Here I am, listening to your sweet voice yet fast. I’ve been listening to your radio program for almost three weeks together with your sister who’s been asking if you’re speaking too fast and I said yes.
I always do that every Sundays begging my brothers to let me borrow the PC to listen at the live streaming of your program.
Sometimes, I ask myself, do I ever cross your mind? Because if I do, you must be thinking of me too or am I just assuming? Nevertheless, I come to think that I am not the one in your heart anymore; it’s Him, the Big Guy up there. I can no longer ask you out when you’re hungry, I can no longer buy you an ice cream when you ask me too, all the things that we’ve shared beforeI. DON’T. HAVE. THE. RIGHT. NOW. I am an ordinary person outside and you’re now a religious missionary. I have my limits, we both have the boundaries. And the boundaries is the convent walls that I can no longer knock and ask the guard if your are there inside, well, of course, you are busy at it, like when you were still teaching or perhaps in a mission or somewhere else, I don’t know. Today, I only have one way to look at you; your program, thanks to the live streaming—– you saved me. You gave me another chance to look at her.
I miss the days where we would talk, eat at any place you wanted. the way how you called the waiter, playfully kid him about the food and have it cooked again, the way you smile when someone compliments you, your fair complexion and your sweet voice especially when you’re mad—- I love it so much when you speak fast. That’s how I fell in love with you.
How are you? Are you always hungry like before or you changed? Do you still like Haagen-Dazs?