#262.
Hi, I know we don't talk much, but I think it's safe to say you know a lot more about me than most other people think they do. You could probably tell me things about myself that I've never realised before, and you can show me what it's really like. Living, that is.

So maybe you're just saying things. Maybe you're just throwing your worn out words out into the open, and I just happen to be the one to spot them. Maybe they're empty. Maybe you don't mean any of what you've said to me, ever. But then again, with that possibility existing, so does it's contrasting partner. The idea that you've meant every word of it. The chance that one day, everything you've ever said to me won't have been all for nothing.

But really, right now, no matter how much I hack at the ideas, nothing seems to fit, to work. The only thing that seems logic, in any sense, is waiting it out. Because in the end, it's only a little while. When you step back and look at the bigger picture, you realise that it's not as long as you thought it was. And maybe waiting couldn't do any harm.

So what now? I know what. We lean back, get comfortable, and get ready for a long period of thumb twiddling, dearest.

Hello, this is Tien. This blog is the remains of the unconventional cliches and angsty phrases of my teenage years. (Plus a new one every now and then)
I ♥ Phoenix, (500) days of summer, double entendres, unmade beds, autumn, Chopin, syncopated melodies, G7 chords and things that make me feel.

Click!
coyote(s)