So I've been talking to a few nice people on the internet. We had casual small talks. What's your name? How old are you? Where do you live? I've been telling you that they annoy me, but they keep me company. Some of them are English, one is French. I've been learning languages including French, by the way. You've just been so busy, too busy.

Where do you live? And I can't help but think of how you wanted me to take you home that night but it was so late and we were in our uniforms and I needed to go home; I declined. I let go of your hand, your tiny hand (calling it tiny makes you frown, and you're cute when you frown). I let go of those hands that could only fit with mine. That night... That night, up there, where we watched the sun take its last dreadful glimpse on us. That beautiful night when we felt the wind turn from hot and sticky to warm and nice. That night when you took a mental picture of me laughing. You told me that that night was enough to make you happy for the rest of your short life. You said you are almost certain that you would leave me first. You said that the last one who will die would grow old and visit that same place and cry. That night... That night, up there, you asked me once to not let it end. But it did. I live there.

How old are you? It was raining. It was pouring, so **** hard. Was there a storm signal, I'll never know. I didn't care. I used to sit by the windows and count every raindrop. There was a moment in my life where I thought that playing while it is raining is childish but dancing in the rain is adult stuff. I used to imagine how couples kiss under their umbrellas and how it is possible to forget that they have umbrellas. I used to picture it in my small, childish and immature head that I will someday, hopefully, have someone who could be silly with me. The adult type of silly. It was raining. It was raining so hard. But your hands were light and you were a feather. Gliding with me through the courses of those strong winds. Your hands were in my hands and I finally know why men feel like they could conquer the world all by themselves. We were laughing, like those lovers in the movie under the streetlights. And we were holding hands. You were pulling me and you were holding my hands and we were running and it was raining and I lost track of how many raindrops have poured now because I think it's not raining anymore but I do know that you're still smiling giddily like we did something that is only ours to know and I think I have seen my rainbow and it's running and it's pulling my hand towards our silver lining and it's so ******* beautiful. It's so ******* beautiful. It was magnificent. And I didn't realize, I didn't realize this until that moment --- that astounding, outstanding, amazing, tragamagazingzing --- that marvelous, marvelous moment: I was childishly, hopelessly, truly, madly deeply falling in love with you (yes! like that song! from that silly old movie!). I was falling in love with you over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over --- That was a lot of raindrops. I was sixteen.

What's your name? Oh god. Oh ****. Oh god. Oh ****. ****. ****. ****. ****, ****, ****, ****. What do I say? I could tell you a lot of things but all I do is listen to country songs and go to that country singer's concerts... Oh well that was lame. Was that lame? Did I really say that out loud? I think I did. I don't think I look like your best friend though. I'm usually quiet. Yes, I have a scar on my face. Oh you don't like my name? Why so? Sure you can call me by my other name. I have a nickname, but only close people call me--- Okay. You can call me by my nickname. No, I don't know him. Am I really that quiet? He must be nice. Yeah I like brown eyes too but I'm trying to seek other colors now. Oh that's why you don't like my name. I'm sorry, but I promise you that's not how love works. I met this person once and she was my heaven and hell. But yeah, you know, I wasn't enough. Nah, you don't have to tell me that. She already made me feel like ****, anyway. It's okay. Ah, yes I write. Do you want to see? It's okay, but I don't really like showing these to people. I showed it to that guy though. He's really nice. Yeah you can read them. I write random stuff. Alright, I'll see you later. Good morning to you too! Hello. You seem a bit off. How are you? You okay? I don't believe you. Define okay? Oh you have a nice smile. I guess it's okay, dimples aren't that cute to me. I've had this scar since I was in prep-school. I didn't really notice those freckles before, but thanks. Oops, hey careful there. Oh sorry I held your waist. It's okay. Are you okay? Define okay? Alright, laters. You're really cute when you smile (and I swear I could hear my heart flutter when you say metaphorical things.) Wait what? Did I really just say that out loud? Oh thank God. Wait, no. Oh. ****. ****, ****, ****, ****. Let me write this down. Let me write about this. Uh. Sure. You can read it. I won't mind. Okay maybe read it later when you're at home. Yes that's a better idea. Read it at home. When I am not there to watch your reaction and probably make a fool out of myself. Hi. Good morning to you too. I know. Yes that's what I said. Hello. Was it weird? I know. Yes, sweetheart, that was for you. You said that already. Hi again. I'm okay. I'm yours.

I wish we could have our casual small talks again. I guess I'll never be too busy to remind myself, and to remind you, that you are missing from me.