i still have that one letter i've yet to write.
that one letter that should be containing many thoughts of mine that i couldn't convey.
that one letter that should be asking questions i couldn't ask.
that one letter that should be flowing with my feelings.
that one letter that should be written, but isn't.

and now when i come to think of it, what do i want written in the letter? i've been going on and on and on, and now i can't pen into words what i've been saving up to ask. not to say it doesn't matter anymore, although emotionally diluted, but logically still focused. i just can't seem to remember! D:

from one point of view this might be a good calling, that things are getting diluted as time goes by, that my feelings are slowly calmed.

then again, when i turn back and look at my demise, and saw what the screwed-up-me could not do, there's the urge to complete the task i set out to accomplish, although with different objectives now. logically speaking.

im not too sure if it isn't my brain forcefully deleting bad files from my memory, but i wished i had them now cos i need to remember what i wanted to ask.

impatient me thinks that 
snail mail is somewhat i tad too slow.
gives the recepient too much time to think
thus allowing them to create a perfect reply
which may not entirely reflect their thoughts at the moment.
this is why i hate snail mail.
and it takes wayyyy too long
for the snail to come back with a mail.

Waihong, out.