Every time I sit down to write I realize I always follow the same pattern:
First, I put down without thinking whatever comes out of my head.
Then, I reed back what I’ve just written and make a number of corrections.
Finally, I end up with a over-elaborate text full of concepts that I always have to explain and that two days later, when I reed my text again, I realize don’t reflect at all what I really meant.
Because of this, this one time I am going to set myself a challenge: not to elaborate on my first draft which reflects the real meaning of my words, the one that undoubtedly want you to grasp:
Some days I love you. Others I detest you.
I like the way you think and write.
I like your tastes. I like you.
I wrote a million things to you that you are never ever going to read.
When you are discomfited you make me blush.
I miss you.
In two months I’ll forget you. In three I’ll remember you again.
You make me laugh. You make me angry. Still you did not make me cry.
I dress up to look at you. I am glad to see you.
I admire you.
In the stories I imagine we have already kissed an infinity of times.
I want you to hug me, even on the days I hate you more.
I never said these things aloud. You are never going to hear them from me.
And by the way, my answer would be yes.
