Almost six years now. In fact, it is time for yet another round of twenty questions, but I doubt there is any point to it anymore – it is just you and me, now – all two of us.
I am missing some of you.
I must admit that I find this strange – most of you I have never met, but you feel more… real, somehow. Simply because we shared the same interests, exchanged emails for a while, dropped comments here and there, and then, poof! you are gone – only to suddenly pop up half a year or so later, with words that make me smile.
And that usually makes my day.
In that sense, there is no denying it, then – you really are real – because, well, people do come and go all the time, anyway.
Those just happen under different circumstances.
This is really, really, evil. I now log in every day, but care not at all for my own profile – but to peek at others’, look at their photos, and see who are their newly-added friends.
So no: I am quite sure I am human and not a bloody vampire/zombie/slayer/colour; I have no penchant for dim sum at all; I stay clear off high-maintenance, Tamagotchi-like applications that require me to feed and care for them; I do not know how to play poker; and I surely do not need a quiz to tell me I am (ahem) Peter Petrelli.
I would not mind more hugs, however – the other day, a male friend patted my back and my mind had to interpret it as sexual harassment.
Yep. I wonder how long can I keep up with this charade.
Two weeks ago, during dinner with some friends:
“I’m surprised you’re not whipping out your camera to take pictures of the food.”
“I don’t do that!!!”
“Yeah, but you take pictures of books.”