisfy my need to do something oh-my-god-so-cool-to-feed-on-Facebook-and-get-attention, or to calm down and accept what I have.

I guess you know that feeling when everything you do seems to be too little and you can squeeze more out of yourself, right?

Today was a good day. Just maybe a little slow. I'm just now finishing the article (or was before I wrote this letter to you again), the Goose is moving very slowly, and once again I feel like I'm reaching and doing too little.

The cold evening air, or maybe it's almost night, blows through the open balcony and licks my feet. The back, propped against the pillow-blanket and the wall behind her-his, is still quite warm.

It's already evening. Spotify again. But now home.

Hello again!

* * *

~ On the first floor, some girl (or maybe a boy? It's hard to tell, but the difference is small) is pulling her dad by the hand and repeating "Dad, let's go". It's fascinating. And it's fun to watch. ~

Well, I dilated. I am traveling to write an article. And until next time!

I will need to ask my senior gurus in the future about this. And find out how their lives have changed. Hasn't it changed? Stopped or didn't stop? Has it subsided or filled up? Has it strengthened or expanded? Got more extreme or safer?

I do not know. I'm interested to hear your thoughts. And what do you think?

Or maybe that boredom is not even bad, because after a while life naturally stops and you no longer have the strength to do something new, test yourself and others, learn, grow and create?

I wonder if I will become like this when I start a family? Or maybe everything will be different and much better?

...And how strange: Here, for some reason "family" sounded like "boring" in my mind. Maybe because the parents, after getting married and creating two new mixed-children for the world, settled down and started to live a rather boring life?

It is very strange for me to write you such a simple letter. I hope it's not too boring for you? Too much, how to call it, family and boring?

And then I will continue to write my article until my bladder can't take it (or I will lack patience) and, after packing up, I will make my way to the university library and home.

Think, dream.

Did you take a moment to daydream today?

Scientific research shows that dreaming and lazing not only stimulate creativity, give strength, relax the body and mind, but also (or maybe because of it) prolong life.

Well, what do you feel? What do you think? What are you dreaming about?

It's nice. But that's good.

I feel repetitive.

But it's nice for me. I feel good. The piano music coming from my headphones is soothing and makes me feel good. Kindly. Sometimes I don't know why I delve into such things. Well, at least now I don't know. This moment.

~ Pause. Shadows Fall by Random Forest. ~

A colleague of the library staff sitting on the first floor checks the cash register. The future cashier looks happy.

~ Smiles ~

What? Why?

Or maybe never take anything?

Maybe it's better not to think? Take everything in a row?

Why am I even thinking about this?


What do I choose?

Today (or for the past 10 minutes as I write this letter) this question has been on my mind. It doesn't spin, it doesn't hang, but it just hangs. In the background. Like the eyes of that guy on the other side of the library - peeking out from behind the wall, not looking at me, but there. In the background.

What people? What items? What activities? What are the postures for sitting and reading the letters of Daniel? What books? What does the toilet paper smell like? What color toothbrush? What are your thoughts on girls walking past you in the library carrying something that looks like pasta in an Iki/Maxima plastic salad bowl?

what do you choose

Why do we choose what we choose? What do we choose? What do you choose? What I?

Today I'd like to talk about choices.

It's me. I am. This moment.

* * *

Maybe I should draw a story about kittens? And how are they really the fourth self-aware species on earth, surpassing humans in intelligence?

By the way, today I re-opened another of my favorite comics. And here's what it threw up when I clicked "random": A lesson on how to draw kittens.

On the way to the library I thought I might try to draw. Web comic. How about a story about magic, feelings, fears, psychology and/or the like. Like that comic I mentioned to you but didn't say exactly.

By the way, I liked it. But this is probably obvious.

Today is a strange day. Lazy Although today is also Thursday, that's probably because I didn't get up until after nine - yesterday I chatted with you until half past two. C:

Library, 14:02, Spotify is playing Shimmer by Tracey Chattawa and I love it. It's a warm day today, so I'm wearing shorts and a ring on my sweet little left hand. The ring is because I wore it on my hand a long time ago. I missed it.

~ The next day ~

* * *

~ There were three paragraphs here. They are deleted. I don't remember why. ~

At this moment I am sitting on the bed that has already been made. The pleasantly cold morning air flows through the balcony door, the computer speakers play Spotify with Timeless Morning Rhythms, and there is a pleasant emptiness in the stomach. I haven't had breakfast yet.

So you say you prefer to read letters from the end, right? Here's to you! 😉


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