seventy two hours :: lrh

otto

dear mr. fluffles,

          i still haven't got over her dark hair and dark eyes, and her eyes were too beautiful not to look at - it was as if in the deep void of them behold the entire universe and all the other galaxies combined.

          i kept replaying her voice inside my head; it was like an angel sent down on earth from the heavens above; i felt the same feeling he gets when the pizza guy arrives to deliver your pizza, when i score more than five points in flappy bird, when someone told him i rocked at the guitar.

          and that's when i knew the effect she had on me never faded to grey.

          she wasn't tall nor short, just the right height. nor was she pretty or ugly, she was a work of art; an art that i would not mind staring at for hours, days, weeks, months, years, even if it consumed all of my time.

          an art that he would love to explore, search, find, and keep forever.

          i knew that he was bad at pick-up lines, but i would tell her even the kinkiest ones, just to see her smile and hear the wonderful sound of her laughter.

          but before i could say anything else, she went away, and i didn't know if i would ever see her again. i thought of how big the world is, and the chances of me and her meeting again is as thin as a needle; i was not expecting to see her face again.

          but i did.

          i accidentally bumped to her at the airport in london, while my phone was ringing and ihad to look down my back pack to locate it. our bodies fell together on the floor, and that's when i saw her face for the second time in a day. but her eyes, which held the galaxies, were closed; she did not see me. i helped her up anyway, and picked up her bags for her. but then i saw him coming our way, so i turned my back and left.

          i used my remaining hours at night thinking about her, wondering what she was like; was she still sweet and gentle like before? did she still enjoy listening to beethoven, or did her mother completely brainwash her? 

          but then my daydreaming was distracted by another thought - time. i looked down my wrist and saw what i was used to seeing, and feeling as well.

          for every hour that passed, i was closer and closer to death. 

          you know, mr. fluffles, i never forget to pray before i sleep, just like what mum had told me. i prayed to god that before i died, i would somehow get a chance to see her again, even just a glimpse.

          and so he did.

          it was one afternoon when i decided it was time for me to buy a new journal so i could write more stuff to you because the old one i was using was full; i walked down to the usual bookstore i always went to and stumbled across a young girl with (don't be surprised, mr. fluffles) dark hair. it was her.

          i thought of speaking to her, maybe asking her out on a date sometime. but i didn't grow the balls to do it.

          and like the coward i was, i ran away again.

again,

roby.

-

(a/n):  are you a volcano because i lava you ✿◕ ‿ ◕✿