pittyful prose

You wanna know how my life is here? How I spend my days? Well, it sucks here. I wake up everyday around nine or ten am. I wash the dishes. After which, I stare at blank air thinking of you. It would be great if I could call you, ask you what you’re doing and imagine myself being there watching you do what it is you’re doing. But every time we talk, it seems that you stopped doing what you did when I was still there. I would want to hear the mishaps of your constituents at school and what our friends have been doing, but it seems like you stopped looking and listening to them like we did when I was back there. I lie down on my makeshift bed and wish you would come and wake me up. I imagine your weight as you lie down on top of me and suggest that I take a bath ‘coz I’m starting to stink. I wanna send you flowers and chocolates and gift, but money is scarce here. I wanna make you feel that I love you, but everything I do doesn’t seem to work. I crave to make music for you but even my guitar does not cooperate. Sometimes I wish I never left. I’m thinking that the warmth we have in the present is enough, but I stop myself short. What about our plans for the future. I wanna give you all the attention you deserve but everything I do doesn’t seem to show. I ended our last conversation quick ‘coz I was getting frustrated and didn’t want to say things I didn’t mean. I’m sorry that what I’m doing is not enough to make you feel me, and that I’m not enough to be felt. It doesn’t feel good to disappoint you. I’d be giving it more of myself to make you happy with me again. Although it might not work, but you are worth everything I am and have. But incase you could not feel me though we both tried, it would be totally understandable if you would not stick with me. I wouldn’t stick with myself either. I probably would have never hooked up with myself in the first place. But remember that I love you with all of me ‘till the last beat of my heart.
­ -Orville "chubby" Basas