my dear, the clock keeps ticking. for what you see its walking steep at leisurely pace, for my eyes its running increasingly further away, carelessly strecthing the distance. thus along the way, i can not afford to have the privilege of being judicious and discriminatory. for i do what i can do best at the space given.
mi querida, within such narrow space in the continuum, i wish i could be an apologetic and have millions excuses as many others amongts us. unfortunately that space, it is a scarce and luxurious resource which i may impossibly abundantly possess, thus you will find me blunt enough on many and so many, happenings. as (too) straightforward as you might find me be, you can privilege yourself to come down in favor of these two alternatives: am i rude, or sincere? i am deeply profound being earnest to allow you to pick between those two.
amore mio, my days are numbered. how will i get through it everyday? i dont know but i get through it anyway. for what its worth, nor what its not, its passed anyway. day by day, day by day. somehow i am negligent still, wasted some of those precious days by not doing for what is one of most and bestest things in (my) life;
being with you.
mon amour, it seems time is not a friend of mine for the time being, yet also for many occasions. i dont have arguments that strong enough to diminish the reasoning of: you will make times, if indeed it precious for you. but comprehend this: i knew, i know, for sure; for every milliseconds your breath heard by my ears, it will be as poetry to the souls. every picometer yours touching mine, it will be as...uh...
kadeudeuh, pupujan ati, it is indeed in limitations and scarcities we may find ourself resiient enough to obtain the distinctive perspectives of wonders and beauties. most importantly, we may willingly wholeheartedly, found each other.
+ArgoParahyanganPandemi,05.25-08.20+
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