Before and After meeting you.

Written before I met you.

As when my small body catches cold and fever knocks my gate, nothing seems relieving but few affectionate words coming from mom’s smooth lips, letting my terrible burdens fade away.They're trying magically to cure me.

Growing old, always tending to cherish my spirit, words hold precious powers. Words are art at its purest state. Giving birth to sentences, thus to interpretations. Words are delicate.

Yes, words are delicate. Delicate as your glances, delicate as the attraction I couldn’t give enough explanations for, delicate as my life and your sensuality. You were a smooth custom of mine, now you’re the ambiguity which messes up everything, or nothing.

I’ve always been trying to write about you, I didn’t. My innocent messy notes have done it better. My spontaneous music involved meanings although our virtual existence lacks vitality. I already forgot that you’ve been looking for an artist to reborn your art; I already forgot you’re an artist with no specific art.

In fact, I’m not artist.

My friend’s face expressions could tell everything about her confusion when I told her that it only happens to me to meet strangers. Isn’t that strange?...It’s not so strange, it was just uneasy to let them all be close to me after they knew me, it was uneasy to display my depth in reality, when my facial muscles cannot express freely my messy thoughts, or more, my feelings. Yes, I’m a monster.

I’m just kidding.

Few hours after meeting you.

Beside every goal and dream our imagination has functionally painted, there is a special feeling I’ve always wanted to satisfy and a satisfaction I’ve wanted to reach. For so long, the void has taken its place. I wasn’t submissive, I entertained myself, I met you. Your arrogance was attractive and so was your mind. Months later, I wrote “My spontaneous music involved meanings although our virtual existence lacks vitality.”…I was not sure of the relatively bad effects which “our virtual world” started having on my life. I was asked to describe my social one, and all what pumped up in head were virtual people I love, virtual places my imagination, as a puissant Creator, created. Vitality was not more than my imagination, a lie I did not want you to be a part of.

Today, I felt the warmth of your eyes on me. Today, you are more than just the old custom of mine, you are a memory. Today, I knew I did not want you to be the one you already are. Today, I knew you were created to be who you actually should be. You might seem to be confident about yourself, but deeply, are you? And what is confidence’s function if it’s not meant to show you the bright sides of yourself, to bring you back to the real process of youth, to show you the way? …Today, you could make me comfortable, which is not easy, which is awesome, which is genuine, which is majestic .What about using more words of yours?

You are real, and it involves all meanings.