I have to keep writing. Sometimes I just feel like I must to. I am not sure what to write about but there is this strange thought that maybe, just maybe if I write enough I will discover something... some clue about what the heck is going on inside my head.

Today, I bought a small jewlery set from an anime series I loved. Later on I decided the ring was just perfect for my boyfriend. Silly to remember that from my day but lately I have been really confused about where our relationship is going. There is nothing wrong really but it is not right. It works in such strange manner, long distance... phone calls... internet conference... mailed gifts but then again our skins are s far away, our feelings may be hiding behind cams and pretty words.
It is so peculiar how you can miss someone voice when you can hear it almost everyday. Nonetheless there is a fiber within you that just feels the difference, it is so terribly inconvenient... the texture misses something there is not the same spark. Even though I can se him it will never be the same as to be actually looking right at him, havng a staring contest with those blue eyes, watching him play his guitar... It feels like such loss, as if we are dying for each other in a very tortuos and delibarate manner.
Once, someone frp, his family asked me if here -at this side of the planet- I could find eyes such as his. I said sure you can and I meant sure you can find blue eyes in my country. The person in question was obviously expecting me to answer something cheesy and romantic as the unique quality of his eyes but you know, the eyes are not interesting per se; even when they may have a beautiful shape or they may posses a very spectacular color and luminosity. The eyes reflect so much more, a lot from the gestuality of our faces is framed in the eyes... the way the muscles there move when you try to convey an emotion, the way their color gets combisted when there is a strong passion behind them, the gesture a simple look may form is amazing. His eyes of course are no exception. Beautiful light blue eyes, a little lighter than a blue sky during summer. Those same eyes that incarnate fire when he plays his guitar get covered by a weird and alienating gloss when he needs his feelings to be hidden, his posture to remain in check. The arrongance and purpose they used to getting  filled with when he grabbed my hand and we walked down the streets and the tenderness of his looks when I said: "Honey... can you buy me chocolates? I really want those chocolates you brought home the other day, do you remember?".