Morning Draft

Mornings like these bring in a draft through my window, I could either sleep all day or get sick from the cold. She called me up to say hello. It was a longer than usual call, and it was quite satisfying to hear her oncemore. If I had been in a worse mood she would have put the phone down a few minutes into the conversation. She knows how to manipulate me, she knows my anger wanes and lets me find my mind before she begins talking to me again.

On the other hand...that's how she handles her anger. I keep talking even when I am angry because sometimes that's the only time I care enough to be tactless and critical about things which should have been talked about eons ago.

I closed my window partially so as not to let the sunshine through the window. The draft though, I hope it keeps coming in.

I am still emotionally attached to her...I just thought that all I needed to do was to take the pain away from my mind and we'd both be just fine waiting for the right time. I'd rather do that than speculate about her whereabouts and her well being, that would be waiting irresponsibly for the right time.

She still loves me. She admitted that...not so certain if it was said intentionally though. She said she loves me more than...it just got messed up.

Patience is a virtue I have practiced long and hard in my mind. I won't let all the practice go to waste by being stereotypically impatient for love to find its way back from it's twisted journey from half way around the world.