Yesterday, during the US university fair, I met the cutest little army boy in the world. This boy is not tall. He has a very clean, small face with small eyes. His complexion is pink and flawless. He speaks well, and softly. He is also gentle. His voice is neither high nor low, but smooth and kind. He has an older sister, and he looks like a Jared. I think he goes to church on Sundays, because he was well dressed at the fair. He is one year younger than me. His eyes disappear when he laughs. He does not like to study too hard, and wants to see the world. I bet my life he has a girlfriend. It makes me very inexplicably sad that I will never see him again. I have almost forgotten what he looks like, yet I have been thinking of him since yesterday with a little pang in my heart.
I suspect I am just clinging on to an image, just so my emotions can dust themselves off and stretch their wobbly legs.
I am a sick, sick being. Also known as siao.
Today, this phrase popped into my head suddenly: ‘It wearies me, you say it wearies you.’ Interesting.
Reading about people being happy and contented because of wonderful and nice people in their lives makes me happy and contented about the wonderful and nice people in my life. I need external stimulation to make me grateful for things I should already be grateful for, but am not. What does that say about me.
By the way, I love Christian Bale. Also, Heath Ledger. Both of them are awesome and lovely and I cannot love them enough. I can demonstrate my love, however, by watching them two days in a row, which I have already done. And buying the pirated DVD from China, which I am going to do. And watching everything Christian Bale has ever acted in, except Reign of Fire, which sucks. And forgetting about Heath Ledger’s undignified foray into the cesspit that is The Knight’s Tale, which, and I think you’d agree, also sucks.
Ok sleepy. night.