So this is what they call writer's block. Or maybe I'm just too lazy to write. Or too happy, perhaps. My diagnosis is writer's block secondary to too much happiness secondary to spending time with you. Aargh. This blog is getting cheesy. And I hate it. But nobody reads this anymore anyway, so I might as well ventilate. I could not tell you anything. No, not yet. Maybe one day, I will. But for now I will write. Write for no one at all. Write for myself. Write for the you I created in my head. Write for the you who might come across this one day and realize that that girl you traveled with, drank beer with, danced like mad with, was in fact dreaming to travel with you forever.
Last Saturday night, you brought me to that place you've talked about many times before. You've mentioned several times that you wanted to take me there. This weekend, you did. It was a resort on top of a hill, with a breathtaking view of the city. The evening was cool, and they stars were bright. The city lights were dazzling. I didn't even notice them that much. I was with you, and we were talking about dreams and aiming for the stars and landing on the moon, or the other way around. It was a little past midnight when I said I wanted to dance. So we went back to the city and got into this sleazy bar filled with drunk kids half our age dancing to trance music. And we danced with them.
On Sunday morning, I asked you to go diving with me. You were tired and very busy. I was surprised and very grateful that you said yes. You even brought your lovely little niece along. For awhile, we stayed by the ocean reading the paper, looking wistfully at the water, saying nothing most of the time. There is always something about you that recharges me. It's the beauty and strength of your spirit, I guess. You have a countenance that radiates peace, and it's contagious. You probably think the same of me. Or else, why would you be wasting time with me?
I wish we could talk about these things. You are shy. I am scared. You are scared. I am shy. So we just kept quiet. Let's just enjoy these moments and let our actions do the talking.
It took me one more day to write about the weekend. So that's what they call writer's block. Or maybe I was just too lazy to write. Or too happy. Yes, I was too happy.